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ldysmfrst · 1 month

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American Mate (6) - A Proposition for You

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 6 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4911

Work count for Story: 23,924

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, arguments, comfort, Alpha Space, close proximity, and scenting.

Story Summary: The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

“Excuse me, Sirs. We have arrived at the AirBnB,” the driver announces through the van's intercom system. The voice pulls Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook's attention away from the scenting session.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Jungkook calls out loud enough to be heard past the petition between the driver’s and passenger seats. Looking down, he trails his fingers through Jimin’s hair as the tiny Alpha is now sprawled out across his and Taehyung’s lap with his eyes closed.

“Minie, we need to get out, my little love,” looking at Taehyung, “Tae? Are you good now?”

“Hmm. Yeah, Kook, I am doing better,” Taehyung opens his eyes, returning to their clear brown. Lifting Jimins legs off his lap, Taehyung moves from his seat and opens the van door.

“Minie, you cuddle bug. Time to go, I know you are nowhere near a scent high, so please get up so that we can get Y/n to see the doctor.”

Jumping up from lying on Jungkook’s lap, Jimin stumbles out the door and over to the first van, “I will get their door!”

Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle as they watch the dancer trip over one of the van's chairs, but he manages not to fall onto the curb before beelining it to the other van.

“Hey, Tae. Are you going to be okay around Y/n?”

“I think so. It might be better for me to keep my distance until she isn’t in as much pain. I think that is what is causing the most issues for my Alpha. Well, that and keeping away from that pathetic excuse of a Director.” Taehyung growls out the last part.

“I think it would be best if we all keep away from him, though I think Manager Sejin and Namjoon will have to at least deal with him a few more times.”

“Better him than us. Why don’t you go with the others, and I will help out with the luggage so that everything is where it should be?” Taehyung hugs Jungkook around the shoulders, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook looks closely at Taehyung, smelling his clear and unbothered ebony wood. “Alright, hopefully, the doctor will be here soon. I think time has flown by faster than we think. It is already starting to get dark out.”

Buzzing. All you hear is buzzing as your brain short circuits. The desire to melt into the man holding you and run from the predatory eyes of the men watching you causes your body to tense and twitch.

Suddenly, the van door opening seems louder than it should. It startled you into finally moving away from them and out of the van.

You didn’t realize how stuffy the van had gotten, but the intensity of the scents within the van does not go unnoticed by Jimin as he watches you bolt from the van right past him towards the packhouse. Yoongi followed close behind with a smirk on his lips.

“What did we miss being in the reject van?” Jimin asks no one in particular.

“Oh, you guys missed quite a bit, but we will talk about it later. Maybe once Miss Y/n goes in with the doctor,” Namjoon says as the rest leave the van.

Jungkook walks up to the group and watches you with a confused look. Manager Sejin also joins them.

“You all realize she has no idea what she is to you. She isn’t going to understand why it is nice that she is so instinctually responsive,” Manager Sejin comments using air quotes.

“Yes, Manager-nim. She just was… ah it is hard to explain,” Hoseok bashfully responds as he looks at the floor.

“Well, she isn’t my mate, and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to break it to her, but you are going to have to be careful. I know that much.” Looking at you, a softness of worry crosses his face.

“Do you guys know that she wouldn’t even ask for a bottle of water when she got to the van because she didn’t want to take something from the pack?”

“I have a feeling that she has had to be the one to take care of others and put herself last. She won’t ask for help, and accepting help will be hard for her. Especially, since you guys are so well-known and established as a mate-bonded pack.” Manager Sejin looks at his watch, down the street, and then back to the gathered group.

“The doctor should be here in a few moments. You might want to get her inside and settle in one of the unoccupied rooms, Namjoon-ssi.”

Manager Sejin bows respectfully to the group and heads to the luggage van, where he can see Taehyung giving directions.

You walked quickly, not running, up the stairs to the front porch—fresh air—cool Air. It was non-steamy, good for your heart, and not going to make you lose your job and blessed air.

Taking deep breaths, you hope to clear your mind, slow your heart to a normal pace, and regain professionalism from wherever it is hiding.

Muttering to yourself, you are unaware that Yoongi has followed you, but he keeps a distance while listening to your utterances. His smirk grows to the point his eyes are almost closed. Now that you have calmed down, you turn around and almost run into him.

“Ahh! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I need to get you and Evie both a bell. It must be a feline thing.” Glancing past Yoongi you notice Taehyung coming up the steps with some of the staff carrying in the luggage, “Should get one for him too.”

Chuckling, Yoongi shakes his head, “No bell. No house cat. Jaguar.” Taking a step closer, he sniffs, “Better? No conflict?”

You can’t help but smile softly at his concern: “No, I am fine now. I just haven’t had much skinship as one might say… outside of my family pack, as you call them.”

“I know it is a big cultural thing amongst hybrids and even more so depending on the kind of relationship involved. I guess I was just taken back by all the … all that.” You say, gesturing towards the van as if it were explaining whatever was happening inside.

Yoongi nods in understanding and takes the last step to be by your side, facing the rest of the pack. His tail again wraps around your waist, and you giggle in amusement, returning his attention with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you keeping me on a fur leash?” You ask, pointing at his tail on your waist.

Yoongi looks down at where you are pointing and looks at his tail like he doesn’t realize that he ever put it there, to begin with. With a glare like he is scolding a child, his tail starts to let go, which pulls at your heart a bit.

“It’s okay, Alpha.” You say as you stroke along the very soft black fur, laying it back in its place, “you are keeping me close and safe like a good Alpha should. Thank you for protecting me.”

Yoongi preens at the compliment while holding back a shudder at the feeling of you petting his tail. His Alpha is happy that you recognize his needs and are allowing him to continue.

“Mr. Min,” you start to speak only to get cut off with an indignant huff.

“Yoongi. Alpha. Not, Mr. Min. Yoongi.”

“Ah, umm. Okay. Yoongi,” you say with a blush as you avoid looking him in the face, “I want to thank you for helping me not land hard on the floor back at the office. I am sure I would have been in worse shape if you hadn't tried to catch me.”

“Hopefully, you know that I do not blame you for my wrist. It was just really bad timing.”

“Still hurt. Keep safe for healing,” Yoongi says, leaning down to catch your eyesight and hoping you see the truth in his words.

The truth is that he will keep you safe not only while you heal your wrist but also your heart and soul.

“Time to go ahead inside. Jin, can you make some snacks with Hobi for everyone? The rest will help with the luggage, and I will go with Yoongi and Miss Y/n to one of the guest rooms on the first floor.” Namjoon instructs the pack.

With different forms of agreement, the boys take off to do their assigned tasks. Seokjin and Hoseok smile sheepishly as they pass you, heading to the kitchen.

Namjoon walks up the stairs, his ears flicking to the street as he hears a car approaching, which could only signal the doctor’s arrival—leaving the greeting to the manager.

“Miss Y/n. Yoongi. If you please follow me, I will take you both to one of the guestrooms that you can use to meet the doctor in. We have some snacks being prepared and will bring those soon as well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to eat in one of the bedrooms, Prime Alpha Sir. Plus, my stomach isn’t feeling so well with all the pain,” ‘and the emotional waves’ you add on in your mind.

Leading you both into the house, Namjoon nods his head, “I see. I am sorry it took so long for us to get you seen. We normally heal rather quickly as hybrids. I think we kind of forgot that humans cannot do that. Sorry.”

“No worries, Prime Alpha Sir. I have a high pain tolerance, according to my mom and Derek, but I guess there is just so much that has happened in a short time that my body is just kind of everywhere. I am sorry if my scent is causing any problems as well. I know it must be all over the place.”

At that last comment, you feel a tug at your waist from the tail, causing you to stumble back into Yoongi. Who buries his nose in your neck, similar to how you were being held by Hoseok in the van, causing you to blush as you regain your footing.

“Smells good. Not bad. Y/n in pain but happy,” he says as he releases you. This time, he grabs your good hand and pulls you into the room that Namjoon has opened.

The room is significantly larger than your bedroom, that is for sure. The walls are off-white, with a dark purple accent wall containing a sitting window. The bed is a four-post queen with deep purple curtains tied back with black lace complimenting the purple and black bedding. All the furniture is in a dark, almost burnt-looking wood with iron accents.

You look around the room with your mouth agape. “It’s so beautiful here, and look!” you exclaim as you walk to the adjoining bathroom. “It comes with a private bathroom!”

Namjoon and Yoongi smile at each other as they smell your sweet pea coming out in waves with a hint of more jasmine, which the boys now understand is an indication of your happiness.

“There is also a walk-in closet, but my favorite part is the sitting window. Perfect to read in,” Namjoon adds.

There is a knock at the door, though it is standing wide open. The three of you look over to see the manager, Jungkook, and a woman with an old-fashioned medical bag standing just outside the door.

“Pardon the interruption, but Dr. Blackwell is here,” Manager Sejin states, motioning to the woman beside him, who bows.

“Dr. Blackwell! It is good to see you again, please come in. I am sure you were informed that Yoongi is in Alpha Space and will probably like to stay but I will step out if it is needed,” Namjoon greets Dr. Blackwell with a firm handshake.

Dr. Blackwell is a younger-looking woman but still older than you. Her hair is in a French braid, and she is wearing a pantsuit. Setting her bag on the chest at the end of the bed, she looks at Yoongi with kind eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Kim. I was informed and you are correct, since the patient is not a member of your pack then you will have to leave. Technically Mr. Min should leave as well but I will leave that up to the patient.”

“Oh, umm…” Looking between the doctor and Yoongi, they both seem to await your decision. “Mr. M,” you are cut off by a huff and a tug around your waist, “Sorry, Yoongi can stay for now. If anything gets too private then I ask him to step out.”

Yoongi’s actions cause the doctor and Namjoon to pause before looking at each other. Dr. Blackwell speaks first: “Mr. Kim, I was informed that Mr. Min believes to be responsible for the injury. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is right, and as a mate ~cough cough~ bonded pack we are all here to support them.”

“Oh. I see and that would explain the familiarity. Thank you, Mr. Kim, that is all I believe I need from you now. Unless you want me to check out your cough?” Dr. Blackwell teasingly asks the Prime Alpha who turns slightly pink.

“Nope, I got it. You got it. Yeah. We will head out with the rest of the pack. Gonna be waiting in the dining room near the main kitchen if you need anything or need to kick Yoongi out.”

Namjoon bows to the doctor and then smiles at you as he walks out of the room, taking Jungkook with him.

In the kitchen, the two eldest have finished preparing snacks and drinks for everyone, including the staff, who gathered around munching on them.

Pleasant conversations are happening here and there between everyone present. Everyone seems to avoid the topic of you since no one really knows what is going on except the pack and the manager.

Namjoon watches from the entryway with Jungkook. He has always felt proud of his pack and how they treat the staff like a pseudo-family pack. They have seen other idol groups treat their staff like stepping stones, which never felt right to any of the packmates.

“Hey, everyone,” Namjoon says loud enough to gain the room's attention. “The pack has to have a pack meeting while the doctor is here. I invite the staff to take some of the prepared snacks to the guest house across the lawn and settle in. We won’t be needing any services tonight aside from Manager Sejin.”

“Namjoon-ssi, I will also head over to the other house to settle in, but I will keep my phone on me. Please text me when you need me, and I will come right over,” the manager responds while holding a tray of rolled-up meats and cheeses.

“Sounds good. Bangtan Pack, we need to meet in the dining room. Grab what’s left and come sit down.”

With that, the kitchen is filled with goodbyes, see you later, and other pleasantries as everyone departs. Namjoon, knowing that he doesn’t do well in the kitchen, simply turns and heads to the dining room they will use for the pack meeting.

The rest of the boys grab what they can. The energy in the dining room is heavy, and they know that they have to discuss this, but the situation is odd. Once everyone is seated, Namjoon takes a look around the table. Each of his mates looks at him expectantly.

“We can all agree that she is our mate, right?” The Prime Alpha asks, wanting to make sure they are at least starting out on the same page. A chorus of agreement floods the room, lifting a weight off their shoulders.

“Hyung?” Jimin tentatively speaks up.

“Yeah, Jimin, everything okay?”

“Seeing how everyone has reacted to her, I agree that she is a mate but I want to be honest that I haven’t had any time for my Alpha to respond to her. Actually, to be transparent, he backs away whenever she is close. I don’t know why.”

Jimin looks down and picks at the tablecloth until a Hobi takes hold of his hand. “Jimin, you were close with our last playmate and were the first of us to connect with her on a deeper level of friendship. She broke that trust with you,” Hobi begins.

“I am sure that I was not the only one who was shocked that you wanted a new playmate out here. I didn’t say anything because I figured you were trying to rebound.

However, rebounding by finding a new friend is different than finding a new mate. It will be difficult for you and some of our other mates because very few of us have had any experience outside of the pack.”

“Minie,” Jungkook chimes in. “I know you are nervous, and you keep trying to find a way to be around her but not at the same time, which is okay. But you need to make sure to listen to yourself and your Alpha. It is okay if you are not jumping into it head first like some of us are.”

“Hobi and Kook are right, Jimin.” Namjoon finally speaks up. This goes for everyone. We will all take this at a comfortable pace for us and, more importantly, for her. Manager-nim reminded me that she has no way of knowing what is going on and is most likely fighting her instincts because we are already a pack.”

“Remember how long it took us to convince Kook he wasn’t a toy? Or how Taehyung did not open up fully until after Jimin finally took it into his own hands?”

“She is gonna be like that.” Seokjin states, gaining everyone’s attention. “We need to watch ourselves. Some of us are more instinctually driven, but that could drive her away.”

“With that being said… does anyone have any suggestions?” questions Namjoon.

“Yoongi will end up being her safe space, I think.” Taehyung comments more to himself than to anyone.

Hobi shifts in his seat, remembering how self-conscious you were in the van before he speaks up, “She reminds me of myself. She doesn’t have a good self-image. We should each spend time with her. Show her who we are off-stage, as a pack, as mates with each other, and encourage her to join in.”

“While I think that is a good idea, she won’t join in,” Jungkook interjects. “She wouldn’t ask for a bottle of water for the worry of taking from the pack, how will she accept cuddle time or scenting?”

“True, and besides that, how are we gonna keep her around for us to interact with to even prove anything to anyone,” whines Jimin. “This is so complicated.”

“Six to eight weeks! You have to be kidding. You expect me not to be using my wrist for upwards of eight weeks? What about work? Can I shower? What about chores?” You loudly speak to Dr. Blackwell in response to her diagnosis of a hairline fracture of your wrist.

Yoongi’s ears are flat at either your yelling or the feeling of failure. His tail had curled around his own waist during the examination, and your pain levels tinted your scent with mold.

Ever remaining calm, Dr. Blackwell continues, “It would be best if you sought help during that time,” looking at Yoongi, “and since you have a respectable pack responsible for the injury there should be nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Mr. Min.”

Yoongi nods with an almost blank face as he tries to hide his disappointment in himself. Internally, scolding himself for breaking his mate during their first meeting.

“Mr. Min, I think it would be best to get your Prime Alpha to discuss anything further,” Dr. Blackwell instructs.

Looking briefly at you while you are looking at the floor, cradling your wrist, Yoongi leaves the guest room, quickly seeking out his pack.

“Miss Y/n, have you dealt with hybrids?”

“Yes, my family pack, as Bangtan puts it, consists of a beta fox and omega munchkin, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I see. That makes sense. You were the Alpha in your pack and that is why you don’t understand what is happening around you.”

Snapping your head up, you look at the doctor. “What do you mean?”

Taking a tentative step forward, Dr. Blackwell places a hand on your shoulder, “It isn’t my place to say anything more than I already have. Just take a moment to think back to what you have learned about hybrids, and be open to the pack around in the next coming weeks.”

“Why would I be around them for weeks?”

Yoongi’s scent hits the dining room before he enters. All eyes are on the door as he comes in with his head hung low. He looks around the table with a frown on his face, and he mumbles, “Broke mate.”

Jin, being the closest to him, reaches out and pulls him to sit on his lap. Being Yoongi’s only hyung, Yoongi goes willingly and tucks his nose into Jin’s neck, “Hyung, I broke mate.”

“Yoon, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. It was strictly an accident,” Jin whispers while rubbing soothing circles on his back. The pack pushes out calming scents into the room.

“Yoongi-hyun, can you tell us what the doctor said?” asks Jungkook.

“Broke wrist. Weeks healing. Need Pack Alpha.”

“Joon, go talk with Miss Y/n and the doctor. Get things figured out. We will take care of Yoongi,” Jin instructs, subtly pulling the elder card again.

“Yoongi, you have done great, and I am sure she doesn’t blame you,” Namjoon says as he walks to the hall, stopping. He looks back to the table. “Kookie, come with me, please. From how the scents are coming down the hall, we might need your tact at calming her down.”

A knock on the wall gains your attention. You see a toothy smile shine at you before he comes bounding over and joins you on the bed. His enthusiasm takes you back, then giggle as he lays his head on your lap, grabbing your left hand to rest on his hair.

“Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable,” you say, smiling as you scratch softly on his hair.

“Are you still in pain?” he asks as his eyes close at the soothing feeling of your fingers.

“No, Dr. Blackwell gave me something for that, and it kicked in a few minutes ago. Though it’s going to be painful for a while,” you inform. Looking up, Namjoon stands next to the doctor with a sweet smile.

“Dr. Blackwell, can you explain the situation please?”

Nodding, she turns to the Prime Alpha, “Mr. Kim, Miss Y/n has what I suspect is a hairline fracture. To be certain, I would need to take her to the local hospital but given your situation that would not be a very easy task.”

“I can say with certainty that be it a hairline fracture or a severe sprain, she will have to wear a brace and not use her wrist for six to eight weeks.”

At the reminder of the weeks of difficulty that will come, your scent turns watery as worry creeps into your mind.

“As you all know, I am both a hybrid and a human doctor which brings me to the next issue at hand. While Miss Y/n is kind of heart and forgives Mr. Min of any wrongdoings, Mr. Min, according to the hybrid culture, is responsible for her recovery.”

“Wait, my recovery? I thought it was just to get me to see you?” Your eyes bounce between the three others in the room.

“That is correct, and as Prime Alpha of his bonded pack, we will provide for her over the next eight weeks. We have the space, the means, and the power to do so, Dr. Blackwell.” Namjoon says, holding eye contact with you. His voice gave no room for argument.

“Prime Alpha Sir, you… the pack… my work… how?”

“Not to interrupt, but I will excuse myself as this is now a pack matter. Keep that brace on as much as possible. I will leave my report with notes for your employer explaining your health situation and a vial of your pain medications on the dining room table.” Dr. Blackwell says as she gathers her things and bows, leaving the room.

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is right. This is a pack matter now and I think speaking with everyone together would be the best idea. If you would join us, we could talk about what to do next?”

“Umm, yeah. We can do that. I can do that.”

Moving to stand, Jungkook moves out of the way and holds your good hand, leading you toward the living room where the pack is now gathered.

Seokjin and Yoongi are on the medium couch, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok are on the long couch, and the only open seat is a loveseat.

You move to sit on the loveseat only to have Jungkook pull you to the couch where Seokjin and Yoongi are. “Jin-Hyung, can we sit there with Yoongi?”

Noticing that Yoongi gets stiff at the question, you say, “No, no, that is okay. I think Yoongi has had enough of me. I can sit somewhere else.” However, not only does Jungkook not let go of your hand, but a black tail finds its way around your thigh.

“Sure thing, I will sit with Namjoon.” Seokjin smiles and moves to sit with his Prime Alpha on the smallest couch.

Next thing you know, you are sandwiched between the bunny and jaguar. Yoongi is on your right, his tail still wrapped around your thigh, with the tip sliding up and down almost absentmindedly. Jungkook is on your left, still holding your hand and resting his head on your shoulder.

Your body relaxes as you lean back on the couch, looking around the room. Mind making jokes about having a fur leash again despite Yoongi not looking at you since you entered the room and how you seem to have become a bunny pillow. After some thought, you realize that you don’t actually mind either action.

Someone clearing their throat pulls you from your thoughts. Looking towards the loveseat, you see Namjoon sit up straighter and take on a look that clearly shows that it is the Prime Alpha talking and not the cute, funny Namjoon you have seen clips of on Instagram.

“Bangtan pack, Miss Y/n has a hairline fracture of her right wrist,” at this information, a collective hiss of sympathetic pain comes from the other members.

“She will be required to wear that brace and limit her use of that hand for the next six to eight weeks. This brings up some causes of concern for Miss Y/n.”

Namjoon looks at you to continue, “Umm… well I am right-hand dominant so doing pretty much anything is going to be complicated. I only have about four days of sick pay saved up right now. So, going back to work will be a hurdle all on its own, not to mention doing any kind of chores or cooking.”

Your eyes wander across the group as you speak. They all look at you like you are speaking something other than English or Korean. When your eyes come to a stop on Yoongi, he is finally looking at you with his eyes now a deep brown.

“Y/n, stay with us,” Yoongi states, not asking. “I am a respectable Alpha Jaguar and it is my honor to care for you back to health. My Alpha already told you outside that he would keep you safe until you are healed. I am here for the long haul.”

Your eyes widen at his declaration, and your mind blanks on what to say or how to respond.

From your other side, Jungkook cuddles into your side, his nose nudging your neck softly, “We all will be here for the long haul.”

“They are right, you know. We are a bonded pack of mates and we would love to have you stay here with us so that we can take care of you,” Hoseok adds.

Breaking eye contact with Yoongi, you took to Hoseok as he and the others on that couch smiled genuinely. “What about my job? I cannot leave my work. I have to pay for my flat and food and stuff.”

“Y/n,” your head snaps to the Prime Alpha, “is it okay if we call you Y/n?”

Nodding, you turn your body to face him directly. Your left hand, still holding Jungkook’s, is gripping tightly, trying to ground yourself.

At your agreement, the Prime Alpha smiles, showing off dimples as he continues, “I figured that you would worry about a few things like that.”

“The room you met with the doctor in is yours while you stay here with us… at the pack house. When we say that we will take care of you, we mean it. We will cover all your expenses; it’s not like we lack the funds to care for anyone. Lastly, in order to keep a job to cover your everyday expenses, such as your flat, cell phone, etc., going, I have a proposition for you.”

Holding your breath, your eyes wide at everything he has said so far, you gulp, “What is your proposition, Prime Alpha Sir?”

“Become our playmate.”

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weird-is-life · 5 months

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I’m actually obsessed w Spencer Reid rn. Please can you write something really really cute and fluffy and reader gets drunk while out meeting Spencer’s team, and starts getting really jealous and protective of him, clinging to his waist and scowling at any girl, (or boy, because reader explains that her boy is so pretty that she bets men love him too), that come anywhere near him. The team tease the two lovingly, but when reader gets so overwhelmed and clingy that she starts to cry, Spencer melts. He starts massaging her hair, cuddling her close to his chest. He’s praising her and telling her how much he adores her and only her.

He drives her home, and it ends in the two falling asleep whilst spooning each other <3

Hii, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay. Sorry it took me so long. Warnings: use of pet names, mentions of alcohol, jealous!reader, fluff (0.9k)

It's not your first time meeting Spencer's team, so you definitely aren't shy to have a good time along with some drinks.

But eventually, one drink turns into one too many and you end up drunk. And it's not just you, it's everybody, except for the drivers of the night. Meaning Spencer, he's your driver for the night, so he sticks to a soda for the whole night.

And actually, Spencer goes to get you a soda as well, not wanting you to get anymore drunk. He knows, you'll feel terrible in the morning with how many drinks you've had already.

When he comes back with the sodas and sits next to you, your whole face lights up at the sight of him and you immediately make yourself comfortable on his lap.

"Wha- Oh, okay, "Spencer doesn't get the chance to say anything as you sit in his lap. He only chuckles at it and so does the team.

"W-what?" you cluelessly giggle along with them, a bit confused why they are all laughing.

"Nothing, "Emily answers for all of them and chuckles some more.

You frown drunkenly, but the frown dissappears just as quickly as it came, when you feel Spencer squeezing your thigh (lovingly).

You look at him, your expression completely lovesick," you look so handsome tonight Spence," your attempt of a whisper is very, very far from actually whispering.

"Just today?" Spencer actually whispers with a teasing smile.

"Noooo," you drag the 'o' for a bit too long, " y-you always look v-very handsome."

Again, you fail to whisper, so the team hears your answer clearly.

"He really does and I think some other people here think it, too " Derek chuckles and his eyes end up on a table at the back of the bar, the people there are visibly ogling Spencer.

When you notice it, you scowl. It's surprising, that you can even see that far back with your kind of blurry vission, but you do.

It looks quite comical, how you drunkenly glare at them. But you can't help it, why are they looking at Spence, your Spence, like that?

"Woah, woah, woah, babe, you're gonna kill someone with that look," Emily teases you, she's just as drunk as you, so she finds her comment very funny and laughs. You, on the other hand, glare at her, as well.

"You guys are being so mean," you slur as you point at the team and they just laugh some more. You can't help, but to giggle with them, too. You can't even remember why you were upset a few seconds ago as you laugh with them. Spencer only shakes his head at how ridiculous you all are, although there's a smile on his face, too.

Once the laughter dies down and everybody starts a small talk of their own. Your endorphins seem to run out of your system and your ecstatic mood dissappears.

Spencer notices it immediately, your sad face and dejected sitting position tell him enough. He knows, it's time for you and him to go home and get some sleep.

He asks you if you want to go home and you just tiredly nod.

Spencer gently pulls you up onto your wobbly legs and says goodbye to everyone for you both. He walks you to the car (or more like he carries you there, because you put your whole bodyweight on him) and he even puts on the seatbelt for you.

Before Spencer can even start the car, you are sniffling softly with big tears running down your cheeks.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Spencer instantly worries, taking your face into his hands and wiping away the loose tears.

"I just....I just l-love you so much," you hiccup as you respond to his question. And Spencer swears, he couldn't love you any more after hearing your adorable answer.

"Yeah? Is that why you're crying?" he gives you a warm, amused smile.

"M-maybe," you don't really know why you're crying. Spencer thinks, it might be the alcohol in your system messing with your hormones.

Spencer would laugh at your answer if you didn't look so damn sad about it. Instead he just says, "come here."

He hugs you and you very eagerly hug him back. Spencer runs his hand up and down over your back until the sniffling stops and until he can't feel anymore tears wetting his t-shirt.

He pulls you away from him carefully, "are you feeling better? Should we head home now, huh?"

You nod sluggishly, " y-yeah, but w-will you hug me some more at home?"

"Of course, however long you want, sweetheart," Spencer smiles at you and raises your intertwined hands towards his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

You smile at him, happy to hear Spencer's promise of cuddles and you contentedly look out of the window, while Spencer starts the car.

By the time Spencer parks the car, you are out, fast asleep in the front seat. He can't blame you, the roar of the engine would lull him to sleep too if he was just as tired and just as drunk as you.

Spencer, though unwillingly, wakes you up. You wake up, confused as to where you are, but you smile sleepily at Spence, when you realise it's him.

"Come on, love. Let's get you inside," you lean heavily on him as you walk to the apartment.

Once, you're inside, Spencer helps you change into comfy pyjamas and removes your make-up (you are half asleep as he does that). He prepares a glass of water and painkillers for you on the bedside table for the morning.

When Spencer finally joins you in the bed, you are sleeping again. He pulls you towards him and cuddles you close, you sigh happily into his chest. You two stay like that the whole night, Spencer hugs you tightly just like he promised, he would.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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lunarw0rks · 2 months

Text

sweet thing | part one

˖⁺‧₊˚ read it on ao3 | masterlist | ask box

price takes a liking to his neighbor. vulnerable, expecting, and in need of his helping hand. it's a good thing he always wanted a family.

john price x pregnant!reader (based on this idea of mine.)

warning(s): MDNI (18+); NOT EDITED, price is touch starved and kinda pathetic, pregnancy, angst/depression, alcoholism, fluff, fem!reader [wc: 1.3k]

Involuntary stress leave, they called it.

But for John, it was just short of decay. Sedentary, bitter—restless. Stuck at home while there's still a fight to be fought, men who need guidance. His men.

Before the stress does him in, he figures boredom will close in on him first, and it would be less merciful than any bullet or blade. Chores are a necessity, and hobbies are nothing more than a temporary soothe to his aches.

Every morning, irony wakes him up cold. Takes its pound of flesh. The world he devoted his adult life to fighting for, has nothing in it for him.

(Stiff fingers, heaving chest, bile in his throat, tremors marring his nervous system.)

It's hours before he can shake the feeling, so he compromises by rising at ungodly hours and fulfilling a rigid routine—still a trained soldier to his core. And by nightfall, he nurses a bottle until he's warm again, ready for the reset at dawn.

As they gaze out the window, his eyes search for purpose. Two fingers parting the blinds. Something, anything, please. But nothing. The sharp sting of cheap booze rushes past his teeth, and he's ready to retreat.

He winces through the taste before he's at attention again. The rumble of an engine cut short right next door. He angles himself to catch a clear view of the person. Instinct yells for him to be vigilant, but the sight in front of him snuffs the bellow.

The flow of a slip dress in the breeze, sticky strands of hair pulled back, glowing skin, a nurturing hand resting on the bump that shows through the fabric.

You look anything but thrilled while you wrangle your bags and fight the wind gusts, and you're well aware of it.

All John sees is bloom. Purpose. Duty.

Before he can gather all his wits, he's closed the front door behind him, his spilled bottle dribbling along the end table. It's not so much your beauty that drives him; he isn't a superficial man and can't afford to be.

A living, breathing person is what quickens his stride. Someone to talk to. Someone to touch and study. As of late, the only people near have been on the other side of the TV screen, fueled by dramatics and in character.

You find yourself stuck in your headspace again, mentally listing all the tasks that await you inside your house. Chores, mostly, some grocery shopping—and loads more of that endless baby planning. Relaxation wasn't an option and you're actively learning to accept that. Although, it's admittedly difficult to feel any other way when you've got another human to consider now.

John clears his throat. "Let me take tha' for you, darling."

He waits until you meet his stare to extend a hand, fingers grazing the flimsy straps of your shopping bags. You freeze, soaking in the sight of him.

"Hm?" Your brows knit together, and it's only then that you catch up with him.

"Your bags."

The man has already taken them before the words finish rolling off his tongue, but he stays in place.

A soft chuckle comes out of you to crack open the sheet of embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today."

Pregnancy brain, you want to blame it on. But deep down you know it's because kindness is a new taste nowadays.

Most are courteous and accommodating, making way for you. Others look at you like dirt on their shoes. Fatigue draining your features doesn't help, and neither does the absence of a wedding band. Early on, you were naive enough to believe society had moved beyond the stigma. Wrong, more wrong, and a fool is all you are nowadays, even if only in your head.

Exhausted, not out of it, he analyses, and his heart aches.

"It's alright." His voice is smooth as nectar, leaving goosebumps on your skin that you'll chalk up to the wind. "Shouldn't be carrying all this by yourself, anyhow."

You fight the urge to scoff and instead lead the way to the front porch.

He's right. You shouldn’t be doing any of this alone.

Turning the key, you step inside and let the words spill. “Yeah, I, uh— I didn’t have anyone to call.”

Price should be more shocked by your words, but he isn’t. He is really, and truly, desensitized to all the misfortune around him. And it’s not any different with you. His eyes—conditioned to spot every minute detail of a person—took milliseconds to notice your left hand.

Feel her out. Find out more.

“That so?” He questions softly but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. You’ve painted the whole picture and more.

His words are full of every sensibility possible. “That’s a shame.” Pity. Empathy. Grief. Outrage. All except condescension; none of this is your fault, he can sense it.

You expect admonition.

Leading a stranger inside is bad enough, and walking the fine line between small talk and oversharing is worse.

But you can’t bring yourself to taste it. Outside of some coworkers and your mother, this is your first taste of organic interaction, and it’s been overwhelmingly amicable so far. Not something you can take lightly; loneliness is prevalent.

You let out a tired sigh, letting the silent gesture speak for itself. What else can you say? He's already got you pegged after spending all but two minutes with you. Makes you wonder how you haven't noticed him sooner, though you remember his driveway is usually vacant and the blinds are always closed.

By now, it's obvious that if he had ill intentions, he would've acted on them by now. The silence isn't thick or stiff—it's refreshing, oddly enough.

When his mouth upturns, the crow's feet around his eyes are made visible. They've witnessed things, awful things, no doubt. But he's also got a world of wisdom in them.

This is the part where you find a farewell, something moderately polite so you don't feel awful for kicking him out. (Not your fault you need to rest your feet. At least you get the sense that he'll understand.)

In search for the words, you place a hand on your stomach, "well, it was kind of you to bring that in, uh—"

"—John." He interjects.

Out of habit, you form a clumsy smile and ache to get the proper words out. "It was very kind of you, John. Thank you."

Without any further direction, he's able to pick up on your hints for him to make his exit. The bar is so low these days, it's almost shocking. Shuffling to follow him to the front door, your hand seizes the knob.

There's a lot left unsaid, despite meeting your handsome neighbor only a short time ago. The voice inside urges you to keep it short. Send him off, get out of his hair. He was just being nice.

"I should thank you again," you blurt, almost abruptly. Price turns on his heels with little surprise, a leer written on his thin lips. "Next time, I'll take another trip to carry the bags."

"No next time, love." A purr and a new nickname.

Too smitten to even notice the ruffle of some paper when he reaches a hand in his pocket. Even stole the pen off your entry table (a.k.a the junk-pile-of-mail-table) and you were none the wiser. Dated, the way he scribbles on the crumbled receipt and hands it to you between his index and middle.

Heat rises up your neck and to your face when you inch closer to retrieve the number, somehow finding it within yourself to not break eye contact. John's gaze stays genuine, despite the puff of his chest and the way he breathes your scent in shamelessly.

Albeit frazzled—you weren't born yesterday; he's attractive and extremely luring and you're single and hormonal. Wouldn't take much for something to happen.

And if not, you know you'll have fond daydreams, at the very least.

"You ever need anything, give me a call. 'M good for more than bag carrying."

#divider by benkeibear #not sure what to think of this #john price #captain price x reader #price mw2 #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #price cod #price x you #john price x you #task force 141 #cod

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cemeteryspider · 19 days

Text

Good Luck, Babe

Wanda Maximoff x Mutant! Reader

Past Jean Grey x Mutant! Reader

Summary: You try to recover from the betrayal of your teammate and girlfriend, Jean Grey. You leave the X-Mansion and move to a place where you feel welcome for the first time in a long time.

Trigger Warnings: Cheating (Jean Grey), Emotional Distress, Heartbreak, Violence/Anger, Mention of Death, Themes of Mental Health

Word Count: 2431

When you walked into your girlfriend's room after training the last thing you expected to see was Jean Grey, said girlfriend, and Scott Summers making out on her bed. By the looks of it, it was getting hot and heavy with Jean's shirt off, and discarded on the floor where your's was not just yesterday.

When Scott's lips met her neck she was able to look at you, and a shocked look crossed her face. Quickly her distress leached from her mind into Scott's who stopped and turned around.

"Get out!" She pushed you out the door with her powers, and slammed the door in your face as you stumbled back. You heard the lock click.

Behind the door you heard the hushed conversation that followed.

"What was she doing here?" Scott whispered.

"Nothing, Scott. She's nothing..." You scoffed and brushed the dust off the skirt of your suit. Your hands heating up, anger beginning to jump start your powers.

The air around you started to heat up as you practically ran downstairs and through the hallways.

Quickly you stalked back to the danger room, yelling at Morph, Wolverine, and Gambit to get out. Seeing the flames erupt from your hands they got out of the room mid-fight without a word.

You turned the danger room into an inferno. The walls started to melt slightly from the amount of heat you were putting off. The boys outside could feel the burning heat and the harsh scream you emitted.

This went on for a minute before you could feel the smooth entrance of the Professor entering your mind.

"Pyromancer, it's getting quite hot in there, maybe it would do you good to cool down" You allowed yourself to let go of your anger, despite knowing the professor was helping you still let go. Once the heat of the moment, no pun intended, wore off you felt a pit in your stomach start to grow.

Once the room was back down to a bearable but still warm temperature, thanks to the advanced ventilation system, Rouge came in and held you in her arms. You let yourself collapse and feel the other side of your emotions that you usually kept hidden.

Rouge knew the hot and cold nature of you and Jean’s relationship, and it didn’t take a telepath to understand what happened. She knew Jean was the only person who could work you up like this.

“I guess I’m the fool…” You whispered into her shoulder, and she just held you tighter.

~~~

Later that week, the X-Men were out at a bar and you couldn't get out of it this time. Gambit and Rouge forced you out of your room after a successful mission and took you to what used to be your favorite bar with the rest of the team.

Despite the near constant conversation with your friends, you couldn't help but look over at Jean Grey. Sitting at the bar between Wolverine and Cyclops laughing at stupid jokes, and touching their arms. Getting drinks on the house from any man who looked at her long enough to notice her beauty.

Once the conversation around you died down you got up to go to the bathroom. Rouge shot you a concerned look, which you quickly shut down with a shake of your head.

On your way there Jean saw you and stood up to follow you. Internally you groaned knowing you weren't getting through the next few minutes without talking to Jean or Rouge, about avoiding Jean so you continued your walk to the bathroom.

You went up to the mirror to fix some strands of hair that came loose from your hair style, and nudged the flecks of mascara from under your eyes when Jean came in.

"What's up with you recently?" So the interrogation begins, you thought.

"What's up with me? What's up with you? Kissing Summers?"

"Come on, you know that I'm just looking for a little fun, and you were busy"

"No it's not just that Jean. Why don't you tell people about me? You say that we're nothing but you know the truth"

"You know it's not that simple... I'm figuring things out ya know"

"Yeah well when were you gonna tell me, huh"

"I don't know, I just thought you would be more open about this kind of thing"

"What the person I love making out with other people behind my back and not calling what we have what it is." You saw Jean visibly cringe when you said the word love, "You know what this, whatever this is, is over"

You made your way to the exit of the bathroom.

"Wait... I do love you"

"No you don't," With that the conversation was over. You left the bathroom, left the bar, and left the mansion. When Jean came into your room that night to try to work something out, you were gone along with most of your stuff. Even Charles was unsure of where you'd gone.

~~~

When you left you had no idea where you'd go. A mutant with barely controlled powers, you had very few options. Luckily, you found someone to help you. Rather, someone found you.

Magneto brought you into his sanctuary for mutant-kind, Genosha. You befriended Glob, Pixie, Leech, and Nature Girl there, eventually becoming a mentor-figure to them. You met people from your past who you thought you would never see again like Kurt and Emma.

The bright colors and futuristic buildings quickly became your home. Magneto helped you hone your powers, knowing what it was like to have a power that people feared and was difficult to control. In time you learned to separate your emotions from your powers allowing for more controlled use of them. You were able to more accurately aim balls of fire and dazzle people, dancing with rings of fire.

For the first time in your life you felt safe. You were no longer afraid of hurting people with your powers, and you never felt threatened by people on the island. Finally, you met someone.

Wanda Maximoff, Magneto's daughter, and the love of your life. You were truly yourself around her, and never has she made you feel like you were not enough.

"Baby! Come here, I want you to try this!" She yelled from the kitchen, and you smiled as you placed your book on the side table and made your way there.

Before you could even ask what it was Wanda had shoved the spoon into your mouth. All you could do was groan as you tasted the slightly spicy dish.

"Mmmm. What is that?"

"Traditional Sokovian paprikash. It's made with chicken, paprika, and lots of love, dear" You felt your cheeks heat up, and you put your arms around her waist and swayed the two of you gently as she continued to stir the pot on the stove.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you," You lovingly whispered in her ear.

"Oh I'm not sure, maybe just many times every day we're together, but who knows?" She smiled and slid the dish off the hot burner, and started plating three dishes.

"Who's not joining us tonight?" You asked as you grabbed the silverware and napkins, and set them on the table.

"My father left for America, something about the death of someone close to him" You stopped in your tracks for a moment. You knew of the strained relationship between Charles and Erik, and of how important Erik was to the Professor. You were lost for a second. If it was Charles who had died, then you had lost your first father figure and mentor without realizing it. You became lost in thought.

"Draga? Where did you go?" Pulled from your thoughts you felt Wanda's hands on either side of your face.

"Who?"

"Father instructed me not to tell you,” She continued to set the table where you left off.

"Wanda, please, I have to know" Her eyes looked deep into yours and she gave a small sigh.

"Charles Xavier is what he said"

"Oh..."

"Are you okay?" She again reached for your face and you leaned into her.

"Yeah. I just need to process this. I'll grab Pietro," Slowly you made your way through your small home, and up the stairs. Many thoughts raced through your head like why didn't Magneto tell you? Why didn't Charles contact you? Hell why did none of your old team try to find you?

As tears welled up in your eyes, you struggled to process the news. Charles had been a father figure to you, guiding you through your struggles with your powers.

Tears rolled down your face, and instead you turned into the room you shared with Wanda. You curled up in the bed, and started to really feel your emotions. After a few minutes you hear Wanda's feet pad into the room, and the bed sunk down next to you.

"It'll be okay baby. We'll get through it"

~~~

A couple of months passed until Erik made his way back to Genosha, with familiar faces in tow. You saw your two friends in the market being led by Kurt. Quickly you dropped the fruit you were holding and ran to see them. Gambit turned at the right moment, and you jumped into his arms.

"Woah, cher, long time, no see," Gambit held you tight for a minute, and let you go.

"I missed you guys," and you gave Rouge a squeeze.

"Ah, this is where you been all this time, sugah," She continued to look you up and down for any injuries, "Shoulda guessed"

"Look guys I'm sorry for not telling you I was leaving, but if I did Charles and Jean would have come looking for me... I just couldn't deal with her anymore," You looked down at your shoes as you confessed to the only two people who made you feel at home at Xavier's. You felt your eyes watering as they didn't say anything right away.

Rouge sighed, "It's okay, we know you did what's best for you. We're just sad we couldn't be there for the new you" You hugged her once again, this time she truly hugged you back.

"Gambit was never worried, cher, you're a good one. You always find your way" Gambit's hand found your shoulder, and you followed them around on your tour, pointing things out as you went along.

~~~

Finally, you had made it back home, which you were surprised to find everyone else already there.

"Guys there is someone you have to meet! She is amazing, you will love her!"

"Sugah, wait there's something..." but before she could finish her sentence you had already swung the door open. In the little living room was Magneto, Wanda, Scott, and Jean.

Your eyes widened as Jean turned to smile at you. Wanda was giving Jean the meanest glare, you had even seen from your sweet girlfriend.

Still you recovered quickly, "Remy, Rouge, this is my girlfriend, Wanda" Jean's smile left her lips, and you could feel her looking through your mind.

Wanda walked over to you, and took your hand in hers. "Hi, I've heard so much about you two. It's a pleasure to meet you!" She stuck out her hand to which both of your friends accepted. A little smirk crossed Rouge's face but you pretended not to notice.

~~~

You spent the rest of the night avoiding Scott and Jean like the plague. Every attempt to start a conversation was quickly shut down by Rouge or Wanda, who were experts on keeping you from shutting down at this point.

However; when you went to the kitchen to get a drink, and Wanda was in the bathroom and Rouge was talking to Magneto, Jean was able to sneak in with you.

"Hey, it's been a long time since we last spoke," She was treading the water carefully and using rehearsed words.

"Yeah, it was kinda intentional," You were still fiddling with the glass of water in your hand and looking out the window.

"I married him, and it's not what I thought it would be like"

"Sorry to hear that," Your eyes were half-lidded and you were sure with a few more sentences Jean would cause them to roll right out of your skull.

"I miss us... I miss you... I thought by marrying him I would feel better about choosing him, but I don't feel better," You continued to stare out into the dark streets illuminated by scarce streetlights and other houses with the lights on, "Let's run away together. We can be happy again!"

"We?" You scoffed at her, "When were we ever happy?"

"We were happy! I know we were..."

"No, Jean! You were happy! You were happy dragging me along, calling you baby, saying that I loved you but you never did that for me. Every kiss ended with you leaving me to do something more worthy of your time, every date interrupted by Scott, and when we finally shared a memorable moment in your bedroom the next day Scott Summers was in your bed. The sad thing is you can see into my mind, you know how I feel, and yet you ignore it," You allowed yourself to yell, and be angry. The patter of feet stopped right outside the doorway, but the conversation wasn't done just yet.

Jean’s voice wavered as she pleaded, "Please, I can make it right, just give me a chance"

You could feel the anger bubble up in you, resentment dripping off every word, "God, Jean, not everything is about you! I don't want you anymore! I'm sorry you're nothing more than his wife. You know I hate to say, but, I told you so"

Jean stood, slack jawed, and after a moment or two of silence, you turned your heel and left the kitchen. You didn't look back at Jean. Everyone hurried back to their seats as soon as the door opened, but you didn't feel like chastising any of them at the moment.

You walked through the crowd of your friends and family running up the stairs. Wanda was just leaving the bathroom when you passed her.

Wanda’s gaze softened as she reached out to you, her voice gentle and reassuring, "Is everything okay?" You turned and looked at her. Beautiful red tinged hair framed her face, and you couldn't help but place your hands on her cheeks.

You took a deep breath, "Everything's okay when I'm with you," You placed a kiss on her lips, which she happily responded in kind.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #scarlet witch #jean grey

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ravenna-reid · 2 months

Text

Admirer from the past...

TW: blood, mention of dead bodies and stalking/obsessive behaviour

An expert crime fighter. One of the youngest CEOs. A skilled detective. As good as the Bat. Maybe even better than him.

Tim often found himself conversing with police officers and other detectives that were actually qualified unlike him. Discussing the crime scene, the criminal, the victim, and the next course of action. They all respected Tim and were willing to work together.

One night Tim found himself standing amongst the chaos of the press, the solemn faces of detectives and officers and a name written in blood covering the footpath along with other gory things... The crimson letters painting the cement were a confronting display.

It was the works of a new villain, one that had only just started doing such things two weeks ago. He was one of the most psychotic men Tim had ever dealt with. And it seemed he had a nasty obsession with some poor girl, given he was constantly leaving dead bodies and flowers strewn across Gotham City dedicated to her.

Honestly, the situation twisted Tim's stomach, making him all the more adamant on finding this fucked up guy in hopes of sparing his target the fear and trauma.

Tim kept to himself as he tried to analyse the scene, picking up clues and taking his own samples. That was until the screech of tires on the road caught his attention. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw another well known detective pull up beside the crime scene and hastily get out of his car. And with him a woman. Tim quickly let his eyes glance over you. You wore a fitted suit, golden hoops and your hair thrown up into a french twist. Throwing your trench coat over your shoulders, you hurriedly followed the detective with an unimpressed look on your face.

"If you haven't even caught the assailant yet, why am I here Harry?" You asked before you fell into step with your co-worker and friend. He was almost like an older brother to you.

"Because, I need your input. Your analysis. This guy is a fucking nut and we have no idea how to predict what he's gonna do next."

Intelligence and class seemed to drip off of you, and Tim was immediately smitten interested in you. He even found himself wondering if you were seeing the man you had arrived with.

Surely not, he was old enough to be your father.

You and Harry ducked under the police tape, your hands in your pockets and eyes trained on the gruesome scene. Black roses coated in thick blood decorated the ground around your boots. You instantly grimaced.

Harry made his way over to the group and greeted Tim first.

"Red Robin." He said with a nod.

"Detective." Tim said back, eyes still trained on you.

You turned in a circle to take it all in before nearing the group. "So, do we have anything on this guy?"

"Red Robin managed to hack into one of the shops security systems. The one across the street. With the footage he retrieved, we can see this sick bastard commit the crime, but his face is obscured."

You were watching Red Robin as the officer spoke, a little taken aback to see a vigilante standing in front of you. Let alone one of the bats.

"Can I see the footage?" You asked, eyes gazing back at his.

Tim swallowed hard. Your eye contact was unwavering, and he could feel a blush begin to creep onto his face.

"Miss, are you even a detective or-"

"Of course." Tim cut the officer off, handing you the tablet that sat atop a police car.

"It's fine," Harry said with the wave of his hand, "She's with me. She knows what she's doing."

Tim watched you analyse the footage. The man was wearing a cap, and some sort of odd make-up was smeared across his face. It might have even be blood you thought. You attentively watched the criminals behaviour. His mannerisms. The odd tick in his left shoulder. The limp in his right leg.

"Anything?" Tim asked.

His voice was like wine and you couldn't help but breathe in his cologne. You might come along to see these crime scenes more often.

"There's something." You admit with the furrow of your brows. "The way he moves. I can't put my finger on it though..."

Tim observed the badge clipped to the collar of your shirt. Although he could read what your occupation was, your coat was covering your name.

"Forensic psychologist?"

What a stupid moment to be making small talk. He began to chastise himself and his lack of charisma, but you didn't seem to mind, much to his relief.

"Mhm. Know what that is?" You teased, anticipating the Red Robin's response.

Tim smirked. "No actually, never heard of it."

You gave a light laugh and Tim felt he had to keep the conversation going.

"Are you new at this?" He asked. "I haven't seen you before."

"Not really," you replied with a soft smile. "It's my second year."

"Yeah, and she beats everyone in the game." Harry called out with a chuckle. You tried to hide your blush, but your humility mixed with your attempt to hide your reaction made Tim like you even more.

But the longer you watched the footage it suddenly dawned on you. The puzzles snapped together in your head and left you a little shocked. Tim immediately took note of the change in your demeanour.

"What is it?"

You held onto the tablet tightly. "I think I know who this is. The twitch. The limp. The hunched form and what he's doing..."

"Holy shit..." Harry said as the others all gawked at the writing on the ground.

Tim ignored them, focusing his full attention onto you.

"Back when I was just a psychologist. This guy came to me, I'm sure of it." You looked back up at Tim now, but before either of you could say anything, Harry called your name.

"You better get over here."

You and Red Robin joined the group, and as you looked down at the name on the footpath, your soul immediately dropped down to your feet.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked, looking up at Harry then at you. But now that you had moved, the name on your badge was revealed to Tim.

Everyone suddenly turned to look at you. And all you could do was stare down at the red letters before you.

"That's my name."

Continue to Part Two here

#tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake robin #tim drake x reader #timothy drake #red robin x reader #red robin #dca fandom #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #angst #tim drake angst

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haggishlyhagging · 10 months

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Mother says the doctor let her hemorrhage all through the night I was born. The pool of blood that splashed around her hips on the rubber sheet until morning is symbolic to me of the life she, and her mothers before her, have bled away for others—making vampires of their husbands and children and leaving their own inner selves anemic and ravaged.

Dad first saw her in the summer of 1923, galloping bareback over the Idaho plains in men's overalls, her hair whipping behind her. Because there were so few sons and so many daughters in the Howell family, Mom helped with the outdoor farm work. The labor was often so heavy and so almost impossibly hard that it made the small, slender girl weep as she did it. Despite that, Mom still preferred it to the work of the women in the house: the endless cooking and scrubbing, sewing, soapmaking, preserving. Just washing clothes was a superhuman feat, boiling water over an outdoor fire and stirring and wringing and hanging and ironing—a two-day chore that had to be done every week by all the women of the house.

Her mother, short and plump and silent, was the first one up in the morning to build the fire, put the bread in to bake, and prepare the huge breakfast, and the last one to bed at night. Mom says her mother was always tired and didn't talk much, but confided to her once that she only wanted to live to get her children grown and then to die. She got her wish. Mom's father, whom Mom idolized, lived through two more wives after her mother died.

Mom filed all this away in her unconscious.

Late one summer night, three years ago, in the kitchen of my house in Virginia where womanhood finally found and claimed me, for the first time my mother looked squarely at what it had meant in her life to be female. On the farm in Woodruff, she confided, the men came in from their work at dark, ate supper, sat around and talked a little, perhaps, and then went off to bed, while the women, who had been up in the morning before the men, wearily washed the dishes (without soap, so the water could be fed to the pigs) and got to bed an hour or two later. I asked her what she thought of her near-perfect father for behaving this way. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "It wasn't fair."

Since that night she has regained some of her defenses against recognizing the blatant injustices of such a system, so when I've reminded her of what she told me that night, she's insisted that she hadn't remembered correctly, and that her father often had helped with the dishes and had not gone to bed leaving the womenfolk still hard at work. But I remember that night in my kitchen and the terrible things that were dawning upon both of us, and I know she remembers what was required of her as a girl. After a bonebreaking day in the fields, she was to drag her exhausted body and her screaming muscles about the kitchen to help the women with the supper and the washing up while the men were allowed—even expected and encouraged—to rest. And despite going to bed two hours later than the men, she had to arise earlier than they did the next morning to begin it all over again. There was no rest for the women—only endless drudgery until the children were reared, and then death.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

#sonia johnson #female oppression #patriarchy #male entitlement #males are incompatible with health #womens history

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topeein · 6 months

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elfy-elf-imagines · 10 months

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— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture.

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done.

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings.

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages.

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you.

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person.

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound.

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away.

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there.

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort.

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead.

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning.

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it.

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect.

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?”

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty.

“Y/N, my king.”

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back.

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions.

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.”

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone.

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more.

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it.

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know.

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach.

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror.

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles.

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it.

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.”

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.”

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.”

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.”

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement.

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #middle earth imagines #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings imagine #thranduil #thranduil x oc #elf!reader

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haircarecetres-blog · 2 years

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thecuriousquest · 1 year

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The Only Choice Left

Yandere Katsuki x Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, implied kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome

Summary: You escape from Katsuki’s clutches, but getting a taste of the real world has you wondering if you made the right decision.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

You slip out the door and away from this dreadful nightmare. It’s raining, had been for days. With no time to put on your shoes or even a coat, you made a decision to jump at the opportunity of the unlocked door.

Walking until night turns into day, you sit down on a bench, feeling secure enough to have a break. You’re far away from the luxury apartment.

Thinking things over while you sit on the park bench, you remember Katsuki telling you to “get your shit together” and “fucking act right before I really get pissed”. You’re just glad you escaped before he had a chance to show you the full strength of his wrath.

It’s funny, though. He’s usually so good with locking everything. You shrug, only caring about where you’ll go from here on out. You could try a shelter until you can get a job. A job is what you really need alongside food and a roof.

———

For right now, the bridge will have to be your shelter. You close your eyes and lean your back against the hard wall. It’s terrible. All of the rain has gathered in the grass underneath the bridge, forming a mud puddle that you’re now soaked in. Shivering from the cold water clinging to your jeans, you try to rub your arms for warmth.

“Lookie what we got here, guys. A little fish trying to get warm.”

Frightened by the vicious tone, you look up at three fully grown men approaching you. One of them has a beer bottle in his hand, and all of them look drunk.

“Please, leave me alone.” Your stomach curls in knots as they draw near. You wish you could just get some fucking sleep.

One of them picks you up by your hair. Scalp screaming for release, your hands shoot to his wrist, trying to get him to let go.

“Ah! That hurts! Please, let go?!”

“You’re not being very nice to us. Here we are, just trying to be friendly.”

“I think this bitch needs to be taught a lesson,” the one with the bottle in his hand says.

“Please, I’m exhausted! I was kidnapped, and I-” you never did manage to finish your sentence.

A hefty blow is delivered straight to your stomach. It takes the breath out of you. Feeling as though your soul has just been knocked out of your body, you cough in pain. The man still has a solid grip on your hair, and you’re left dangling there like fish on a hook.

You’re thrown down on the ground, shock waves vibrating through your system. All you can register is kicking, punching, slapping, and stomping. It’s hell. You think about how you would rather be under the strict hand of Katsuki Bakugou because even his punishments are more generous than this.

It’s excruciating, and you feel a boot connect with your hand, rubbing it into the ground. It breaks your skin and crushes bone. You cry, oh Lord, how you cry. The tears seem endless to you, and just like they approached out of nowhere, they leave. You barely even notice they stopped because of how much pain you’re in.

———

Nobody believes you. You go to the police about being kidnapped by Dynamight and beaten by three strange men. They tell you to fuck off basically. You go to three different shelters, they have no vacant beds. You can’t get a job because of how you look and you have no legal documentation such as an ID. Even the fucking hospital won’t fix your hand because they’re at “maximum capacity”.

You’re left on the park bench, looking at the gauze on your hand that you stole from a store. You feel bad, but what choice did you have? Your hand was crushed, and nobody was willing to help you!

Infuriated, tears roll down your cheeks. Things seem to just be getting worse for you now. You’re getting beaten up more often in the week that you’ve been away, and when you reach out for help, nobody gives it to you. You’re in the fight of your life here, and you’re losing.

You’re hungry, thirsty, tired, but so afraid to sleep. Every time you try to sleep, violence pursues you. It’s like a sick joke.

Life was so much better with Katsuki. He fed me, bathed me, kept me safe. Sure, he punished me sometimes, but I deserved it. I was bad, and he was just doing his job. I just want to go to sleep so badly. His hugs…I miss his hugs. God, I just want to fall asleep in his arms again.

Walking by a store window, you catch your reflection. You don’t even recognize yourself. Your hair is greasy, you’re sporting a black eye, you have a blue and purple bruise on your temple and cheek, and your clothes are stained with mud. You’re completely filthy.

It’s no wonder they turn me away…

Breaking down on the spot, you clutch your aching stomach. It’s terrible. You thought life would be better on the outside, but now you want nothing more than to go back to the man who took you from this rancid world. Beginning to realize how right he was from all of his lectures about the world being cruel and unsafe, you find yourself back in front of the apartment complex.

You gulp out of nervousness. Will he even take me back? What if I’m no longer good enough for him if he were to see me like this? What if I pushed him too far by running away?

Shaking your head, you at least have to try! You walk over to the elevator, holding your breath without realizing it the entire way up. You barely notice the woman next to you pinching her nose out of disgust while eyeing you. Your thoughts are too preoccupied with what is about to come next once you get to the penthouse.

Every step towards the door with gold plated numbers 1400, the only apartment on the floor, has your courage dwindling. For a moment, a single moment, you think about the absolute hell you lived outside of the apartment for just a week. If that’s what the rest of your life is going to look like…

You don’t even want to think about that, so you begin rapping on the door rather harshly. Impatience taking over, you want the door open right now.

Then, the barrier swings open, and he’s standing in front of you. Spiky hair damp from a recent shower, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, he’s looking at you with love and fierce protectiveness.

“Katsuki…” Your voice breaks. “I’m so sorry. Please, take me back! Please? I want to be your girl again. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Please, take me back! I love you. I miss everything about you. I just…”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence. You’re pulled into the apartment and enveloped by his arms. He lifts you off the floor, holding you so close, not wanting to let you slip away again.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

———

He bathes, dresses, feeds, and hydrates you. He even does his best to fix up your hand, promising that he’ll have a doctor come look at it in the morning. As you crawl into bed with him, you willingly go into his arms. He holds you closely.

Katsuki didn’t want to do it, but you forced his hand. You were just so unhappy, always moping around and crying. He had no other choice but to turn off his security system and leave the door unlocked. He had no other choice but to pay off the people he had beat you up. There was no other choice but to make sure every hospital, police department, women’s shelter, and customer service industry kept you at arm’s length. It was the only choice left, and it was a damn good one.

Here he is now with you happily snuggled up to him. He had to do it, had to make you see how awful life outside of these walls is. He needed you to understand that he’s your protector from such cruelty. He needed to brand that reminder deep in your psyche, and it fucking worked.

He pulls you closer to him and lets his head sink against the pillow. “I love you, Y/N. Don’t worry. Nobody will hurt you anymore now that you’re back with me.”

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha katsuki #mha katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

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kechiwrites · 7 months

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kerberos

touya, natsuo, and shoto todoroki x f!reader kinktober countdown day four, (foursomes)

synopsis: "...the air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze."

wc: 4k

cw: a dabi-less au, but touya is still a lil fucked up, fem + afab!reader, drunk sex, threats of violence/harm, anal play, fingering, dubcon, foursomes, creampie, oral (m + f receiving), praise, pet names (honey, baby), hair pulling, light choking, degradation, finger-sucking, a little bit of powerplay / dom sub undertones, mdni.

author's note: a fic that didn't make it in time for kinktober last year, finally finished. this originally started as a natsuo fic, but the other boys wanted to play too. (everyone is 20+)

It sounds like someone’s humming, jovially, quietly, when you stir to consciousness, the alcohol in your system thrumming through your veins, loosening your limbs, making it near impossible to guess the hour. The curtains are drawn in the room, the lights low, leaving the room just bright enough to make out the figure above you. Then, the figure seems to split in three.

“I can't believe you got me to do this with you, and I can't believe you dragged Shouto into it too."

A derisive sounding scoff bounces off the walls, and the bed you're lying on sinks with the weight of someone sitting on it. The voice speaking is so familiar. You know you could place it if the world would just stop spinning so quickly.

“C’mon, you saw the way she flirted with us. She’ll love it. I promise.” Another voice stage whispers. A hand brushes your cheek and you follow it, nestling your face into the calloused palm, opening your mouth when a finger presses against your lips, letting the digit settle on your tongue.

“Cute.” The first voice sighs, and it’s too far away to be whoever is touching you, the person who pushes their thumb (you’re sure of it now) deeper into your mouth.

“Good morning sunshine.” Touya Todoroki smiles down at you, all big hands and white teeth and cerulean eyes that meet yours when you finally rouse from half-consciousness. Your face warms in embarrassment, and you draw back, Touya’s thumb withdrawing from your mouth and leaving it woefully, humiliatingly empty.

Your voice is high and tight in your throat when you finally speak, after your eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room. "Ah. Good morning?" You respond, apprehensive and more than a little startled. When you realize exactly who else is in the room with you, the last few hours of the night flood your mind in an instant.

Arriving at the Todoroki Estate for Shouto’s birthday party, drinking a ridiculous amount of tequila with Mina and Momo, grinding against Bakugo until he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, sidling up to Natsuo and Touya in their little “older brother corner”, pressing your hand to each of their abdomens and giggling before prattling on and on about the “family resemblance” and mumbling something about wanting to see if all Todoroki men had “super huge feet”.

You distinctly remember Touya’s knife-sharp smirk when he grabbed you by the chin and murmured to you, “Ask what you really want to ask, honey.”

You also remember whimpering before blacking out right in front of them, crumpling to the floor.

Jesus, that’s embarrassing. Pretty quickly you reason that they must’ve carried you upstairs, and you couldn’t have been out that long, because you can still hear the party raging on downstairs. Your friends are most likely getting drunk in your absence, assured of your safety stashed away.

“I didn’t mean to pass out like that. I just…” You drift off, peeking at the eldest Todoroki through your eyelashes.

“It's fiiiiine." Touya stretches out the word like a seedy car salesman, giving your eyes time to skip from him to Natsuo by his side, to Shouto, who's leaning against the far bedroom wall. "You know Natsuo wanted to keep you all for himself, wanted to lock you up and knock you up.” Touya laughs at his own joke, elbowing Natsuo in the side and receiving a scowl for his troubles.

"But I convinced him it’s only right to share, after all, he wasn't the one who saw you first."

You hear Natsuo mumble something that sounds suspiciously like "neither did you" before he crowds into your vision too. His face up close is a marvel. Steel gray eyes, clear skin and perfect white teeth.

"Is your head alright?" His fingers lightly graze the back of your head and it takes everything within you to not shiver at his proximity.

"Haven't had any complaints." You hiccup your response without missing a beat.

You are definitely still intoxicated.

Natsuo looks concerned while Touya laughs at your expense. Shouto stays blissfully quiet. And though it’s one of your favourite traits of his, it seems it’s short lived. He pushes off the wall and stands at the foot of bed, bringing all three men into your field of vision for the first time.

“Maybe we should wait. At least until we’re sure she doesn’t have a concussion.” the youngest Todoroki looks you over in concern, his face still typically placid.

You sit at attention, head swimming at the sudden shift in your position.

“Wait for what?”

“For us to give you what you asked for.” Touya intones, brows almost reaching his hairline.

Your palms sweat and your heart thumps in your chest, so loud you worry it can be heard over the pounding bass downstairs.

“I don’t wanna wait.” You mumble it so low you can almost convince yourself you didn’t say it. Like the words appeared out of nowhere, spoken by a stupid, reckless, horny spectre.

Four words.

But apparently, that’s all it takes. The air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze.

Natsuo is the first to kiss you, and his skin is so cool, you're surprised you can't see your own breath when you pant a sigh against his lips. His kiss is slow and building, constant, consistent pressure that only stops when he pulls back to stare at your dazed expression. Touya is next, shouldering Natsuo out of the way, his hard on is urgent and searing against your stomach when he plasters himself to your front. Touya crushes his mouth against yours, impatient and searching. If Natsuo is a glacier then Touya is a goddamn wildfire, hot and fast and vicious, all teeth and branding tongue.

Your dress was pretty much non-existent to begin with, strappy black fabric and gold buckles. Natsuo and Touya's hands make quick work of the cloth, stripping you down to your underwear, clothing tossed haphazardly to the ground, discarded, unneeded.

"Are you just going to stand there, Shouto? Because if you wanna watch, that's fine. I just figure our girl here needs as much attention as she can get.” Touya calls over his shoulder, pulling your underwear down your legs. He drops the panties at his brother’s feet while Natsuo circles around you, situating himself behind you so you're reclined between his spread legs, your back resting against his chest instead of the headboard. His fingertips graze a trail in-between your shoulder blades, unhooking your bra, clasp by clasp, pressing a barely there kiss into the middle of your back. You smile at the tenderness of the action even as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening.

The moment doesn’t escape Touya’s attention.

There’s an indent between his eyebrows, betraying his irritation.

“Y’know,” He simpers, settling on the bed in front of you, leering, “I feel like my handprint would look so good,” The eldest brother places his open palm over one of your hips, “right here, permanently. It’d only hurt for a minute” You choke on your answer, but it’s not really a question to begin with. His palm heats on your skin and you scramble back further into Natsuo’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around you,

“Touya, don’t be an asshole.” Natsuo bites, his tone acidic, “You’re scaring her.”

“Then why don't you take charge for a bit, little brother?” Over your head, Touya meets his brother’s eyes, his challenge clear.

You can feel Natsuo bristle behind you, his hackles rising at Touya's goading.

"Fine. Touya, why don't you shut the fuck up and tongue her tits for a while?”

The corner of Touya’s lips curl up, before he descends on you as ordered, mouth nibbling, sucking and kissing at the skin of your chest. The piercings decorating the shell of his ears glint back the light from the lone illuminated lamp in the room, blinding you momentarily before Natsuo angles your head upwards, covering your mouth with his own.

He traces the seam of your lips with his tongue, groaning when you open up for him, the cool surface of his palm tightening around your throat. Your nipples pebble under Touya’s attention, he uses his teeth more than anything else, biting and scraping and only soothing the pain when you cry out when it gets to be too much.

“Fuck,” and Natsuo’s voice is already so wrung out despite you barely having done anything, “you like when he hurts you?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek repeatedly, a perfect contrast to Touya’s canines on your skin. You nod frantically, letting the second oldest sink his teeth into your bottom lip, then soothe the pain with the tip of his tongue.

Shouto crouches at the foot of the bed, watching his brothers touch you with hooded eyes. “I would’ve done this months ago. If you’d just asked me. But you’re greedy aren't you? I wouldn’t have been enough. You wanted them to fuck you too. Didn’t you?” His eyes never stray from your cunt, his voice is pitched low and so, so quiet, it’s almost as if he’s speaking to himself. You stare at Shouto, jaw dropped in shock at the filth pouring from his mouth, and when he finally drags his eyes from your pussy, it takes only a second for him to shove Touya out of the way and kneel between your thighs.

“I-I.” You stumble over your words, the lingering haze of alcohol weighing your tongue down in your mouth, making you clumsy, needy. You give up on speaking coherently, deciding to just shift lower, spread your thighs further, so Shouto can situate himself in between. He places a hand over your thigh, digging his thumb into the underside, crowding so close you can feel the puff of his breaths against your pussy.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me the truth.” He mutters, and you aren’t sure if he’s telling you or reminding himself. Even with Natsuo behind you, away from view, you know they’re all staring at you, you know they’re all waiting.

And it’s mortifying.

You bob your head in the affirmative, hoping it’ll be enough.

“Say it.” Touya urges, his hand on Shouto’s shoulder, finger digging into the fabric of his brother’s shirt.

The words stick in your throat at first, like your tongue is sitting in your mouth wrong, blocking the admission. “I-I wanted all of you.” Touya whistles saucily, Natsuo smiles into the crown of your head, and Shouto sighs, then he gives in.

“What a slut.” There’s so much blood rushing in your ears you almost miss Touya saying it. Instead, you opt to focus on Natsuo sinking his fingers into your mouth, covering your tongue with the rough, cold surface of his digits.

“Our slut.” Shouto corrects immediately and his tone is so insanely earnest you hiccup a laugh, even with your lips stretched around two of Natsuo’s fingers.

Shouto makes good on his promise immediately, his hand sliding between your legs, palm covering your pussy gently before his calloused fingertips move in a silky slide down your wet folds. Your body breaks out in goosebumps, all while Shouto eases two fingers in and out of you, deceptively quiet, letting the room fill with the sounds of you creaming against his hand. Your breath flees as his fingers thrust just inside your slick heat, teasing you with soft friction. You try so hard to stop yourself from holding your breath, periodically remembering how to inhale.

Your thigh is almost uncomfortably warm where Touya’s head lies, cheek pressed to bare skin. He groans happily as he watches his youngest brother’s fingers disappear into the dripping, tight clutch of your cunt.

“Right.” He murmurs, sinking his teeth into the plush flesh below him. “Ours.”

Shouto drops his head to lave at your clit in sweet, probing circles, making your toes curl and your hips twitch. It’s all you can do to not rip his hair from his head when your hands fist in his red and white locks. Natsuo tugs at the tips of your chest, rolling your already hypersensitive nipples between his fingers. It’s mind altering, how badly you want to come from this, your skin is covered in a fine layer of sweat and you jerk and buck against Touya keeping you held down. It feels as though Shouto is doing everything in his power to keep you lingering right on the edge, balancing the rapidly tying knot in your stomach with your desire to have this go on forever.

“As fun as this is to watch, I’m getting a little impatient here.” You watch as Touya palms himself through his jeans, undoing the fly when he realizes he has your attention again.

“We agreed I’d go first.” Natsuo grunts from behind you and Touya's eyes turn flinty in response but his stare never leaves yours, even as he talks down to his brother.

“Well I’m the oldest, dipshit.”

Natsuo continues groping at your chest until you break eye contact with the eldest Todoroki. Your head hangs down, getting an eyeful of Shouto pulling away, licking the taste of you from his lips. You open your mouth, to thank him? To cuss him out for stopping? You just don’t know and ultimately it doesn't even matter because before you can say anything, Natsuo sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, biting down so hard he almost breaks skin.

“Fine.” He concedes, and Shouto wordlessly pulls away from you, eyes downcast and disappointed, like he can’t bear to part his mouth from your cunt. You bear down around nothing while Touya replaces Shouto, tapping the already hard tip of his dick against the puffy lips of your pussy. You buck your hips, silently begging him to get on with it, hoping to provoke Touya into action.

“Should I hold her open, little brother? I wouldn’t want either of you to miss me breaking her in.” He slides his thumbs up the lips of your entrance, keeping you exposed while Natsuo grinds the hard column of his cock against the small of your back. The shine in the eldest’s eyes is borderline scary, his gaze strips all artifice, any blustering confidence. Under Touya’s stare it’s not just your body that’s naked, it’s your fucking soul.

God, you’re really drunk.

Touya fists the root of his dick, slipping the angry red tip over your clit, once, twice, teasing you until you tilt your hips, wordlessly pleading with him again to push inside you. Finally, Touya concedes, shoving himself deep all at once, letting the girth of his cock spread you open. You cunt drips its contentment all over his pelvis, the sound of your hips colliding with his almost drowning out your fevered, breathless pleas.

He presses both hands to your shoulders, pushing you impossibly closer to Natsuo, making it absurdly difficult for you to squirm away.

The way Touya fucks you takes you by surprise. He’s slow, maliciously so. The heavy weight of his dick carves into you inch by inch, like he wants you to go insane. It isn't until he’s halfway in that you realize Touya has a piercing, several actually, concealed by the angle he’d had from above. What feels like six stainless steel orbs bracket the underside of his cock, three on each side. They’re not massive, thank god, so the sensation is barely perceptible at first, but once he’s finally all the way in, his hips flush with yours, the metal nudges and presses against the spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder and when he smirks at you, you struggle to not bite the motherfucker. It’s clear he takes pride in the overwhelmed and impatient expression on your face, keeping his predatory glare on you while he grinds in deeper, not stopping until your eyes turn skyward.

He barely thrusts in and out, opting instead to pick and prod at your already pathetic mental fortitude by crushing his front to yours, bullying your insides with the head of his cock while you shriek and hum and sob with the overwhelming pleasure he brings you. He presses a flat palm to your abdomen, pushing down hard and greedily rubbing his pelvis against yours; “Fuck, you really are something. Natsu, pull on her tits again, bet she gets so goddamn tight.” Natsuo follows the instruction, tugging mercilessly, coercing you into arching your back. Touya takes advantage and slides his free hand under your ass before you can bring your hips back down again. Two fingers rub boldly at the entrance below your pussy, and you flinch violently when Touya pushes against you. You shake your head, hissing from the beginning aches of a forced intrusion and Natsuo and Shouto bite in unison; “Knock it off!”

Touya, to his credit, merely rolls his eyes and moves his hand lower, rubbing at your perineum in slow purposeful circles that occasionally allow the pad of his fingers to catch the rim of your asshole. You squirm beneath him until he starts fucking into you again, piercings, now warmed by your body heat, brushing what feels like every nerve ending you’ve ever had. Touya watches you bounce on his cock, all while you lay in his brother’s arms, thrashing when the feeling gets to be too much. Your cunt pulses around him, milking an orgasm out of him before he can warn you.

Not that you think he would to begin with.

“Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, squeeze down on me, baby.” He jolts forward, and the sound of his pelvis hitting yours is punctuated by the long drawn out groan of Touya being spent. You kick your leg out in frustration when he pulls out, whining low and watery in your throat at not getting to come again. All Touya does in response is lay a quick open-palm slap at your thigh, wink at you and smile, pleased, you assume, to have gotten a nut off before anyone else.

Mission accomplished you guess.

Shouto shoves his brother aside, and you could cry to God with how happy you are to see him between your thighs again. When the youngest brother seals his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking in long, desperate pulls, it feels almost vindictive. Like he’s punishing you for enjoying yourself, for enjoying how his brothers touch you, fuck you. Occasionally, his tongue flicks against it, pressing the peak against the ridge of his teeth, all while he grazes his rough fingertips against your inner thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he’s panting, honest to god out of breath at the sight of you, pussy puffy and used, hazy eyes heavily lidded, mouth slick and parted around gentle, quiet sighs in the shape of his name. He thumbs at the lips of your cunt, pulling you open, spreading you so he can see everything, watching you clench around nothing, watching you leak Touya’s come onto the bed sheets. “So needy.” he mumbles, and you both hang there, just for a second, while Shouto stares, consumes.

And then...he’s on you.

He isn't as big as Touya, but dear god does he make up for it in enthusiasm. So unlike the teasing, drawn out grinding and half strokes of his older brother, Shouto ruts against you like your pussy is the only thing keeping him alive.

The black t-shirt Shouto wears makes his shoulders seem even broader than before, his frame looms above you, arms heaving up and pushing back the weight of your thighs, until Natsuo helps by holding them up too, until you're very nearly bent in half for them. your toes are curled and bounce with every thrust he completes against you. The slow, thick drip of his brother’s cum leaks from your cunt, where the greedy pace of his thrusts disturbs it, sliding down the plush curve of your ass before dripping down into an obscene puddle below you.

The easy glide is perfect, nudging over and over at the rough spot deep within you. The tip of his cock knocks repeatedly against your insides and the sensation disables any and all coherent thought.

You choke on your spit as he fucks into you, gripping the bedsheets so hard you swear you can hear them tear in protest. Your core protests at the strain but you manage it, keeping your legs steady while they bracket the youngest Todoroki’s ears. Shouto tugs you further down the mattress, forcing you to slide down Natsuo’s front, and when your cheek makes contact with the middle brother’s hard-on, you place wet, open mouth kisses on his fly. Natsuo takes a fistful of your hair and tugs, separating you from his cock, brutally. You keen in pain, but Shouto’s dick distracts you from the worst of it, tunnelling inside you and striking that spongy spot that makes your vision go blinding white. Natsuo fishes his cock out frantically, as though he’s been waiting for your go-ahead, which is...sweet. Rather, it would be if he hadn’t agreed to debase you with his brothers while you were still heavily intoxicated. The younger, white haired brother releases you only when he’s completely free of the confines of his jeans, and smacks the length of his cock against your mouth, rubbing the shaft over your tongue when you present it to him for use. Natsuo is thick, thicker than both his brothers. His dick is mouthwatering, straining and red and threaded with angry looking veins you are desperate to taste. He won’t let you take it all though, will only let you kiss and mouth at it while he jerks himself off. Guides you to suck on his balls and stare into his eyes while Shouto fucks you harder, bringing his thumb to the hood of your clit and rubbing with intention. He must’ve been at his limit, because of the three of you, Natsuo comes first with a pleasured grunt, jerking his hips and covering his hand and the side of your face with his come. And though you know logically that it’s impossible, you had kind of expected his nut to be...cold.

Hands trembling, the middle brother returns his attention to your chest, smearing his spend over your nipples, pinching at them in time with the swipes of Shouto’s thumb.

You finally get to come, waves of it hitting you and dragging you undertow, smacking into your body so hard you give yourself a burgeoning headache from clenching your jaw. Your body spasms, over and over and Shouto fucks you through it all, eventually adding his own seed to the mess between your thighs.

At least you think he did. It’s hard to distinguish what happens around the time you pass out from the fucked up cocktail of exhaustion, intoxication and the sedating power of the best dick you’ve ever had.

When you surface some time later, Touya is gone. “Fucked off somewhere,” Natsuo provides when you ask and...well you aren’t sure if it’s a relief or a disappointment.

Best not to think about it.

Shouto is there though, gliding a warm, damp towel over your heated skin, while Natsuo, who it seems, hasn’t moved from behind you, presses soft kisses to the crown of your head, your cheeks, your throat. He plays with the gold hoop earrings you're still wearing, rubbing your earlobes, and tugging on the jewellery every so often.

“How was it?” Natsuo asks, his voice quiet and soothing, and despite having just woken up, you could see yourself succumbing to its gentle tone and slipping into sleep once again.

“Good,” you respond, murmuring quietly. Shouto finishes cleaning you off, tossing the towel into a nearby hamper. “Really good.”

Natsuo chuckles, and his breath huffs over your ear.

“Good.” He tightens his arms around your middle.

“Good.” Shouto nods, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Good.” You repeat.

and so, i make my glorious return to bnha. support city girls who would do anything, including kill, for one night with soft yet firm dom natsuo. reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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mswyrr · 6 months

Text

i guess it's left the consciousness in the US? but there were so many stories from the Vietnam War era of boys beaten by their fathers for having long hair and/or forcibly shorn of their long hair by the military or parents. collins is older and would know those stories.

her father was in the military, so she knows what it does to young men (intentionally)- it's valid to find tom blyth hotter with the look -but the *textual point* of being forced to join the military as a punishment and the entire forced shearing of his hair/etc is about how boys are dehumanized into tools to dehumanize others

i grew up near a military base, so i saw it all the time. it's awful and the techniques they use are very deliberate and effective.

it's about a whole young person, whose personhood involved all kinds of traits and possibilities, being "shaved down" into a tool and dehumanized - and when he becomes the mask of his father, that's him colluding and doing it to himself in order to secure a safer spot in this system

the costuming/hair/makeup/behavioral androgyny of his wholeness before all of this is very pointedly in stark contrast to the soldier boy he is made into and the Capitol Man he makes himself

he's *textually suicidal* after the series of violations/acts of dehumanization the military uses on him

and his intimate name--the name he says is for people who love him in the book--"Coryo" dies with the second, willing self-mutilation - no one speaks it anymore. he betrayed the friend who called him that and Tigris refuses to call the person he is now by that beloved name

the visuals are not treating his more masc looks as a "glow up" or him becoming more - they're him becoming less himself. and i think this is important to read in contrast to peeta - a soft boy who Collins depicts as heroic and courageous for fighting to retain his softness and traits associated with femininity.

imo part of why people are so adamant that coriolanus' heel turn is him becoming "his true self" is because it meshes with the narrative that a boy must shear away his softness & anything associated with femininity to become his true self. that it's a good and necessary thing for boys to let go for their wholeness and "man up." Collins doesn't do that with Peeta though

she doesn't push the idea that boys need to cut themselves down to fit narrow ideas of gender, so i think this (and her knowledge of military culture and older discussions about gender re: Vietnam in the US) all fit together for me

collins has said she writes about war - and this is a very important part of how war *functions*. how do you get a lot of young men who are complex, whole people to become tools you can order to kill each other?

#my meta #thg meta #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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a1307s · 7 months

Text

So Pretty

(Wally West Smut)

[Art is not mine. Credit to unknown]

Requested by: dogma0325

Keys:

Y/N - Your Name

N/N - Nick Name

Word Count: 3110

Warning and/or Pre-notes:

Pervert/Slight Assault

Degrading

Name Calling: Desperate, Bitch, Bimbo, Slut, Good Girl

Choking

Face Slapping

Rough Domination/Submission

Hair Pulling

Scratching

Creampie

——————————————————————

"Mmhmm," I hum around my wine glass, keeping my eyes locked on the man in front of me. He's older - probably old enough to be Oliver's father - but he's one of the 'power houses' Ollie wants to partner with to further Queen Industries.

The grandpa continues on about the new what-cha-ma-call-it as his hand slides onto my knee. It might be anti-feminist of me to flirt and "show off" my body to gain partnerships but it's so much easier than pretending to care about what he's talking about. "I think Mr. Queen would be interested in it, don't you Miss Harper?" He asks, inching his hand further up the split of my dress.

"I think Ollie would be very interested. Would you like me to call him over?" I ask, sending not so secretive bedroom eyes over his way.

It doesn't take a genius to notice the way the man squirms in his seat before deciding standing would be an easier way to hide his arousal. "No, no, no. I shall walk you back over to Mr. Queen. What kind of man would I be having you beckon him over?" He asks, gently picking up my hand and kissing my knuckles.

Shivers run through me, followed by a wave of nauseousness. I quickly shove the feelings down and replace them with a smile. "How sweet," I offer up, trying to loosen my jaw, "Queen Industrials definitely could use more honorable men like you".

This brings a smile to the creeps face which is quickly hidden away with more kisses laid up my hand and across my wrist. When my nervous can't take anymore I stand up and turn to head toward the group of people surrounding Oliver. Creepy McCreep follows, placing a hand on my back that quickly descends down to grab a hand full of my ass as we walk across the ballroom.

"Y/N!" Wally - one of my older brother's friends - chirps out as we near the group. His eyes are a dark green - partly cause of the booze in his system and partly not. "I've been meaning to sneak over and say hi," He continues, making swift moves to place himself between McCreep and me.

Wally's arm wraps around my waist as he leans over to kiss my cheek. As he's pulling away, he stops for a beat to whisper in my ear, "Pretty pathetic of you to open your legs for a man like that".

My eyes glance over at Roy to see if he noticed but he - and Oliver - are too occupied with McCreep to notice Wally's words.

The speedster's arm stays on my waist, his finger tips digging into my hip as his mouth stays put by my ear. "I know I've been preoccupied with the whole hero gig but I didn't think you'd go pimping yourself out. Are you that desperate?"

"I'm not desperate," I bite back, keeping my voice low as well. For the past couple months Wally and me have been.... Friends with benefits, which has really gone to his head, especially in the bedroom.

"Seems like you are," Wally murmurs, softly sliding his fingertips just far enough under my dress to dig them into my inner thigh. "I thought we had an understanding N/N. I thought I made it clear that you - that your body, belongs to me".

"And I thought I made it clear that I'm not your girlfriend, Wally," I shoot back, still keeping my tone hushed.

"Get your ass upstairs. Now," Wally growls in my ear before letting go of me and standing up straight again.

"And if I don't?" I breathe out, tilting my head back to look up at Wally.

He tilts his head back down, his lips making butterfly touches to my ear as he talks. "If you don't, I'll bend you over the bar and let big brother dearest and Mr. Perv watch as I bruise you inside and out,".

I'm left to register Wally's words as he slips out from the group of high class Starr City citizens and walks out of the ballroom.

"Where's Wally going?" Roy asks, shimming into his friend's previous spot.

"Uh... Dick called?" I push out, making it more of a question than a statement. "I don't know, I couldn't really hear him,".

Roy thinks it over for a moment before shrugging it off and turning back towards the conversation. "Roy?" I ask, getting a hum as an answer. "I think I'm going to head to bed for the night".

"Okay, goodnight Y/N," Roy says back, giving me a side hug before I walk out of the group as well, quick to follow Wally's previous exit route.

My heart rate picks up as I climb up the stairs, heading towards my room where a very upset Wally awaits me. I slowly walk down the hallway, my heels echoing along the narrow space.

"Wally?" I call softly, pushing my bedroom door open before walking in. My nightstand light is on, eliminating Wally and making his red hair stand out against the green fabrics of the room. The air is thick with all of the speedster's emotions: Jealousy, anger, and arousal.

"Come here," Wally demands, his voice low, almost a growl as the words come out.

"No," I whisper, pushing my back to the door, causing it to latch close. Wally snaps up to his feet and takes quick paces toward me.

Before I can think, his body is pressed against mine, trapping me against the door. His hand is rough and heavy against my throat as he forces my head back to look at him. Wally's eyes are dark, almost black instead of his normal green color.

"I've had enough of you today. You've been prancing around pretty much naked making blow job eyes at every rich man that walks in. Do you know what that makes you look like? It makes you look like a desperate little bitch. Are you a desperate bitch? Are you Y/N?" Wally continually repeats the last two sentences, getting more and more in my face each time. As he repeats himself, he tightens his grasp on my neck so I can't answer him back.

"Aww, is the poor baby Harper struggling to answer me? Maybe if you weren't blowing every one of daddy's partners your throat would work, hmm?" Wally taunts, using his free hand to hoist up the skirt of my dress. His fingertips ghost over my clothed pussy before settling on the waist band of my panties.

Tears start to prickle my eyes as I gasp for air. My hands wrap around Wally's wrist, digging my nails into his arm to try and get him to loosen his grip. "P... ple... please?" I manage to get out between gasps.

Wally's eyes are hard, filled to the brim with jealousy as he looks at me. "Fine," He mumbles, releasing me. From the lack of oxygen, my balance is off when he lets go, causing me to fall to my knees at his feet. "Good, that's where spoiled bimbos like you belong," Wally adds, leaning down to grab my face with one of his hands.

My breath is heavy and tears continue to trickle down, rolling over his fingers as he squishes my cheeks. "You look so pretty," Wally says gently, his eyes softening just for a moment. "But that isn't an excuse for you to act like a free use slut at the gala." The words come out sharp, adding to the pool that's been forming between my thighs since I entered the room. "Is that what you want? To be treated like a free use slut? To be used where ever and whenever men want? Without you getting a say?"

"No," I whimper, grabbing at Wally's dress shirt. The material feels smooth and warm under my finger tips. "I don't want other men to use me. I only want you to use me," The words come out in a rush, sounding more like pleas than an answer.

This seems to satisfy Wally, getting me a rewarding soft kiss to my lips. "Don't worry N/N, I'll use you. By the time I'm done with you the only thing that'll be left in this empty little head of yours will be my name," He says, softly shaking my head through the last half of his sentence.

Wally releases my face, leaving me a mess on the floor as he walks back over to my bed. He plants himself on the edge of it, eyes locked on me as I stay kneeled on the floor, unable to stop tears from falling. "Come on baby, I haven't even been that mean to you," Wally says, patting his thigh to beckon me forward, adding a soft smile to his face to encourage me to obey.

I listen, crawling across the room to kneel between his legs. "You are so pretty baby," He says again, wrapping his fingers around my neck and leaning down to lick the tears off my cheeks. "So, so pretty,".

Soon the licks turn to soft kisses that end in a gentle kiss to my lips. When he parts from me, he continues littering butterfly kisses across my cheeks. His fingers are light this time, not the tight, oxygen stopping hold from before. "It makes me so sad when I have to correct your bad behavior,".

"It doesn't seem like it," I whisper out, closing my eyes to soak in the gentleness I'm receiving from the speedster.

In a split second the soft kisses are replaced by a slap across my face. My cheek stings as tears start to prickle at my eyes again. "You just can't stop while you're ahead can you?" Wally asks, forcibly turning my head so I'm looking at him again. "What am I gonna do with you little Harper?" He asks, rubbing his thumb across my cheek, causing the stinging to continue.

"Is it really that hard for you to keep your legs closed? Is it so hard for you to be grateful that I'm willing to correct your behaviors? Maybe I'm wasting my time," Wally mumbles the last part, letting go of my face and standing up.

"Please stay," I whine, wrapping my fingers around Wally's belt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I continue, burying my head in Wally's stomach.

"You're sorry for what?" He asks, fisting my hair in his hand to tilt my head back.

Wally looking down on me makes more shock waves ripple through me. I rub my thighs together, wiggling my fingers closer to the latch of his belt. "I'm sorry... for... for acting... desperate. I'm sorry for acting... like... like a spoiled bimbo," my voice weavers and my hands shake as I undo his belt.

In approval, Wally loosens his grasp on my hair but doesn't completely let go. His eyes stay locked on mine as I undo his pants and slowly pull his penis out of his boxers. I rest my hands on his thighs before leaning down, my hair pulling as I wrap my mouth around Wally's tip. I bob my head a couple times but can't get further down because of the grasp he still holds on my hair. "Nope," Wally says, using my hair to yank me back from his erection.

"No?" I whine, snaking my hands from his legs towards his cock.

"No," He repeats, using my hair to pull me to my feet before I can touch him again. He takes a second to admire me. My head pulled back by my hair, my legs shaking and covered in my own juices. "Strip," Wally says, letting go of my hair and sitting back down on the edge of my bed.

I obey, kicking off my heels before slowly peeling my dress off of myself. His eyes pierce into me, watching me shimmy out of my panties and unclasping my bra. I stand there, waiting for Wally's next command as his eyes rake over my body. "Can you please take your shirt off?" I whine, taking a cautious stop forward and sliding my hands under his suit jacket.

Wally fulfills my request, shrugging off his jacket before unbuttoning and sliding out of his dress shirt. "Thank you," I say, resting my hands on his shoulders.

He ignores me, grabbing my thighs and spreading my legs apart. "You really are a desperate little thing, aren't you?" He asks, bending his head down to lick the mess off my thighs.

"For you, yes" I breathe out, tangling my fingers in his hair. His tongue feels teasing, running over my thighs and getting close but not close enough to my pussy. "Please?" I beg as my legs continue to shake.

"Why should I?" Wally asks, removing his head from my thighs, replacing it with ghostly finger tips just barely grazing my folds. "You don't deserve it".

I don't answer him, and instead whine and tug on the ends of his hair. Wally planting a kiss on my stomach before pulling me on his lap. His dick is hard and warm pressed up against my thigh, causing me to be even needier. His eyes are softer now, some of the green coming back to them. "You are a needy little thing. Are you needy baby?" Wally asks before sinking his teeth into my shoulder.

His teeth hurt as he bites down, pulling out whines and mews from me. "Please?" I ask, tugging at his pants.

"Please what?" He asks, running his tongue over the bite mark, causing extra stinging sensations.

"Please fuck me. Please fuck my pussy. Please?" I beg, dragging out the last word.

"If it's your pussy, you can fuck it," Wally tells me, moving his hips so the head of his penis is pressed against my clit. He slowly moves his hips, giving me the minimum friction possible.

I cling to his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin and burying my head in his neck. "It's your pussy, Wally. Please just touch me. Please?"

A gentle hum comes from Wally, followed by his hand back in my hair and new vibrations being sent from his dick to my clit. "Are you sure it's mine? Seems like you were prancing it around and offering it up to everyone a little while ago".

"It's... it's yours," I wheeze out, slightly dragging my nails down his shoulder from the new added friction.

Wally doesn't reply. Instead he teases me by constantly changing the pace of the vibrations between my legs. His eyes stay lock on me, constantly raking across my body. My head pulled by back him, strands of loss hair clinging to the forming sweat on me. My arms wrapped around his shoulders with my fingernails constantly moving across his back and leaving my own marks on him. My legs trembling as juices spill out and coat my thighs along with Wally's pants.

The tightness in my groin is seconds away from snapping when Wally stops and lets go of me. I whine at the sudden loss of my orgasm and tight my grip, causing myself to get closed to him. The head of his penis pokes teasingly at the rim of my opening.

Wally's hand meets my bare waist before his lips met my collar bone. He sucks on it, sure to leave a bruise to form. "Are you going to be good? Are you going to behave and spread yourself out for me?"

"Yes," I answer back, trying to scoot forward but unable to from the strong hold on my waist. "Please?" I whimper, sliding my hands from Wally's back to gentle tug on the ends of his hair.

Wally lifts me up as he stands. He's gentle when he lays me in the bed. When my back makes contact with my sheets, I let my legs fall open and put myself on display. A pleased hum comes from my partner as he drops his remaining clothes.

"So pretty," Wally purrs as he climbs between my legs. His hands are soft and slow as he rubs my inner thighs, kisses chasing after his finger tips. Wally weavers for a second at the end of my thighs before placing a teasing kiss to my clit. The kisses trail up my stomach towards my chest as he realigns himself with my hole. As the kisses climb up my chest towards my neck, Wally painfully slowly inches himself in me.

I whimper, wrapping my arms around his back again. "Wally," I whine, trying to push him further in me.

"Be patient," He whispers against my skin as his hands secure themselves to my hips. His pace stays slow as he continues littering kisses over my body.

"You're being so good for me," Wally says, starting to pick up his pace. My nails dig into his shoulder blades again as I slide my legs around his torso. His hands slide down to my thighs to hold me in place. "Whose pussy is this?" Wally asks, locking his eyes with me as he pounds into me.

I whine, sliding my hands to the nape of his neck and grasp the whiskers of hair that are laid there. "You", I peep out, squeezing my legs around him.

"Yes I am," He replies cockily with a big grin on his face. "Only I can make you feel this needy,". One of Wally's hands slides down from my thigh to start rubbing circles on my nerve bud. "Is my pussy going to cum for me? Is it? I bet it is with how desperate you've been," He taunts, his circles getting faster and his thrusts getting sloppy.

I opened my mouth to answer but the only thing that comes out is a moan. The knot in my stomach continues to tighten from Wally's actions. "Wally," I moan as the knot starts to unravel.

"Good girl," He groans, "Just a couple more and then you can rest". His hands are heavy against me and my hips ache from the pace but I keep my whines of pain to myself.

As Wally said, it only takes a few more thrust before he comes undone. “Pull out,” I whine, trying to push him off of me.

“If I did I wouldn’t be able to mark you as mine.”

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