#YOURE DONE. you are straight up done immediately

[magpiemirroring]

Every single time we get a democrat after a republican it feels like everyone develops immediate memory loss about the 4 years the republican leader spent fucking us over and folks start judging the democrat for not taking us straight into utopia.

Like, friends, pals, countrymen (and women, and nb folks), you ever live with someone who leaves the kitchen utterly trashed after they cook or who lets the dirty dishes pile up in the sink. And you come into the kitchen hoping to make yourself a tasty meal but first you gotta like uncover the stove top and do the dishes so have even a single clean spoon and remove the abandoned pizza from the microwave and...

by the time you're done doing that you can just about make a sandwich and you don't even have a plate for your sandwich because all your dishes are in the dishwasher now! somehow! there was not a single clean anything in the house!

That's the democrat president. They're coming in and having to spend all their time cleaning up after their shitty republican roommate (who doesn't even pay the rent half the time! and starts fights with the neighbors!)

You can't stand there asking for a 5 course meal with dessert (from ethically sourced ingredients) when the house doesn't even have a clean spoon and the chef is fucking exhausted trying to clean mold out of the microwave.

Give them some time to get the kitchen in order first.

Hey. Look at me. Please leave yourself a note somewhere you'll see it later that says "it is going to take years if not decades to get the United States government to the level of functionality it had in November of 2024." If we elect a democrat in 2028, we are not going to be up and running by 2032.

Please make sure you have a reminder in your phone reminding you to not look at 2028/32/36 Democratic candidates and say "why are they not promising/delivering Cool Shit?" because you are going to understand that to get Cool Shit we must have competent people running a decently funded government, and we are not going to have that.

We are not getting UBI. We are not getting single payer healthcare. We are not getting free college or free preschool. We are not redistributing wealth on a large scale. We are not getting free internet. We are not getting ranked choice voting.

If we are lucky, we are going to get an IRS that can collect taxes, qualified schoolteachers, research grants, Social Security, and a government that thinks maybe it should be a priority for people around the worlds to not have AIDS, malaria or TB.

[aperrywilliams]

Glowing (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: The team has been out on a case for about ten days now. You're not with them this time due to your 21st-week pregnancy and doctor's order not to go to the field, and you miss your husband, Spencer, like crazy. When they come back, Spencer can't stop looking at you and your recent baby bump. To say it makes him feral is an understatement, and he wants to show you how marvelous you are despite your insecurities about your changing body.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Spencer and Reader are horny AF. There is a lot of teasing, heated kissing, heavy making out, oral sex, PIV sex, and breeding kink (a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). Reader has some insecurities about her body.

A/N: This idea was requested a while ago. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get it done. But here it is! Someone asked for horny!future!dad!Spencer? Well, you’re welcome.

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You can't say you are thrilled about staying in Virginia when all of your team is fighting crime on the other side of the country. Not when it has been ten days since they are gone. Not when you haven't seen your husband that long because he happens to work on the same team.

It's not that you had another option, though. Considering you are almost in your 21st week of pregnancy, your doctor advised you to take it slow on the job. That means being on the field miles away from home became a big no, and this time, you had to settle for nightly phone calls and daily texts with Spencer.

So it doesn't surprise anyone to see the happiness on your face when Hotch calls around midday, announcing that the case is over and they are flying home.

Penelope, always the joyful human being on Earth, immediately got on board with Rossi to host a gathering in his mansion once they were back tonight. Of course, Rossi agreed. Virtually no one can say no to Penelope.

"Okay, mama-genius," she says after ending the call with David. "We have a party tonight and a lot of things to do."

You may be worried about what 'a lot' can imply, but it is just a saying. Penelope will do most of it anyway, claiming you can't do any strenuous task so as not to bother baby-genius. Since the moment you and Spencer told the team about the baby's coming, Garcia baptized you all: papa-genius, mama-genius, and baby-genius. You find it the cutest thing in the world.

Walking through the supermarket aisles, you get everything you'll need: snacks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and all the stuff. And with the cart full, Penelope sends you home to get ready.

"But Pen, you need help to set all this up."

"Don't worry, honey. I already have Anderson waiting for me at Rossi's. The benefits of having a spare key," she proudly says, dangling her keychain full of keys. "Now go! Go to get ready for your man. I know you have been missing him like crazy."

She is not wrong in the slightest, so you don't fight her. A bath sounds nice right now, and with all the pregnancy going on, you'll need the extra time to get ready.

-

Ten days have been torture for Spencer Reid. It's the longest he has been apart from you since you guys discovered you are pregnant. Sure, phone calls and texts help, but it's not enough. Not to the overprotective Spencer, anyway. It's not that he doesn't trust you; he does. But his mind always works in overdrive, and he worries more than he should. Not to mention, he has missed you like he hasn't seen you in months.

When Rossi tells the team the plans for the night once they arrive, Spencer is a bit disappointed. He would have preferred to go straight home to be with you. But when JJ assures him you will be there, his apprehensions change to anticipation.

The kind of anticipation that keeps him anxious until everyone arrives at Rossi's past 8 p.m. They were a little bit late for the estimated time, but the traffic was hell today.

A happy Penelope opens the door before Rossi can reach his key.

"Welcome home, mon amis."

"My home, you say?" the old man corrects, no real annoyance in his voice.

"Share is care, so our home is," Garcia retorts, effusively hugging every team member crossing the threshold. The last one is Spencer. "Your woman is waiting for you," she whispers to him after almost crushing him in her embrace.

Spencer practically runs to the living room, where you are greeting everyone. His eyes nearly can't give credit to what he sees. Of course, he knows how you look. He has known you for years and has memorized every detail of you: your height, the way your head leans when you're listening to someone, the color of your eyes, the way you smile, your expressive hands, and every curve of your body. But today? Something looks different, alluring, magnetic, and so entrancing.

His brain has a suitable explanation for it. Sure, when you haven't seen your partner in days, you tend to enhance every detail you love about them. 'Love hormones,' others would say. But no, this is more than psychology and chemistry.

Pregnancy has made changes in you. It was expected, and Spencer knows that, but reading it in a book is way different than seeing it for himself. Sure, there were the headaches and the morning sickness in the early stages. Adding the mood swings and fatigue. But nothing prepared him for the body changes. And not in the bad way people must think, all the opposite. To Spencer, pregnancy has made you the most sexy woman in the world. And after ten days of being deprived of those changes, to him, all come at once. Your breasts got bigger, and you definitely started to show more. The sundress you're wearing just enhances those details, and Spencer feels like he can faint right there.

When your eyes meet across the room, his breath hitches; those eyes he loves so much are glowing and chanting a spell Spencer won't escape from. Not that he wants to, anyway.

Shameless, you leave your conversation with Prentiss and Luke and run to your husband, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you," you murmur into his neck. Spencer hugs you back and closes his eyes, relishing how good you smell and how good it is to have you in his arms again. "We missed you," you add.

The mention of your unborn child melts Spencer on the spot. "I missed you both, too," he manages to say, reluctantly parting from your embrace to look at you and get lost in your eyes again. "I love you," he whispers, leaning to capture your lips with his. And just like that, the anti-PDA, Spencer Reid, indulges himself in kissing you in front of everyone.

The teasing from the team around is only background noise, and neither Spencer nor you are very concerned about it. Not until you involuntarily tug his hair, and Spencer needs to do everything in his power to stop the groan threatening to escape his lips.

Parting and clearing your throats, you both try to regain composure. All the team's eyes are on you, but the only one who dares to point out the obvious is Rossi.

"I have a guest room upstairs, at the second door down the hall."

The comment causes the team to laugh and you to be mortified.

"Sorry," you both mumble, a deep shade of crimson adorning your cheeks. Grabbing your hand, Spencer pulls you to a corner. You're still in sight of the people but far enough to talk and not be listened to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He points to your baby's belly. It's not an accusatory question, more like an excited one.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I would have liked to be in a more private setting, but I wasn't going to miss being here and waiting for you at home to show you."

Spencer's hand rests over your now prominent belly and rubs soothing patterns there. "It's amazing," he admits. "How are you feeling?"

You let out a content sigh, feeling the warmth emanating from your husband's palm to your lower stomach.

"Much better now you're here."

"They haven't done much trouble, have they?"

"Nah. Behaves like an angel." And it's the truth. The second trimester has been much better than the previous one: no morning sickness, less fatigue, and it has been great.

There are other 'issues' though. The boost of energy has been paired with an increase in your libido that sometimes is very hard to control. The times Spencer is around, having sex can be enough, but with days passing and with the tenderness and care Spencer has been touching you, it's getting hard to satiate your most primal needs. You know he does it because he doesn't want to hurt you, but even if you have assured him you won't break, he hesitates nonetheless.

And now, after all these days without him, you are sure another touch from him, even the most innocent, will set your body on fire. You are sure this night will be excessively long.

Spencer's thoughts are not very different from yours. The moment he sees you in your sundress walking to him was enough to make his mind wander.

"OK, mister. Enough lovebirds' moment for now. The girls need their time, too." Without warning, Penelope grabs your hand to lead you to the group where Tara, Emily, and JJ are.

You can only shrug to Spencer as Penelope drags you from him. Spencer gives you a reassuring smile. It's fine; you are both adults, he reminds himself. How can it be so difficult to keep his hands to himself for a couple of hours?

Easier said than done, he'll realize.

Neither of you can't help the stolen glances across the room or the subtle smiles you share as you talk to the team at different spots in the house.

Spencer doesn't know if he can control himself much longer. You look stunning and tempting, and his mind starts to fill with unholy things he wants to do to you.

"Reid?" Luke's worried voice gets him out of his mental predicament.

"I - uh. I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

"Are you alright, man? You seem distracted."

If alright means extremely horny and with an incipient boner tightening his pants, then yes, he's more than alright.

"Yes. Yeah. Uh - I'll grab some water. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

The trip to the bathroom is quick and mildly effective: Splashing cold water on his face and reciting the Declaration of Independence in his mind, Spencer regains some composure and gets back to where the people—and you—are.

The night continues in the same way. It's not like you are openly teasing him, but Spencer can't help himself.

The last straw comes when you're in the backyard talking to JJ and Emily, and you're laughing so hard that your body jolts, making your breasts bounce a bit, exposing more of your cleavage. It's not that evident to anyone, but for Spencer, who has been gawking at you all night, it is clear as day.

He wants you, and he wants you now.

Spencer sets his glass of water on the table and strolls where you are. Giving JJ and Emily a tight-lip smile, he leans to whisper something in your ear. The girls can't hear what it is, but the flush in your cheeks should give them an idea.

"Yeah, it's kind of late. And yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired," you tell Spencer, now looking at the girls, not wanting to disclose what Spencer actually said.

"Sure, carrying a baby Reid must be exhausting," Emily teases, gaining a roll of eyes from Spencer.

"Go, guys. Don't worry; I think I'll leave soon, too," JJ says, and you nod gratefully to avoid making more uncomfortable the moment.

With a tight grip on your hand, Spencer walks with you to say goodbye to everybody. Then, no later than that, you hop on the Uber, already waiting outside Rossi's.

-

All the ride home, Spencer's hand rests firmly on your tigh. His eyes can't peel off of you. All of you. It's like he hasn't seen you in months and wants to memorize each feature. You look back at him with a mix of amusement and self-consciousness. The lust is all written on his gaze, but there is something more, too. Love, longing, reverence. It's like there isn't anything else in the world but you.

The thought only fuels how much you love him and, of course, how horny you feel. Is it hot in this car, or is that just your idea? Why is the ride taking longer than you would like? You're about to huff in protest when the vehicle stops at your destination. Thanks God!

Spencer never falters his grip on you all the time. You can feel him everywhere: on your hand as you take the stairs, on your lower back walking down the hall, on your shoulder when you fish the key in your purse.

As the door shuts behind you, Spencer's lips are on yours in an instant. Kissing you hard. Like he's a drowning man, and you are the air he needs.

"God, you don't know how hard it was to control myself," Spencer mumbles, now peppering wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

"Hard, uh? Well, I guess I have an idea," you say, palming him over his slacks, making him hiss.

"Don't tease me, please," Spencer growls between kisses as he walks you both through the apartment to your bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your path.

"I'm not, baby. I promise I'm not. I'm as desperate as you are." You're not lying. Your body has been on fire the whole night. You want him as much as he wants you right now.

When your legs hit the bed, you're both only in your underwear.

Spencer breaks the kiss to look at you. The bedroom is only lit by the hallway lights. He reaches for the nightstand to switch the lamp on, but before he does, you stop him.

"Can we just-" You don't finish the sentence, but Spencer understands what you're asking for.

"Yeah. We can, of course. But what's wrong?"

It's not the first time you have sex with the room's lights off, but those times, neither of you has explicitly requested it. You usually don't have trouble with Spencer seeing you naked, but since you got pregnant and your body started to change, you don't feel sexy, and it is mining your confidence. Spencer's suspicion goes in that same direction.

"Nothing," you say, pulling him to kiss him again with the same passion as before. Spencer almost surrenders at your doing, but he stops.

"Hey," he whispers. "Talk to me."

You sit on the mattress, knowing you have to tell him what's bothering you. He sits by your side, patiently waiting for you to collect your thoughts and choose your words.

After some seconds of deliberation, it is you who switches the lamp on. Standing from the bed, you plant yourself in front of Spencer.

"What do you see?" you ask, with your hands on your hips.

Spencer's eyes rack your body from head to toe, especially double-taking your lower stomach, where your pregnant belly is. The answer is obvious to him.

"My perfect and sexy wife, standing almost naked in front of me, trying to kill me because I can't touch her yet."

You roll your eyes, huffing. "Spencer, be serious, please."

"I am! Baby, I don't know why you could think I'm not being honest with you."

There is a scold on the tip of your tongue, but you relent, changing it for a deep sigh.

"But look at me! These-" you say, eyes darting between your breast and the skin of your stomach. "There is no chance this is sexy. I'm bloated half of the time; my skin feels gross, and the stretch marks are more every day. And my tits! God, if I unhook my bra, they are going to fall to the floor!"

It's true, your body isn't the same as it was a couple of months ago, and it'll probably continue to change as the weeks go by, but for Spencer, that doesn't make you any less attractive or desirable—quite the opposite.

"Hey, look at me, please," Spencer asks in a soft voice. You do as he says, now feeling more exposed in front of him. Spencer notices and takes your hands to bring you closer to him.

"You know you're carrying a human being in your womb, right?" he asks, tracing soft patterns with his finger over the skin of your arms. "That makes your body not look or feel the way it usually does. But it's perfectly natural, and I'm sure you know that." Spencer stops to kiss your stomach. "What you don't seem to know is that every change makes you more perfect than you already are. Love, you are perfect for who you are, and your body is perfect because it's yours—stretch marks or not, breasts enlarged or not, swollen or not."

"You have to say that," you complain with an adorable pout, and Spencer chuckles.

“I have to say that because it's true. Did I lie to you before?” You shake your head no. “Exactly.”

He pulls you to him so you can sit on his lap. Your arms rest loosely around his neck. He looks up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

“Love. You look amazing. Gorgeous. And so so sexy. I have been craving to touch you all night, renegaded to only see you from afar. That's torture,” Spencer says, lips hovering over your jaw before trailing down loving kisses—the feel of his wet lips pushing your heart rate to go up.

“You don't know what you do to me, do you? All these days thinking about you, what it's like to have you in my arms, what it's like to be able to kiss you, to smell you.” Spencer says, his fingers dancing over the patch of exposed skin of your breasts still clad in your bra. His lips sucking on that special spot on your neck. You can't help the nasty moan that leaves your mouth.

His eyes search yours for permission when one of his hands rests on the clasp of your bra. You nod, and he unclasps it, revealing your full breasts to him. You swear you hear him whimper at the sight, just as you feel him twitch beneath your thighs.

“Fuck, darling. They are so perfect. So round, so full, so soft,” Spencer praises as his mouth latches to one of your nipples and, with one hand, squeezes the flesh of your other breast. “I couldn’t stop all night thinking about doing this. Claiming these perfect tits.”

“Spencer, fuck!” you moan when he sucks harder. “Yes!”

“So sensitive. These tits are all mine,” Spencer mumbles as he switches his mouth from one nipple to the other.

He keeps lapping, swirling his tongue, sucking. It's like he can't have enough of it. And you can feel it in your bones.

'Extasis' keeps it short to explain how you feel right now. Just with the use of his mouth, Spencer is already pushing you close to the edge. In the back of your mind, you can hear his voice explaining how nipple stimulation can produce orgasms. You didn't think it would be possible at the time, but now you're nearing experiencing it.

"Spence, please. Just -"

One of his hands travels south, leaving goosebumps in its wake until it reaches the waistband of your panties.

“Tell me what you need, baby. And I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to touch me,” you mewl, your voice cracking with desire.

“Here?” Spencer teases, trailing feather touches across your inner thigh. His mouth marks your neck, his favorite spot on you.

“More. Please, don’t make beg,” you plead. Spencer’s smirk could tell he was not done with the teasing. But in all honesty, he doesn't know how much he can contain himself.

“My baby is desperate already. Let's see how much.” A hand sneaks under your panties, and the slick pooling there tells Spencer everything he needs to know.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. It’s all for me?” He cockily asks as his fingers tease your folds. You gasp at the contact of his fingers on you.

“For you only. Spencer, I’m yours. Always.”

“And I am yours. No matter what. I love you so much,” Spencer says, now claiming your mouth with a searing kiss. It's like he wants to devour you whole, beyond the physics laws, if it's possible.

You let yourself go, kissing him urgently, your fingers tangled in his hair, giving experimental tugs, which Spencer rewards with grunts of pleasure.

You don't realize when you start rocking on his lap, seeking more friction from his fingers.

Spencer continues his assault on your center, alternating the thrusting of his fingers in and out with rubbing against your clit.

"Oh, God!" You whine, not fully believing how good it feels.

“So good, my love. So so good,” Spencer chants. His free hand on your back, maneuvering to lay you down on the mattress without stopping his ministrations in your pussy, and latching his lips to the crook of your neck. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you with his fingers, massaging that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Right there! Oh, please.” You are on the verge of falling, your body surrending to Spencer’s experimented touch. He knows your body better than you.

Your moans go straight to Spencer’s cock, twitching inside his boxers, rock-hard and screaming for attention, but he has a mission before ever thinking of his pleasure. He needs you to come on his fingers first.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?”

“Yes! I’m so - so close,” you cry.

“I can feel you clenching on my fingers. That's it. Let go, my love. Cum for me; let me feel you,” Spencer encourages, and it's the last push you need. Your vision goes white, and your body starts to shake. The coil snaps and flows your body with waves of pleasure.

“Fuck! Yes!” You cry as your orgasm travels through your body. “Spencer! Yes!”

Spencer doesn’t stop the in and out of his fingers, still rubbing your clit, at a slower pace, helping you to ride it out. His breath is hot on your neck, mumbling praises of how good you are, how much he has missed you, and how good you feel around his fingers.

When the aftershocks subside, Spencer carefully retracts his fingers, sucking them clean before passionately kissing you. You can taste yourself on his lips, fueling the desire to have more of him.

“I missed you,” you say, still breathless. Spencer lies on the mattress by your side, stroking your cheek.

“And I missed you. Both of you,” he says, now rubbing a hand over your belly. You let out a content sigh. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. We can just prepare to go to bed.”

Your head snaps up in an instant.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No! We’re not done, mister. We have a lot of days apart to make it up to.”

Spencer laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Start with those boxers. Get them off,” you command, kneeling on the mattress and suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline. Spencer pulls his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It's hard, red, and already leaking precum. And your mouth waters.

“Like the view?” He teases.

“Very,” you shamelessly reply, gawking at the way his cock twitches under your gaze. You position between his legs. He is at your level sight with his elbows on the mattress. You wrap a hand around his shaft, giving a light squeeze, as your other hand looks purchase on his thigh. Spencer hisses at the contact.

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reminds you, knowing this position could be uncomfortable for you.

“Oh, yes, I have to,” you counter. “I have been thinking about sucking you off for weeks, Spencer. Weeks!”

Spencer laughs at your dramatics, but still, he reaches for your chin to tilt up so you can look at him.

“Just let me know if it's too much, and we can stop, okay?”

Did you mention before about how careful he has been treating you since you discovered you were pregnant? Yes, you did. And here is a reminder.

“Okay,” you reassure him, giving an experimental lick at the tip. The salty taste just encourages you to lick the underside, from base to tip and back and forth. Spencer’s moans are music for your ears. You lower yourself now, taking him in your mouth—inch by glorious inch.

There is something special about giving Spencer head, and it’s beyond the sexual component of pushing him to orgasm. It's about the way he surrenders to your touch, the way he is splayed over the bed at your mercy. The way he trusts you in such a vulnerable position. He doesn't rush you; he’s pliant at your pace because he knows you know how to pleasure him.

“Fuck!” he groans when you go deeper. “So good, baby. You take it so good.”

As him with yours, you relish on his praises. He never stops complimenting you and vocalizing the way you make him feel. Evidence of how much you like it is the pool of wetness forming in your center just hearing him moan and talk.

With renewed vigor, you keep bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue, and extracting the more nasty and sexy noises from Spencer’s lips.

“Just - just like that. You are doing amazing.” His hands rest over your head, but he doesn’t push or pull; he just grounds himself in the midst of the pleasure cloud he is in.

But when that knowing coil is forming on him, Spencer knows he needs you to stop, or he won’t last much.

Gently, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back. You understand the signal and release him with a pop.

“What is it? You don’t want to?” You ask, licking your lips full of fluids of both of you. Spencer is panting, shaking his head no.

“You were amazing, but I don’t want to cum yet. And I want to cum inside of you.” The admission makes the heat in your body rise.

His hand caresses lovingly your cheek as you’re sitting on your haunches on the mattress. Spencer sits with his back on the headboard, raking your entire naked body from head to toe. His eyes are full of adoration.

Leave it to Spencer to look at you like you were Afrodite's incarnation, even with your grown breasts and bloated body.

“What?” You ask, giggling out of nervousness. Years with him, and that piercing gaze still makes your heart flutter.

"Marvelous. So beautiful. The most gorgeous. Perfect.”

Before you can protest the overflowing compliments, Spencer's hands cup your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back with urgency, straddling him. Spencer’s hands go to your waist to keep you in place, where you belong, on top of him. From that position, you can feel his cock twitching with want.

"Spencer-" you mumble in his lips, almost like a whisper.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asks, focusing on how you start swaying your hips, making contact with his hardness, and settling him on fire.

“I need to ride you, now,” you plead, and Spencer can’t say no to you even if he tried.

“Then ride me. Take everything you need from me,” Spencer says, leaving the grasp of your hips so you can lift yourself to position his cock at your entrance. You start to sink and you both are gasping for air. It feels so good. You feel so full with every pull and push of your core into Spencer’s cock. It's a sensation that never gets old.

“That's it. You are doing so well. Take your time,” Spencer reminds you, but you have been craving him so much that you don’t have patience anymore. Spencer's hands come back to your hips, and yours rest on his shoulders for balance. With a last bounce, you’re full to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You hiss. The stretching is a mix of pain and pleasure that’s driving you insane. Spencer’s concerned eyes seek yours.

“You okay?” He asks, his gaze now raking your body, looking for something that can tell him about your discomfort.

“Yes! I’m okay—more than okay,” you assure him. Then you remember there is something he needs to know, something you need from him.

"Spencer, look at me," you demand, and he does what you ask.

"Yeah?" he pants, eyes mapping your face for any sign of what you want to say.

"I want something. Better said, I need something,” you pant, feeling already the urge to move.

"Okay, whatever you need. I'll give it to you."

"I need to feel you. All of you.” Spencer nods.

“You are feeling me now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Spencer. I’m talking about being rough. I need it hard. Please, baby, don't hold back."

“Oh.” Realization hits him at the same time you clench around him. “Fuck. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Love, I promise you, you won’t break me.”

Spencer looks still hesitant.

“Please, don’t deprive me of you. I need to be consumed by you. I need to feel you everywhere; I need to be reminded I'm yours, and you're mine. Remind me you’re the only one who can have me like this. Remind me who put this baby in me.”

The way Spencer’s cock twitches inside of you and the groan escaping his lips is enough for you to know he got the memo.

His eyes darkened even more, and you could swear you saw a smirk on his face.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, do you?” he says, thrusting up so you can feel him deeper.

“Ah! Show me! Give me what you think I deserve, please,” you beg, and for Spencer is the last straw. With both hands on your hips, he starts to bounce you up and down. Your hands rest on his stomach as you try to catch a rhythm. It starts messy and frantic, and you can’t care less. You’re riding Spencer, and that's what matters.

“So tight. I don’t know how I can fit here. Feels amazing.” Spencer's voice is strained, breathless.

As you gain more control over your movements, the grinding intensifies. Every part of your body is on fire. The bounce of your breasts makes Spencer feral.

“These tits. Are mine. All mine,” Spencer chants, hands squeezing them. “You’re mine.”

Damn right, you think. You are his. Every part of you is his, in the same way you are claiming him as yours right now.

Not fully satisfied with touching, Spencer leans forward and captures one of your nipples with his mouth, one arm around your waist to help you as you keep riding him.

“Fuck! Spencer!” You cry when he sucks harder. Tugging his hair, you speed your rhythm, feeling the coil forming, a new orgasm approaching.

At some point your legs start to falter, the exertion making them cramp, but you don’t want to stop. Spencer notices, though.

“I’ve got you,” he says, maneuvering you on your back without pulling out. Now he’s on top, and your legs over his shoulders. “That’s better, uh?”

You nod eagerly. “But don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t.”

With this new angle, Spencer thrusts deeper and harder. It's all you have wanted for weeks. The sinful sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, and you can respire the smell of sweat and sex.

“Yes! Just like that!”

“Oh, so you wanted it harder, uh? My sweet, dirty thing,” Spencer coos, head nestled in the crook of your neck. You feel his hot breath, how he’s panting while giving you precise and deliberate thrusts, in and out, in and out.

“Spence, I’m close,” you warn, and Spencer doesn't halt his movements, leaning a bit back to look at you.

“Me too, baby.”

You are a sight to behold. Your messy hair, sweat sparkling on your skin, eyes full of lust, the moans leaving your lips, tits bouncing with every thrust, and that bump, where your baby is. Spencer still can’t believe it's real.

“You’re so gorgeous. You look so good, pregnant with my baby. Everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yours, always,” you half-sob, half-moan. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel it in your bones. Spencer knows exactly how to get you there. He’s almost there too.

“That’s what you want? That I keep you nice a knocked up all the time? Do you want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! All the time. Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you nice and full.” Spencer vows, kissing your calf and sneaking down his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Oh, God.”

You’re on the verge of falling. The wet sounds your bodies are making, the panting and moans, Spencer’s words, everything is pushing you to the edge.

“Come for me, come on my cock,” Spencer demands, and it is like your body has to comply because as the words leave his mouth, your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

“Fucking shit! Yes!” You scream, feeling your body trembling with pleasure. Spencer’s pace keeps, now chasing his own end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, losing some rhythm. “So good for me.”

You can feel him twitching inside with each thrust as you clench your walls, still riding your high.

“Spencer, please. Cum inside. Fill me up, baby. I need it so bad,” you plead, and Spencer loses it. After a deep thrust, he grunts and stills inside, spilling everything he has. You feel his warmth filling you up, a content sigh leaving your lips.

For a few seconds, you both remain still, panting and trying to catch your breath. Spencer is the first to react. Not pulling out, he lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging them gently while he peppers your neck with kisses. You giggle, still drunk of post-orgasmic hormones.

“You did so good, my love,” he praises. Your hands cup his face so he can look at you.

“I love you, Spencer. I missed you so much,” you declare as you lean in to kiss his lips. Spencer reciprocates immediately. This kiss is sweet, not rushed, but takes your breath away as all Spencer’s kisses do.

“I love you, too,” he mumbles on your lips. “And it was torture being away from you for so many days. But I’m here right now; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, because tonight I’m not done with you yet.”

With the whimper that escapes Spencer’s lips and the twitch of his cock still inside of you, it’s clear he knows exactly how the night will go from here.

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

[honeyslibrary]

Game Five | Jake Oettinger

Pairing; Jake Oettinger x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Established relationship, SMUT, cursing, angst(?), edited once, not sure what else

Summary; Stars are eliminated from the playoffs with a 6-3 loss from Edmonton on home ice.

Word Count; 2k

Authors Note; I will be very shocked if Pete DeBoer is still employed by the Dallas Stars come next season. Absolutely asinine comments to make about your franchise goaltender. Anyways, my first time writing for Jake! Hope I did alright! ☺️ I honestly thought there would be a lot more fics for him then there is...Sooo if you have a favorite Otter fic please let me know 🙏🏽 -Honey

The drive home is a heavy silence, thick with the weight of disappointment and frustration that hangs between you like fog. Jake doesn't speak. Hasn't said a word since you left the arena twenty minutes ago. Doesn't glance your way, doesn't acknowledge the soft music you turned on to fill the void. Just stares ahead through the windshield, jaw locked tight enough that you can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, knuckles white around the steering wheel like he's trying to strangle it.

The city lights blur past in streaks of amber and red, but you're not really seeing them. Your attention is fixed on the man beside you, on the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his breathing is still too controlled, too measured. You know better than to try to pull him out of it, you've been here before, in this exact passenger seat, watching him wrestle with demons that have nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with it at the same time. He's not ready, not tonight. Not after that game. Not after those words that cut deeper than any blade ever could.

Two goals on two shots in the first period. Pulled seven minutes in, walking that long, shameful trek to the bench while eighteen thousand people watched in stunned silence. And then DeBoer afterward, throwing numbers and blame like knives during postgame media, his voice steady and clinical as he dissected Jake's performance for the world to see. "The reality is if you go back to last year's playoffs, he's lost six of seven games to Edmonton. And we give up two goals on two shots in an elimination game...That's a pretty big sample size."

Your stomach had twisted hearing it, imagining Jake's face go blank in that way it does when he's putting walls up.

When you finally pull into the driveway of your shared house, the one you bought together last summer, Jake doesn't pause. The car engine dies with a quiet rumble, and he's out before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt. He doesn't wait for you, doesn't hold the door, just heads straight inside and makes a beeline for the bathroom. The water starts running almost immediately, too hot, the pipes groaning in protest.

You take your time gathering your purse, your jacket, wanting to give him the space he needs. The house feels different now that Jake's season is officially over, bittersweet in a way that hurts yet again. You change into one of his old practice shirts, the fabric soft and worn, smelling faintly of his cologne and something that's just uniquely him. Nothing else besides panties, and the shirt that hangs to mid-thigh and makes you feel wrapped in his embrace even when he's not around to give it.

You climb into bed with the TV on low, some late-night talk show host making jokes you're not really listening to. The shower is still running, has been for fifteen minutes now, and you can almost feel the scalding water he's standing under, trying to wash away the sting of failure and public criticism. You wait patiently, because that's what you do. That's what you've always done.

When he finally emerges, he's wrapped in steam and nothing else, a towel around his waist that he drops almost immediately. His hair is damp and disheveled, skin flushed pink from the heat, and there are still droplets of water clinging to his shoulders, his chest. He looks raw, vulnerable in a way that makes your heart ache. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, brown and wounded and angry, and then he's moving with purpose and desperation.

Towel dropped. No words. No gentle preamble or soft touches.

He climbs onto the bed and kisses you like he needs to breathe and you're his only source of oxygen. Like he has to have this, has to have you, or he might just fall apart completely. His mouth is frantic against yours, all tongue and teeth and barely controlled hunger, hands tugging at your shirt with an urgency that speaks to something deeper than desire.

You let him. You want him to. You've been waiting for this moment, knowing it would come, knowing he would need this release, this way of proving to himself that he's still worth something to someone. His hands are everywhere—tangling in your hair, skimming over your ribs, pulling at the hem of his shirt until you lift your arms and let him strip it away.

He doesn't bother with your panties, just pulls them to the side with a roughness that only makes your breath catch, makes heat pool low in your belly. There's something intoxicating about being wanted this desperately, about being the safe harbor he runs to when the world feels like it's crumbling around him.

He slides his cock into you with one devastating thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan that vibrates through both your bodies. He's thick and hard and perfectly right, filling you completely, and his body is tense above you, every muscle coiled tight with frustration and need. His movements are unrelenting as he starts to move, hips snapping against yours with a rhythm born of desperation rather than finesse.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice rough and broken in your ear, hot breath making you shiver. "Two fucking shots. Two."

The words are bitter, self-deprecating, and you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, taking everything he's willing to give and asking for more. Your hands smooth over the broad expanse of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath skin that's still damp from his shower.

"Team didn't fucking show up," he growls, the sound vibrating against your throat where he's buried his face. His hips snap into yours harder, more punishing, like he's trying to fuck the anger right out of himself. "Defense might as well have stayed in the locker room. But it's all my fault, right? Always is."

You thread your fingers through his hair, the short strands still wet at the ends, holding him close as his pace grows harsher, more erratic. You can feel the tension radiating from every inch of him, the way he's wound so tight he might snap at any moment. "No, baby." You whimper out.

"They skate around like it's fucking preseason," he continues, each word punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust that has you gasping, seeing stars. "Give up breakaways like party favors. But I'm the one getting roasted on national TV."

His breathing is ragged, harsh pants against your skin, and he's angry. He's furious at his teammates, at his coach, at the media, and at himself most of all. But not at you. Never at you. You're his sanctuary, his safe place to fall apart, and he knows you'll catch every piece of him that breaks off.

"They hung me out to dry for three fucking games," he groans, voice cracking slightly on the words. "I can't be in net and score goals too."

You press your lips to his jaw, soft and quick, tasting salt and frustration and something that's purely him. Your own arousal is building, heat spreading through your body like wildfire, but this isn't about you right now. This is about him, about giving him what he needs to survive another night, another loss, another public humiliation.

"I'm here," you whisper, voice steady despite the way he's making you shake. "I'm right here, Jake."

He groans into your neck, his rhythm faltering for just a second before he doubles down, fucking you harder, like he's chasing something he's afraid he'll never catch, some sense of worth or validation that always seems just out of reach.

"Pete wants a scapegoat? Fine," he bites out, and you can hear the bitterness in his voice, the way any respect for his coach was slowly going down the drain with every passing minute. "I’ll be it."

Your back arches off the mattress, body slick with sweat and heat and the friction of skin against skin. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red lines that he'll feel tomorrow, marking him as yours in the most primitive way possible. You moan his name, the sound torn from your throat as he hits that perfect spot inside you, as the tension coils tighter and tighter in your core.

He catches your mouth again, tongue sliding against yours with urgency, desperate to try and pour everything he can't say into the kiss.

"Fuck, baby, you take it so good," he growls against your lips, and his voice is wrecked, absolutely destroyed. "Always here for me, never giving up on me. Never putting the blame on me like everyone else."

The words make your heart clench, make you clutch him tighter, feeling your own climax build with the raw emotion in his voice, the desperation in his movements. He's falling apart in your arms, coming undone in the most beautiful, heartbreaking way, and all you want is to catch every piece of him and hold them safe.

"Come with me," you whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath hot against his skin. "Let go, Jake. Please."

And when he finally does, when he buries himself deep and moans your name like a prayer, it's a breakdown. A surrender, a need too big for words or logic or anything beyond the innate human desire to be held, to be wanted, to matter to someone even when the rest of the world seems determined to write you off.

You follow him over the edge, your own pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave, clinging to him with everything you have, giving him your own surrender without question or reservation. Your bodies move together in those final moments, finding a rhythm that's purely instinctual.

After, he doesn't pull away like he sometimes does when the vulnerability gets to be too much. Instead, he stays pressed to you, still inside you, still connected in the most intimate way possible. His forehead rests against your collarbone, breath slowly evening out, and you can feel the gradual loosening of his muscles as the tension finally starts to drain away.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore," he murmurs, and the admission is so quiet you almost miss it.

You kiss his temple, and your hands move to trace gentle patterns on his back, delicate and soothing. "You're doing your best. That's more than enough."

"Is it, though?" He lifts his head slightly to look at you, and his eyes are so brown, so lost. "Because it doesn't feel like enough. Feels like I'm failing everyone. The team, the fans, you..."

"Never me," you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. "You could never fail me, Jake. Good game or bad, you're still the man I chose, still the man I love."

He exhales slowly, a shaky breath that seems to carry some of his pain with it. His arms tighten around your waist like you're his lifeline, like if he holds you close enough, maybe the rest of the world, with its expectations and criticisms and crushing weight of professional sports, will go quiet for just a little while.

"I don't want to talk about hockey anymore," he says after a long pause, voice small and tired.

"Then let's not," you say softly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. "The rest of it can wait until tomorrow."

And he does. He stays curled around you, breathing you in, letting your heartbeat steady his own. In the upcoming days, they'll be end of the season interviews where he'll have to face the music again, locker room clean outs, or maybe a meeting with management. But tonight, in this bed, in your arms, he's just Jake. Not a goaltender or a disappointment or a cautionary tale. Just the man you love, holding onto you, finding comfort in you.

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE

[imaginariumwanderer]

So I know you aren't active on here as you usually are, but your predictions about eternal sugar update are mostly right. Hollyberry shield breaking, one of the beasts followers not being major fans of them, pre corrupt flashbacks, and even beasts interacting (Not in the story tho...yet)

Cheesecakemermaid I am thriving. I enjoyed how the writers approached pavlova's character with him only let slip his desire for freedom when esugar is not around. With every beast-yeast update, minus ep7-8, we have one released epic cookie being the beast's follower while the other helps the ancients. I wonder if pavlova will help the holly gang out, it might be interesting if it turn out both sugarfly and pavlova ended up playing the ancient helper role.

The moment I saw the beast's battle dialogues I freaked out n immediately switched teams to read them lol. Devsis must've read my mind. This is also the first time since shadow milk that we have a beast referred to another beast in-story, mystic flour not exactly counting since she talk about the group as a whole. Consider the newest update's title screen we might actually get an in-story beast on beast interaction sooner than I thought.

(Pardon the quality)

Devsis rlly love smilk, his beast yeast ep was just a couple months ago and they're putting him in the story again. I'm hoping it's a sign of later updates having small hints or future build-up to ep11-12. Since it's likely silent salt/white lily's update will also act as a finale to the whole beast saga. (+of course they're using smilk's lady milk form, everyone love the lady milk form, I'm predicting it now when ep 10 drops the official lady smilk sprite the fans are gunna go insane over it, I just hope that's not the only thing everyone will rave about) Coming back to their battle dialogues it's crazy how a couple of lines can reveal so much about the beast's relationships, namely that they hate each other's guts- I can go into details about each but I'm sure many other fans have already done a way better analysis than me so, I'm just going to say that the flour/spice dialogue n milk/sugar dialogue are my favorite! I've always have a headcanon that flour+spice would be the two beast who'd buttheads over their respective philosophies n their canon talk fuels me to no end. It's funny how passive-aggressive smilk is toward the other beasts, especially toward esugar, his lines imply he enjoyed making her mad in particular which make sense consider how languid n serene she tend to be. As opposed to, let's say burning spice, it'll be too easy for smilk lol Coming in w a semi-spicy take (pun not intended), someone is going to stab me for this but scouting through the youtube comment section got me scratching my head as there's so many folk who believed spice+milk are besties? For some reason?? Bspice straight ignored smilk in one and his "you're all talk..." clearly expressed disappointment at smilk. The "hot stuff" can be taken as flirting I guess, but eng!smilk just love giving folks nicknames in general (which make me wonder what he said in the og kr) Non of the beast's battle dialogues are positive, as much as the idea of them being evil besties make me happy it's clear they're not lol the writers are making an intentional move to contrast the beast vs the ancient. Without a common enemy the beast would've sooner or later tear each other apart trying to establish their selfish goals. Other miscellaneous thoughts: Baby hollyberry is so cute I kinda wish we got to see other baby ancients, both vani n smilk's younger form got revealed in their update so I kinda hope the game will feed the fans eventually. There's exactly one(1) baby vani sprite n I shall treasure it like I treasure my non-existent first born. Ep 7 implied at least smilk wasn't just poofed into existence as an adult cookie but have to grow up, we don't know if this apply to other beasts but I'm thinking the answer is yes. This scene got everyone in a choke-hold:

It's short but it's impactful, I'm glad the fandom is embracing it n giving some love for my mustached king royal berry. I'm also enjoying how the fandom is considering thought that hollyberry/dark cacao are indeed neglectful/bad parent (going maybe even into abusive territory) and mulling over the fact that they can be heroes with good intentions at the same time. It's the kind of complexity that I love.

It's fitting ep 9 got released so close to mother's day, one thing I like about esugar is how she's almost nurturing and smothering similar to a mother. With the way esugar treats cookiekind, she's like a overprotective/manipulative parent keeping their kid inside all day far from the "danger" of the outside world. We've never exactly see much of holly's parenting per se, but it's clear she's a lot more lax compared to esugar... And we still have no ideas wtf is up w the babies in esugar's trailer. I've seen theories floating around but I guess we gotta wait for ep 10 and see. With that I'm taking my leave, I wish you a fun update w plenty of pulls cheesecake!

[rafeysvenicebitch]

Daddy, don’t goੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: Churchbunny!Reader’s father shows up with the police to tear her new life apart. Her baby girl screams for Rafe as he’s taken into custody. They say it’s for “kidnapping.” They say it’s to “save” her. But love speaks louder than fear, and the truth sets them free.

cw: the baby cry’s :( , but fluff later, a little mention of abuse(not from Rafe or anyone)

You heard the sirens before you saw the dust.

It was late afternoon, the sun heavy in the sky, your baby girl sticky with drool and warm from her nap. You were holding her against your chest, humming something soft while Rafe fixed the screen door again, his shirt tossed somewhere inside, sweat clinging to his chest.

Then the patrol cars rolled up.

Gravel crunched. Doors slammed.

And your blood went cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, clutching your daughter closer, her sleepy body going tense in your arms.

He turned slow. Saw the badges. The familiar face of your father striding straight through the dirt like he owned it. He had his shotgun again. Didn’t even try to hide it this time. Two officers flanked him, already reaching for cuffs.

Rafe stepped in front of you immediately, just enough to shield you and the baby.

“Hands where I can see ‘em,” one of the cops snapped.

Your daughter started to cry.

“Daddy!” she screamed, clinging to Rafe’s pants with one tiny fist. “Daddy!”

She didn’t understand what was happening, not really, but she understood they were taking him. And that was enough.

Rafe didn’t resist.

He didn’t cuss. Didn’t lash out. Just turned his head to look at you, his eyes soft as they dragged him away.

“I got you, bunny,” he said quietly. “You stay with her. Don’t let her cry alone.”

You held your baby girl so tight your arms ached. She kicked and screamed and sobbed for him until her voice gave out. You didn’t stop crying, either.

They took him to the nearest station. Questioned him for hours.

“Did you kidnap her?”

“No.”

“Did you take her across state lines against her will?”

“No.”

“Did you know she was pregnant when you left town?”

“Yeah. She told me on her own. She wanted to leave.”

Your father sat in the lobby like a statue, demanding to speak to every officer who passed. He said he wanted to press charges, kidnapping, coercion, corruption, anything they’d stick. Said his daughter had been brainwashed, seduced, ruined.

They asked you.

In a sterile room under buzzing lights, holding your daughter on your hip while she clutched your shirt and blinked up at the strangers, they asked if Rafe had taken you.

“No,” you said, voice steady. “I left because I wanted to.”

“Was he abusive?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten you?”

You shook your head.

“Has he ever hurt the child?”

“She’s never known a day of pain with him. She cries when he’s gone more than five minutes.”

They sent someone to inspect the trailer. Searched the drawers, the baby’s crib, Rafe’s tool bench. They flipped the mattress. Opened the fridge. Took pictures of the baby’s closet you’d made from a hallway cupboard. The hand-sewn blankets. The little book of Bible stories next to the rocking chair.

No signs of violence. No drugs. No weapons, save for one registered in your name.

He was released before sunset.

When he stepped back into the trailer, your daughter shrieked and launched herself into his arms.

“Daddy!” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was the only safe place in the world.

You stood a few steps away, eyes red, heart pounding. Rafe looked at you like you were salvation.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s head, then to your forehead.

“You came back,” you said.

“I never left.”

Your father was gone by nightfall. No apology. Just a tail of dust and a shotgun no longer loaded.

But the damage was done.

You curled up in bed with your daughter tucked between you both. Rafe kept a hand on her all night, like he was scared someone would take her while he slept.

“They’ll never understand us,” you whispered.

“They don’t need to,” he said, rubbing your back. “We ain’t here to please them. We’re here to raise her.”

You nodded, pressing your face into his chest, your baby breathing slow between you.

And you knew, no matter what came next.

You’d never stop fighting to keep your family together.

Tagging Moots: @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @ilovefiction4lmen @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @harkovsangel-recs @harkovsangel @mqyra

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

reaction to an s/o that calls them a ‘scrunkle scrimblo’ unironically

Shu Sakamaki

"…What the hell did you just call me?" He opens one eye lazily, processing your words with the speed of a dying slug. Once he realizes you're serious, he groans and turns over. “Tch… whatever. Just don’t call me that in public. It’s embarrassing.”

Later, he mumbles, "Scrunkle… huh," under his breath while smirking into his pillow.

Reiji Sakamaki

His glasses nearly fall off. “Excuse me? What is a ‘scrunkle scrimblo’ and why—why—do you believe it’s appropriate to call me that?”

He lectures you for 30 minutes straight, but secretly Googles it later. The next day, your tea is labeled ‘For the Scrunkle’s Pet’ as petty revenge.

Ayato Sakamaki

“HAH?! What the hell is a scrunkle scrimbo?! Are you calling me a gremlin?!”

He puffs up like an offended cat. “Oi, Chichinashi! I’m the Great Ore-sama! Say it again and I’ll bite you!”

…You say it again. He bites you. You still win.

Kanato Sakamaki

His eye twitches. “Scrunkle…scrimblo…? ARE YOU MOCKING ME?!”

He hugs Teddy tighter. “Only I get to choose nicknames. You will now be ‘Worm,’ and I hope you're happy.”

He's irrationally pissed but secretly pleased you made up something special for him.

Laito Sakamaki

“Fufu~ Bitch-chan, what a filthy, adorable little thing to call your beloved vampire~”

He’s instantly obsessed. He will now use ‘scrunkle’ as a dirty word in the bedroom. You’ve done this to yourself.

Subaru Sakamaki

He turns beet red. “W-What the hell?! D-Don’t call me something that dumb!”

Slams a wall. Stomps off.

Ten minutes later, he’s sulking and mumbling, “Tch…scrimblo… idiot. I liked it…”

Ruki Mukami

“Such nonsense…” He sips his tea. “I assume this is your attempt at pet-naming. Very immature.”

But he’ll test it on his tongue when you’re asleep. “Scrunkle… hm. I suppose I can allow it. Once.”

Kou Mukami

“Awww~ M Neko-chan’s being weird again~ I love it!”

He immediately posts a cryptic selfie captioned “Feeling like a real scrunkle scrimblo today 💅✨”

He has zero shame and starts selling “Team Scrunkle” merch the next day.

Yuma Mukami

“HUH?! What kinda weeded-out bull is that?”

He’s roaring with laughter. “Yer nuts, Sow. I ain’t no scrunkle, I’m a damn MAN.”

Still lets you call him that. Secretly fond of it.

Azusa Mukami

“…You… called me… scrunkle…? That… sounds cute…”

Smiles dreamily. “If… I’m your scrunkle… can you be… my scrimblo…?”

Azusa accepts this strange new form of love immediately.

Shin Tsukinami

“WHAT?” He bares his fangs. “That better not be some human insult, or I swear I’ll—”

You poke his cheek and say it again.

“…Fine. Just don’t say it in front of Carla. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Carla Tsukinami

“…I do not comprehend.”

You explain. Poorly.

He looks off into the distance like he's trying to will himself into another dimension. “Very well. Call me as you please. Just do not expect me to answer.”

He still answers every time.

Kino

“OMG. Did you just call me a scrunkle? That’s so base. So ironic. Wait—you meant it unironically?”

He looks both terrified and thrilled. “This is beyond peak. I’m putting that in my bio.”

Fully embraces it.

Richter

“…Scrunkle. Scrimblo.” He repeats it twice like a threat.

Then leans in. “Are you mocking me, little one? I don’t tolerate pet names unless they come with a collar.”

Unfortunately, you just awakened something in him.

Karlheinz

He chuckles, amused. “Ah… humans and your strange affections. Very well.”

He starts using your weird nicknames in return—but like, ominously. "My darling scrimblo," he purrs in a godlike voice that makes your knees weak.

You made a god accept your chaos. Be proud.

[katebisxop]

catching up

synopsis: yelena catches up with her sister.

warnings: angst kinda, do with the synopsis what you will. maybe bring tissues idk

wc: p short, 0.8k

a/n: sorry guys i locked in for the wrong mood 🥹💔 i cldve added random stories about the team but im... lazy haha dont come for me pls

heavy feet stop in front of a gravestone, displacing the grass that had grown long in the weeks she'd failed to visit. the blonde woman sits down, ignoring the soil that clung to her pants, sets down the bottle of soda next to her. she reaches out, pulls away the weeds and rearranges the flowers and gifts to look more organized.

"hi, sestra," yelena greets softly, "sorry, i've been a little busy."

she holds up the soda bottle, smiling a little. "i quit drinking. at least for a bit. my friends think i should, and i do too. maybe it's for the better.

"i know what you're thinking. 'you have friends?' yes i do have friends, shut up."

she sighs. "i haven't gotten to tell you about them yet, have i? well. there's a lot to say. i hope you're ready to listen."

natasha is quiet. always the great listener. she's listening, from somewhere, amused at yelena's stories.

"valentina tried to kill me," yelena tells her, a little offended. "can you believe that? kill me? after all i've done for her, so ungrateful."

the sisters share a laugh at the idea.

"i guess it's for the better, though. i finally talked to alexei again. dad, i mean. we worked things out, we get on better than before. he had a limo business, but we kinda blew it up. he looks old, but his suit still fits. surprising, i know, that thing's been through a lot of shit." she takes a sip. "there's this guy, john walker. he's an asshole, but he's getting better. you know him? he became captain america, at least for a little bit.

and there's this ghost lady. she can go through walls, it's a little freaky sometimes. her name is ava, she's from shield. i didn't know shield did horrible things too, like us, but i guess there's a lot of things we don't know. and bob,"

yelena snorts at the thought of bob. "don't get me started on him. i thought he was just some random guy, you know, when i first saw him in that o.x.e vault thingy. turns out he went through shit too, became the sentry or whatever valentina tried to make him. became the void as well. i hated that thing. those moments. i like him more as bob. he does our chores for us."

she tugs at her short hair, a small nervous habit. she stares at the ground for a while, letting the breeze ruffle her blonde locks. twirls the grass around her finger. "bucky's a congressman now. you fought him, didn't you? you fought with him. he looks great for a hundred-year old."

she pauses for a moment, turning over words in her head to find the right thing to say. "i understand you now," she says to natasha quietly, like a little secret only sisters share. "i have a family, too. like you with the lightning god and the billionaire and the big green guy. we're not perfect — hell, we did pretty messed up stuff, but we have each other. and we're trying to be better." she shakes her head. "i'm starting to sound like you. you'd say something like 'that's what matters' or whatever, you and your big sister talk."

the russian looks at the headstone straight on. "they call us the new avengers. i hope you're not mad at me, because it feels like i'm taking something that's yours, you know? like you're something to grow into. and i know you'd tell me that that's not it, but sometimes i wonder if i deserve the name.

"i'm not the type of person little girls should look up to. i'm not like you, natasha. but i want to be, 'cause you're the coolest person i know."

a tear drips down one cheek. yelena sniffles and wipes it away immediately. "i wish you were here," her mouth upturns, trembling. "i need you to tell me what to do. what to say. how did you do it, natasha? all this- this pressure and responsibility."

a second tear. a third. soon she can't stop them from falling, so she lets them. reads her sister's name over and over through blurry vision. "i really miss you," she whispers, voice breaking. "sometimes, when things get hard, i want to give up. i want to give in so i can see you. but i know you'd get mad at me," she scoffs, forcing a smile. "so i keep going. i have a family now, again.

i'll do it for them. i'll do it for you."

she stands up, checks her watch. takes the empty bottle and brushes off her pants. lays a hand on natasha and presses their foreheads together. whistles, the way she does whenever she came over.

"bye now, sestra." yelena assures. "i'll be back with longer stories, okay?

see you in a minute. i love you."

then she walks away, glances back. because she didn't look back for long enough the last time. nods in satisfaction, and makes her way to the others, feeling lighter than before.

[ems1892]

Emetophobia

MAJOR EMETOPHOBIA WARNING*

Words- 1440

A/n I struggle deeply with emetophia so writing this was very difficult but I think it is good to raise awareness for how hard it can be please do not read if you think it will trigger you x

Summary- y/n and Billie have been dating for 6 months y/n hasn't told Billie about her emetophobia as she thinks it's embarrassing and Billie might laugh at her. Y/n is in a college class when she hears there is a stomach bug spreading. She then sees someone throwing up. She runs out and has a panic attack. She is acting weird and Billie is concerned.

Warnings-mentions of throwing up, panic attacks,crying,comfort and fluff

Y/n is sitting in a college class taking notes when she suddenly overhears these two girl's conversation. "I think there's a stomach bug going around I really hope I don't get it before the party next weekend" one girl says. Y/n felt her mind go blank and she froze in her spot. Her breathing started to pick up. She tries using the method her therapist showed her to try and stop her panic attack. She tells herself going to be okay no one she is friends with has thrown up she'll be fine. Her breathing is still going fast. She snaps her head up when she hears someone gagging. She watches as the boy throws up all over the floor. Her hands start shaking and her breathing picks up. She sits there frozen until her brain goes into fight or flight mode. She quickly gets up from her chair and runs out of the lecture. Her breathing still going fast she bolts outside. She runs out to the spot she always sits it's under a tree hidden in the corner. 

She sits under the tree breathing only getting faster. She tucks her knees upwards and her hands are buried in her hair. She grabbed her phone tempted to call Billie but she doesn't Billie will only think her fear is stupid she thinks to herself. She taps on her moms contact and watches it ring still not able to breath properly. Her hands are shaking making it hard for her to hold her phone. Her mom finally picks up. "Hi honey I thought you were in cla-" "m-mom I-I-I can't breathe" her mom immediately knew what had happened y/n had been dealing with panic attacks since she was 9. "Hey honey it's alright your going to be okay take one breath in with me" they both take a breath in " and out well done" they keep doing that until her breathing is normal again. 

"Why were you panicking darling?" Her mom asked her "saw someone throw up and there's a stomach bug going around" y/n said quietly. "Is Billie busy why didn't you call her?" Her mom asked her. Y/n sighed "I still haven't told her mom she's gonna be weirded out" "baby you have to tell her so she can help" her mom tried to reason with her. "Yea,yea whatever you say I have to go now mom thanks for helping me." "Love you hon call me whenever bye." The line went dead. 

Y/n knew she would have to tell Billie eventually she just wasn't ready yet. Y/n grabbed ber stuff Ned headed back to her apartment. She walked fast feeling like she had germs all over her. She quickly unlocked the door threw her clothes into the wash and went for a long shower. When she got out she had a text from Billie 

Billie

Hi baby could I come over later I miss youuuu

Y/n-

Sorry baby nows not a good time I miss you too

Billie- 

oh ok baby love you

Y/n- 

love you

Y/n  felt bad but she couldn't let Billie see her like this. For the next 4 days y/n emailed all her teachers and said she had got the stomach bug and couldn't attend their lectures. She lied straight to their faces. It was like she was a different person when an outbreak happened. She barley ate,drank lots of water and relied on her stash of mint gum to get her through the day. Billie kept asking to come over but y/n just said she was sick and didn't want to get Billie sick. Billie was confused as y/n never refused to let her come over when she was sick. Y/n was in "survival mode" as she would call it because if she got that stomach bug to her it was the same as death. 

Billie decided to come over to y/ns apartment as she missed her so much and she didn't really care if she got whatever sickness she had. She used her key to open the door. When she opened the door and looked into her girlfriends eyes her face dropped. Her face was pale she was skinnier than usual ad her eyelids were drooping. Billie immediately rushed over to her girlfriend holding her face. "Baby what happened are you okay?" Billie said concerned. "Billie you can't be here" y/n said rushing to her bedroom and locking her door. Billie knocked on the door. "Baby what sickness do you have?" Billie asked though this didn't look like an illness this looked like a starving person. She got no reply Billie slowly got up and went to the kitchen opening the fridge. There was a lot more food in their than there usually was on a Friday and most of the food was gone off. 

Billie became more concerned her girlfriend definitely hadn't been eating "does she have an eating disorder?" Billie thought to herself. She made her way back to her girlfriends bedroom. "Please open the door baby I want to help whatever it is I won't judge you" Billie said. She heard the door slowly unlock and open. She immediately embraced her girlfriend in a hug. "I'm sorry bil" y/n whispered against Billie. Billie pulled back "it's okay baby but can you please tell me what's wrong my love" Billie said softly. Y/n sighed "alright but it's a lot and I haven't been completely honest with you. As she led Billie to sit on the edge of her bed Billie saw all the empty water bottles in the corner and all the chewing gum packets in the bin. 

"So I'm going to talk and you just listen okay?" Y/n said. Billie nodded "okay my love" "so I admit I should've told you this quite a while ago as it affects my daily life and you deserve to know as my girlfriend"y/n took a breath. "I have this thing called emetophobia it's the fear of throwing up or just throw up In general. On Tuesday I was sitting in my lecture when I overheard two girls saying that there was a stomach bug going around I immediately started panicking I did the exercises my therapist told me to do when something like this happens." Billie held her girlfriends hands "It didn't really help much. But then I heard someone gag I pulled my head up from my desk and saw some guy throw up I froze and my breathing got quicker and I started shaking and quickly got up and ran out of the building and out to my favourite place,the garden. 

I sat under the tree I showed you a few months ago and my panic attack only got worse i thought about calling you but I didn't. I called my mom and she helped me calm down. I then headed back to my apartment went for a shower and spiralled even more overthinking everything I did, anytime I passed someone who was rummored to have the stomach bug. 

I stopped eating as I was too scared to be sick" Billie held squeezed y/ns hand. "I drank lots of cold water and chewed lots of gum it's one of my coping mechanisms. It hasn't been this bad in a while and I didn't want you seeing me like this so I'm sorry." Billie hugged her girlfriend who now has tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry you had to go through that baby please stop apologising it's not your fault" Billie Billie mumbled against her girlfriend "thank you" y/n whispered against Billie. "Let's clean up your room together and you can tell me your triggers so I can understand more." Billie told her "thank you again Billie" y/n said to Billie "your welcome my love"

A/n- this was hard for me to write but I could attempt to write a part two where y/n talks to Billie more about her past and how she grained the fear lmk I'd you want part two

[brookaboo]

Firestorm

part 2

tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

authors note: let me know if I should continue with a part three and what I should have happen in part three

Y/N was two seconds from dragging Shigaraki into a corner for a “chat” that likely involved fire damage—when Dabi rolled his eyes and said dryly, “God, Y/N, stop being so childish. We’re villains. This is what we do.”

Her head slowly turned, eyes flaring as her hair ignited again with a violent whoosh. “You not only kidnapped a kid—”

“Teenager,” Bakugo interrupted from the chair, scowling.

She shot him a death glare, and he immediately leaned back. “Tch, whatever,” he muttered.

“—Correction,” Y/N growled, still staring daggers at her brother. “A teenager. You didn’t even think about this” Her voice cracked, not with weakness but raw, exposed pain. “Think about me, god Dabi I mean I didn’t get a choice if I wanted to be a villain or not.”

Everyone went quiet knowing she was rightfully mad

“I was thrown into the streets by our father, remember? The same asshole who only wanted one strong kid to fulfill his idiotic ambitions He didn’t ask for twins. He looked at us both and thought you would be stronger and better to fulfill his wishes So I got nothing. No home. No chance at anything I learned how to survive, not because I wanted to be like this, but because I had to. I was forced into reality from the get-go.”

Her voice dropped, like an ember before the flare.

“So now you tell me—why the hell would you think I’d be okay with you taking that same choice away from him?”

Dabi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he scoffed and tried to brush past her.

Bad move.

His shoulder ignited in a searing blaze. “AH! What the—?!” he yelped, slapping it out.

“Don’t act like I’m being a burden,” she snapped, stepping into his path. “I’m the only one here with a half-decent heart. Try to blow me off again, and I’ll make you wish the heroes got to you before I did.”

He grumbled something under his breath and retreated to the couch, slumping into it with a charred scowl. Then his narrowed gaze turned on the others.

Toga, Twice, Spinner, Magne, and Mr. Compress all suddenly found something very interesting on the ceiling.

“They all thought this was a good idea?” Dabi barked. “Hiding this from you She’s not just fire, she’s nuclear! Idiots!”

Y/N rounded on them too. “Exactly! You went out, recklessly, and grabbed a teenage boy who clearlydoesn’t want to be a villain! You’re not just dangerous—you’re straight up stupid Do you guys even ever think a thought ? Or were you just hoping that I would be perfectly fine with you kidnapping a boy in hopes of forcing him to be a villain”

“Y/N, we were just trying to—” Mr. Compress began.

“Don’t give me any of your stupid excuses” she warned.

Twice cautiously touched her shoulder in an attempt at comfort—and instantly yelped as his glove singed. “YEP, okay, no touching, got it! Crystal clear! Woo, that’s toasty!”

He backed off like he’d touched a stove. The rest followed suit.

Then her blazing eyes landed on Shigaraki. Her boyfriend. The one who knew exactly how she’d react.

“You,” she snarled, stalking toward him.

Shigaraki didn’t move. Not because he was brave—he was just calculating if running would make things worse. Probably.

“You knew I’d be mad,” she shouted, flames dancing in her hair like a living crown. “You knew, and you still tried to hide it from me! You let them go behind my back!”

“I thought—”

“No. You didn’t think that’s the problem. You always talk about how the world wronged you, how people never gave you a chance, and now you’ve gone and done the same thing to someone else. That’s not justice, Tomura. That’s hypocrisy.”

Bakugo was still tied up, but his head was tilted, watching her with visible awe. Her rage, her words, the way she commanded a room full of killers like they were scolded schoolchildren.

“Damn,” he muttered. “That was kinda badass.”

Kurogiri, still wiping melted glass from the counter, hummed calmly and spoke only to bakugo “Oh yes she is quite the passionate one I mean once she has her heart set on belief that’s what it is and you dear boy are quite lucky that she is so passionate about this because if she wasn’t you most likely would have already been beat and forced to be a villain”

And he was not wrong because when y/n had her beliefs set come hell or high water she would not waver from that belief

Shigaraki rubbed his neck, visibly uncomfortable as he tried to meet her burning gaze. “...I just didn’t want you to stop trusting me and I knew you would be mad so we tried to avoid that and I don’t like when you are mad”

“Well You made that choice the moment you kept me out of it.”

The room was silent again.

Even Toga didn’t dare say a word knowing her friend was right and knew not to anger her anymore than already

Y/N turned back to Bakugo, her flames dimming slightly but her eyes still smoldering.

“I’m getting you out of those cuffs.”

Bakugo looked at her sideways. “...Thanks, I guess.”

“But if you try to blow something up the second you're free,” she warned, “I’ll knock your ass out cold. Capiche?”

He smirked. “Yes and you know You’re pretty alright for a villain fire-starter”

And for the first time since the heatwave began, Y/N cracked a smirk.

[sturnboos]

CHAPTER 2 - ready to make money?

you woke up the next morning with a sore neck, tangled in sheets you don't even remember when you fell asleep and a single persistent thought in your brain Was last night real?

The headset still sat on your nightstand, quietly pulsing blue. Like it was waiting for you. You didn't even hesitate this time. You slipped it on like a second skin.

A rush of wind and light, and suddenly you were back in your lakeside cabin. The windows shimmered with morning sunlight your place was still empty as you hadn't made any in game money yet you only had basic stuff like a bed and the outfit you where currently wearing, their was also an empty shelf in the corner of your room. suddenly a notification popped up in the corner of your vision.

You accept smiling.

"Morning, newbie!" Chris grinned as his avatar flickered into your living room via a glowing portal. "Ready to make some money?"

You blinked. "i think?"

Nick and Matt popped in through the portal right after, both already mid conversation like this was just a normal Tuesday. "She's gotta do some of the challenges" Matt said, adjusting his camo hat and scrolling through his interface. "You can't live in a cabin with default furniture, that's criminal."

"Agreed," nick added, smirking. "We're staging a digital intervention. Step one get you some game creds."

You followed them through a portal into the Quest Hub, a massive floating island shaped like a coliseum mixed with an arcade. Screens flashed with challenge boards, offering missions for various amounts of payouts. Some were solo, others team based. A few had tiny disclaimers like "May result in spontaneous pixel combustion" which Chris immediately pointed at with interest. you assume that just meant those levels where glitchy, or deadly to your characters.

"Let's start easy" Nick said, dragging you toward one of the many glowing boards. "Memory march? we’re pretty familiar with that and at the moment it seems that’s the easiest one that’s available" nick says clicking on each of their usernames on the board before hitting play.

the four of us loaded into the challenge zone. At first glance, it looked empty just an endless void beneath us and a narrow starting platform suspended in the air.

“This doesn’t look so bad,” I said, squinting at the nothingness ahead. “Kind of peaceful.”

Chris snorted. “You’re about to change your mind.”

“Welcome to Memory March!” the game’s voice echoed around us. “This challenge requires precision, teamwork, and an excellent short-term memory. In a moment, the path will be revealed for twenty seconds. After that the path will go Invisible. If you win you’ll each gain 2,000 credits”

I glanced down again. There was nothing but darkness below. The void looked…deep. Too deep.

“but anyone who falls off will lose 2,000 credits from their account… if you don’t have any credits yet you will be 2,000 in debt” the voice added cheerfully. “Good luck!”

My eyes went wide. “TWO THOUSAND?!”

Matt stepped closer and leaned toward me slightly. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you fall.”

Nick gave a confident nod. “We’ve done this before. Just follow our voices. We’ll walk you through it.”

“Path reveal in 3… 2… 1…”

A glowing golden trail sparked into existence in front of us twisting, narrow, hovering over gaps and sudden turns. My stomach dropped. It wasn’t a straight line. It looked like someone had let a toddler draw it.

“Oh this is rude” I muttered, trying to memorize the sharp zig-zags.

“I’ll call lefts and rights,” Nick said quickly. “Matt will walk ahead of you for pace. Chris is behind in case you panic.”

“I’m not gonna panic,” I said.

“Good. Because the path disappears in 3… 2… 1…”

A white Flash lit up the room then gone. Darkness. The glowing trail had vanished, and we were left standing on an empty platform with a terrifying amount of nothing all around. “Step forward now,” Matt said calmly. “Two steps.” I moved. “Now angle left just a little. Like two degrees left.”

“Dude, what does two degrees mean to a normal person?!” Chris snapped. “like shuffle your foot but don’t fall!” Matt snapped back. I let out a breath and took the tiniest step left. “Good,” Nick said. “Now forward again.. count four steps. Slow.”

“One… two… three—” My foot wobbled. The air around me flickered like the system glitched.

“FREEZE” Chris shouted. “Don’t move!” I froze mid-step, arms flailing for balance. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fall. This is where I die in the metaverse.”

“You’re fine” Matt said quickly, stepping back toward me and gently reaching for my virtual arm. “You're still on track. Just shift your weight forward a bit. Like this.” I did as he said. The path under me shimmered faintly probably a glitch of the rendering. But I didn’t fall.

“you won’t actually die anyway you just respawn in the lobby”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’m okay.”

We kept moving, Matt’s voice soft and steady in front of me, Nick narrating every bend like a GPS system with an attitude, Chris behind me humming theme music like it would help. Finally, we reached the last stretch. “Three more steps” Matt said. “Straight. You got this.” I stepped forward once twice and then with a burst of light, the path reappeared under my feet. We were on the other side.

"Congratulations MattTheMunch, PixelPrincess, ChrispyCream, IconNick. $2,000 has added to your credits"

I let out a whoop of relief. “WE DID IT.”

“See, easy” Matt said, clearly pleased.

Nick gave me a grin. “Not bad for your first challenge. You didn’t even scream.”

“I almost screamed,” Chris offered. “I thought we were gonna have to watch her plummet.”

“You’d catch me, right?” I teased.

He looked horrified. “I’m not losing 2k for your dramatic fall arc.” I laughed, heart still racing. Even though it was over, I could still feel the ghost of each invisible step. As the arena faded around us, I looked over at Matt. He was watching me again with that calm, unreadable gaze. “Thanks for the assist,” I said.

He winked. “Told you. I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“Let’s do another one! Just one more today cause 2k is definitely not enough in this game”

Matt's avatar smirked beside me, arms crossed casually. as we loaded into the next game

"Welcome to Truth or Trap!" the games robotic voice boomed from the sky above. "Each of you stands on a trap door. I will ask a question. You must answer truthfully. If you lie you fall and lose credits."

Nick gave a nervous laugh. "Cool. No pressure or anything."

"If all four players are honest across all questions, you win today's prize: 4,000 in game credits," the voice added.

Chris immediately spoke "I want to buy a pet reindeer. Let's be real."

"Dude you couldn't even control one of those baby dragons how-"

"First question" the voice interrupted, and the room dimmed to a tense violet hue. IconNick are you a triplet in real life?" I turned to him, brows furrowing.

"Yeah" he shrugged. voice calm. A gentle ding! confirmed his answer.

Wait, what? "Your a triplet irl?" I blurted. "Your not just saying that cause of your virtual character?"

He gave a little shrug, lips curled in a way I couldn't read. "Maybe."

"Next question," the voice said smoothly. "PixelPrincess, is it true you often talk to yourself in a mirror? you laughed nervously, eyes darting to each of their avatars. "Well.. I needed advice from someone I trust." ding!

Chris raised a brow and chuckled. Matt shrugs.

"Next question," the voice went on. "MattTheMunch have you ever pretended to lag because you didn’t want to participate in a challenge?”

"Oh my god," Chris cackled. "Say yes. We all know you do it." Matt groaned. "Fine. Yes. Whatever." ding!

"ChrispyCream do you think you're the funniest in your group?" the voice droned. He puffed up proudly. "Absolutely." A pause. Then BANG!! Chris's trap door dropped beneath him with a mechanical scream, and he vanished into the darkness below. "LIAR" the voice declared. "WHAT?!" his voice echoed from the void. "I am the funniest! This game is rigged!"

Matt and Nick were cracking up. "You litterally called me the funniest person in the world yesterday" I was too shocked to laugh.

"Final round" the voice continued. "Back to IconNick" Nick swallowed nervously.

Chris respawned but he looked transparent and was floating around like a ghost. He was in spector mode since he failed the first round.

"IconNick. What's the last thing you looked up on your phone?"Nick hesitated looking at his phone screen. "Answer. Truthfully." you said, smirking. he blushed embrassed "I looked up if you can legally marry a fictional character."

Chris snorted. "Dude. Who were you trying to marry?"

Nick shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"MattheMunch. Would you ever online date in the realm?" Matt opened his mouth to protest, but then paused. His eyes flicked upward, thinking. You watched closely. "I think? Yeah." The floor stayed in place. ding!

"seriously?" nick asked suprised

He smiled slowly. "These avatars are still people. People are hot sometimes."

You shrugged "I- okay. That's fair."

“PixelPrincess is it true you had a dream about someone in this room that was so embrassing you wouldn’t want to share” i hesitated. “their avatars?” My heart skipped a beat. I could practically feel Matt's gaze through the pixels. “Yeah”

"Congratulations. Your honesty has been rewarded. 3,000 credits added."

Nick whooped and fist-pumped. "Wait I thought it was 4,000 credits?" Matt paused staring at me.

1,000 credits was taken from the prize money as player 'ChrispyCream' fell through his trap door

Chris yelled "TOLD YOU THIS IS RIGGED!" But I was barely listening. I was staring at Matt and he was staring at me.

tags: @blushsturns @riasturns @iloveduckssm @chrissbxby @sturnobessed @kayskreativeideas @tits4matt @cherryswifeyy @mattsfavho @sturniolobananas1 @courta13 @alexisa78 @chrisissos3xy @sturnobessed @mattschelseaa @sturniolos67 @norahsturns @dolliraez @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @gemzyy @sturniolofruitloop @mattschelseaa @hesvoid34 @phone4pills @spaghettislut1 @sturnslux3 @phone4pills @owenstar

[bodhi-kostic]

Bodhi glanced down the line.

Six. There were only six of them. Four men, two women.

His gaze quickly shifted back to the man speaking in front of the group. He’d size them up later, anyway.

“You’ll be in training for one year. You’ll be assigned a partner for the duration of the year. At the end of your training, you’ll each complete a series of aptitude tests to see if you’re a good fit for the company. If you pass, you’ll be assigned a mentor and begin work.”

The man speaking had introduced himself earlier — Tyler Silva. He was in charge of the new recruits this year.

Bodhi shot another glance down the line only to meet a set of light blue eyes belonging to a blonde half-glaring back. An amused smirk fit across his mouth. The woman kept her glare for a moment longer before turning away.

“Let’s begin in the training ring,” Tyler announced, motioning toward the gym behind him. “Your partners will be announced at the end of the day.”

The warm up consisted of a 2-mile run and 15 minutes of jumping rope. Easy work for a guy like Bodhi. He began making mental notes on the rest of the group. As of right now, he only knew the rest of the group by their last names. Ybarra had a few inches on him, but he was too bulky and slow. The Thompson twins were classic marine jugheads. Athalar seemed… average, so far. And Roemer? Bodhi had no clue why she was there.

“Fuck, I’m going to die.” Roemer was doubled over after finally finishing the run, with her hands resting on her knees and her head hanging between them.

“You sure you signed up for the right class?” Bodhi teased, but had grabbed a bottle of water and was holding it out to the woman.

“I’m a fucking coder — a hacker,” Roemer groaned as she forced himself to stand up straight. She accepted the bottle of water with a small smile and a nod of gratitude toward Bodhi. “I just have to get through the physical stuff and then they’ll let me go back to my computer and I’ll never. Run. Again.”

Bodhi chuckled, and gave an understanding nod. “You’ll get through it.”

Roemer gave a wary smile in return.

“If you’re done flirting, Tyler asked we all meet at the sparring ring. Now.” It was the glaring, average blonde that spoke to them as she approached — Athalar.

Roemer immediately took leave toward the sparring ring.

Bodhi’s head cocked to the side a bit, and he looked her over with a small grin tugging at his lips. “Jealous?”

Her expression remained neutral. “Mm…” Her lips pursed, feigning thought as she looked him over. “Not interested,” She concluded with a little shrug, then turned to walk away.

Bodhi’s brows furrowed and a laugh escaped him. “You don’t even know me—“

“And I don’t want to know you.” She said, barely looking over her shoulder as she continued to walk away.

The group met up at the sparring rings. They’d wrapped their hands — prepping for what came next. Tyler called out different pairs to each ring. Roemer and Ybarra. The Thompson twins.

“Kostic and Athalar.”

Bodhi glanced over to see her reaction, but still, there was none. The two climbed into the ring.

Bodhi watched her. Athalar watched him.

“I was hoping for Roemer,” Bodhi said to her, rolling his neck to either side. “But, you’ll go down just as easy—“

He’d barely gotten the insult out before she lunged, her right hook connecting with his cheekbone.

Bodhi took in a sharp breath, and slowly blinked, then refocused his gaze at the woman across the ring. She was smiling.

“Alright, then,” Bodhi replied in a low tone as the two began their dance, circling slowly around the ring.

Just as Bodhi predicted, she was impatient, and lunged before she should have — when Bodhi was on his dominant foot. He dodged, and grabbed a hold of her forearm, which he twisted behind her back. She struggled against him, but Bodhi had testosterone on his side, and in this position she was no match. His foot kicked hers from under her, and he forced her face down onto the mat. Athalar continued to fight, sinking one of her elbows into his ribs. “Fuck,” He hissed.

Bodhi snaked an arm around her neck, and began to constrict her airway. “Tap out,” He barked. Athalar thrashed against him, sunk her nails into his skin and dragged them down — drawing blood. Bodhi tightened his grip on her, then released her with a furious shove. “Fuck you,” He half-growled, glancing down at the blood she’d drawn. When Bodhi looked back over at her, she was smiling again. “Pussy,” She said as she slowly stood, rubbing her neck where his bicep at dug into.

Right as Bodhi took a step toward her, Tyler called out, “Time!”

Just as they were this morning, the six found themselves in another line with Tyler standing in front of them.

“Good job today,” He told them with a curt nod. “As for partners, the pairings I announced for sparring are the pairings for the year.”

Bodhi scoffed. He didn’t even realize he did — it was practically involuntary. But what a cruel joke, to be stuck with a partner like her — Athalar. Tyler’s sharp eyes snapped to him.

“A problem, Kostic?”

Bodhi swallowed, and shook his head as he squared his shoulders. “No, sir. No problem.”

“Perfect,” Tyler replied coolly, then glanced at the remaining recruits.

“Dismissed.”

[sonderlune]

IT JUST MEANS MORE | A JEGULUS ROMCOM SPORTSFIC

instead of making moodboards i am just going to post photos ive taken from football games. hello. thanks to #49 for smiling straight at me, for our purposes u are james potter today!

FORMAL ANNOUNCEMENT THAT CHAPTER 18 IS OUT!

Godspeed, Lover Boy, and Other Things Sirius Black Should Have Never Said

It’s Homecoming. Georgia wins. A camera bag gets returned. Sirius connects the dots and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

this chapter treats you with

- a new pov (hi sirius!)

- more fluff (you’re welcome)

- 5k+ words of some nonsense

enjoy :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63555796/chapters/162874240

don’t know what the HELL i’m talking about? dw. description here <3

Regulus Black does not do football. Or friendship. Or feelings.

Unfortunately, his graduation internship with the University of Georgia sports media team means he’s spending every waking moment covering the football season of a lifetime — and shadowing Heisman frontrunner James Potter, who is charming, golden, and absolutely not Regulus’s problem.

Regulus has dealt with worse.

(Like living with Barty and Evan, who are dating and frankly offensive about it. Like Sirius showing up everywhere with his emotionally competent boyfriend. Like the nauseating realization that maybe Regulus doesn’t want to be alone after all.)

This was never supposed to be about friendship. Or love. Or letting people stay.

But sometimes your life becomes a romcom you didn’t audition for — and sometimes, horrifyingly, you want it to.

One season. One team. One last shot at getting out clean.

All Regulus has to do is not fall in love.

Easier said than done.

slowburn, romcom, fucking silly ass fic - current 90k+ words. updating minimum of weekly but usually every few days bc im a college student & unemployed & its summer

[bisexual-engineer-guy]

NSFW asked anon with a follow-up question then: say you get your three wishes and clone yourself to fuck the clone; assuming they can also shapeshift what do you do first? Are you a girl / your fursona, or is he? Or do you go straight for sloppy protogen makeouts immediately?

Oh I just do regular me first. I've always wanted to. Then we can experiment with other silly stuff and cuddle as protogen afterwards (fluffyyyyyyyyy :333 ). Then we can do girl me. And then lesbian sex. Then I get done as girl me. It'd be a fun time.

[crazysodomite]

like the concept of "oh you brought up a good point let me explain my point of view and we can both behave amicably towards each other" Literally doesnt exist on here. its only dunking

[mikereads]

“You and Tommy have the right idea. Hang out with the boys!” -Gay, that is gay sir!

[izzy-b-hands]

Complaining below the cut including brief politics mention so like. just scroll past and let me have my one whine for the day w/out messaging me abt it please.

Some productive days you end relaxing with a video game so you don't think About The State of Things in your country

(no one message me about that or how sick you are of hearing abt the inauguration as some already have, if you're sick of it imagine how sick I am of living with all of this and coordinating w/family and friends to figure out what/how we'll survive the next 4 years and likely on from there; i ALSO wish none of y'all had to hear/see another thing about my country, trust me. The day the US doesn't make the news for any goddamn reason will be a wonderful day for us all.)

other days you wind up troubleshooting that game's launcher to no avail, need to search a reddit thread to get to the impossible to find ticket submit page (it's now behind a part of the menu I never would have looked at, so that's cool. i guess), submit a ticket that you know is just going to be some poor bastard telling you to do the same things you've tried multiple times

And you find out you've been accidentally drinking mold for the better part of week because your water bottle Looked clean and you'd washed it recently but. no. mold. explains why I've felt like shit for the last week or so I guess.

It hasn't been a bad day, but this isn't how I wanted to spend my night.