#HOW AM I EXPECTED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS DYNAMIC

[kiefbowl]

Re: the bonding post, I thought it was just woowoo at first but babies believe their mother is a physically part of their body for at least the first 3 months. attaching the baby in skin contact helps them with healthier, faster development. But being separated is linked to infant mortality and other less dire issues, like they forget breathing, swallowing, pooping, etc because mom was doing that for them. It's like getting suddenly unconnected from bluetooth lol. It's why newborn adoptions and surrogacy babies have so many inexplicable health/psychological issues and why babies who are worn 24/7 are stronger and healthier mentally/physically.

That post was not about doubting bonding, or how important it is. It was about how that information is put into the world, how it's received, and how it's used to make women feel a certain way about motherhood and their own abilities and perceptions of reality. Of course bonding with a baby is important, no....fucking shit. duh. like no fucking shit lmao.

I said I don't think immediately bonding is a dire emergency that is going to determine absolutely her relationship with her child, especially when her life is dynamic and has other factors, like a potential dead-beat partner. Obviously if a baby is ripped from its mother forever, that is extremely different than a woman who can't hold her baby right away because of some sort of unexpected event, who then gets to hold her baby, like, idk...a few hours later. It might be extremely upsetting for her (or not), but that's not going to change the trajectory of her baby's life all that much. And I think, as a feminist, it's important to see mothers' struggles with motherhood as not necessarily some scientific goof up where something went wrong in the micro seconds of her pregnancy or labor or immediate bonding of her child, but as actually rather expected and pedestrian at best, and at worst systematic. I'm saying mothers can have a hard time mothering, and is it useful (as a feminist, not a scientist who is explicitly studying the bio-mechanics of this shit) to say "well that's generally normal, and also maybe you are not being supported and the expectations are too high for you to be experiencing this as some magical transformation, and maybe you just need some help with laundry and your husband sucks ass actually." And I think a lot of mothers are encouraged to needlessly self-deprecate and see everything as their own failures.

I am a little annoyed at these responses because I think I wrote that post clear, despite its casualness. Like I didn't at any point call bonding "woo", and so it's annoying that you think I did.

[dteamain]

honestly don’t know what to think about all this and everyone seems to be everywhere as well why must the boat be rocked so consistently in this fandom

there are many opinions flying around and lowkey i think many have some grounds behind them. i will go deeper for the love of the game

detailed breakdown of fandom drama below read at your own risk

tl;dr

dream isn’t evil he just some guy that could prehaps do himself some favours but can’t we all

i will try to break this down in chronological order to best get my thoughts out there may be some jumping

gf reveal:

i think no matter what he did or how he did it this was going to cause some fandom craziness. which is fine. people react to change this is so common and so normal. i think some missteps were one having his gf interact with fans before the hard launch it gave some of his most intense fans a way to seem like they had something others didn’t which never ends well i feel like if he launched the gf then she interacted with fans it would lesson the opportunity for people to spread rumours about how she interacted with people which would then maybe lesson the ‘dox’ (i use this for lack of a better word) phase everyone dreams attached to suffers.

i also think another misstep was the dranart account i think it’s okay to have a s/o helping you run things, i think it’s okay to play into unserious shipping with the fans a bit with harmless jokes about your friend, i even think it’s okay to let people think you’re behind an account your not to create some ‘magic’ and fun in the fandom. however all three together, having your s/o play into ships while running an account for you that you said you were behind is like muddying the waters a bit and while i don’t deeply care about this i can acknowledge that this dynamic could make people upset with how it may be perceived .

this will be a recurring theme but i think dreams biggest honest to god crime is sometimes not seeing things from a fans perspective. like yes from his pov in this situation he may think all this is stupid and unfounded but he has much more insight then anyone else. taking a step back and acknowledging that fans have a warped perception naturally could go a long way.

snf vs dream hangout battle:

i think this was all supposed to be playful banter that kinda blew out of proportion. once again i think dream isn’t acknowledging the natural warped fan pov. we obviously aren’t around to see their in depth convos that mixed with the fact that at literally any point any one of them can be misconstruing the truth (not on purpose i don’t think) how are we supposed to know who’s telling the truth. also the opposite stories are just funny at this point (snf saying he will always say no and dream saying they never ask in the first place) also i think they need to meet in the middle i don’t think snf should have to plan out every little detail for dream to have to agree to show up i also don’t think it’s fair on dream if they are throwing shit on him last minute everytime when he is busy. however there is definitely times we have seen dream lurking while they are live and joining in those moments could be an olive branch he can extend.

at the end of the day they could all benefit if they were all a little more flexible with their expectations (we would benefit too)

cursed 5 am (pr?) space and resulting reddit spree:

first off i will always believe dream just needs to stay off reddit but allas.

for this occasion i’m going to start backwards with the reddit spree first.

i’ll start off by saying dream is an adult and he can be upset at what he wants but for the sake of me providing some breakdown i will be criticizing this lol.

once again the warped fan perception (and maybe a little denial on his part) so if we hit the snf stuff again he’s upset that fans feel he aired things out from what i could gather. however from a typical fans perspective we have had history of snf expressing that they don’t like when he gives timelines and goes into their projects and dream has openly acknowledged this as well . their stance on this may of changed but WE don’t know that. pair that with the fact that he states he ‘mentioned’ these projects and his thoughts on why things arent moving. when in reality that aspect took up a minimum of 1/3 of the entire space you could very easily see why fans feel that he overstepped and may assume ill intentions. i think he downplays the time he spoke on it at the same time as not acknowledging fans pov which if you look at the space through that lense would of course make fans look crazy for thinking he crossed a line.

this isn’t something i’m deeply concerned with either but once again i can understand where people are coming from.

then we talk about him being upset that people think he’s not putting out content. but the reality is he is not lol and that’s fine i’ve never been a dream has to grind out content person i’ve been his biggest defender when it comes to that but yes of course you know how much work you are putting into things but obviously fans who see very little of your day to day are not going to know this. and listen there are cc’s who show a lot more of their day to day which in turn allows their fans to see and acknowledge this hard work. dream does not have to share his day to day if he doesn’t want to but then he has to be fine with people not praising his grind 24/7 and maybe even be fine with people complaining about him being mia. once again ill always be his biggest content drought defender despite it all.

and to be more fair he has been putting out the daquavis shit which correct me if i’m wrong or there’s more i haven’t been locked in. but from what i saw this is content that fans don’t want it seemed daquavis was out of touch with dreams fanbase. once again i don’t think any of this is a crime dream can put out the content he wants to fans don’t have to like it that’s his prerogative but with that there needs to be understanding that some fans won’t feel satiated.

also the elephant in the room him following up with dnf after every mention of the gf. i obviously don’t know his intent with this but he has to know what it comes off as. that’s all im saying about that.

at the end of the day dream isn’t evil he’s just some guy that could prehaps do himself some favours but can’t we all

[cherryskirbycorner]

so I finished reading iyd where it's currently at a few days ago.

i am incredibly normal about @post-it-notes7 's Heart and Soul series. I can be trusted with these freaks I promise I won't keep microwaving all of the strawberries and blueberries I promise.

anyway good lird these two have been through so much. they need eepy time + bonus wishful thinking first few chapters in a nutshell

[ssahotchnerr]

okay I don’t know how to make this idea I have in my head make sense but here it goes: imagine reader spending time with the team and knowing that Aaron has kind of a stoic image when it comes to the team but then he’s a cinnamon roll at home and the reader tries not to embarrass him with the team and Aaron ends up thinking that the reader is mad or upset because she’s not being as touchy or flirty with him as she normally is but really she’s just trying not to ruin his image??? Did that make sense? I hope that made sense

let loose

it makes perfect sense cw; fem non bau!reader, established relationship, touch starved aaron <3, angst if you squint, fluff and some ending spice ❤️‍🔥 wc; 1k

This was the second time you'd met Aaron's team.

The first was a few weeks ago; you'd brought Aaron a case file he'd forgotten at home. Multiple pairs of eyes latched onto you as you stepped into the bullpen, looking a bit lost until Aaron departed his office to greet you.

When he’d introduced you, only the briefest of pleasantries had been exchanged. Tonight - a small party at David Rossi's - proper acquaintances were finally made.

Your initial shyness was to be expected; getting used to their dynamics, their quirks, fearing you were invading the 'family' they had created.

Aaron's done what he thought would make you more comfortable; staying in close proximity, offering subtle reassurances - a hand on your knee, silent check-ins - and involving you in conversation. He had no doubts the team would make every effort to be welcoming, but he was also well aware that they could come off as intimidating without meaning to be.

But as the night went on, your reservation was directed more at him.

You strayed away from his touch, meeting his eyes with uncertainty, clasping your own hands together instead of intertwining with his. Such detachment was in complete contrast to your typical behavior; normally, you were wrapped around him any chance you got.

Not to mention, you had been all over him back at home. Prolonging your departure by having him pressed against the door, kissing him senseless. You’d almost been late to the time Dave had stated dinner would begin. 

And now, Aaron was left wondering what he could've done wrong in such a short amount of time.

"Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" He asked when a private moment between the two of you finally presented itself, finding you in the kitchen. The others had filtered out to Dave’s patio.

"Yeah, your team is great." You flashed him a quick smile as he neared, busying yourself with the charcuterie board JJ had brought. "You never told me how fun they are."

"They have their moments," his hand found your back, pressing a kiss behind your ear. His actions caused you to tense, only proving his suspicions further. Something was wrong.

"Honey?"

"Hm?" You glanced towards the doorway before looking up at him, your cheeks flushed. You took a small side step away, creating some distance. Anxiety bubbled in his chest.

"Did I do something wrong? You've barely touched me all night. If I upset you somehow, I’m sorry."

"No, no you haven't done anything. I just..." You turned your head away again, timidly and quietly admitting, "didn't know if you wanted me to."

His eyebrows quirked in confusion, you continued.

"This is your team. I know you have an image you want to maintain, and I respect that, so I didn't want to do anything that could potentially embarrass you, with me being as touchy as I am. I panicked, I didn't want to cross a line without knowing."

Oh. His eyes softened in understanding, as yours displayed inner conflict, your heart and head being pulled in different directions.

"Well, I do want you to. Please do."

"Are you sure?"

"Within reason." He offered you a sly smile, not insinuating he wanted hot and heavy actions in front of his colleagues. "But I want you on my arm. Holding my hand. Being your affectionate and loving self. It's what I love about you, and it's meant to be shared."

In fact, it was the one thing he was looking forward to about tonight. He felt more possessive than usual, a state that might have concerned him if not for the pride that came with it. You were his, and he wanted everyone to know how lucky he was.

And selfishly, he wanted the others to know he was worthy of love, (given, he was still trying to believe the same). That there was more to him than Aaron Hotchner, the BAU Unit Chief. He was needed, and not in the professional way he was used to, where his value was measured in results and responsibilities. But rather, being a doting and deeply loving partner.

A smile slowly made its way onto your face, grabbing his hands and lacing your fingers with his before guiding them to your waist, wrapping both his arms around you yourself.

"This may sound pathetic, but within the two hours we've been here, I've missed you."

You laughed gently at his whining, clinging onto his arms. "It's not pathetic at all. If you think you were having a rough time... I had no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you."

"Good thing there's an easy solution for that. Don't restrain yourself."

"In that case," this time, you didn't glance towards the door, in fear of being caught by one of Aaron's team members. You grabbed his face, your lips meeting his in a kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, a breath of relief escaping him as well; needing this, needing you, the lack of contact throughout the night excruciating. His mouth moved on yours with seamless urgency, as though instinct guided every touch.

The kiss quickly grew heated and messy. Aaron's arms tightened around your waist, backing and picking you up onto the counter, stepping in between your legs. His hands pulled at your hips in desperation of getting you closer. Your breath heavily picked up, assisting him by pressing your chest into his.

Aaron couldn't help but smile against your lips - for a number of reasons. The all-consuming love he had for you, being with you - being close to you - with the team just steps away. Feeling much the same, a giddy giggle escaped you.

"You know..." you mumbled between kisses, your fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. "You look sexy tonight. Absolutely irresistible."

A breathless chuckle shook through his chest. "We should head out. They'll come looking for us," he teased back, his fingers digging into your hips - a silent cue that he had no intention of actually joining them.

You hummed softly in response, undoing his top button. You stopped there; as it was, you’d only undone the button to get a reaction out of Aaron. It worked, a heavy, trembling breath leaving him. "Let them."

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds

Summary: Your pack tries to figure out what comes next after John's announcement.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,527 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, handjobs, shower sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, spanking (lots of asses get slapped), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, language, slight angst, emotions

A/N: I'm ovulating so you're welcome

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Cap, what do ye mean?”

Chaos has erupted since John’s surprise announcement. Johnny is on his feet almost instantly in disbelief, trying to process the words his captain and alpha have just said. So they didn’t know either, judging by the surprised looks on their faces. They had no idea, and they weren’t expecting it.

“I’m retiring.” John says, repeating what he had just said. “It’s time I settled down.”

Johnny stammers for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this sudden change in their lives.

“If you’re going, so am I.” Kyle says, rising to his feet as well.

“Kyle, you don’t have to-” John starts but Kyle holds his hand out.

“No, I want to.” The room goes still as Kyle addresses his alpha. “You’re right. It’s not fair for us to do this. Our omega deserves a normal pack and a good life.” He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

John stares long and hard at him for a moment before nodding. “It’s your decision in the end, what you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do.” Kyle says softly.

John nods, still staring at him. He reaches out, taking Kyle’s hand. “Okay.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air as Simon stands from the couch, heading towards the back door. All four of you watch him go, the glass sliding open before closing softly. You chew on your lip, leaning forward to set John’s paperwork on the table. Part of you wants to look through it, read every small detail about your alpha as you can, but another part of you knows even some parts of him will remain secret to you. The less you know the better. That was how your place in this pack started.

Maybe it should stay that way.

You go to rise, but Johnny puts out a hand, stopping you. “Let him go, kitten.”

You glance at him for a moment before looking back at the door. You want to know what’s going through his head, what he’s feeling but he won’t let you in like that. Not right now. Even Johnny doesn’t go after him. He needs his space and you have to be okay with that.

John’s hand runs over your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’re still staring at the door, staring out where Simon has disappeared. He squats down next to you again, his knees cracking. You fight the urge to make a joke, to tease him about his creaky joints in his retirement age.

“How are you?” He asks softly, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. It’s a comforting weight, a reminder of just how long it’s been since you presented for him. There’s a tingle beneath your skin at the touch of his hand.

“You’re really doing this? For me?” You ask, staring into those bright blue eyes of his.

“Yes.” He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still young. You deserve to live a happy life with me in it.”

A smile forms on your face, relief starting to flood through you as the shock wears off. He’s voiced one of your deepest worries, that fear that he’d come back in a body bag someday too soon. You’d have to live the rest of your life without your alpha. Your mother was proof it could happen, but your situation is different. Your relationship with John is different than that of your parents. John’s a good alpha, a good man. He’s done horrible things, things you don’t want to think about, but you know he’d never raise a hand towards you.

The fact you feel so comfortable with his hand on the back of your neck proves that.

You lean into him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, lifting you up so he can sit on the couch in your place.

You settle into his lap, resting against his chest. It’s been a long time since you’ve been held by him. There’s been such a distance between the two of you, even after his return from disposing of Shepherd. You haven’t truly had a vulnerable, intimate moment with him in weeks.

Johnny lets out a sigh before heading for the back door. Kyle slips into his spot on the couch, leaning up against John. His head rests against yours, one of John’s arms slipping from around you to curl around Kyle. The three of you sit there in silence, soaking in the moment.

John’s really going to retire for you. Kyle is going to retire for you.

You never thought you’d see the day.

You press your nose into John’s neck, his beard tickling your skin. He’d shaved it when he went after Shepherd, cutting it back to its normal length. You almost miss his scruffy face. Maybe you can convince him to grow it out more once he’s officially retired. The mental image of him all scruffy-faced and soft has you shifting in his lap. You doubt he’d let himself lose his physicality, but you can dream. He’s lost more than he’d like to, no doubt. They all have.

Maybe it is a good thing he’s retiring. It would be rough to go back now after this.

Simon’s going to have a hell of a time.

You slide the door closed behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out onto the deck. He’s leaning against the railing, smoke puffing up from his lips and dispersing into the air. You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring off in the distance. You wonder if this is what they saw in those times you did the same.

You take slow steps forward, keeping yourself in his peripheral. He knows you’re there. You’d be shocked if you surprised him of all people.

That could also be dangerous for you.

You step up next to him, leaning against the railing, staring out at the grey sea in the distance. He’s smoking, a cigarette held between his fingers. You wonder how many he’s smoked since he came out here. You know they all do it occasionally, Price most of all, but you haven’t seen them smoke in a long time. You wonder when he bought the pack, or if he’s been keeping it for a moment like this.

You don’t blame him one bit for needing something to clear his head.

You hesitate before you speak, wondering if you should say anything at all, or if you should just wait for him to speak his mind. You might be out here all night if you waited. Instead you take the plunge, jumping right into the swirling black pool that is Simon’s emotions.

“I won’t ask you to retire.” You bite the bullet, coming right out and saying what you know he’s stressed about. He shifts on his feet just slightly as he brings the cigarette up to his lips. “That wouldn’t be fair.” You continue. “I’d want it to be your decision. Just like I left it up to John. I honestly didn’t know he was going to do it. I didn’t think he would ever. This whole time I was thinking we’d go back to living on base, things would return to the way they were before. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it wasn’t my place to say what you all could and couldn’t do. That’s why I wouldn’t ask you to do the same. It should be your choice what you decide to do and I’m okay with it if you decide you don’t want to retire. Honestly I can’t picture you retiring like I can John…”

You trail off as he lets out a sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the railing. There’s a tense moment of silence, his gaze still off in the distance.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.” He finally says.

“I-I’m not nervous.” You say, shaking your head.

He huffs, leaning his arms on the railing. “Can smell it on you.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the yard below. “I knew he’d do it.” He starts, speaking softly. “He’s been stressing for weeks about going back, putting you through that again. I never thought he’d actually do it…”

Simon trails off, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. You watch the dexterous way he moves it, fluidly slipping it between his fingers. You can imagine a knife in its place, spinning and flipping expertly. He’s good with his hands. You know personally what those long, rough, thick fingers are capable of.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting he’d say.” You shake your head, clearing it of the thoughts rapidly taking over. “But I mean it.” You sink your teeth into your lip. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay. You and Johnny.”

Simon slowly turns to face you, staring down at you. He’s silent for a moment, staring long and hard at your face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have shrunk under that gaze, wishing you could crawl under the deck. Instead you stand there strong, squaring up to that intense stare.

“You’ve come a long way from the scared pup that was forced into your pack.” He finally says, his gaze softening just a bit. “I’m proud of you. You’ve survived more than most omegas would, and you’re still standing.” He reaches out, running a hand over your head. “I think Laswell was right in her choice.”

“I am glad she chose me.” You smile, leaning into his touch as his hand drops to cup your cheek. “Despite everything, I still think it could have been worse.” You make a face. “Phil could have gotten his way.”

Simon growls lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I will pay you to never think about that shit stain again.”

“How much?” You smirk, letting out a shriek as you attempt to slip out of his grip. He’s too fast, though, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you back.

His hand slaps your ass, stinging even through your jeans. “Little shit.” He grunts, wiggling you around until you’re pressed up against his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“But you love it.” You grin up at him, knowing you’re right. He’s loved it for a long time, longer than he’s admitted.

He hums, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You breathe, brows pulling slightly in a frown.

“For allowing me the chance to do this. For proving my thoughts and beliefs wrong.” He says. “For being so goddamn understanding.”

Your lips pull into a smile, your head tilting so you can kiss him. “I’m glad you’ve gotten this opportunity to learn to be vulnerable. Who knows where you’d be if you didn’t.”

“Still a miserable cunt with nothing to live for.” He says.

You snort, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You’ve had Johnny to live for.”

He hums in agreement. “I do quite like him.”

“It’s hard not to.” You say, wrapping your arms around Simon’s neck. “He’s just so...cute.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll never let you forget you said it.” Simon mumbles against your lips.

“Nah, I’ll just tell him you said it.” You grin.

Simon growls, sinking his teeth into your lip. “You little shit.” His hand slips down, palming your ass. “Should line you all up, bend you over and spank you till you’ve got welts. See how much shit you wanna talk after.”

“Nothing can stop me.” You grin, biting his lip back.

He growls, smacking his hand against your ass again. It stings, but you can’t stop the moan from slipping through your lips.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, squeezing your ass.

“Bit cold to be fucking on the porch.” A voice cuts through the tension, drawing you and Simon apart.

“Fuck off, Garrick.” Simon growls, his hand still on your ass.

He holds his hands up. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He grins. “Make it quick, we’re going to town for dinner.”

Simon’s hand lifts from your ass and you can imagine the gesture he made to Kyle. There’s a laugh before the door slides closed again. It makes you smile, seeing everyone back to their normal, playful selves again.

Simon leans down, pressing his face into your neck. He inhales deeply before sighing, his warm breath fanning across your cool skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms, the change in temperature making you shiver. Simon’s lips brush your neck, sliding down to your mark where he presses a soft kiss before he stands up straight once more.

“He’s right, we should get back inside.” You say, going to turn but a hand closes around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon grins. It has another shiver running down your back.

“To go get ready for dinner…” You say, frowning slightly at him.

His grin twists into a smirk. “He said make it quick.”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him, the meaning of his words hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck…”

The house is quiet, the light slowly fading beneath your door as the lamps get shut off in the living room. You’re standing there, hand around the doorknob. You twist it slowly, watching the light beneath the door fade entirely to darkness.

That darkness is broken as you crack your door open, casting a stream of light from the disgusting overhead bulb. You’ve turned it on out of necessity despite how badly it burns your retinas in the otherwise dark world around you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You ask into the darkness, the shape that would be otherwise hidden on the moonless night pausing by the stairs.

“To bed.” He rumbles, turning around to face you, hand on the banister. You can picture him, leg lifted ready to lift himself onto that first step.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say quietly, leaning against the door frame.

“No,” He says, releasing the banister so he can turn to fully face you. “Just figured you might want some space.”

“Why would I want that?” You ask, curious as to what he’s going to come up with.

He tilts his head. “I know I haven’t been the best alpha to you lately. Retiring won’t make up for what I’ve put you through, the promises I broke. I figured I’d be the last person you’d want to see right now.”

Emotions rise in your throat, threatening to choke you. He’s not wrong. He’s hurt you in more ways than one. Retirement won’t fix everything, all of the heartbreak he’s caused you. That will take time.

But he is wrong about you wanting distance.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.” You say, swallowing thickly. “Kyle will survive a night without you.”

He stares at you for a moment before he nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

You step back from the door, hand on the light switch as you wait for him to cross the small living room. Despite the absence of one person, the cottage has started feeling smaller to you. You long for space and breathing room. It almost makes you miss the barracks.

Almost.

You turn off the light as soon as John steps through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. You close the door behind him, letting it click as it seals the two of you inside. You brush past him, heading towards the bed.

Hands dart out, wrapping around your waist before you can get too far. You’re pulled backwards and spun around so you’re facing John. It happens so fast you have barely any time to react, just managing to get your hands on his chest before you slam into his body. His arms wrap around you, keeping you pinned there as he stares down at you. His gaze is intense, burning a hole straight through you. A shudder runs through your body, your skin starting to tingle under the warmth of his hands.

“I’ve been neglecting you.” He murmurs, leaning down close to your face. His breath is warm as it fans across your skin. You try to lean up to kiss him but he pulls back just out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you prove how sorry you really are?” You say, your fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your hands. “I think I can do that.”

He finally leans down, pressing his lips against yours. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t care, leaning up as far as you can to push against him. He kisses you hard, scraping his teeth against your bottom lip. You moan against his lips, sliding your hands up to his shoulders.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“You were the one neglecting me.” You say, pulling back.

He hums, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing. “Neglecting myself too. I’m not wasting any more time.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Get on the bed.” He growls.

“No.” You say, pulling away. “I’m in charge.”

The growl rumbling in his chest lowers in pitch, his eyes darkening but you don’t move, standing there strong despite your omega’s desire to do as you’re told. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He chose to neglect you, so you’re going to make sure he pays for it.

His growl softens as the tension in his shoulders relaxes. He toes off his slippers before passing you to head towards the bed. You rear back, slapping his ass on the way. He grunts, jumping slightly at the impact. He glances at you over his shoulder with a playful look before he climbs onto the bed, settling himself in the middle.

You take a moment to stare at him, taking in the sight of him on your bed, the place that’s been your safe haven for months. It’s not a nest, but it’s the closest you can get.

The sight of your alpha in it makes your pussy tingle.

You make your way to the bed, climbing onto the edge. You crawl over to him, sitting yourself up on his thighs. He stares up at you, his hands sliding up your legs.

You push them back onto the bed, shaking your head. “No touching.”

He grunts, but keeps his hands flat on the bed.

You lean forward, trailing your fingers across his cheek, feeling the prickle of his beard across your fingers as you trail them down his jaw. You continue your path down his throat, sliding over his Adam’s apple before dipping into the space between his collar bones. He swallows thickly, and you watch the way his throat bobs. You sit up on your knees, bending over him to sink your teeth into his throat. He growls, his hands closing around the backs of your knees.

His grip is tight, warning.

You don’t let up though, trailing bites across his throat to his neck. You sink your teeth into the skin below his ear drawing another growl. Your teeth leave red marks down his neck to his shoulder, where you sink your teeth in as hard as you can. He lets out a deep growl, his hand slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck.” He grunts as you let up, leaning over him.

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him. “I thought I said no touching.”

“Almost took a chunk out.” He says, trailing his hands up the backs of your thighs.

“Good.” You say, sitting up on his stomach. “You bit me, it’s only fair I bite you.”

“You’ve bitten me lots of times.” He says, laying back.

“Yeah but mine won’t leave a scar.” You say, trailing your fingers down his chest.

You push your hips back, your clothed pussy pushing against the bulge in his sweatpants. You lean down, dragging your tongue across his chest before you reach his nipple, closing your lips around it. A breathy moan leaves his lips as you suck on the bud, tracing circles around it with your tongue. He sucks in a breath as your teeth scrape across his nipple, your lips curling around it to suck hard.

His hand lifts to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You pull away from his nipple with a pop, sitting yourself up over him again.

“I said no touching.” You say, pushing his arm down. “For a military man, you don’t listen very well.”

“I never was good at following orders.” He smirks. “Only giving them out.”

You huff, forcing his hands under your knees. “Gonna have to tie you up.”

“How are you going to do that?” He lifts a brow at you.

“I’ll figure it out.” You smirk, pushing yourself back so you’re seated over his hips.

You run your fingers across his soft stomach, trailing them through the soft hair that makes a line directly where you’re headed. He’s hard under you, his bulge prominent through his sweatpants. You’re equally as aroused, panties so wet you’re probably leaving a spot on his pants.

You slip your fingers under the band of his sweatpants, finding nothing but skin. Oh, he’s gone commando underneath. You never took him for the type. You know Johnny freeballs a lot, and so does Simon, but you never thought John would as well. Maybe he hoped to get his dick wet tonight. If not by you, then someone else.

Lucky for him it did turn out to be you.

You push yourself up onto your knees as you slide his sweatpants down, revealing his cock. It’s hard and red, the tip already leaking. He’s this turned on by you and you haven’t even touched him yet. He really has been neglecting himself. You push his pants down as far as you can, his legs lifting to kick them the rest of the way off.

You sit yourself on his strong thighs, resting one hand on his hip as you drag a finger up the length of his cock. He shivers, hands clenching the sheets as you tease his head, running your finger over his weeping slit.

“So hard already.” You muse, smearing his precum down the length of his cock. “Barely touched you.”

“Told you I’ve been neglecting myself.” He grunts as you spit into your hand before finally gripping his cock.

You hum, squeezing the base before slowly dragging your hand to the top. He twitches in your hold, more precum spilling out of his tip. “If you were better behaved I might let you cum right now.” You lean down, your breath fanning his cock. “But you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He twitches in your hand again as you drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking it along his slit. He groans, hands pulling at the sheets. The scent of him is heavy in the air, the muskiness of his arousal mingling with your own sweet scent. You’re dripping on his thigh, leaving a wet patch where you’re seated.

“You gonna cum? Make a mess all over yourself?” You hum, slowly stroking his throbbing cock.

“Yes,” he breathes, his hips pushing up against your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You say, dropping his cock from your hand.

He lets out a growl, his head lifting to stare down at you. “You little minx.”

You shrug. “Should have been good for me and kept your hands to yourself.” You sit yourself back between his legs, pulling your panties off and tossing them onto the floor. “If you can last until I cum, then maybe I’ll be nice to you.”

You climb up over his hips again, your hand wrapping around his cock. You don’t even need to prep yourself before you line him up, sinking down onto him. Your baggy shirt blocks out his view of his thick cock spreading you open. He groans, his head tilting back as you squeeze around him, sinking down until you’re seated on his hips.

Oh god how you’ve missed his cock.

It fills you just right, spreading you open and pushing against all those lovely little spots inside of you. It might just be the perfect cock, but then again, you’re likely to think that about all of them in the moment. Four perfect cocks attached to four perfect men.

How truly lucky you are.

And how lucky they are to have you.

You start to move your hips, rocking back and forth on John’s cock. His hands are still gripping the sheets so tight you’re worried he might rip them. Oh well, that would be a problem for later.

John bucks his hips as you lift yourself, spearing his cock back into you. You force your weight down, pinning his hips to the bed. “Be good.” You warn him, despite the pleasure reeling in your brain. The desire to give in and let him pound you into the mattress is strong, but you’re in too deep and have to keep control for now.

You continue to rock your hips, rising up and down along the length of his cock. His head is lifted, neck straining as he stares at you, watching your body move. His lips are parted, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths. He’s holding himself back, trying to keep control on himself. He could easily take over, force you to submit, but he lets you play this game.

For now.

You press your hands against John’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he breathes. Even after so much time he still has kept some of his strength. You can imagine him doing his pushups and situps in the morning, keeping himself agile and strong just in case.

You wonder if he’ll continue that even after retirement.

You can imagine he will. He’ll always have that need to be ready just in case.

That protective edge will never leave the back of his mind, no matter how relaxed he gets.

That almost makes you sad.

Your hands push into his stomach, using him as leverage to bounce on his cock. You’re quickly growing tired, and the press of his cock inside you has you rapidly approaching an orgasm. He’s pulsing and twitching inside of you, and you’re shocked he’s lasted this long. A true testament to his inner resolve.

He was being bad on purpose.

You don’t doubt that one bit.

It’s all a game to him, indulging this desire to be dominant for a moment. It’s a game you’ll gladly play, though, even if for just a moment.

“Fuck,” You breathe, reaching under your shirt to rub your clit.

John groans as you squeeze around him, his head falling back as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eventually he won’t be able to hold it. Eventually he’s going to lose control and cum without your permission. You’re tempted to push him that far, but at the same time you’re desperate to cum on your alpha’s cock.

High-pitched whines leave your lips as you desperately grind against his hips, fingers rubbing rapid circles around your clit. “Gonna cum!” You gasp, body shuddering as pleasure ripples through you.

“Cum on my cock.” He grunts, hands leaving the sheets to grip your thighs.

You don’t care, too close to the edge to pay much attention to him. You’re too busy chasing your own high.

Your orgasm slams into you, your hips jerking as you spasm around him. He lets out a deep moan, fingers indenting your thighs as he holds on for dear life. He won’t cum yet. He’ll be good and hold off for you despite the way you’re gripping him like a vice, your body trying to milk his own orgasm.

You pull yourself off of him, sitting back on his thighs as you take his cock in your hand. It’s slick and shiny with your juices, your hand slipping along him easily as you pump him. “Cum for me.” You breathe, squeezing your hand around his cock.

He cums with a deep groan, hips lifting as he finally gets relief, painting his stomach with his seed. You jerk him through his orgasm, seeking every last drop he can give you until he’s going soft in your hand. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he slowly releases your thighs, dropping his hands back to the bed.

You crawl your way back up to his face, leaning over him as he tries to catch his breath. “So good for me.” You breathe, still damp and slick between your thighs. You know he’s getting hard again. You can smell the thickening of his scent in the air.

You press your lips against his, leaning down to rest your body against his chest. His arms come up, wrapping around you, pinning you there. You pull back just slightly, staring down into his eyes. “Fuck me like you missed me.” You breathe against his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, his hands bunching your shirt around your waist. You sit yourself up just enough that he can pull it over your head and drop it on the floor.

You lean yourself back down, pressing your breasts against his chest as you kiss him again. He groans against your lips, trailing his hands across your skin.

“So fucking soft.” He grunts, squeezing your hips. His hands are rough against your back, still calloused despite his lack of handling weapons regularly. Maybe it’s just part of him, something he’ll never lose.

You don’t mind it one bit.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing up as he rolls you over onto your back. He hovers above you, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He stares down at you for a long moment, eyes tracing your face.

“What?” You ask, worrying there might be something wrong.

“Forgot what you looked like under me.” He grins playfully.

“Well, take a picture. You can share it to the group chat.” You smirk.

He chuckles. “No. This is just for me.”

He leans back down, pressing another kiss to your lips. He does kiss you like he missed you, soft and tender yet passionate and devouring. It has your toes curling and he hasn’t even touched you.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin to leave marks just as you did to him. You shiver as he presses a kiss to your mark, the skin tingling from his touch. Your entire body is tingling as you give over control to him, submitting to him and what he’s going to do to your body to prove he really did miss you.

He kisses his way down your body, pausing for a moment to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, giving them the same attention you did to him. Your lips part in a breathy moan as he sucks on the sensitive bud, scraping his teeth along the skin before releasing it with a pop. He gives you a smirk as he continues down your body, licking a circle around your belly button before sliding even lower.

He trails kisses down your pelvis, ending with a kiss just above your clit. You lift your head up, watching him as he stares at your pussy, still slick and sensitive from your first orgasm. He hums, his thumbs spreading you open.

“Just as pretty as I remember.” He says.

A snarky remark dies on the tip of your tongue as he drags his tongue through your folds. You flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he finally reaches your clit, pressing a soft kiss against it.

Your lips part as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, toes already curling again as he circles the still sensitive bud. His fingers keep you spread open as he licks another stripe through your folds before his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks hard, a sound almost like a mewl leaving your lips as pleasure shoots through you like an electric shock.

Your fingers curl into the sheets as John continues his relentless assault on your clit, slurping at your folds like a parched man. His tongue draws shapes across your clit, swirling and flicking, his lips closing around it and suckling hard. Your legs are shaking already, toes curled as he feasts on you like he really did miss you.

“Fuck…” You whine, pushing your hips up against his face, your thighs trying to close around his head. You don’t care that you might suffocate him. You doubt he’d complain about dying between your thighs. Out of all the ways he could go…

“Feel good, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your clit, sucking on it again.

“Yes!” You moan, your hand reaching down to slide through his hair. He cut it recently, back to the normal short length he wore on base. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, likely due to their belief they were all headed back to their old lives.

Now things have changed.

Your back arches off the bed as John continues to eat you out, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first, and the mix of his tongue and the burn of his beard on your inner thighs has you rapidly approaching a second.

“Cum for me.” He growls, scraping your clit with his teeth before wrapping his lips around it.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure course through you. You can barely handle it, colors erupting behind your eyes as you writhe on the bed. John continues to suckle at your clit, working you through your orgasm.

He finally relents once you’re shaking with overstimulation, pulling his face back from your pussy. His beard is damp with your juices, lips shining. You hold your arms out for him, inviting him to crawl back up so he’s wrapped in your arms.

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you, his knee hooking beneath your leg and pushing it up. You wrap it around his waist, pulling his body as close as you can. His hand slides beneath your back, coming to rest between your shoulder blades. He cradles you as he slips a hand between your bodies, still kissing you as his cock brushes against your damp pussy. You’re still wet despite two orgasms, worked up by the touch and smell of your alpha.

You whimper against his lips as he pushes into you, your body welcoming him in gladly. A sigh leaves his lips as you squeeze around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. John leans his forehead against yours as he sinks completely into you, his hips pressing flush against yours.

“Fucking feel so good wrapped around me.” He breathes, pausing there for a moment as he presses soft pecks across your face.

“Missed you.” You whisper, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, pressing his cheek against yours. “Shouldn’t have been neglecting you.”

“Make it up to me.” You say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before nipping it gently.

He hums before he starts moving, rocking his hips against yours. You feel so full, his cock pressing as far as it can into you with each thrust of his hips forward. It’s slow and soft, John taking his time to try and prove to you just how much he missed you, trying to make up for just how much he’s neglected you over these last couple weeks by keeping his distance.

You would have accepted him back with open arms immediately. You have missed him, despite your tumultuous emotions surrounding your alpha. You love him, you always have, even in those moments when he hurt you. You know they weren’t intentional, done out of malice in a desire to hurt you as much as he can. You know he loves you too. You can tell just by the way he handles you so delicately, how he’s tried to make up for his mistakes in the best ways he knows how.

He keeps his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rocks against you. You moan softly in his ear, clinging to him like he might slip away, like this might be a dream you could wake up from any moment. Deep down you know it’s not, but at the same time that fear that this is all in your head runs rampant.

John presses soft kisses across your face as he makes love to you, almost as if he can sense your fears, your doubts and he’s trying to brush them away. Your nails dig into his back as he shifts his hips, his cock brushing against that spot inside of you with every thrust. It has warmth spreading through your entire body, electricity coursing through your veins, sparking every inch where his skin touches yours.

“Alpha,” You whimper, clinging onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hold around you, lifting your body to meet his.

He moans softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as you squeeze around him. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, heat blossoming between your thighs where his cock is sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. You’re going to cum just like this, in the tenderness of this moment, a reuniting of your bodies after so long apart.

You can tell he’s getting close too, the occasional falter in his thrusts, the way his cock seems to pulse inside of you. He’s grunting and moaning in your ear, your own moans soft in the quiet of the room. Only the harmony of your bodies mingling together in pleasure can break the quiet that’s settled over the house in the darkness of night. Not even the rain dare fall and break this moment between you.

“John,” You breathe his name with a sigh as your back arches, pressing into him as you cum.

He’s not far behind, moaning your name into your ear as he spills into you, rocking his hips as he fills you.

He stills, resting some of his weight on you as you both lay there in bliss. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s grounding in the best way possible, his body pinning you to the bed, pussy still stuffed full of his cock. The doubts of this being real slowly float away, melting into the abyss as you breathe in his woody scent. It shoots back into the very primal parts of your brain, soothing your omega until she turns on her back in submission.

You’re crying before you realize it, tears leaking out the sides of your eyes. John shifts his weight, pushing up on his elbows so he’s staring down at you. “What is it? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You shake your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You can’t put into words what you’re feeling. Bliss? Relief? That quiet ease of lingering grief you’ve been holding onto for so long finally dissipating?

John shushes you gently, cupping your face in his hands as you cry. You lean into his touch, nuzzling your face against his palm. “I’m so sorry.” He breathes, tears shining in his own eyes.

“Don’t hide from me again.” You breathe, a sob stuttering in your chest.

“I won’t.” He says, pouring nothing but conviction and truth into his voice. “I promise I won’t, and I’ll keep that promise.”

“You better.” You sniffle, pulling him down against you once more.

You lay there, the tears slowing as you hold him. There’s something so raw and intimate about this moment, sweat-slick bodies locked together in such a total way as you both allow such vulnerability. It speaks volumes of your trust in him to carry you and his trust in you to hold him. That is what you’re made for at the core of your instincts. To comfort, to care, to be the warm, open place for your alpha to retreat to. The safe space he can be vulnerable in.

Your tears slow to a stop, your breathing evening out as you lay there under the weight of him. Something has transpired in this moment, some hurdle the two of you have jumped over together in your relationship you hadn’t even realized was there. Some empty space has been filled, a hole patched.

John lifts his head, staring down at you for a moment before he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly, smiling at the tickle of his beard on your skin. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

He finally releases you after a moment, sitting himself up on his knees. You wince as his softened cock slips out of you, your body feeling deliciously sore. “Come on,” he says, trailing a hand down your leg. You feel sticky as the sweat starts to dry. “Let’s shower.”

You take his hand as he climbs off the bed, welcoming his aid in standing. Your legs are still trembling a bit, feeling unsteady as he leads you to the bathroom. You sit on the closed toilet lid as he starts the shower, waiting until the temperature is perfect.

“Come on,” He says, slipping his arms under you to carry you under the warm spray.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold on as the warm water pelts against your skin. He stands there for a moment, holding you as he stares down at your face.

“What?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Nothing.” He says, smiling back. “Just can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his compliment, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again.

You kiss him back, keeping your lips locked together as he slowly lowers you to your feet. You stand on your toes, back to the spray as you kiss him. Warmth is blooming beneath your skin again as his hands slide over your hips.

He turns you around, letting you get wet in the spray before he grabs the soap, lathering his hands. He drags them across your skin, cleaning the dried fluids from your body. He takes his time with your breasts, cupping them in his hands as he drags his thumbs over your nipples. There’s a stirring beginning in your stomach again, warmth starting to sink down from your stomach to your pelvis.

His hands abandon your breasts to slide lower, trailing over your stomach before slipping even lower. He presses against your back as his hands scrub at your inner thighs, wiping the juices that have begun to dry against your skin.

Your teeth sink into your lip as his hands travel upward, one of them slipping between your legs. His fingers are gentle as they rub through your folds, still sensitive from three orgasms. His middle finger drags over your clit, making your hips jerk. You can feel him growing hard against your back, your ass pushing back against him as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe, starting to dampen between your thighs and not from the water spraying you both.

You push yourself forward, bending so your hands press against the tile wall. You push back against his ass, grinding against him.

He gets the message, pulling back just slightly before the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You’re still sensitive as he pushes into you, your pussy fluttering around him. He groans, the sound echoing around the tile walls of the shower as he presses in until he’s flush with your ass. Your hands push against the wall, pressing you back against him to take him as deep as you can.

“Fucking irresistible.” He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust into you.

His thrusts are quick and sharp, the antithesis of what they were just a few minutes before. Gone is the intimacy and the vulnerability, instead desperate need taking its place. It’s not about making love anymore, instead it’s feeding into that primal need taking over.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the bathroom as he fucks into you hard, using his grip on your hips to pull you back against him as he thrusts into you. You can do nothing but stand there as he uses you, fighting to keep from slipping in the water still spraying both of you from overhead.

Your moans are short and sharp, nails scratching at the tiles as you get closer and closer to the edge, forced onward by the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you. It has your legs shaking, body pushing back against his as your back arches.

“Come on,” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. He has to be sensitive still too.

Your legs do nearly give out as his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the overly sensitive bud. You brace yourself against the wall, John’s arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you upright as he continues his assault on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, his hips snapping against your ass.

“Fuck…” You whine, legs nearly spasming as you gush around his cock, another orgasm slamming into you.

He curses as his thrusts get sloppy, his hips pushing hard against your ass as he grinds into you. His fingers don’t let up on your clit as he continues to chase his own high, pushing you close to the point of overstimulation. You can feel another orgasm rapidly approaching, your entire body trembling.

“That’s it,” he grunts, pushing against your clit.

Your arms nearly give out as another orgasm washes through you, just barely keeping yourself from face-planting into the wall as he thrusts hard against your ass twice more before he stills. His warm cum spurts into you as he orgasms, his head falling back as he groans low and deep.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He grunts, hands holding your hips up as you shake from the intensity of your second orgasm.

He pulls himself out of your overstimulated pussy, still spasming as his cum starts to drip out of you. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up so you’re pressed against his chest.

“So fucking good for me, you know that?” He hums in your ear, pressing a kiss to the lobe.

You whine at his praise, a shiver running down your spine as your omega beams with pride.

He washes you clean again, taking his time washing your hair for you. You do the same to him, running the soap over his skin. You pause around his scars, gently caressing each one. It’s easy to ignore them sometimes, forget about them and their meanings. Sometimes you can’t help but stare, worry knotting in your stomach as you stare at the ones too close to vital organs. Close calls and the possibilities had those wounds just been slightly lower, slightly to the side.

Tonight you try to ignore the meanings of them, cleaning his skin until he nearly shines and the water starts to go cold.

He reaches around you to turn it off, a shiver running through you as the cool air in the bathroom hits your skin. He’s quick to wrap a towel around you, drying you off as much as he can before drying himself.

You head back into your room, forgoing clothes as you climb into the bed naked. The sheets are slightly damp and smell like sex but you don’t care. John joins you just a moment later, forgoing clothes as well. He lays down on his back, opening an arm to you. You saddle in close to his side, tossing an arm around him as he pulls the sheets up around you. You press your nose into his chest, breathing in the clean scent of soap and the natural scent of him beneath. It calms your mind, slowing down your thoughts.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs into your damp hair, kissing the top of your head.

You hum, already halfway there as your eyes slip closed.

It’s already light outside when you wake.

The light is shining through the gap in the curtain, pulling you from the sweet arms of sleep. It’s warm under the sheets, your back pressed up against something solid. You let out a groan as you stretch, joints popping. You’ve been in this position for a while.

“Morning.” A soft voice says, making you turn your head. John is still with you, reclined up against the headboard.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“Just past seven.” He says, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, turning around to face him.

“Looking at houses.” He says, swiping across his screen.

“Houses?” Your sleep-addled brain can’t quite comprehend what he’s saying.

“For us to move into.” He says, glancing down at you.

It takes you a moment before the tears start to gather in your eyes. “Huh?” You push yourself up onto your elbow.

“We’ll have to go back to base for a short time while my retirement paperwork gets processed, but then we’ll have to have somewhere to go after that goes through.” He explains. “I’ve been looking at some places for a while.”

“A while?” You blink at him, trying to hold back the tears.

He nods. “Since before I left to go after Shepherd.” A tear falls at the implications of his words. “So...you’ve been planning this for a while?”

He nods again. “It’s been playing around in my head. Just took some time to finally settle.”

You scoot yourself closer, leaning your head on his shoulder. You take a couple breaths to compose yourself, to not let the emotions overflow again like they did last night. He’s been considering retiring for a while, he’s even been looking at places to move to. He’s been planning this a lot longer than you knew, than you thought.

“I like this place.” He says, showing you a listing of a nice looking modern house.

“Where is it?” You ask, looking at the photos as he swipes through them. It is nice, new and clean looking.

“Scotland.” He says.

“Scotland?” You frown. You always thought he’d want to stay in England.

“It’s a good place to retire.” He says, pausing on a photo of the backyard. “Been looking at places on the coast.”

You can’t stop the tears now, frantically wiping at them as they fall. “The coast?”

He nods. “Just for you.”

You wrap your arm around him, curling in close to his side. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leaning his head on yours. He really has been paying attention. He really has been putting a lot of thought into you and what you’d like, where you’d be happiest and the most comfortable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, trying to hold in your sobs.

“Of course.” He says, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I want you to be happy. You’ve gone through so much shit already, you deserve to live out the rest of your life where you’ll be at peace.”

It’s a strange jump from the no-nonsense alpha you’d met when you arrived in his life. The alpha dedicated to his job, his team, saving the world. The alpha that willingly put you second because that’s what was expected of him, because that’s what he needed to do. The alpha that broke promises to you because of the good of the world mattered more to him than you.

You sniffle, hugging him even tighter, so much it probably hurts. He doesn’t complain though, letting you cling to him as you need to.

You wonder what changed, what happened to cause this sudden shift in his priorities. Maybe it was almost losing you, maybe it was those times you got angry with him, screamed at him because he wasn’t listening, because he was neglecting you emotionally, mentally, physically. Because he wouldn’t give you what you needed and expected you to be fine. Maybe it was simply your existence here in this cottage where nothing mattered but healing and living a normal life. Maybe he finally realized just how much life on base affected you and he was able to look past the blinders the military put on him from an early age.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.” You murmur.

“Just be happy. That’s all that I need.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

You smile softly, releasing your tight hold on him. “This means so much to me.”

“I know.” He smiles. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“You’re so good to me. It’s a nice change.” You tease.

He chuckles, his hand sliding down to your hip. “I’m going to ignore that.”

You giggle, sliding your hand down to rest on his stomach. “What other places are you looking at?” You ask.

“A few places.” He says. “Ones with enough space for a big bed.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at him. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough for at least three.” He says, his scent starting to thicken in the air. “Maybe enough for five.”

You bite your lip, images of tangled bodies, lips and hands all over filling your head. The four of them gathered around you as you lay there, open and ready for them. Heat starts to pool in your stomach, your thighs rubbing together.

John’s chest rumbles with a growl as your scent starts to project into the air. “What’s on your mind.”

You smirk, sliding your hand under the sheets. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Screamin’ fucking Jesus again?”

“They’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” Kyle shrugs, pulling the tea bag out of his mug and dropping it into the trash.

“It’s like they’re tryin’ tae torture me.” Johnny whines, dropping into a seat at the table.

Kyle pours some milk into his mug before joining him. “You can always go outside.”

“Might have tae.” He grunts, putting his head in his hand. “I cannae take it.”

“You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Like a fuckin’ rock.” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair as he runs a hand across his groin. “Cannae take listenin’ to those sweet noises. I just want tae stick my face between her legs and make them shake. Tha’s all.”

“You’ll get your chance.” Kyle says. “She’ll be coming for you next.”

“I hope so.” Johnny groans, dropping his head into his hands.

Thudding steps come down the stairs, Simon appearing. He pauses, glancing at your door before shaking his head. “Girl’s busy these days.”

“As long as she’s having fun.” Kyle shrugs.

Johnny almost whines, head still in his hands.

“Needy little pup.” Simon mumbles, dragging a hand through Johnny’s newly cropped mohawk as he passes. “Probably hard in your shorts, huh?”

Johnny lets out another sound, running his hand over his face. “I cannae take it.” He pushes himself up to stand, beelining for Simon in the kitchen.

“Uh uh.” Simon says, turning him around before Johnny can get a hand on his dick. “Go sit back down and be good.” He delivers a sharp slap to Johnny’s ass.

Johnny lets out a frustrated groan but does as he’s told, sinking back into his seat at the table. Kyle hides his smirk in his tea, ears perking up as the moaning in your room quiets.

“Quick one this morning.” He muses, hiding his own stiffy under the table. The mental images of you and Price together is almost too much for even him. What he wouldn’t give to bear witness to that again. His alpha and his omega lost in their pleasure together. He wouldn’t even have to participate. Just watching would be enough.

There’s a few moments of silence before your door opens, John exiting looking rather pleased. You follow him, hair slightly mussed and a dopey smile on your face.

“Good morning.” Kyle says, smirking at his alpha.

“It is.” John says, heading for the kitchen, a pep in his step.

“Morning.” You say dreamily, a fucked-out look on your face.

Johnny mumbles something, staring hard at you before rising to his feet, the chair squeaking on the floor from the suddenness of his movement. “Cannae take anymore.”

He crosses the space between you quickly, brushing the placemats off the table before he’s lifting you. You drop on your back on the table, the wood trembling from the force of it. Johnny kneels between your legs, tossing them over his shoulders before his face disappears from sight.

Your head drops back, thudding against the table as a moan slips through your lips. Kyle’s own lips part as he watches, a slurping sound rising from between your thighs.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, watching the top of Johnny’s head bob as he eats you out. His stiffy is now rock hard, pulsing painfully in his pants.

“Fucking mutt-” Simon goes to move forward but John stops him with a hand on his chest, watching your back arch off the table as Johnny continues to slurp at your pussy.

“Let him.” He says, dropping a hand to adjust his own pants. “He’s suffered enough.”

Your moans start to fill the air, body writhing on the table as Johnny sucks at your clit, the wet squelch of his mouth cleaning the remnants of John from your pussy loud in the air. He’s eating you like a man starved, but you suppose he is.

Your hands dart out, gripping the edges of the table as your legs start to shake, overly sensitive from what John gave you this morning, and likely last night.

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s head but he doesn’t seem to care. He’d gladly die in your pussy if he had to.

Kyle can’t take anymore either, slipping a hand into his pants. “Fuck…” He breathes, the sounds coming from Johnny almost obscene. He’s moaning almost as much as you are, fingers indenting your thighs from how hard he’s holding onto you.

“Come on,” Simon says, moving around the table. “Be a good boy and make her cum.”

Johnny moans against your pussy, sucking hard on your clit. Your body shudders, back arching off the table as you cum against his tongue. Johnny moans, sticking his tongue into your pussy to catch every last drop of you.

You’re breathing hard, hands still gripping the edge of the table as Johnny continues to lap at you, pushing you towards overstimulation.

“That’s enough.” Simon says, wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, yanking him up to stand. “Let the poor girl breathe.”

You continue to lay there on the table, legs dropping over the edge, still shaking just a bit.

“Look at you.” Simon tsks, licking the side of Johnny’s mouth where your juices shine on his skin. His hand drops to the front of Johnny’s boxers, pushing against them at the wet spot on the front of his shorts. “Came in your pants again, didn’t ya?”

Johnny groans, nodding unabashedly.

“Fucking whore.” Simon spits, slapping Johnny’s ass. “Go clean yourself up.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny moans, stumbling his way to the stairs.

Simon turns his gaze to Kyle, his hand slowing in his pants. “You need to go clean yourself too?”

Kyle swallows thickly, pulling his hand out of his pants. He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

Simon scoffs. “Should try a little harder, then.”

Kyle does almost cum in his pants then, his cock twitching as Simon’s mean side comes out.

“Come on.” Simon says, lifting you up so you’re seated on the table. “Up and at ‘em princess. Gonna get your pussy juice all over the table.”

“Bit late for that.” You murmur, sliding off the edge and into a chair.

Simon grabs the cleaning spray and a rag, tossing it to Johnny as he returns. “Clean up your mess.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, spraying down the table.

Kyle’s cock is still throbbing in his pants, painfully hard as he tries to focus on his tea. He should excuse himself to the bathroom, jerk himself off real quick, but instead he remains seated, enjoying the pulsing in his shorts just a little too much.

“You’re really doing it?” You ask, sinking down on the couch.

“Hmm?” Kyle hums, looking up from his phone.

“Retiring?” You continue, tucking your legs up under you as you face him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Why? You don’t have to.” You say.

“Because I want to.” He explains, draping an arm across the back of the couch. “John is right. You deserve to have a happy life with your pack and I want to be there for it. I’ve done my time and I think I’m ready to have a normal life.”

“You’re giving up your career for me.” You say quietly, almost hesitantly.

“It’s worth it.” He shrugs again. “I’d rather you be happy knowing I’m always going to be there than stressed I might not be coming home. It’s not fair to you to live with that stress.”

“But Simon and Johnny…”

“They’re going to do what they’re going to do.” He says. “That’s up to them and what they want. This is what I want. I want to live a normal life with you and John. He’s going to need the support for a while.”

“This is going to be hard for him, isn’t it?” You say.

He nods. “It will be a hard adjustment. John’s never been good at living a civilian life. Even when he’s had chances to go on leave, he never fully steps away. Giving it up cold turkey is going to be hard on him. He’s going to need help, support, someone who understands. No offense to you.”

“None taken.” You say. “He’s going to need you.”

Kyle nods. “That’s why I want to be there. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try and help from a distance. You’ll need help too, trying to adjust to a normal pack life again. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you both to flounder.”

You lean your head against his arm. “You’re so good to us. Too good.”

He smiles. “Nah, I just love you both.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in against his chest.

“I love you too.” You say, relaxing against him, and you mean it.

You love all of them so much it almost hurts.

NEXT ->

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[missarchive]

american jesus² ☆

spencer reid

part one part two part three part four

summary; Spencer continues to spoil you with thoughtful gifts and lavish attention, each gesture reinforcing the growing bond between you both. Despite the lingering questions and unspoken emotions, Spencer becomes more protective and possessive, revealing his vulnerability and need to care of you. As you begin to navigate the complexities of your unconventional arrangement, the lines between business and genuine affection begin to blur, leaving you both caught between desire and uncertainty.

cw; +18 minors dni, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk, munch!spencer, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, reader calls spencer "sir"

an; thank you for so so much love on the first part! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

You exchanged messages almost daily after that. His words were always careful, deliberate, as if he’d spent hours considering each one. He asked about your life—not in a prying way, but with genuine curiosity. He wanted to know your interests, your struggles, the little details that most people overlooked.

In return, he offered glimpses of himself. He told you about his love of books, how his job kept him busy and isolated, and how he’d joined the site not for anything shallow, but because he craved a connection that he hadn’t found anywhere else.

As the days turned into weeks, your messages grew longer, more personal. You learned that he didn’t like crowded places, that he drank too much tea, and that he had a habit of quoting obscure facts when he was nervous.

But despite the growing intimacy of your conversations, there was always a wall between you—a hesitance to reveal too much. Neither of you had shared your real name or details about your work. It wasn’t unusual for this kind of arrangement, but it made everything feel more fragile, like the wrong word could shatter whatever it was you were building.

And then, one night, he sent a message that changed everything.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve been thinking... I’d like to meet you in person. If you’re comfortable, of course.

Your heart raced as you read the words. You had been expecting this—waiting for it, even—but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say.

@ laceandliterature; Are you sure? 

@ thefourthdoctor; I am. But only if you feel ready. I don’t want you to feel pressured.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to meet him—you couldn’t deny that. But there was a part of you that was afraid. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you weren’t what he expected?

@ laceandliterature; Let’s take a little more time. I’m not saying no. Just... not yet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Of course.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ll wait as long as you need. No pressure.

The conversation continued, and for the next week, things went back to normal—if what you had could even be called that. But the thought of meeting lingered at the back of your mind, growing stronger with every message he sent, every piece of himself he shared.

One night, as you lay in bed, scrolling through his messages, you made up your mind.

@ laceandliterature; Okay, Let’s meet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Are you sure, angel?

@ thefourthdoctor; Yes. I want to meet you, Spencer.

After a few more exchanges, you settled on a quiet café in the city—neutral territory. He insisted on keeping things casual, saying he didn’t want to overwhelm you. If anything, he was a gentleman.

The night before the meeting, you barely slept. You went over everything in your mind a hundred times, questioning your decision, wondering if you were making a mistake. But when the time came, you found yourself standing outside the café, heart pounding as you pushed the door open.

The first time you met Spencer in person, it wasn’t anything like you expected. You had imagined someone cocky, a man accustomed to throwing his money around to get what he wanted. But Spencer wasn’t that. Not even close.

He had chosen a quiet café for your meeting, one tucked away from the bustling city streets, its low lighting and intimate atmosphere offering a sense of privacy. When you arrived, you saw him sitting at a corner table, his long fingers wrapped around a cup of tea, his gaze fixed on a well-worn book.

You almost didn’t approach him. He looked so out of place, like someone who had wandered in by accident, unaware of the implications of what this kind of meeting entailed. But then he glanced up, and his eyes met yours.

You’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They were just as captivating as they had been in his profile picture—intelligent, kind, and curious, but with an edge of something deeper, something darker.

“Hi,” you said, hesitating at the edge of the table.

Spencer stood quickly, his movements awkward but endearing. “Hi. Please, uh, sit. I—I’m Spencer.”

His voice was softer than you expected, but there was a certainty to it that made you feel at ease. As you slid into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but study him. He was... handsome. 

His hair, a dark cascade of curls that fell just past his shoulders, framed his face like the softest of shadows. Each strand seemed to have a life of its own, unruly and free, yet perfectly suited to him, like a secret kept between the universe and his skin. The golden highlights that kissed the tips caught the light in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, as if sunlight was always seeking to touch him, to linger just a little longer.

His eyes—those eyes—the colour of moss after rain, deep and mysterious, filled with an intelligence that left you feeling both seen and understood, and yet so very far away. There was a quiet intensity in the way they studied everything around him, always searching, always analysing, as though the world was a puzzle he had yet to fully solve. But when they turned toward you, it felt like he was letting the world slip away, if only for a moment, letting you glimpse the tenderness he rarely allowed anyone to see.

His face, pale and angular, was sharp with youth and burdened wisdom all at once. His lips, though soft and pale, would part when he spoke, revealing a mix of shyness and urgency, like every word he shared carried weight. The stubble that traced the sharp edge of his jawline only emphasised the boyishness that lingered beneath the layers of genius and mystery. But it was his smile—rare and fleeting—that truly made your chest ache, a smile that cracked through the fortress around him, like the sun breaking through clouds.

There was something effortlessly magnetic about him, something that made you want to inch closer to understand the stories written in the lines of his face. And yet, just as quickly as he drew you in, there was always an invisible barrier, a space between you and the man that you were still trying to figure out. Spencer Reid was an enigma wrapped in vulnerability, each glance, each gesture, leaving you wanting more of the puzzle to unfold.

The first few minutes were stilted, filled with polite small talk about the weather and the café’s menu. But as the conversation flowed, the tension between you began to ease. Spencer wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. He spoke with a quiet intensity, his words precise and thoughtful, and he listened just as intently, as if everything you said held a weight he couldn’t ignore.

And then, inevitably, the topic shifted to why you were both there.

“So,” he began, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. “I’m not, um... particularly experienced with this kind of arrangement.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his candour. “You mean being a sugar daddy?”

He winced slightly at the term but nodded. “Yes. That. I—I don’t want you to think that I see this as transactional, at least not in the way it’s usually framed. I’m looking for... connection, I suppose. Someone to talk to. To spend time with. And if financial support is part of that, then I’m happy to provide it.”

His words caught you off guard. Most men on the site were upfront about their intentions—dinners in exchange for companionship, gifts in exchange for discretion. But Spencer’s tone was different. He wasn’t trying to seduce you or impress you with his wealth. He was just... honest.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. “And what do you expect from me?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t have expectations. I only have... hopes. That you’ll be honest with me. That we can build something that feels mutually beneficial. And if, at any point, you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me. No strings, no pressure.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest tighten. This wasn’t a game to him. It wasn’t about power or control. It was about something deeper, something more human.

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “I think we can make that work.”

Over the next few weeks, your relationship settled into a rhythm. Spencer was generous, but not in a way that felt overbearing. And then there was the money.

He transferred it to your account without fanfare, always with a note attached. For groceries. For that art class you mentioned. For you.

At first, it felt strange, accepting so much from him. But Spencer never made it feel transactional. He never demanded anything in return, never made you feel like you owed him. It was simply his way of showing he cared.

The calls became a nightly ritual. He’d ask about your day, encouraging you to share every mundane detail as though it were the most important thing in the world. He never interrupted, never rushed you, and his thoughtful responses made you feel like the centre of his universe.

In return, you learned more about his life. He told you about the pressures of his job, the long hours, the cases that weighed on him. But he never dwelled on the darkness. Instead, he focused on the small joys: the satisfaction of solving a puzzle, the camaraderie of his team, the books he escaped into when the world felt too heavy.

And then there were the gifts.

It started with little things: a beautifully bound notebook because you’d mentioned wanting to journal, a box of your favourite chocolates, a scarf in your favourite colour. But soon, the gifts became more extravagant.

A delivery driver showed up at your door one afternoon with a box containing a designer handbag you’d admired in passing. Another day, you received an email confirming that Spencer had paid off your car loan, the subject line reading simply: You deserve this.

“Spencer,” you said when you called him that night, clutching the phone tightly. “You didn’t have to do that. I never asked for—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupted gently. “But I wanted to. Please let me do this for you.”

It was hard to argue with him when he sounded so sincere.

The next time you met in person, he handed you a small velvet box across the table. You opened it to find a delicate gold bracelet, simple but exquisite, the kind of thing that felt like it belonged in a museum.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice catching. “This is too much.”

His expression softened, his fingers brushing against yours as he helped you fasten the bracelet around your wrist. “Nothing I give you will ever feel like enough,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “But I’ll keep trying.”

He spoiled you in other ways too. He insisted on picking up the check whenever you went out, no matter how much you protested. When you mentioned that your laptop was acting up, a brand-new one arrived at your doorstep the next day.

But it wasn’t just about the money or the gifts. It was the way he made you feel cherished, valued, as though your happiness was the most important thing in the world to him.

One night, as you lay in bed after a long call, you found yourself smiling at the thought of him. It was more than just an arrangement now. Somewhere along the way, you’d started to care about him—not for what he could give you, but for who he was.

The low hum of your phone’s speaker filled the quiet of your bedroom as you lay sprawled across your bed, Spencer’s voice soothing and familiar on the other end of the line. Tonight’s call had started like all the others—a mix of light teasing and genuine curiosity—but somewhere along the way, you felt the tone shift.

“Can I ask you something?” you ventured, fiddling with the bracelet he’d given you, its delicate chain glinting in the soft light of your bedside lamp.

“Of course,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“How do you afford all of this?” you asked, hesitant but unable to keep the question bottled up any longer. “The gifts, the...everything. I mean, you’re so generous, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t help but wonder.”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough for doubt to creep into your mind. You opened your mouth to take it back, but then he spoke, his tone thoughtful.

“It’s a fair question,” he said softly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

You heard him exhale, the sound heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

“I wasn’t always this...comfortable,” he began. “For most of my life, I never cared much about money. I didn’t really need to. My job covered the basics, and I didn’t have anyone to spend it on—not until now.”

His words made your heart tighten.

“What kind of job?” you asked tentatively.

“I was with the FBI,” he said, and though his tone was steady, there was a weight behind the words. “I worked as a criminal profiler for over a decade. It wasn’t easy, but it was...fulfilling, in its own way. We dealt with some of the worst humanity has to offer, but knowing we were helping people made it worth it.”

You sat up a little straighter, the revelation catching you off guard. “That sounds...intense.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But I loved it. The work gave me purpose. Until I got injured in the field,” he said quietly. “A knee injury. Nothing life-threatening, but bad enough that I couldn’t keep up with the demands of the job. I had to retire early.”

You could hear the mix of resignation and lingering frustration in his voice, and it tugged at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it.

“Don’t be,” he replied, a hint of a smile creeping back into his tone. “It gave me time to focus on other things—like figuring out what I wanted out of life. I realised I’d spent so much of my time chasing after criminals and trying to make the world a safer place, but I’d never really lived for myself.”

You bit your lip, unsure what to say.

“I had money saved up,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “I never spent much on myself. Just the necessities and the occasional book. So, when I found myself with all this extra time and money... I didn’t know what to do with it. And then I found the site.”

The mention of the website—the place where your strange, beautiful relationship had begun—sent a rush of warmth and something like embarrassment through you.

“I wasn’t looking for anything romantic,” he said quickly, as though reading your mind. “I just wanted...connection. Someone to talk to. And then I found you.”

You smiled, your heart softening. “And now you’re spoiling me rotten.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I don’t see it that way. I like taking care of you. It makes me happy.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “You don’t have to, though. You’ve already done so much.”

“I want to,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I spent years putting my energy into a job that left me drained. Now, I finally get to do something that feels good. Something that matters to me. And you matter to me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart full.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

The silence that followed was warm, comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that no matter how unconventional your relationship was, it worked. For both of you.

The next time you saw each other, things were different. You could feel the air between you crackling with an electric charge. The conversation flowed easily, but there was an undeniable tension lingering beneath the surface. Every touch seemed to hold more weight, every glance more meaningful.

After dinner, Spencer invited you back to his apartment. You could tell he was being cautious—he didn’t want to rush anything—but you could also feel that he was testing boundaries, subtly claiming his space. As you sat next to him on his worn out leather couch, his hand brushed against yours, and it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The quiet intimacy of the moment was powerful, and you both knew you couldn’t keep pretending that your relationship was just a simple arrangement anymore.

His voice broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said, his words low, careful. “About what we’re doing, and what it means. I can’t keep giving you everything and pretending it’s nothing. It’s not just about the money or the gifts anymore. I want to be more than that for you.”

You felt a surge of emotion, something between excitement and fear. This was what you had been afraid of—the moment when you’d realise that you wanted more, that this wasn’t just some transaction for you either. And you could see in Spencer’s eyes that he was struggling with the same feelings.

“I don’t want you to think that I only care about the money,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. 

Spencer’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I can’t stop myself from wanting to give you everything. I’m not used to feeling like this. Like I’m needed. I’ve spent so much of my life in control, always keeping my distance... but with you, it’s different.”

You squeezed his hand, understanding what he meant. You didn’t need him to explain further. There was an unspoken connection between you two now—a bond that was undeniable, something more than the surface-level arrangement you’d initially started with.

“I want to give you everything too,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “But you have to promise me something—promise me that this isn’t just about the money. Promise me that you actually want me.”

Spencer’s eyes held yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his gaze so deep it felt as though he could see every hidden part of you. The air between you thickened, the unspoken tension finally reaching its breaking point. He took a slow step forward, the warmth of his body enveloping you, and for a heartbeat, everything else ceased to exist.

His hand lifted, cupping your cheek in a soft, yet possessive way, as if he was both cherishing and claiming you all at once. “I promise,” the gentle brush of his thumb over your skin sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could process it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters, savouring the newness of it. But the moment you responded, the kiss deepened, urgency flooding in. Spencer’s lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the racing pulse in your veins. His hands, once gentle, now framed your face with a desperate kind of need, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Every touch, every press of his lips against yours, was electric. You could feel the raw intensity of everything he was holding back in that kiss—the longing, the desire, the tension of months spent on the edge, waiting for this moment. And when his tongue traced the line of your lower lip, a quiet gasp escaped you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, drawing you in like a magnet.

Your hands, almost instinctively, found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands that had once teased you from a distance, now so close you could feel the weight of them. His hair was soft, the strands slipping between your fingers as you tugged him closer, urging him to kiss you more fiercely.

As he kissed his way down your body, you could feel the anticipation building inside of you. You loved how he savoured you, like a piece of art he needed to take his time with. His fingers slid along your inner thighs, spreading you open for him. He groaned, his breath hot against your skin. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your clit. “Look at you. Already dripping wet for me. What am I gonna do with you? Perfect, perfect girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit, the sensation of his warm mouth sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back off the couch, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure building. “Please, sir. Please make me cum.”

Spencer moaned, his tongue dipping inside of you before returning to your clit. Teasing it gently with his tongue, his fingers slipping inside of you, working you open. You were already close, your walls tightening around his fingers as he fucked them into you slowly. Picking up the pace, his mouth latched onto your clit as you fell apart, your body trembling with your orgasm. 

Spencer didn’t give you a second to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, tip of his cock nudging against your cunt. You weren’t even sure when he’d taken his clothes off, not that it mattered now. You whimpered as he slid inside of you, his cock stretching you open. He pulled back slightly, hips rolling against your own. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded. “Need to see your face when you cum. Need to see what I do to you.”

You nodded, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. He was relentless, slamming into you with deep, powerful thrusts. 

You weren’t used to coming more than once in a row, with your poor excuses of previous partners, but with Spencer, it felt natural. He pushed you higher than you knew was possible, taking you to the edge of sanity every time you were together. And when you came, it was like a floodgate opened up, and all of that pent-up desire came pouring out of you.

He was whispering things to you, things that made you blush and preen, words that made you feel beautiful, wanted. You’d never felt like this before. You felt like a completely different person with him, someone who was capable of more than you ever thought.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Give it to me, princess. Let me feel you. Fuck, you feel so good around me,” he kissed you deeply as he drove inside of you, the pressure inside of you growing. “Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my cock.”

You heard him through a haze, your body trembling and shaking as the second orgasm rolled through you. You felt his cock pulse inside of you as he came, his teeth sinking gently into your neck as he rode out his own release. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as possible as you hold onto him, his body pressing into yours.

Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he whispers into your skin. “Stay the night?” He asked. “I don’t want you to leave yet, just got you here.” His voice was soft, gentle, and you found yourself melting into his embrace. You didn’t want to go either. You wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his arms, for as long as possible. And that terrified you more than anything else. “Please?”

He looked at you, his eyes dark and sincere. Your heart fluttered at the look he was giving you. It was one you’d never seen before, one that made your breath catch in your throat.

 It was a look that said he wanted more, and that scared you. But it also filled you with a warmth you couldn’t deny.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Okay.” And as Spencer pulled you back into his arms, kissing you gently, you realised that you might just be in trouble. He was already pulling you in, tempting you to stay. You were already falling for him, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop it. “I’ll stay.” You agreed.

 “For tonight.” You added. You weren’t going to admit to more than that, not yet. “Just tonight.” Spencer nodded, his lips returning to yours.

You knew it was dangerous, you knew you were playing with fire, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wanted to be his, even if it was just for one night. You wanted to let him own you, let him love you. Even if it was just temporary, you wanted to feel that love for as long as you could. You knew it would hurt in the end, but you were too far gone to stop it now.

And when he whispered your name against your lips, you almost believed that it was real. That this wasn’t just temporary, but forever. Almost. You allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment, to believe the things he whispered to you. To believe that maybe this was it.

Maybe he was your forever, and you were his. Maybe this was something that could last longer than just one night.

Won't you take me to heaven tonight? You know you're my weakness American Jesus, save me You're the greatest love of my life

next part

[nnight-dances]

XOXO, YOU MIGHT BE MY NEXT!

PAIRING: lee anton x fem!reader

GENRE: short n' sweet moments!!!!

TROPES: friends to lovers, college au, turning 20 existential dread inspired by yours truly, flirting friendship dynamics, no drama in this one because i'm sick n tired bro

WHAT TO EXPECT:

Something about Anton had changed ever since he turned 20 and you could not put your finger on it. All you knew was he had made it his mission to fluster you and letting him catch a hint of what he was doing to you was a bad idea...

"I can't believe I'm no longer a silly little guy in his teen years," sighs Anton. Had the speaker been a remotely more predictable person than Lee Chanyoung, decidedly the king of "never let 'em know your next move," you would've at least pretended to be amused by his statement.

Instead, you echo his sigh with your own. "Come on, there's no way you're still whining about this. You used to cry about being stuck a nineteen year-old and being called a kid, and now that you're not? You're crying about it, too!"

Anton frowns at your sharp but resoundingly true words. He crosses his arms, leaning closer to you across the table, his eyes taking on a candid gravity. "I'm serious this time, Y/N, I'm spiralling. I feel like I should be doing… more?"

You blink at him. Count on Anton to have an existential crisis in the library of all places. You could've even get get vulnerable with him right now if you wanted, what with the mobs of students surrounding you, chattering away in their own circles. 

You pat his arm across the table, feeling the soft fabric of his baby blue hoodie that always sat so well with his eyes.  "It'll be fine, Ant, you're doing enough as it is. You're a good student and a good friend, too. That's more than a lot of people can claim."

He doesn't hide the small smile that creeps onto his face, "You really think so?" Then, he tilts his head and like a switch turning, his smile turns flirtatious. "But that's all you think of me as? A good friend?"

You stare back at Anton, at a loss for words at his sudden change in demeanour. "Well, yeah? Aren't we…?" you ask the question hoping he'd drop the act and laugh it off but his smile is only morphing further into a smirk the more flustered you get.

Feeling your ears warm, you avert your gaze, suddenly incredibly intrigued by the laptop screen of a girl working a table away from you. You think about Anton and how the two of you had always been closer to each other, compared to the rest of your friends. Maybe it was only because your schedules always matched up, allowing you to grab meals together and hole up in the library after. Maybe it was because you lost track of time when you were with him, laughing at something stupid or spouting something stupid yourself just to watch him laugh with you. 

You couldn't say the possibility of being something more to him hadn't crossed your mind. Of course it had, Anton was the most charming guy you'd been around for a while and you felt comfortable with him like with nobody else. And it was that comfort that was the very reason you didn't feel the need to pursue more with him: it was enough to be his friend. 

But something had changed about him ever since he turned 20 a week ago. You don't know where to pin the feeling that he'd changed but he'd become more… direct. For example, the night of his birthday, you'd decided to show up at his door to wish him in person at exactly 12 am. He'd been thrilled to see you and pulled you into a hug. A completely normal hug. Just a little too long for two people who were just friends. But you had been more than happy to feel his warmth so you didn't mention it. When you did finally pull away, Anton had chased you face, planting a kiss on your cheek out of the blue.

It had caught you off guard like nothing else. You'd stared at him, not unlike how you'd looked at him a few minutes ago, turning hotter by the second. But he'd simply grinned the purest grin ever, thanking you sincerely for wishing him. 

With that and his sudden question of your relationship with him, you didn't know what to think anymore. 

Anton has gone back to his work by the time you come back to your senses, as cool as ever. You can hear the hum of the music in his earbuds as he types away at his computer. You really don't know what to think, with his flirting and nonchalance after. God, you think you might drive yourself crazy.

And you desperately want to keep your sanity so later that night, on your walk back home from the library, you try to hint at it. "Hey, you know…" you start, catching his attention, "I feel like you've changed somehow… since you turned 20."

He looks amused at your admission, brows quirking up, "Really? Please, do say more."

"Well," your eyes jump from his to your shoes and then back, "Like you're acting different."

"I am?" his cheeks rise, "Is it weird?" 

You note that he doesn't ask you how he's acting different, implying he probably knew what he was doing. The thought of it being on purpose only rattles you more. 

"Not weird, no," you breathe, "I'm just not used to it, I guess." You hate yourself for not knowing where you were going with his. Anton might as well think you were the weird one for reading into his actions so much without having a proper reason to. 

But before you can backtrack on your observation, you feel Anton's hand brush against yours. You look up at the contact and then, his fingers interlace with yours, a soft tug bringing your joined hands into his pockets. 

Your heart nearly catapults itself outside of your chest at the sudden touch. All while Anton watches you but you turn coy, looking away. 

"Is this okay?" his voice is low, so as to not startle you. As if you could possibly be any more startled than you already were.

You look at him once again and his eyes are sincere, as sincere as his hand is in yours, keeping you close to his side. "Yeah, it's fine," you hear yourself saying, as if you didn't belong to your own body anymore. 

You walk back in silence but warmer than ever, with Anton's hand enveloping yours the whole time. You feel dizzy with the weight of his touch and with the confusion of it all. 

He walks you to your room without a word and when your hands finally part, he gives you a soft smile. "Good night, Y/N." You nod, unsure if you could form any words right now. You turn to unlock your room when Anton speaks up again: "Oh, and about earlier? You might wanna get used to it." 

You spin to face him but he's walking away without another look at you and you swear your knees all but give out under you with how weak you feel. Your words from earlier come rushing back and your heart races even in your own company as you enter your room. Anton might just be the death of you at this rate. 

— 

The next day you retain your composure for the most part, all thanks to the fact that you don't encounter Anton as often as usual because you have back-to-back meetings for club activities and a class project. But the feeling of accomplishment vanishes as soon as you spot him outside the study room where you'd met up with your project-mates. They leave, biding you goodbye and side-eyeing the boy outside, clearly waiting for someone. 

"Anton?" you call out, slowly approaching him. He looks up with a beam, "Hey! You're finally done?"

"Yeah, but what are you doing here?"

"You said you'd be here for your meeting so I thought I'd come pick you up."

You faintly recall shooting him a text about not being able to meet up at your usual spot because of your group meeting but hadn't expected him to show up there.

"Oh, I guess that's nice of you," you say.

"You guess?" Anton echoes, sulking, "Come on, Y/N. I've been sad 'cause I didn't get to see you all day and that's all you have for me? We have a lot of work to do here."

You're in a daze the whole time he's speaking, watching his lips move and feeling your stable headspace slip farther away from you. "No, I mean, I'm glad to see you, too. I just didn't expect it." 

"Told ya to get used to it, didn't I?" he shakes his head like it's the most obvious thing in the whole world. "Anyway, are you free for the night now?"

When you nod, he goes on. "You wanna come over and watch a movie with me? I've been wanting to watch it for a while now but I never got the chance too…" He goes on to give you a brief synposis of it and you can practically feel the excitement radiating off him. 

You laugh at his genuine enthusiasm and agree without a thought, forgetting your current weakness around him.

Which is why it only dawns upon you when you step foot into his room to find it to be oddly… small. Is it the same size it had always been? Yes. Had you been alone in it with him before? Also, yes. But had it ever felt like you were going to pass out from anxiety because you were all alone with him before? No. 

You plop onto his bed without a word and if Anton notices your zoned out state, he says nothing. He takes his coat off and hangs it up, tapping your shoulder. "You sure you don't want to take your jacket off? It's kinda warm in my room." You nod, having forgotten to slip your jacket off. You hand him your jacket with a soft thanks. 

You hate to be the shell of a person you are right now, so you make yourself comfortable, sitting against the wall with a cushion for your back, taking your boots off. You pat your chest as Anton is busy setting his laptop up in a position for both of you to watch on his bed. When he finally takes his seat next to you, settling closer than he usually does, you tell yourself to stay calm and enjoy the rush of feeling his arm brush against yours, instead of letting it unnerve you. 

It helps to let the feeling be, instead of running from it. You relax in your own skin, finding the peace to finally focus on the movie instead of the boy next to you and in your heart. 

It's a sweet movie, as it turns out, even earning a few tears from you as the ending credits roll in. Anton hits pause on the movie, shifting to look at you. You half-chuckle through your tears, wiping them haphazardly with the back of your hand. 

Anton catches your wrist in his, pulling it away from your face and to his lap. His thumb replaces your hand, gently wiping at your cheekbones. "I'm guessing you liked the movie then?" his voice is tender, not mocking like you might have expected. You nod, "Yes." 

"I'm glad. I wasn't sure you'd be willing to spend time with me alone after… after yesterday," Anton says, his lashes hooding his eyes as he speaks, tone suddenly coy, "But I'm glad what I said didn't make you uncomfortable." 

"...you were worried?" you ask, shocked at his shy revelation.

"Well, yeah, I was worried when I didn't get to see you the whole day today that maybe you were avoiding me. But that was just me overthinking things. I'm scared to fuck things up with you."

You find yourself smiling at his sincerity. "You're so cute, Anton." 

The words slip out of you before you can filter them and the boy's head bobs up in shock at your compliment, and you both sit in silence, staring at each other's flustered faces. 

And then you both break into laughter at yourselves. "What are we even doing?" 

Anton runs a hand through his hair, "I don't know, Y/N. What do you want us to do?"

You rest your head against the wall, humming, "I want us to stay this way. To be with you." 

He chuckles, "I feel like those are mutually exclusive events, no?" 

"They don't have to be," you mumble, reaching for his hair, just so you can feel the soft strands tickle your skin. "I'm happy with you, Anton."

Anton's hand finds yours in his locks, bringing it to his lips as he kisses your knuckles. "I like being with you too, Y/N. But I want more. Maybe I'm just being selfish, but I want you, all of you."

His words would've sent your heart into paralysis had they been uttered a few hours ago but having been lulled into the comfort of his presence for a while now, having attuned yourself to your own feelings at last, you feel a soaring feeling, like you had finally found something you had been looking for this whole time.

Anton's pulling you closer, his hand encompassing yours as his face overwhelms your vision. "Kiss me already," you urge him and just like that, his lips find yours, with a crash that makes you giggle a little. The force of his warm lips sways you a little and Anton catches you in his arms, pulling you into him by the waist. 

"Can't believe I finally did it," you hear him whisper when he pulls back, looking at you in awe. "You don't understand how long I've been wanting to kiss your damn face." You laugh into him and he hugs you tight. "God, when you showed up at my door on my 20th birthday, I swear it took me everything to not kiss you right there and then."

"If I recall correctly, you did kiss me," you remind him, "Granted, it was on the cheek. But you could've sped the process up had you just kissed me for real."

Anton glares at you, "You're saying that? Really? After you went mute because of said cheek kiss? If anything, I was being considerate. Plus, I would kill to see you go that red again."

"You jerk! So you were teasing me on purpose!" 

"Well, yeah? What kind of a guy would I be if I didn't flirt with the girl I like a little just to enjoy how she reacts? It's the cutest shit ever!"

You hide your face in his sleeve, "You suck. I lost sleep over that, you know."

"Good to know that it wasn't just me, then." Anton's arms wrap around you so naturally that you can only wonder if this was really your first time being intimate with him. 

When you rise from his arm, his lips capture yours again, urgently like he was running out of time. You return his fervor, just as desperate in your desire as he was. That night, you fall asleep in Anton's arm, feeling his heart beat next yours as you dream away. 

– 

It takes you a second to get used to the feeling of Anton being your boyfriend. Because in many ways, it's the same as always: him picking you up from class to eat lunch together and spending your time together struggling with coursework. But now there's more to it: you walk home, hand in hand, and spend your nights together.

"Hey, you wanna come over and make out after you're done with this meeting?"

You snap around to glare at Anton when he whispers the question in your ear. You hit his arm and he laughs boyishly, shrugging, "What? I'm just being real because you and I both know that's what's gonna end up happening–"

"You're outrageous, Anton," you shake your head, "We don't always–! Well, maybe most of the time, yes, but–" He cuts you off, pecking your cheek. "Yes, yes, whatever you say, babe. I'll see ya in an hour." 

– 

[orellazalonia]

Certified Genius, Unlicensed Moron

Summary: Exploring more of your relationship and dynamics with the rest of the Avengers, they are well-acquainted with how much whiplash and how many headaches you give them on a daily. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: The other going on dates fic didn’t have enough unhinged questionable reader for me. And to be honest….I didn’t like it as much as the prequel. So! I wrote this to cheer me up and feed my need for dumb & genius reader. Purely self-indulgent but hopefully you like it too. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Being an Avenger came with certain expectations. Tactical prowess. Cool one-liners. Teamwork. A mild-to-moderate understanding of physics.

You had exactly none of that. And yet, you were thriving.

You had taken on aliens, mercenaries, HYDRA agents, and that one time, an actual raccoon with a vendetta. You once guessed the password to a SHIELD vault on the first try by inputting “boob69.” It worked. Nobody ever explained why. You were untouchable.

But nothing broke the team more than the group chat.

It had been a standard team communication channel at first: briefings, updates, emergency alerts. Then you joined and everything fell apart.

-

GROUP CHAT: “Earth’s Mightiest Dumbasses”

Tony: Meeting in the conference room at 9 A.M. sharp.

You: what’s 9 AM in frog time

Natasha: What does that mean?

You: like if a frog wears a watch is the time upside down

Tony: Please, I’m begging you to just answer the question like a normal person.

You: normal is a strong word

-

You once sent a photo of a pigeon wearing a hat with the caption “me when I infiltrate enemy lines.” No one questioned it. Mostly because they couldn’t.

After all, you’re the same person who confidently gave a TED Talk about the strategic history of medieval siege warfare mid-mission while wearing Crocs. The same person who once said, “Vibranium tastes like disappointment,” and then refused to elaborate. You somehow manage to both ace every debrief but also once asked if Wi-Fi is just helpful air soup.

Thor called you “small thunder” after you electrocuted yourself trying to microwave aluminum “as a science experiment.” You did not have lightning powers. It was just dumb luck. And you’d do it again.

-

GROUP CHAT:

Clint: who the hell labeled all the fridge items in latin?

You: idk man maybe someone wants you to be cultured

Bucky: You labeled the eggs, “Future ankle peckers, do not anger them”

You: ...and have you been attacked? no? you’re welcome.

-

Bucky still doesn't understand you. Not even a little.

And a lot of times, that haunts him.

He watches you eat hot sauce straight from the bottle like it's a health tonic, quote Shakespeare when you’re tired, and wear mismatched crocs into certain battles because "they're my war shoes." One has a tiny sword glued to it.

You once looked him dead in the eye and said, “I wasn’t born. I was assembled in a Target parking lot during a thunderstorm.”

And then walked away.

He’s been thinking about it for months.

Another time you brought him a bag of gummy worms, patted his head, and said, “For when the depression demons attack.”

Despite all your nonsense, he can’t stop looking at you like you hung the moon with glitter glue and then ate half of it because that brand “smelled like frosting.”

He had tried to pretend you’re a nuisance at first, shaking his head and sighing at some of your antics. But it’s all morphed to reluctant acceptance of the fact that he’ll have to live with so many unanswered questions. That doesn’t stop him from taking care of you though.

He brings you hot chocolate after missions. He makes sure you’re behind him when it gets dangerous. He drags you out of fountains you jump into because you wanted to know what the regals birds like about it. He even downloaded TikTok just to understand your references.

One time you disappeared in the Tower. For five hours.

He found you in the broom closet, sitting cross-legged with three Roombas, wearing a crown made of forks.

“They know secrets,” You whispered. “I’m learning their ways.”

Bucky blinked.

“…I brought you pizza.”

You gasped. “I knew the prophecy would come true.”

-

GROUP CHAT:

Steve: Can someone explain what this is?

Image attached: You in a vent near the ceiling wearing a bad ghost outfit like a cursed Halloween decoration, eating Cheez-Its.

You: surveillance

Steve: Why…

You: i wanted to know what Bucky does when I’m not looking

Bucky: They’ve been up there for 6 hours. I offered help. They hissed at me.

-

Despite it all, you were deadly in the field.

You’d spout off the periodic table in the middle of a fistfight, pull off gravity-defying stunts “because I saw it in a cartoon once,” and solve encrypted Hydra codes in 30 seconds, all while questioning if Mickey Mouse and his friends ever had to pay rent to live in the Mickey Mouse clubhouse.

Bucky, your begrudgingly loving boyfriend, no longer reacts when you do things like wear medieval armor to a stealth op for morale reasons or quote Shrek during hostage negotiations. He just quietly takes your hand and steers you away before you lick anything radioactive.

Steve once asked why you were on a mission wearing roller skates. You said, “Speed and style, Cap,” then crashed directly into a vending machine and pulled out a single uncrushed Twix with solemn reverence.

Tony called you “the human embodiment of a broken Google search.” Wanda called you “a mystery I’ve chosen not to solve.” Natasha just called you “terrifying.”

Because for every baffling thing you did, like calling her “Mom” during a sniper stakeout because “you give off stern PTA energy”, you turned around and cracked encrypted intel before Bruce finished making coffee.

Once, in a mission briefing, Rhodey asked, “Wait, wasn’t the Hindenburg caused by a gas explosion?” and you, dead serious, replied, “Who’s the Hindenburg? That sounds like a guy who collects teeth.”

Everyone went dead silent.

Sam just nodded slowly and said, “Right, okay. Yeah, cool. This is the part where I stop paying attention.”

Nobody could figure you out.

Bruce once ran 14 psychological profiles on you. None of them matched. One came back as possibly a goat in human form.

Clint swears you once explained string theory using sock puppets and a waffle. And it made sense.

-

GROUP CHAT:

Tony: I’m updating the security protocol. Everyone needs to re-register their biosignatures.

You: what if I am a security risk

Tony: You are. Absolutely. Every day. In every way.

You: then I win

Natasha: What did you win?

You: You’ll see 😈

Tony: I have forgotten what peace feels like anymore.

-

You called yourself “The Distractinator” in combat.

Enemies didn’t know what to do with you. Were you a genius? Crazy? Feral? Was that a printer you just threw at their face while quoting Pride and Prejudice?

Yes. To all of it.

And somehow, impossibly, you were everyone’s favorite. Because while you were a chaos gremlin of untold magnitude, you cared.

You noticed when Clint seemed tired and unorthodoxically left snacks in his quiver.

You taught Steve how to use TikTok but made sure to curate only dog videos and motivational frog memes.

You convinced Bucky he could wear purple and look amazing. He does now. Regularly.

You helped Tony fix a faulty AI loop by accident while trying to build “a blender that screams.”

You’re not just a part of the team. You’re the emotional support cryptid.

And no matter how many explosions you cause with your “experiments,” or how many philosophical debates you start about whether lasagna is a cake, the Avengers wouldn’t trade you for the world.

…Though Tony did try to sell you to the X-Men once.

It didn’t work.

They sent you back with a fruit basket and a strongly worded letter.

[ssentimentals]

im so glad that i found your blog, was looking for some wholesome texts with reader/seungcheol and yours are so nicely written, i enjoy them so much! thank you 🫶🏻 if i could leave a request, i'd love to read something where reader is a foreigner and some miscommunication happens but solved without much drama (with help of vernon or shua maybe). thank you for your blog once again!

awwww this is so cute!! thank you so much for your kind words anonie, i'm happy you're enjoying this blog <3 and of course you can leave a request, hopefully you'll like it!

seungcheol + foreigner!reader

no matter how hard he tried, seungcheol couldn't pinpoint how something so small escalated at rapid speed and turned into a full blown argument which left you both angry and offended. he can't even remember how it started, doesn't have any idea on what even caused you two to start arguing. the whole part of 'not seeing eye to eye' is generally an unfamiliar concept for your relationships, so seungcheol really has a hard time grasping the reality of you not talking to him. it hurts too bad, hurts much stronger than he expected; cheol knows that fights happen and that it's normal, but somehow he still thought that you two will be spared from this.

'she's not picking up?' vernon asks and seungcheol shakes his head. 'and she's not at home?'

'she's at the gym.' seungcheol answers. by this point he learned your schedule by heart. 'should be back home in thirty minutes or so.'

this is ridicilous. both the argument and his moping. cheol knew very well that coming from different cultural backgrounds will echo in the relationships dynamic one way or another: different past, upbringing, culture, language have a huge impact on the personalities and views. he was ready for some tension but you both settled into this relationship so smoothly that he honestly forgot about cultural differences. he should've known that they'll pop on in some way.

'go over it with me again.' seungcheol asks, sighing. 'from the scratch and make it logical, please. start with what i did wrong then move to why it was incorrect.'

vernon, god bless him, is not tired of explaining again. he was the first person seungcheol called to when all of this happened and his younger friend agreed to help readily. in a calm tone vernon helps seungcheol understand your angle, how his words that held no malice intent managed to come out wrong. 'it's not that big of a deal though,' vernon adds, seeing how seungcheol frowned even deeper. 'i mean, it's not ideal but like, it happens, it's okay. there's no way you could've known, so it's normal.'

'even so, it sucks.' seungcheol sighs, rubbing his eyes. he understands that you two just got a bit too emotional over everything, but he still feels a huge sense of guilt on his shoulders.

'i promise you it's not that big of a deal.' vernon reassures.

seungcheol nods. even if it's not that big of a deal having you not to talk him is the worst thing that could ever happen. he gets up, dusting his jeans off. vernon eyes him carefully and then smiles. 'you good?'

'yeah. gotta go and make it right.'

seungcheol waits for around ten minutes in front of your house when he notices your lonely figure in the distance. clad in your workout gear, he can see even from there that you're sulking, walking in a slow speed. without thinking twice, seungcheol runs to meet you, his legs carrying him faster than wind to your side. when you notice him you pause at first and he almost thinks that he is fucking up here too, but then you start running towards him and oh. oh.

'baby,' seungcheol breathes out, catching you when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your legs around his hips. with strong hands he stabilizes you, holding you securely close to his chest. 'baby, my baby.'

'cheollie,' you mutter, hugging him tight. 'i'm so-'

'no, shh,' seungcheol interrupts. 'it's me who's sorry, okay? i am sorry, i didn't know. i promise i didn't know-'

'i know!' you lean back and hit him lightly at the shoulder. 'let me finish! i know that you had no idea, cheol. i'm sorry for reacting the way i did.'

seungcheol breathes out in relief. he really got incredibly lucky with you, huh? 'i'd never say anything intentionally hurtful to you,' he promises sincerely, making you smile softly. 'never, baby. hurting you will hurt me more.'

'i know,' you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. 'i know, cheol.'

'i love you,' seungcheol whispers. 'so much, babygirl. so much.'

you giggle and instead of answering, kiss him sweetly on the lips.

a/n: hope it was fine!! let me know what you think :') - nini

my other seventeen works are HERE

[wendichester]

hey olivia darling!! absolutely love ur works, was just wondering what you think sam and dean's dynamic would be like with a shy and chubby reader? like what would they be like if they have a crush/have feelings (for the same girl or separately mueheueh)? i just feel like they would appreciate the (literal) softness and the shyness would be something interesting bc theyre very much not shy people lol

hope this isnt weird, its just as a chubby and shy girl myself it was a little sad to only see skinny and bold/outspoken love interests in the show, not that there's anything wrong with those women ofc, i just feel hella unrepresented lolz. would love to hear your thoughts or if you had the time or inspiration, a little drabble perhaps? no worries if not ofc, love lots 🫂❤️

hi baby! first of all, absolutely not weird at all—this is so valid and honestly? something that a lot of us think about but don’t always say out loud. you're not alone, babe. chubby & shy girls deserve epic, bone-melting, emotionally devastating supernatural romance too. period. am i shy? no. sadly i was cursed with a leo sun and moon, thus i'm loud and unsufferable BUT i am chubbs so, i gotcha. let's dive in!!

ᯓ★ sam winchester & shy, chubby reader

sam would be so down bad and it would sneak up on him. like, you walk into a room quietly, kinda head down, sweater sleeves past your wrists, and he’s instantly looking up from his laptop. not even in a “she’s hot” way (yet), but in a gentle intrigue kind of way. he’d notice how your voice gets quieter when you’re nervous. how you tug at your shirt when you think no one’s looking. he’s hyper-observant, always has been, and his brain goes “oh. she’s careful with her space. she’s not used to being looked at.” and suddenly he’s looking at you all the time. and girl, if you’re chubby? sam canonically does not care about conventionally skinny ideals. in fact, i think he’d love the way softness feels—like, deep comfort vibes. he’s been through so much loss and hard edges and trauma, so the way you feel warm and real and huggable would be like some kind of miracle to him. like he can finally breathe. also? he’d be so nervous to make you uncomfortable. he’d get really self-aware about his height and voice, like “am i too loud? did i scare her? should i back off?” total respectful green flag behavior. he’d wait for you to make the first move—except you won’t, because you’re shy, and he’ll spiral about that too 😭 expect lingering glances, asking if you’ve eaten, doing little things like fixing your laptop cord so you don’t trip. oh—and books. he’d 100% lend you books and leave little notes inside the pages like “this part reminded me of you.” he’s a slow burn, but the second you trust him enough to take his hand first? he’s yours. entirely.

ᯓ★ dean winchester & shy, chubby reader

now dean?? oh girl. he would be unwell. he’s not used to quiet girls throwing him off his game. normally he flirts, gets flirted with, rinse and repeat. but you? you look away when he smirks at you. you blush when he compliments your outfit. you can’t even look at him when he walks in shirtless (which he 100% starts doing more often just to see you turn pink). and it kills him in the best way. the chubbiness? he’s obsessed. like in a carnal, old-school, wants-to-worship-you kind of way. stretch marks? tummy squish? full thighs? he’s literally on his knees. not just because it’s hot (which it is), but because it’s yours. and because you’re shy about it, he goes extra soft with the compliments—low voice, barely-there touches, telling you, “you know you drive me crazy, right?” in a way that doesn’t feel like a joke. that makes your breath catch. dean’s the type to find what you hate about yourself and kiss it with reverence, like he’s mad that you don’t see what he sees. he’d call you “sweetheart” so often it becomes dangerous. he’d tease you, but it’d never be mocking. more like... coaxing. “what’s got you so quiet, sweetheart? me?” smirk. cheeky wink. a little too close. he’s a tease through and through, but he checks himself fast if he sees you retreat. he’d never push too far—he knows what fear looks like. but he’s also a touch-starved little mess, so the first time you lean on him, even for a second? done. he’d go all in. call you “his girl” to cas and sam. get jealous when you talk to other hunters. become your personal bodyguard. the minute he knows you're his safe place, he becomes yours, fully.

final thought, from my whole heart: you don’t need to be loud or skinny or “main character energy” to be worthy of romance. you are already worthy. your softness isn’t a flaw—it’s exactly the thing someone like sam or dean would crave after years of war and grief and sharp edges. don’t ever think you’re too quiet or too much. you’re not invisible. you’re the whole damn story, babe ♡

[werezmastarbucks]

f!8th member x yoongi timeline: bulletpoints pt1

protective!bts, brothers!bts. feral, bold! emotional!reader

wc: 5115

part two

part three

routine and relationship dynamic description. very gradual, turned out long. mentions of the harsh idol life, harassment, hints at sexual advances; jaded view of idol life. 8th member might be a tired concept but guys i haven't been here back in January so i am tapping into eve-ry-thing

you are added to the group the last

it's a controversial experiment for Big Hit. debuting a boy band with exactly one female member. they do not hold their breath: they believe in the failure. nobody expects BTS to actually succeed.

as the decision to add a girl is made much later, they are faced with the question whether to change the name of the band from "bulletproof boys" to "bulletproof youth". and they decide against it because of how little they care about the whole group

the bangtan trainees mostly oppose the idea, not only because it's a late addition, but also because it's a girl

they are told that they have to go on living all together, but with a girl. train as usual, but with a girl. share food and allowance, but with a girl

"that wasn't in the contract" - "none of this was in the contract"

the boys are terrified thinking of how this is going to shift things completely

Yoongi is one of the most opposing members, bringing up good points and complaining about it, but there's not much he can do.

a couple of days before you arrive the boys have a meeting with the management. they are told that the girl (you) is coming and there's one rule

no hookups or relationships. it should be clean, friendly and disciplined. if there's even a whiff of anything similar to attraction or flirting, or drama, the member caught is out without the second warning

at the time the members do not see it as a problem, in fact, they do not even consider it a danger because of how preoccupied they are. they don't want to mess with anybody; they don't want anybody

actually they mostly see you as an enemy and an obstacle because they believe you will be a bad addition. nobody's even thinking about the funny stuff; they are cautious, unsure and reserved

when you arrive, you try to be cool and calm, and they try to be polite and non-hostile

the first person you notice is Namjoon: he is going to be your roommate, your companion and most likely your best friend (you couldn't be further from the truth: they will all become your friends soon)

you speak good English, so Namjoon is naturally drawn to you and you click in spite of his initial unwillingness. "hey, that might actually work..."

first impressions:

Namjoon: mature, normal guy, too burdened by his leader role, super focused, kind, helpful. will not make you uncomfortable even if he tries. feels like he is already your friend. you are born in the same year, several months apart, the same zodiac, the same introversion deep down under ambiversion.

Hoseok: painfully shy, glaring at you curiously from a distance. you can see instantly that a smile is his natural reaction to everything, and you actually flinch when the teacher snarls at him, and he smiles. this is the first of many times you get an urge to protect. he seems kinda small, fragile, and only relaxes when he is dancing or sleeping

Jimin: seems like a menace. his smile is too oily, and yet he shifts from being flirty to completely closed down. he seems like somebody you want to know better because at first you can't figure out his role in the group: is he the main dancer or the vocal? or the visual?

Jungkook: b a b y. you drop one look at him and, even though he is already your height, you get motivated to stand on his side. his round cheeks and still childish eyes make you question why the hell the company would hire such small kids. he is already sixteen, but he feels younger, he is super sweet and you do not feel threatened at all

Yoongi: the quiet ghost in the corner of the room giving you contemplating, evil looks. sharp jaw and the eyes that are too expressive. however, once he opens his mouth, he turns out to be polite and balanced. he gives you the trustworthy quiet helper vibe. it feels like acting on camera during making the content drains the energy from him

Jin: sage. he is so tall and adult that you unintentionally keep your back more straight in his presence. you passionately want to earn his respect because you see how he is soft and helpful with the guys but cautious with you. to you, he shows his colder side, and it kicks in the natural instinct of winning him over

Taehyung: soulmate. you click immediately. you joke at the same time, then start laughing, and your laughing voices harmonize, and you look at each other surprised. at the very beginning, he is on par with Namjoon the closest person who provides the initial comfort in a highly uncomfortable situation

you look at them seven and the hammer strikes. if you can't match them, you must at least do everything not to hold them back as a team. they are already familiar with each other, and now your job is to force them to accept you and see you as equal. it's going to be brutal

the first genuine contact:

you help Jungkook with his English homework. and by helping, you mean do it for him. he sits next to you at the desk, clicking the pen on it, while you write and try explaining things to him simultaneously

the first week you feel super lonely in the dorm because you and the SEVEN BOYS you live with walk around each other like wild animals, sniffing. all interactions are awkward: reaching for something in the cupboard at the same time and flinching like the hands touching is the worst thing that's happened in the last hundred years

blushing when you meet each other in the vicinity of the bathroom

you don't even pee when someone is nearby

you have a lot of stuff and sometimes it gets mixed up with the boys' things, and they get confused whose towel or shirt it is

the first week, in fact, is wildly stressful, because it's like jumping into ice-cold water while surrounded by sharks who don't bite but give you weird, awkward side eyes. Namjoon is too nerdy to provide insightful comfort, and Taehyung gets flustered in others' presence so he starts saying stupid shit

however the ice starts melting when you find Jungkook sobbing at that tiny desk punctured in between the clothes rack and the dinner table

it's about homework, but also his leg hurts, but also he misses his mum, and he is behind on his studies, and his voice isn't working properly

he's telling you all this with his head turned around, red like an apple, and you open up and decide that you aren't going anywhere anyway, and these boys aren't either

you hold him the way only a woman can hold a child. the other boys take really good care of Jungkook: he is fed, dressed, he is mostly comfortable and generally happy all the time. but the friendly and protective touch of a woman's hand makes sixteen-yeard old Jungkook break down and cry on your shoulder, while you stroke his head and tell him that he is safe

you try to make it very clear that he is safe with you and you won't tell anybody. try to tell him that getting tired is fine and the best thing he can do is break down when he feels like it

Yoongi witnesses the end of it, when Jungkook is already wiping his nose, and your hand is still on his head, stroking him like a kitten

this incident facilitates the eventual onset of closeness

suppose Yoongi clocks a certain feature in you, that he himself also has: the impulse to protect and comfort, and it makes him a little relieved

the hyung line starts taking care of you subtly: first of all, the boys get rid of the habit of avoiding eye contact. then you start smiling at each other.

a week later you have a collective conversation in the kitchen at night, warming up to each other

who initially has a crush on you

everybody

for most of them (6/7) it's short, the shortest for Namjoon because you're not his type. instead, he amalgamates into the older brother persona with quite a lot of satisfaction about it. he already has a younger sister and has experience, he is familiar with the problems that arise with having one, and sees that you need him in that way

Jimin drops it when he sees you aren't the ideal girl he has been picturing you as. as he knows you more, his infatuation dissipates into respect and reliability. he relies on you in many things because he has that childish persona and really likes to be taken care of. he actually exploits this quality of yours a little bit, seeing that, in the impulse to be perceived as good, you go out of your way to help them

Taehyung isn't even sure if he had a crush on you, he hadn't noticed. he just knows you're cool and he was the one who opposed the girl member addition the least of them all. he was never fully against it

Jungkook has a crush on you in a surprisingly innocent way even though he is almost an adult. he knows it's more of an awe because he just imprinted slightly when you love-bombed him in the very beginning. he grows fiercely protective of you and is the first of all the boys to start calling you sister

Hoseok's crush dies quietly when he reminds himself of the rule that management enforced on them. he understands why it's there and totally agrees with it. he is an incredibly focused and motivated person, so he takes a second look at you, and goes, no, and switches it off for good. he is cautious and quiet around you, and for the longest time you feel like a wild nature photographer that is chilling on the ground, waiting until the antelope loses alert

Jin's crush was more out of curiosity and the whiplash of change. it doesn't last and wouldn't have even if all of a sudden you told him you liked him. instead, he gains respect for you when he sees your striving to work as much as they do and even more. Jin ends up being the most perceptive protector of yours, who clocks your exhaustion first. he approaches you very soon into the shared living and working, and tells you not to run too fast, or you'll burn out

Yoongi doesn't do anything about his crush and isn't alarmed when it doesn't cease. he thinks it's irrelevant. two things are unchangeable: you are not going away. and second: you are off limits. coexisting with his liking of you is easy because he sees you literally every waking minute

actually for the longest time he believes that all the other members are in love with you and it's a norm, and is very surprised when they talk about it and say, uh, no, not really

then he's like, uh oh. while Hoseok's crush floats up and bursts like a bubble, Yoongi's feeling suddenly sinks down and cements itself somewhere deep

you don't call the older ones oppas: you absorb their habit and call them hyungs

the first year together:

you debut all together, after some time during which you grow close and start trusting each other. the first year is tough because it's still friction. would've been much easier if you were a boy, of course.

there are inconveniences, awkwardness and surprises in every aspect of your lives

they need to adjust choreo for you because it needs to reflect on the female presence and make it your collective IT factor

the boys need to kiss all their previous concepts goodbye: that they will be a boy band; that they will all be equal (now there's this 'we have a special factor' dynamic); that they will do exactly what they were promised; that they can fart into each other's faces in the morning as a method of waking up those who don't hear the alarm clock

for some reason they cannot see themselves farting into your face

you prove to become spicy if tackled.

people aren't having it at all. BTS are bullied, ridiculed, ignored and talked down to all the time

the boys gather around Jungkook and focus on the work, trying to ignore the negativity

they are surprised when they find out yet another feature of yours

you laugh off the hate towards you, which you get a lot, but become feral when someone insults them

you hesitate whether to accept me? well, tough luck, i accepted you

because you told yourself "we are stuck together, so I'll better make the most of it" and now you live by this

you feel so lonely; the only girl, the weakest one, the shortest one, different dancing style, different voice, different rhythm, different low points. in order to survive this loneliness, you shut your feelings off and concentrate on getting them on your side

also, that one time you comforted Jungkook gave you an idea that boys are just that - boys, and not stone-cold machines, and might even react positively to your friendly attitude

long story short, you start releasing your tension out on people who dare to insult them

you lash out at radio hosts who speak to them in a condescending way

"you think you guys can be rappers?" "they already are. care to explain your problem with it?"

you bite back at the people who don't believe in them and ridicule them: "let's take it outside? or you just gonna pick on an eighteen year old boy?"

"so, how's that Korean rap boy band going?" - "it's going super well, and not sideways, but your jaw will"

a couple of times the hyung line has to restrict you physically

Seokjin realizes these reactions may be a problem

Namjoon indulges your temper because for the first time, he is partially relieved of his weight. he isn't the only one who speaks English; he isn't the only one who is in the avant-garde

Yoongi sees through your anger and the short fuse and is like, oh shit. she is going to snap sooner or later. he understands this aggression is a response to the tension this work puts on you

he starts taking care of you little by little, like a doctor, but not medically

he does it humanly. a coffee. brings you the hoodie you'd forgotten at the studio. surrenders the window seat to you. pushes you behind when the reporters or staff are male and look at you for too long

you start associating Yoongi with safety

there's a talk about you having to visit a certain hotel to meet a certain "business partner", and before you can respond, the boys go "no" in unison

you realize, even if you aren't all best pals yet, and you've only been with them for six months, and debuted like two months ago, they will protect you at least on the very basic level

it finally kills your stress-induced insomnia

you start feeling like a team

you harmonize the best with Jimin and Taehyung

you start training even more, running yourself into the ground, to prove to them that you have earned your spot here; that they won't regret standing up for you; that they won't have to pull their punches because you're a girl

exhaustion blackouts for which you feel very guilty

your periods sometimes don't come for months because of the stress

you have a specific conversation between the eight of you, where you discuss the situation the company put you in. it was an experiment. it also felt like they were setting you up for failure from the beginning. trying to clash you and them. inconveniencing them by bringing a girl. antagonizing you.

you all look at each other and decide to succeed in spite of the company

from then on, you begin to intentionally learn to live together

"good morning", "how are you?" "did you sleep well?" "let's do it" "you go first please" "you did great". positive sabotage

they start saying "pads" without fainting. start living with the idea that the shower cabin where they stand naked, is the same spot where you also stand naked

they become more okay with touching you when it's not during the training and not a part of choreo

hugs

they do not let you do the dishes or clean the bathroom. for the whole first year you do not do either of those things; they take turns instead of you

how they deal with your stress:

Jungkook is the sweetest and is direct. "What can I do? Why are you crying?" and you cry A LOT. after some time, you stop hiding when you feel like crying, and stop feeling guilty when you get injured. there's no way to escape them anyway. there's SEVEN of them. at any given point of time, you're bound to be walked in on by a member.

Jin talks to you like a wise elder, providing practical advice

Jimin is the fairy that flaps around and tries to distract you or make you laugh so that you stop crying

Taehyung cries with you and offers his shoulder. he is the first who invents the lifehack: how to stop Y/N from crying. he begins sharing his own troubles, and you switch immediately and forget about yours

Hoseok tries to make himself scarce, hoping that someone else will handle you. when there's no other choice, he just sits next to you quietly, horrified

Yoongi provides efficient physical comfort; when there are other people around while you're in tears, he pulls the hood onto your head; if it's due to an injury, he caters to it; if it's just stress and loneliness, he elects to call Jungkook or Namjoon because he himself avoids hugging you

and it's not even embarrassment (sometimes he is so tired that he doesn't even get a boner); he is just distant like that

Namjoon = bear hugs. he is the authentic older brother who lets you cry on his chest

Yoongi is the only one who isn't affected by your rage. when you snap, whether it's at a person, or at an object that inconvenienced you, he doesn't get scared like the others. he is the mediator who pulls you away or picks the broken parts of a chair, and his silent courtesy makes you feel very guilty for the outbursts

his gentle acceptance of your character is the factor that pushes you to practice better control of your emotions

Seokjin also tells you that it's super nice that you are ready to murder people to protect the boys, but it has to stop, because it only creates more trouble

you become known as, at best, the wild card of the band

at worst, you're the attention seeker

in truth, you are in the inherently losing position. no matter what you do, you will be the scapegoat and the target. a girl in a boy group

as the fandom gradually grows, many of the fans see you as the red cloth. if you're quiet, you're boring. if you're loud, you're trying to get attention. if you're smart, you're a know-it-all. if you act silly, you're flirting with your mates. you're ugly. you're too pretty. you're fat. you're too thin. you dance too girly. you sing too high. you eat too funny. you speak too loud. you sleep wrong.

the boys gradually understand that this is your designated spot, and this is the weight you take upon yourself. as they get familiarized with the public and how it perceives you, their love for you grows

what unites you with each of them:

Namjoon: shares everything with you. you are the two smart ones who speak good English. you are also roommates and he is the last person you see before you go to sleep

Seokjin: at the moments of lethal social exhaustion, when you are both drained to zero, you sit in the kitchen with glassy eyes and chew on cornflakes straight out of the pack, without speaking. you are the only one who understands the visceral hatred for people he sometimes has; you recharge off of each other a little

Jimin: similar voices. you are paired for the performances often; and your roles are playful mates. you joke a lot together. with time, you start mimicking his uninhibited charisma, and he starts mimicking your dry, zero-bullshit snappy attitude

Taehyung: he feels like a soulmate. you like the same movies, the same books. he has impressive emotional vulnerability coupled with purely artistic selfishness, and you instinctively want to keep it alive in him. he appreaciates your attention and the fact that you forgive him for anything he does. he feels you treat him like a piece of art

Jungkook: becomes loyal to you. where you go, he goes. what you eat, he wants a bite of. when you fall down, he is on the spot in a flash, picking you up. when you're sick, he is the first to puff his chest and argue with the management to get you at least one day off

Hoseok: for the longest time, you just coexist together, trying to find common things. until you catch him in the kitchen one night, watching youtube and sobbing. he has soft, vulnerable darkness to him. you don't dare to wrap your arms around him like you do with Jungkook as he guards his personal space. the thing that unites you is the mutual respect of people who start growing similar habits. you start eating at the same time. you have similar headaches and both become sadder in November.

Yoongi: is a mystery to you. he is like the mountain that provides you haven when you need it. he has that dry laughter that betrays his maturity. he is ready to give you the shirt off his back, but doesn't let you in. he'll be like, eat my portion and go away ok? you both like your alone time and often prefer to stay in the dorm during the free hours, so you end up in the different corners of the rooms. clashing in the kitchen. you develop huge respect for him because you write a lot of lyrics, and he writes music. you think you should bond about it. Yoongi really starts looking you in the eye after you begin bringing your prose to him, asking to take a look

how you inconvenience them:

the thing that irritates them the most is crying. each member reacts differently to it: Hobi and Seokjin are almost openly annoyed when they realize that you cry too often. Jungkook is always wounded by it. Namjoon isn't very annoyed, neither is Taehyung. Taehuyng also cries often, so he isn't affected by it. Yoongi is always trying to get to the root of the problem. studies your reactions like a scientist. he is the first one to clock your heightened emotional reactivity. he tells the others about it and they ask well, how do we cure it. Yoongi laughs and says, we don't. we deal with it

you are a little messy and even though you work on it, sometimes the natural forgetfulness makes you leave things untidy or your things scattered. Hoseok and Jin are usually the ones to yell about it

loud singing in the shower. you and Namjoon are the main perpetrators

"you are supposed to be the vocalist, not the dying alpaca"

you get stress-induced insomnia and sometimes wander around at night. the only one who isn't mad about it is Yoongi because he works at nights

you get periods (when you do). sometimes you get tired more than them. you are physically weaker, and no matter what you do, or how much you strain yourself, you will never have their stamina. they never show it, but you know they do not run as fast as they could have without you, and it actually becomes a very, very deep sore in you and creates this sort of trauma and complex in you. coupled with the public reactions, it cements the perception of yourself: you're the weak point of the band. the members don't think that. in the second year they realize the concept grows on them. they stand out among mono-gender groups. they are easily recognizable. they have a draw of male fans because of you. in a twist of irony, the more they like your presence, the less you like it.

sooner rather than later you decide to make them get used to your body. you are, after all, bound to get revealing outfits for performances, as well. in the dorm, when it's hot, you walk around in shorts. you don't hide. sometimes you might walk around in the towel after the shower, looking for something. they know they need to get accustomed to it

hair everywhere

the female energy. you chat during breakfast. yelp about things. nag to keep the movie on and not switch the channel

low pain limit

they sometimes fight about 'spoiling you'. "you only bought this xyz food because you know Y/N likes it. but we are all going to eat it!"

trying not to exploit their natural male impulses to give in to you. if they want to ride bikes along the river, and you want to go to the park, they are inclined to go to the park. you start demanding they do what they want

trying to kill the 'it's okay, she's a girl' ideology. it means you bear the same responsibility but also the same agency. you start doing dishes and cleaning the bathroom in the second year.

you are delicate. they are boys. you get blisters on your feet - you do not hide it and whine about it

hair ties everywhere

how they inconvenience you:

brutal jokes that they need to tone down sometimes

pranks aren't always pleasant

SEVEN LOUD BOYS

feet into your face. rude nudging to wake you up (they do not see it as rude. it's just "gentle" wake up shove)

bring you all the wrong food when you're on your period or sick. for some reason, their brains (except Yoongi who seems to be a professional at caring for a woman) switch off like they think girls eat inherently different foods

their FUCKING UNDERWEAR in the shower

SPITTING IN THE MIRRORS AND TOOTHPASTE IN THE SINK

kicking the garbage away from sight: "i tidied up"

burping

shorter hair everywhere

"can you pluck my armpit"

they leave the mess after themselves way more often than you

you can't cope with them when they start playing games or mess around

sometimes they eat too much too fast

"Y/N'll deal with it" because you are tough in public/speak English/read books/are witty/can communicate with women/pretty/a girl

if you do something funny, they never let go of it. now it's the butt of the joke forever

you mention a celebrity crush once and now you're doomed

SNORING

if Seokjin accidentally pushes Hobi, he sways a little. if Seokjin accidentally pushes you, you fly over and crash into the floor. if Namjoon accidentally slaps you during the change of position, your head hoots for the rest of the night. if Jimin wants to catch and tickle Yoongi, Yoongi smacks him and it's over before it began. if Jimin wants to do that to you, he simply lifts you above the ground and you have no way of escaping

"you won't get it, you're a girl"

"sorry, this is balls only zone"

they watch MMA and SCREAM

one day you're the group princess, the other day you're the punching bag

you start boxing because sometimes it's impossible to break out when they get agitated, they forget that even the smallest of them is still very big and heavy against you

how they protect you:

at the airport, they quickly learn that sweeping you off your feet is too easy. they invent the oval walk. they form an oval around you and you walk all together, you hidden by their shoulders from the cameras and hands. you witness Jungkook's cheek getting scratched once, and he just shrugs it off with the most loving look

NO. Y/N isn't going to a "meeting" in a "hotel".

they check the fanmail and remove the creepy letters that are addressed to you. for the first couple of years, while the mail is handled within the group personally, you have no idea what male fans want to do to you. after, as the amounts of mail begin to overflow, and it is delegated to managers, you are left in the state of shock

"this whole time they have been writing poems about my tits??"

they do not expect you to perform on a male level. sometimes you do and they don't mention it either. they treat you as an equal.

Yoongi is the one who fences sexist questions with the sharpness of an assassin. he doesn't smile about it either, doesn't try to turn it into a joke.

"so, Y/N, which member do you find the most attractive?" Yoongi: "why didn't you ask me this question? i have a favourite one, it's Jimin". "Y/N, what diets are you on to keep that pretty body of yours?" Yoongi: "she only consumes human male meat". he makes a point to mention that you write a lot of lyrics, all the time. after Yoongi, the others pick up on this habit and try to focus on your lyrical and artistic input more than your looks and 'female presence'.

Seokjin's version: "y/n, so do you cook for the boys?" he snorts loudly. "you should see the attempts. no-no-no"

covering you when you're in revealing outfits. Hoseok will pretend to suddenly get very interested in the camera lense when you are in a short skirt and need to do splits on a variety show. Jungkook will outstretch his arm point at something for the other members if your top is revealing too much of your cleavage. Namjoon will put a towel on your knees

when the outfits get ridiculous, they won't wait for your protests. Yoongi will be like: is that for Seokjin? no? huh

giving deadly looks to people who clearly try to get too close to you

they secretly enjoy being the 'go through us first' bunch for you. each of them has this soft, gender-bending persona to some extent. but they switch back to very manly when there's a need to keep an eye on you

adjusting their whole existence to your presence: you are never the tail of the walk. at least one pair of eyes is on you when you're not at the dorm

Jungkook definitely jumps a guy at least once to protect you.

when the hopes are low:

while you are still struggling to lure people to your shows, you blame yourself for being the dragging factor. you always think that if they were a purely boyband, they would already be successful. after all, they are called "bulletproof boys", not "bulletproof boys and Y/N".

you express this self-doubt rarely because you don't want to be an even bigger burden. the response is always the same:

yah! who put this nonsense into your head? you shut up, you write like 50% of the songs! what are we supposed to do without you? sing na-na-na for three hours straight?

Jungkook won't find his shoes without you

don't say that, i just learnt to tie a ponytail!

sharing modest dinners

them secretly deciding to eat less; if each of them gives up just one spoonful of soup, you will get more. they see you are growing thin; they gaslight you by saying you're imagining things and the portions are absolutely identical. in fact, they say, you're undereating

sharing clothes, painkillers and bandaids. emergency muscle rubs. incredible survival-level health hacks to stay conscious learnt from great-grandmothers. carrying each other literally. "hold on one more hour, okay?" drinking one can of red bull all together

you teaching Jungkook to sew the holes closed. Yoongi teaching you to fix your night stand. you teaching Jimin to stop the nose bleed. Seokjin teaching you to make a sustainable meal out of two noodles, an egg and a pepper with salt. you teaching Namjoon to pick the lock. Hoseok teaching you to cover the cuts with foundation. you teaching Taehyung to sleep in sitting position. amalgamating into each other.

by the third year they know how many pairs of underwear you have and which colours can't be washed together. you know which foods upset their stomachs and read their exhaustion from the hum

the only time they come even close to exploiting you is when you wander around the city in America, handing out flyers to your show, and they notice that guys accept them eagerly from you. they ask you to tell the passersby that it's a girl group. you agree.

sleeping together on the dance studio floor, only to discover they had huddled around you, warming you with their bodies like badgers. even Hobi and Yoongi.

by the time you finally make it, you eight know each other and trust each other with your lives. you conduct a thought experiment: you imagine you collapsed in the shower naked and need assistance. which one are you comfortable with helping you? the answer for you now is any one of them.

[jinuaei]

So I have written some ideas for Yan Tarn, Overlord, and Rung + Reader dynamic. I'm keeping it lighthearted because MTMTE keeps breaking my heart. I'm planning on writing a fic as like an introduction but feel free to send in asks. (Don't expect lore accuracy I'm still on issue 15 as of writing this)

Both Tarn and Overlord think Rung as harmless so they let him hang around Reader.

If reader gets kidnapped by Overlord, Rung has to come with (as per reader’s request) ←- Daily occurrence btw, LL has protocols to fuck off when they see Overlord walking down the halls with you and Rung in his arms and Tarn coming back from Overlords cell (now basically his room) with both of you in his arms. (I imagine Rung using his microphone thumb to announce you both being kidnapped)

Oh yeah, Overlord routinely breaks out of his cell to kidnap you.

Rung likes you caring for him and melts when you call his name because you always remember. I feel like he’s clingy, but acts like it’s normal and as @/Xaythefreak says, feels guilty when he wanks. Self aware Yandere, and feels bad about it but can’t help but be drawn to you.

Definitely gets off to you calling his name because I say so.

OH MY GOD CUCK CHAIR RUNG — I AM SORRY BUT HE GETS THAT TREATMENT

Tarn would most likely let him participate because you want him to, or maybe he gets off seeing his deity fuck another bot which means he’d also willingly be cucked. (Smth smth he is not worthy to feel your soft, delicate skin against his rough, war-forged frame.)

Overlord will let Rung participate because you cry out for Rung for comfort (Ugh Rung talking you through it while Overlord rails you), but Overlord only lets you kiss Rung, maybe hold him too.

Cuteness aggression Overlord, mean bastard but wouldn’t hurt you really. Really selfish and jealous, doesn’t like that you prefer Rung but you wouldn’t give him any attention if he scares Rung away.

Overlord likes you angry but not crying, so he doesn’t hurt Rung because if he does you’ll cry. He likes to annoy you until you get angry and fight him (verbally and physically), he’d also hold you in his servo so you would struggle and attempt to fight him. Would kiss your face all over because of how cute you are trying to fight him. Maybe even nibble you a lil bit.

RUNG RELUCTANTLY BECOMING THEIR PSYCHIATRIST. Overlord ranting to rung about Tarn’s shit and vice versa.

Rung is basically Reader's emotional support bot at this point, but he doesn't care because he gets to be by your side wherever the two takes you.

If ever the four of you are in a room together, Rung is right next to you, holding your hand, comforting you(and relishing in your touch), while the other two are in a spike-measuring contest.

Forgot to add:

Overlord likes to be dominated, but plays with you first until you're pissed THEN he'll act like he's powerless. Still rather mouthy though as he's in front of you kneeling while his spike twitches in attention.

Yes, Overlord is now part of the 'will be put in a leash and collar' gang, maybe add the muzzle too.

[gretahayes]

know i am insane abt timgreta in a way nobody else is because others are normal but To Preface in case anyone is new here. i don’t think greta had a crush on tim in the traditional (normal, romantic, human) sense so i do not think she ever grows out of it. it’s a perpetual state of being. tim visits and she's beaming flapping her hands giggling sososo happy. and every “quick stop by to say hello” from tim turns into a several hours-long hangout because Well tim dislikes seeing her cry and she Will cry if denied this so he just takes her along.

but half of the fun of the greta&tim dynamic is the push and pull of it. greta says, i don’t think i could never love anyone else. and tim says i can. i have. i am. greta says i need something i need a part of you i need your bones your blood your— and tim offers a jacket, an arm, a gift, a smile, a laugh. greta says, i think i’ve loved you since we were kids. i don’t think i ever stopped. and tim pretends he doesn’t hear, pretends he doesn’t see, and she tries not to say it very often as long as he overlooks it in return. to me it’s about greta pulling and tim allowing-allowing-allowing until he doesn’t and pushes away. it’s about tim’s give-give-give into requests unasked for and spoken to and greta’s take-take-take. it’s about the allowances given & balances struck and tipped and restored. it’s about how knowing any more given or taken will make everything fall apart its about knowing this is probably bad and insane and crazy & not really caring because well the love is there and if the love erupts and bubbles and burns, that’s nobody’s business but their own. & it is destructive but she quite frankly doesn’t want him romantically or in any other way and he is willing to acquiesce so much for her.

it’s just the way she Is and loving her means accepting that and by god does he accept it & greta in turn expects him to if he loves her because this is what loving her looks like. i think everyone else is like Hey so this is kind of crazy. & yj is like Yeah. mind your fucking business.

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

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

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

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

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[quitesins]

Pro Hero!Bakugou x Criminal!Reader

Masterlist | Pt.2

Tags: Sfw, Drabble?, Pro Hero!Bakugou, Criminal!Reader, Female!reader, Reader is implied to be younger and homeless, dialogue heavy, ooc?

This happens a right after the events of vol 42/the epilogue, this is sort of a snapshot of an already established dynamic in my head

“You look miserable.”

He seems surprised to see you. Which is weird. Dynamight has always been so hyper aware of his surroundings, especially when you, half-criminal, half-comrade, show up.

“Piss off.” Dynamight grunts, locking the doors to his car and turning away from you. His expression is as frustrated as ever, but there’s something solemn underneath.

“You get rejected?” It’s just a joke, but he stiffens like you’ve hit the mark. “Holy shit, you did?” You can’t let him go, not with this in your pocket now.

He pushes past, albeit gentler than the times you’ve felt him body check you before. He grumbles something, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” He’s at his door now, and though you’ve already trespassed far into his front garden, it feels a bit invasive to peer into his home. “I just never expected you to be interested in that stuff.”

Dynamight’s keys jingle in the silence where he doesn’t answer, his door opens and as always you look away. He stands too still for a second too long, then sighs, turning to invite you in.

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t let you ruminate or even ask, his hand on yours, tugging you in himself.

You’ve only ever been in the doorway, so following him past the foyer, taking your shoes off like you’re about to get comfortable, feels strange and unnerving.

Dynamight slumps onto his couch, head tilted back and eyes scrunched closed. You stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware of how different his life is to yours.

His house is nice. Decorated like a magazine, tidier than you’d expect from a bachelor. His tv looks expensive and even the open kitchen you can see in your peripheral, is stocked top to bottom in gadgets you know cost more than anything you own.

“Stop gawking.” Dynamight’s voice, for the first time, startles you. “‘M not offering you tea.”

“I wasn’t— shut up!” You like bothering him, but this time you become defensive. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah?” Dynamight snorts, an eye winking open to look you over. “Why are you?”

It must be something psychological, to have you in his space for once. You like to spook him when he’s on missions, at stores you could only steal from, and even at the cafe by his agency he likes to frequent. But this is his home. His living room. This isn’t the no man’s land of public space. Where it’s easy for you to dominate, since he’s got a reputation (barely) and all sorts of hero rules to follow.

You straighten your back, pulling a usb out your pocket and throwing it at him, without force but in the direction of his head. “You wanted intel.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till the morning?” He scoffs, catching the thing before it hits his face. “Gone to the agency?”

“Unless you grant me full immunity.” You shrug, knowing he won’t.

“Fat chance.” Dynamight inspects the usb. “This not gonna brick up my entire computer?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I just took it.”

Dynamight frowns, then pulls out a case from under his coffee table. You’re still standing there uncomfortably, so he rolls his eyes and prompts you to get close. You don’t like following his order, and you can tell he isn’t used to it either. Normally you’re the one openly pushing past his personal space, listening to nothing he says. You lean on the back of his sofa, peering over his shoulder.

The case opens to a laptop, one that uses his fingerprint to unlock. You watch curiously as he taps away at something you don’t understand, before pushing the usb in and lighting up the screen in new colours.

Dynamight becomes quiet, focussed as he sifts through files and documents you still don’t get. You had wanted to continue on your prodding and ask why he looked like such a misery tonight, but his intensity makes it difficult to interrupt.

“Fucking hell.” Dynamight sounds almost in awe. “Where the hell did you get this.”

“I just took it.” You’re petulant. “I said.”

“[Name].” The hero’s body turns, and he stares with new authority. “Don’t piss me off.”

You feel small. Even with you standing over him, even with him in his casual wear, you’re reminded he’s a hero. One that lets you get away with a lot, but still a man of power you could never fight.

“Who rejected you?” You’re brattish. “You didn’t say.”

The non sequitur pisses him off, but he doesn’t want to have you running. “It wasn’t— Deku. I asked him to join my agency.”

That somehow makes you feel better. And equal. Like you’ve both just had terrible days.

“I saw him once. A friend, from when I was little, goes to UA.” You almost distract Dynamight with your reminiscing, but he catches it, frowning and prompting you to answer his original question.

“That guy you were tailing.” You remember a few months ago, recognising Dynamight in stealth gear, in a place where you hadn’t expected him to be. “The one with the red hair.” The descriptor makes something click in Dynamight’s head. His eyes go wide and wider with your next words. “He left a window open.” You shrug. “I snuck in.”

“Alone?” Dynamight wipes his head with his hands, frustrated. You think you’ve done something wrong. “Do you have any idea how—”

“I can take it back!” Interrupting him, you reach out to snatch the usb. You feel scolded and it stings.

He grabs your wrist before you can, you look at him with such sourness and he sighs. “Just… don’t do it again. Leave the hero work to me.”

You’re still pouting, embarrassed.

“You did good. Okay?” His hands give yours a squeeze. “You did really fucking good.” A part of you wants that, his approval, but you pull away anyways.

“I have to go.” You’re already walking backwards to his corridor. He follows you though he knows can’t keep you any longer, he’s never been able to pin you down.

You shove your shoes on haphazardly, not caring about getting it on all the way. He has to unlock the door for you, but before he does he pulls his wallet out.

“How much?” There’s a few large notes in his hand. It’s jarring that he can walk around with so much cash in his pockets.

“Wait.” You stop him with your hands, shaking your head. “Can’t— not tonight— can’t have that much on me.”

Dynamight gives you a look, there’s pity in his eyes. He hesitates letting you go, shoving a 2000 yen note into your hands. “At least.”

The winter air hits you both when the door finally opens. It’s the kind that makes your muscles ache. You step out quickly, already making your way to the fence you hopped over to bother him in the first place.

Before you can lift yourself up, Bakugou calls out, voice uncomfortably gentle. “You got a place to sleep?”

“…No.”

Cut out of a second, there’s a moment where you think he’s wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods, letting you jump over his gate and run off, back into the night.

Because in my head there’s an already established dynamic, I can’t tell if this whole thing only makes sense to me since I don’t need it to be expressed in the details… I did try to add contextualising details but idkkkk eughhhh

[pupyuj]

[cw: threesome, overstimulation, voyeurism, exhibitionism (i guess?)]

YA’LLLL i swear i was gonna do jho for my first bini drabble after a while but then i thought about how aiahcey are kinda my danjangz but bini… and ya’ll know crazy i am about danjangz and the same is about to happen to aiahcey like HELLOOOO 😭😭😵‍💫🙏

pretty femme dom gfs save me… save me pretty femme dom gfs…

being the breath of fresh air they need amidst their messy idol life aka their pretty little doll who would willingly do anything for them 🫣 stacey calling you in the middle of the night to come over her house and ofc you're so eager to do just that bcs you're whipped as hell! omg she probably likes to fuck you in front of a mirror all the time.. all to see how embarrassed you look seeing yourself get stretched out and have your cunt abused by your friend like this :(( mapang-asar din minsan si staku so i like to think that she likes to taunt you while fucking you 😭 or even full on insult you just to add to the humiliation 😵‍💫😵‍💫 maybe she’d even record sometimes 🤭 laughing at your tears and whines but immediately cooing at you and kissing your face when you start sobbing—she just loves being annoying to you :((

and where do those videos end up?? right on her ate aiah's dms! i like to think na mahilig magpa-inggit si staku LMAOO saying smth like "look what ur missing out on, u workaholiccc 😝" and the video attached is you being a whiny mess with stacey instructing you to moan aiah's name in the background 😭 this ofc just makes aiah drive up to stacey's house in record time, which stacey loves sm bcs that's totally unlike the aiah she normally sees 🤭

in direct contrast to staku, aiah loves to plan out your meetings where it wouldn't be a convenience to either of you! but sometimes she gets needy and hasty too.. don't forget she's just as obsessed with you as stacey is so she definitely fucks you as soon as she has the opportunity to, she needs you!!

now listen.. pussy drunk aiah losing herself in between your legs while stacey whispers the nastiest shit in your ear as she massages your clit.. her even grabbing aiah's head and pushing her closer to your cunt just to get you to moan their names 😩😩 i'm a painslut!stacey believer so she would loveee to feel your nails digging into her skin or scratching her arm when she's doing too much 😭 even goes as far as to admire the marks you leave on her afterwards?? she's a lil freak what can i say!! and then there's your sweet ate aiah being a soft dom at heart 🥺 constantly looking up at you with worry in her eyes bcs she never wants to push you over the edge too much :(( their dynamic is kinda funny to me NOBODY GETS IT.

"staku.. i think she's had enough.. mh.."

"no, no, isa pa. she likes that, believe me. look at her! and look at you! gustong-gusto mo pa.."

aiah absolutely loves it when you make a mess all over her beautiful face! a little embarrassing for you but the satisfied look on her face makes it worth the trouble 🤭 and yk what's even hotter than watching aiah wipe her chin clean and suck your juices with her fingers?? watching stacey pull her close and kiss her, hearing her moan at how you tasted on aiah's tongue.. well, who wouldn't get wet again at the sight of that?! 😵‍💫

expect only the best and softest aftercare the coming morning! both of them are cuddling you and spoon-feeding you food while you all chill on stacey's couch watching teleseryes and movies 🥰🥰 probably until the two of them feel like fucking you all over again which usually only takes about the first thirty minutes of a movie.. 😛