#and then the incident is never referenced again

[widowkills]

if I had a penny for every time arrow used man lashing out due to his own insecurities as a valid strategy to “call laurel out” I’d have way too fucking many to count

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Passionfruit

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Praising, Referenced Cheating (MEANING TOJI ONCE CHEATED ON READER AND IT'S TALKED ABOUT), Creampie, Sad Sex(womp womp)

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Getting married to Toji was the worst decision that you’ve ever made. You love him more than anything, yet he’s been the worst husband that you could’ve asked for. Your wedding day was the happiest day of your life, yet since that day, you haven’t been happy. You try to be shocked but since the beginning of your relationship, Toji told you that he wouldn’t be a great husband. 

You had dumb hopes, of course, that you could turn him into the perfect husband– Not necessarily perfect but at least a good one. You should’ve backed out on your plans the first month of your relationship, when you caught him in bed with another woman. But you were so into Toji back then that you managed to move past it, luckily, the incident never occurred again, and of course, he made it up to you. 

But Toji was never a great boyfriend though. He did the bare minimum every time, and you praised him for it. You don’t recall him even telling you that he loves you until your wedding day. To this day you don’t know why you stuck with him when the universe sent you a clear sign the first month of your relationship. You were still young, and even if you broke up with him you would have accomplished your five year plan in time.

You met Toji when you were twenty two and he was thirty four. He had a nine-year-old son and your first thought was no, you didn’t want to be a stepmother at such a young age. You just hooked up with him a couple times, and eventually you caught feelings. It was nothing too passionate, but you liked him enough to start a relationship with him, and to stay when he betrayed you early on.

By twenty four, you got engaged. You surprisingly didn’t have to ask him, he did it himself with no issue. He heard about your five year plan, married by twenty five, and he knew a wedding or at least the type you wanted, took at least a year to plan. Within a year, you were married.

You were getting cold feet on your wedding day, coming to the realization that Toji had never told you that he loved you. While he wasn’t a man that expressed his emotions, he surely would’ve told you that he loved you at least once, right? Toji heard you were getting cold feet, and he was at your door thirty minutes before the ceremony started.

“Isn’t this bad luck?” You asked him, unsure of what he was doing at your door. You didn’t really couldn’t stomach having a conversation with him. Toji looked as handsome as ever, it was the first time you’d ever seen him so dressed up. He shrugged.

“Heard that you were having second thoughts.” Toji began, and you crossed your arms. You couldn’t even look him in the eye. He cleared his throat before asking, “Care to explain?”

“Do you even love me, Toji? We’ve been in a relationship for three years, and you haven’t even told me that you love me. I do love you, Toji, but I don’t want to get married to someone who doesn’t love me.” You told him, and his brows raised. He took slow breaths, and you were on the verge of tears. You stumbled over your words as you continued, “Just please be honest with me, Toji. I can move on and start over, even if it’s hard at first.”

He took a couple steps toward you before his hands cupped your face. His lips met yours in a short but sweet kiss. He smiled at you before telling you, “Have I really not told you how much I love you?”

His words made you continue with the marriage, bringing you a sense of comfort and safety in your relationship. You weren’t so hesitant about being married, and the first month of your marriage you were genuinely happy– Until you weren’t.

Being a stepmother wasn’t hard. Megumi was a sweet child, only twelve when you got married to his father, but old enough to make his own decisions and to know right from wrong. You didn’t have to teach him anything, in fact, Toji asked you to stay out of that aspect of Megumi’s life. Unless Megumi did something that was clearly wrong, he didn’t want you to discipline his son. However, you never had any issues with Megumi.

You only ever had issues with Toji. The honeymoon stage is supposed to last longer than a month, but within a month Toji was dismissive of you. He was cold towards you, he didn’t bother communicating any issues. It felt like Toji was just using you to come home to a clean house, a cooked meal, and for sex. You tried to fix it many times, but he never bothered to change.

You weren’t treated like his wife. He couldn’t care about your interests, blamed any of the issues of your relationship on you, and what you found the worst, constantly compared you to his late wife. You were worried about that before you got married, and you expressed your concerns to him; sometimes it felt like he did it on purpose.

You had this concern that you never felt in your relationship, even after the incident of your first month together. He was cheating on you– He had to be. He came home late, and didn’t pay any attention to you. But you were proven wrong after you followed him around and he was just working. Simply working. He didn’t even look at another woman… It relieved you, and once again filled you with this sense of comfort in your marriage.

You were fine until he nearly forgot your twenty-sixth birthday, he only remembered at night, and your heart broke. But he was so loving towards you after he remembered, for a week, he treated you like his wife but things quickly went back to normal.

Dismissive, cold, reserved. 

But you still dealt with it because you loved him. Even when you constantly argued and he blamed every issue of your marriage on you. You were growing tired of it, and each time that he brought up her name, you threatened to leave. He didn’t take you seriously though. And you weren’t serious until your twenty-seventh birthday, when he completely forgot to congratulate you again. But this time it completely slipped. He came home late that night, but you didn’t get to see him because you had cried yourself to sleep.

You were the wife that he wanted for some time– Quiet. You didn’t bother talking about his day, asking if he liked dinner, if you were going to do anything special for the weekend (you never did but you always asked), you didn’t ask Megumi anything either. You mentally checked out of the relationship. Until you realized that you can’t live like this forever, just emotionally isolated while you played housewife. And now you’re sitting on the couch of your apartment, waiting for your husband to come home.

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, your hands shaky and getting worse with each second that passes. He’ll get home at any minute now, and it’ll all be over. He won’t argue your request, Toji isn’t one to argue much. You’re usually the one that starts the arguments to actually communicate with him, but you won’t be arguing with him tonight.

“Why are you still awake?” Toji’s voice spooks you, you were so lost in your own thoughts of what will come next that you completely missed the sound of the front door opening. Toji furrows his eyebrow as he looks down at you. You blink slowly before shrugging, the same response he would’ve given you. You stand up, pointing to the coffee table where the divorce papers lay.

“I want a divorce.” You’re brief. Before you can see his reaction, you take off your engagement and wedding ring, setting them down on the coffee table beside the divorce papers. You go back to your bedroom, leaving him in the living room to process the news. You doubt he cares too much. 

“Are you sure you want this? A divorce?” He ends up following after you which surprises you. You get in bed, throwing the blanket over you. You don’t pay much attention to him before you respond,

“Yes. It’s what we both want.” You answer. He shakes his head. 

“It’s what you want because I don’t want a divorce.” He responds, and you raise your brows. You shake your head disapprovingly.

“Right… You’re right. Because with me you have a live-in maid.” You point out, your voice calm as ever. Toji blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side before he opens his mouth.

“Don’t I pay the bills?” He argues, making you get out of the bed. You can’t stay calm at this moment, even if you try.

“And you hold it over my head every damn day. I don’t even get an allowance to buy myself some clothes because all the money you have left over, you throw away gambling!” You raise your voice at him, so much pent-up anger slowly unleashing. “And I wouldn’t care too much about that if you gave me the place as your wife– You treat me as if I were your fucking servant.”

“What the hell? Since when do you care about that?” Toji asks, and you freeze in your spot. You end up laughing in disbelief because you can’t believe your own husband is saying that. He’s supposed to know you better than anyone. Yet he doesn’t seem to know you at all.

“Since always! I want to be loved, Toji, how do you not know that?” You sound defeated, and he’s stepping closer to you. You’re nearly crying, realizing how you’ve wasted your time. The man that stands in front of you doesn’t love you, he’s only with you because– You don’t even know why he’s with you. “What kind of wife doesn’t want to be loved?”

He cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You’re getting lost in his eyes, and you have to force yourself to look away because it never ends well when you look into his eyes. You’re so fucking weak for him. You never thought you could love someone as much as you love Toji; at first you definitely didn’t think it’d be such a strong emotion since you didn’t care much for him at first but when you fell, you fell hard. You truly believe that the man that stands in front of you is the love of your life, yet you’re leaving him because you doubt that you’ll be able to be happy by his side.

It’s the worst kind of love. The one that makes you unhappy because you yearn for it to be reciprocated.

“Then let me love you, baby.” Toji says, his lips moving down to meet yours. You’re taken back, and even though you want to pull away you also want to stay like this forever. Instead of pushing him away, your hands meet behind his neck and pull him closer to you.

His tongue swipes on your lips before you part them to let his tongue meet yours. His hands move down your body, his fingertips like fire, arousing every inch of your body as they move down your skin. You should pull away since a strong sentiment takes over as you realize that this is the only way Toji knows how to love you, and you hate it. But you’ve melted into the kiss and you can’t pull away now.

Toji’s lifting up your nightgown, and the back of your mind is telling you to stop. You’re not listening though. You only ever pull away– You don’t pull away, Toji does. He kisses down your neck before focusing on that sweet spot on your neck that makes your knees weak. 

His finger hooks under your panties, and he begins to play with the waistband before he pushes them down to the floor. When he stops kissing your neck, his fingers go to the hem of your nightgown and he lifts it up. When he takes off your nightgown, he picks you up to put you down on the bed. His hands cup your face and he gently kisses your lips, and while he looks down at you, you’re thinking that maybe– No, no, nonononono you can’t be so weak. What are you even doing under him?

Just as you’re about to get up, his lips go on yours again. He caresses your cheek, “I really love you. So much.”

His lips kiss you again and then they move down. He kisses every inch of your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So fucking perfect.”

“You’re my perfect wife.” He praises you with each kiss to your body, and you can’t deny how you’re like putty under his touch. Toji seems to realize the grasp he has on you, that’s why he’s kissing every inch of your body so you won’t leave him. Toji isn’t always so loving with you as he is right at this moment. He presses one final kiss on your lower abdomen before he goes to your face. He kisses your lips again, “I love you so much.”

Your hands go to Toji’s tie, and you loosen it up. Toji takes it completely off and your fingers begin to unbutton his shirt. Toji takes off his shirt completely, tossing it aside. Your hands go up his torso, and you’re almost in disbelief that Toji manages to keep his build even after getting an office job. He kisses your lips one more time before kissing down your body once again, each kiss making your body crave for more. This time he gets lower than your lower abdomen.

Toji kisses your folds before his tongue runs through them. His tongue begins to flick your clit and your bottom lip is quivering before a soft moan finally leaves your lips. Toji’s tongue is slow but slowly picks up speed.

There’s nothing Toji loves more than the taste of you on his tongue, yet he rarely does it. It’s a treat for both you and him. He’s doing it to get you to stop, hoping that his tongue giving you pleasure is enough to stop the insanity that you want to ensue. 

Your voice is soft as you let your moans into the air. It doesn’t take long for pleasure to consume your mind since Toji knows how to use his tongue. He knows your body too well, and you know you’ll grow to hate it when you’re away from him, but right at this moment you love it more than anything.

His tongue moves down to your entrances, and he teases it. A low moan leaves your lips when his tongue enters your cunt, while his thumb begins to play with your clit. Your back is arching while your bite down on your lip. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but you have to be quiet. Megumi’s room might be on the other side of the apartment but you don’t wanna risk him listening to any of this.

Toji’s tongue moves in and out your cunt a couple of times before it goes back to your clit. You’ve always loved how Toji is always so determined to get you to come, even when you weren’t dating and you were just his hookup. This is one of those times that he won’t stop until you’ve climaxed.

He gets his index and middle finger wet enough before he pushes them inside you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. He curves his fingers so they brush right against that sweet spot that’s enough to drive you wild. You fucking hate it so much– Not in the moment, in the moment you’re loving it; you absolutely hate it because you know it’ll make it hard to leave. But sex is not the only factor in a marriage. 

“Toji–” You moan. Your orgasm begins to approach, and it feels harder to hold back the noises that threaten to leave your lips. Your hands grip onto the bed sheets as your climax nears. Toji does such a great job, and if he wasn’t so focused on your cunt, he’d be praising you because you feel so nice around his finger and taste so good on his tongue. “Oh, fuck– I’m gonna…”

You stumble over your words until you finally reach your high, and God, the sound you make is like music to Toji’s ears. And while usually clarity hits you when you hit your orgasm, it doesn’t this time. He takes his fingers out of your cunt yet he continues flicking your clit until he’s had enough. When he’s finished, he kisses your clit and detaches himself from your cunt.

Toji stands up and unbuttons his pants. He pushes them down with his briefs. His arm goes under your back and he brings your back up, kissing your lips ever so lovingly, which is rare from Toji. Your legs wrap behind his back. One hand holds your back, forcing you to sit up, while the other strokes his cock a couple of times before he runs the tip through your folds.

“I love you so much, I really do.” Toji kisses the tip of your nose as his cock stretches you out. He’s making eye contact with you as his cock bottoms out, and you feel the tears that well your eyes. You wish it was of pleasure– While it does feel great, your tears are filled with sadness. Maybe he does love you.

A tear falls from your eye, streaming down your cheek and Toji doesn’t waste a second before he wipes it away. He kisses your lips and he begins to move, letting go of your back so you’re able to lay back down. “Will you stay with me, please? I need you.”

No, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you. He just doesn’t want to be alone. A need is something you need to live, and he clearly doesn’t need you. You bite down on your lip, looking away from Toji because just looking at him makes you want to burst into tears. 

“Please look at me.” Toji says, his hand going to your chin and moving your head so your eyes fall on him. He’s so… Perfect. Toji might have many imperfections, but in your eyes he’s perfect. That’s why you’ve stayed for so long. You will never find someone as perfect as he is. You try to focus on what’s happening to you physically, his cock filling you up and hitting every right spot, but it’s hard when so many emotions run through you at the same time. “Do you love me too?”

“I love you, Toji.” The words slip past your lips. You watch as he smiles, and you avert your gaze elsewhere. You don’t like giving him the satisfaction of knowing that, even when he deeply knows it. 

“I love you more than you know, baby.” Toji tells you, his hand going down your body to play with your clit. You try to ignore it, letting the feeling of pleasure take over, but your other emotions are too overwhelming. So many emotions flow through you.

Tears keep streaming down your eyes as Toji reminds you that he loves you so much. His hands land on your hips. His hands feel so gentle on your body. “Please stay with me.”

Toji is usually much rougher during sex, but this time he's gentler with you. It still feels so fucking good. You bite down your lip, feeling as your second orgasm of the night approaches. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and Toji begins to curse under his breath. He fucking loves this, fuck fuck fuck fuck, he could stay buried inside of you forever.

“Will you stay with me, baby? Do I need to trap you?” He says, and what he’s saying is so wrong but it just sounds so fucking hot. It arouses you even more. “Do I need to knock you up?”

“Fuck–” You’re so close to finishing and his words are certainly helping. His cock just hits every right spot and he plays with your clit perfectly. You have to put your hand over your mouth when you reach your climax, not being able to contain the sounds but at least your hand muffles them. 

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I need you by my side, baby.” Toji continues, his thrusts slowly becoming sloppy. His nails unwillingly dig into your flesh. “Gonna make you a mommy, fuck–”

Toji throws his head back, shutting his eyes. He groans when he finally finishes, filling you up with his cum. He stays buried inside of you until he makes sure every drop of his cum is inside of you. He finally pulls out after a minute.

Toji lays down beside you, an exasperated breath leaving his lips. He tries to bring you closer to him, for you to lay your head on his chest how you usually do. He doesn’t usually like it, normally he pushes you off saying he has work early the next morning before he turns on his side. But not this time, he’s the one that tries to bring you closer, and Toji feels a sense of relief when you do.

You hear his heartbeat as it settles, and it brings you so much peace. His hand lovingly strokes your arm, an action that Toji only ever does when he’s making up for something. He places a kiss on your forehead before he mutters, “I love you.”

No kiss or caress can change your mind though. You’ve made your decision. He’s so loving now but within a week he’ll go back to being the same cold Toji. Toji doesn’t know though, and he thinks you’re all good when your hand fondles his chest. His lips then peck yours.

“Are we good now?” Toji asks. He doesn’t want you to leave, and while he might not show it, he does love you. Toji would not sit on his ass for nearly twelve hours a day, five days weekly, for anyone else but you. Plumbing was paying more than enough for him and Megumi, but it wasn’t going to be enough for you.

Toji changed jobs for you, wanting to give you a lavish lifestyle. He bought you a somewhat expensive ring, gave you a proper wedding, and now you’re living in an apartment that he wouldn’t have been able to afford in his previous job. Sure, he does have somewhat of an addiction and he doesn’t give you money to buy whatever you want, but you’re a housewife, you don’t get to buy whatever you want. At least that’s what he believes. Toji has done so much for you, and it pains to see that his efforts go underappreciated.

“We are.” You answer his question. You peck his lips again. He’s smiling at you but you can’t bring yourself to smile at him. “But we’re still getting a divorce.”

“What?” His eyes widen when those words leave your lips. Your head remains on his chest, your hand still running on his chest. You’re ever so calm listening to his heartbeat.

“Toji, if this is the only way that you can show me you love me then I don’t want that.” You tell him. You’re ever so calm, you have come to accept that your marriage is ending. You did think you’d be more of a mess while telling him this, but the tears from before are more than enough. “You’re better off with someone else.”

“But I want to be with you. You’re the woman I love.” He says, and it causes you to laugh. 

“You just like having sex with me.” You argue, even though you know that he does love you. But you want to leave. You have to because by his side you won’t be happy.

“I told you I wanted to have a baby with you, that’s no small deal.” He brings up.

“Just a spur of the moment thing. If I thought you were serious, I would’ve pushed you off.” You tell him, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom to clean yourself off. Toji watches you from the bed, watching as his cum drips out of you. He’d find the scene hot and pull you back into the bed if it weren’t for the fact that–

His hand go over his face, a sigh leaving his lips, “She fucking wants a divorce.”

[marvelsmylife]

We’re going to be ok

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: when word gets back to Azriel that you’re planning on leaving the night court after the kitchen incident, Azriel will stop at nothing until he convinces you stay and confesses why he’s been avoiding you.

A/n this is part two to Jealous Mate. I made a movie reference in this part. Five points to anyone who catches it and writes the movie I’m referencing.

*Correction* There are actually two references in this part. One is a movie reference the other is a book reference.

Part one

Azriel refused to be around you for two weeks after the kitchen incident. He was too ashamed that he just left without saying a single word to you. He knew what he was currently doing was making things worse, but he couldn’t face you after he heard you say you were giving up on him. It wasn’t until Rhysand called him into his office to scold him for his actions that he realized how badly he messed up: “Rhys, I know-.”

“No, you don’t know,” Rhysand cut Azriel off: “You avoiding your mate is causing nothing but problems within our inner circle. Do you ever plan on talking to her?” Azriel was so ashamed of his actions that he refused to speak. 

Taking his silence as an answer, Rhysand spoke up again: “Very well. Since you won’t give me the decency to respond. Then this news I’m about to tell you won’t bother you.” Rhysand inhaled sharply before adding: “Y/n is leaving the night court. She asked if she could stay at the day court with Helion, and he happily agreed. If you’d like to say goodbye to her, you better do it fast. She’s at the house of wind packing as we speak.”

The color drained from Azriel’s face at the news you were leaving the night court. He couldn’t believe that he had driven you to not only leave the home you shared but also drive you out of the night court entirely. “You can’t allow her to leave !” panic was laced in Azriel’s tone: “She belongs here with us, with me. I’m her mate, and I’m not allowing this to happen, Rhysand !! !”

“She has free will. She can do whatever she pleases. Let her go and let her live her life in peace.”

Azriel felt his chest tightening at Rhysand’s words. He knew Rhysand was right, but he couldn’t let you go, not when he’s yet to tell you how he truly feels about you. “No,” Azriel said firmly: “I’m not letting her leave. At least not until I talk to her.”

Not giving Rhysand a chance to respond, Azriel fled to the house of wind to see if he could catch you before you left.

Luck was on his side. Your smell lingered in the house when he arrived and immediately walked towards your room. He had no idea what he was going to say. He was never really good with words. Not bothering to knock, Azriel entered your room and noticed that more than half of your stuff was already packed. “Can I help you?” you asked while you packed your clothes. 

Azriel remained silent as he looked around and spotted something from the corner of his eye: “Is that?” Azriel swallowed hard when he noticed a pressed flower on your desk.

You looked toward where Azriel was staring and sighed: “The rose you gave me when I first moved in? Yes. Yes, it is.”

You were about to throw it in the trash when Azriel stopped you and took your hands into his: “Please don’t go,” Azriel begged: “I know I haven’t been a good mate, but I can’t let you go.”

“Azriel, don’t.” you said firmly: “You’re being mean.” There was hurt in your eyes when you registered what Azriel had said, and all Azriel wanted to do was comfort you. “You do not have the right to ask that from me. Not when I’ve tried to get close to you, but all you’ve done was push me away.” You tried to get out of his grip, but he only held you tighter. “Do you know how excited I was to meet and get to know you when we first met? I was so excited to share everything about my life and was eager to get to know you, but after the first week, you started to ignore me. I just wanted to talk, but you wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence while we live together,” you paused for a moment, trying so hard not to cry in front of Azriel but failed miserably. “Look, if you’re not going to put any effort into our relationship as mates, then I’m going to leave because being around you while you ignore me hurts me physically, mentally, and emotionally ! ! !”

It was Azriel’s turn to feel the way you’ve been feeling for the past couple of months, feeling rejected, and he’ll never forgive himself for making you feel this way for so long. “No! !” Azriel looked at you in disbelief: “I just- you can’t go. I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were better off without me. You deserve better than me. I-” Azriel paused to contemplate if he should continue explaining. “I didn’t want to accept the bread you made with Cassian because if I did that would’ve meant you accepted the bond between us, and I didn’t want you to feel shackled to me for the rest of your life. But seeing you pack and saying you’re leaving makes me want to be selfish and tell you to stay. Stay with me and I promise I’ll be a better mate. I’ll eat whatever you make so I can accept the bond.”

“Azriel-“ you paused: “I didn’t and still don’t care about your past. You can’t allow your past to dictate your future.” Azriel knew you were right, and he was going to tell you when you continued: “Look, I’ll stay, but I’m not going to bake or cook you anything, not yet. You have to earn my forgiveness, and maybe then I’ll accept the bond in the future.” 

“I’m ok with that. I’ll wait a thousand years if I have to, just as long as I still have you in my life.” You found yourself crying again at Azriel’s words.

Azriel looked down at you and wiped away the tears that were running down your cheeks: “No more crying, especially over me,” before he placed a kiss on your forehead: “You’re ok. We are going to be ok.”

[johnbrand]

Weaponizing Normality

With @wakeup01

“C’mon babygirl, you know what to do about this, right?”

John gulped, his ex-boyfriend cockily lying on their bed. His bed. They were exes now after all, considering John had caught the flamboyant twink cheating on him with the young hunky cashier from the liquor store. But it was more than that, because John had converted his ex-boyfriend after the incident in a fit of rage. One bullet and a mental breakdown later, he had vowed to never see Garret again. But here he was, or at least, what he had become.

“How are you…why are you…” John sputtered, trying his best not to check out his former lover. The twink’s slim figure had been eradicated along with the homosexuality. Now Garret embodied the classic toxic straight boy. Rippling muscles, tanned skin, perfect hair and face. Even a tattoo was now carved into where his arm met his shoulder; the most heterosexual of all ink locations.

“What, didn’t you miss me?” Garret purred, his voice deeper and more sensual than John remembered. “Left my clothes at some chick’s place before I got here, hope you don’t mind.”

John realized what Garret was referencing. Although shirtless, he was currently wearing a pair of John’s slacks, his massive pouch stretching the fabric. Garret had always been too petite for John’s clothes before, but now the opposite problem had occurred. John envisioned his pants screaming in agony with Garett’s muscular lower half stretching them to the limit.

“Not the only thing I stretched out today, if you know what I mean,” Garett winked, reading John’s thoughts. John could not believe he could still do that after all they had been through.

“Look,” John finally sputtered, a firm decision settling in his mind. “You need to go, now.”

Garret frowned, taking a beat. “Are you sure? I come bearing gifts.”

“‘Gifts’,” John repeated unconvinced.

“Well sure,” Garret affirmed. “To thank you for all you did, and to apologize.”

Although he did not show it, John was surprised by this comment. Had conversion not morphed Garett into a classic douchebag?

“You obviously had a reason for what you did,” Garret started. “I cheated on you, plain and simple. You were acting solely as a response to my actions.”

John could not believe how mature this conversation was.

“After I got converted, everything changed for me. First off, I realized how much pussy I’ve been missing out on. It’s great stuff, man.” John did not respond, so Garret continued. “Anyway, I wanted to double up the two and come here for one last hurrah, a ‘To new beginnings!’ sort of thing.”

John considered this, “What do you have in mind?”

A self-assured smirk fell over Garret’s masculinized face. He already knew John’s answer before he even asked the question. “A thick, sensual blowjob on this new alpha body.”

John had no words. His eyes shifted from Garret’s down to the enlarged pouch, and then back up to Garret’s, before going back to the pouch again. John continued this pattern, with each glance back at Garret’s man meat a little longer than the last. Before he realized it, the words had already left his mouth.

“Please…”

Garret tossed his hands behind his head and shifted his pelvis a bit, “Get to work then, fag.”

Overridden by a sudden wave of lust, John dove in. Like a rabid dog he ripped apart Garret's (his) own pants, tearing away at the tight briefs (which on John were supposed to be boxers) immediately after. But before John could lay his eyes on the superior cock the laid below, he felt the pressure of cold metal brace his skull.

The gun went off quickly, the bullet lodging itself directly into John’s head. Garret watched as his collapsed on top of him, John’s body lifeless on top of half of his. With a chuckle, he dove his hand into the back of John’s pants and shoved his two fingers right next to the crack. He felt it pulsating, vibrating as it carefully shut its well-maintained entrance. 

Garret then began to feel up the rest of John’s body, curious to see what else could be affected right away. He recognized the flab of his ex’s stomach begin to evaporate away, and took in the crackle-pops of John’s widening back. Garret could not help but investigate the armpits, relishing in the fact that they were growing hairier and sweatier by the second. Bringing his fingers up to his nose, he grinned childishly in disgusted glee at the sour smell that had latched on, growing funkier by the minute.

Garret could not believe weaponizing normality could be so wickedly fun. He glowed with mischievousness, his impish revenge tantalizing him. Garret knew that it would not be long until his vengeance would be complete. But until then, he had to get this dude off his dick.

[n3ptoonz]

mind writing for the Earthrealm men getting caught masturbating by the reader??👀

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to getting caught 🥩 👊🏾 by reader

warnings: suggestive; a lil steamy, i play too much (was sick and ovulating while writing this help me god), GERAS SPOTTED???

reverse roles here

Johnny Cage

Left the door open on purpose. WIDE OPEN. There he lied on his silk linens, blasting Marvin Gaye and going to town without taking his eyes off the door. Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he added a sexy ninja mime (i will never stop referencing past games) to act out him getting caught

When you "catch" him all you can do is facepalm, but it's outta love. Expect to have him let loose 50 cheesy pick up lines, dick in hand and all. Like he would still jerk it like he wasn't stuttering over his words once you took over

If you join the cheesy line fun, he may or may not cum on the spot. He loves when you're playful back. And tease him a lot. But like. Way more than he teases you. He can and will fall in love all over again (he will also bust quickly to this too. MULTIPLE times)

Raiden

This cutie pie. Snookums bbg. Blushing like a fool because you managed to overhear him utter your name multiple times in a hushed voice dripping with lust

I fully see him falling out of his bed and scrambling to pull his covers down with him just to cover his lower half. He gets even more nervous when he sees you not even attempting to leave, but instead having an inviting look on your face

Cue the comically loud gulp sound effect. His pretty brown eyes never left your figure, sitting on the hardwood floor with a painful erection between his thighs under a rather comfortable blanket. You'd have to ask if he wants help from your own lips, otherwise no sound would be in the room other than steady breathing and his heart thumping loud as hell (he says yes at the speed of light)

Smoke

Deer in headlights. One minute ago he was furiously zerkin it like there was no tomorrow, slutty sounds escaping his lips with no shame. Now he's like...oh...! You heard that..? Ahahah..

Would apologize so many times he ends up doing it in Czech. Please tell him it's okay😭In fact you'd only shut him up by telling him it was hot

Activates self indulgence beam I think...he'd be into it if you told him to finish what he started. Like sitting in a chair and watching him and he's not allowed to close his eyes- IM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF (fic idea huehue)(if you write it before me, tag me.) But also albeit he stumbles over his words, he'd find some sort of way to ask for your help

Geras

WHAT!!! GERAS I KNOW WTF WHAT yeah he may be an immortal being but the man has his own needs. And is it even a question like...you're wondering how THAT fits in his hand like jesus christ you're going to kill someone sir (i got next)

It's nothing extravagant. He wasn't summoned by Liu Kang for a while, so he figured why not? He doesn't get much time to himself so let's crank one real quick 👀

Think of any scene from mk11 where he got "hurt" and was grunting, that's the sounds he was making and you could hear it through his door. But you thought he was hurt, so you came through the door just to be greeted by a SNAKE in his grip

Surprisingly calm...almost too calm...did he predict this? Who knows, all we know is you interrupted him and would definitely like your help. Does not shy away from this request too but that's how we like it 😈

Liu Kang

A similar incident with Geras. You overheard him while you wandered through his mansion trying to find and surprise him. So when you finally found his bedroom door and barged in, thinking he needed help, there he was dick in hand and completely unexpecting

He would try to remain calm but it would be clear as day that he was nervous. He'd quickly cover up with a pillow and give a small smile, asking if you needed anything like he wasn't shirtless and heart pumping at mach speeds

In his mind was like a static sound as he tried to focus on not getting hard again looking at you, feeling a little guilty as he couldn't help his instincts. I guess the God contract never said escaping from mortal desires! You offer to join the fun and he's like HUH...well, if you insist! (again he looks calm but is very, very excited, i promise)

Kung Lao

He had been schmeat beating after his long days of training so this isn't a new occurrence for him. But obviously, you've never walked in on him before. He was always able to get it done before he saw or met with you

Normally you rendezvous to Madam Bo's but you're like hm, why not bring him something to eat since you know he had a long day! Once you entered it didn't take you long to hear him calling your name from his room, so naturally you thought he knew you were here. But...it started to become like a chant. His voice breathy and deep (save me shaolin monk save me-) So when you check it out you find him with his head thrown back, hair messy and coated in sweat

The favoritism is leaking through the screen LMFAOOO He heard the door creak and yelped, asking why you were there so early out of breath you held the to-go bag in your hands with pure shock, immediately getting the idea to tease the shit out of him. He does it to you all the time, why not return the favor?! And he's like well?? Are you gonna help??? UH YA I WAS GETTING TO THAT😹😹

Scorpion

Kuai Liang rarely ever has the time to even talk to you, let alone talk to himself! So one of the few times he didn't think you were showing up to the temple but he had time to himself that he didn't think would last very long, he just needed to relieve his own stress real quick

Damn, he forgot he invited you to the temple since it was a slow day. You were appointed to his room by one of the recruits and sang his name, opening the door to the sound of squelching and panting

Your little song came to a stop at the same time of his gasp; eyes locked on yours. He wanted to smile, and drop everything to greet you like the situation wasn't what it was, but before he could even begin to hide himself you calmly close the door and watch his demeanor quickly switch to smug...it's gonna be a long day for the both of you😮‍💨

Sub-Zero

I'm using the same scenario from my first bi-han fic bc i said so, bite me!

He was avoiding you because he couldn't control himself around you any longer. The more he thought about you and how you pissed him off to great lengths before has him wanting to do terrible...terrible things (shoutout loki)(i've never seen loki) but he must suffice with pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the way your voice rang in his head, and how hot you looked patching up his injuries

When you caught him oh he was so sexually frustrated he couldn't think straight, panically pulling you into his room dick swinging and all. The scowl on his face didn't match the pink blush that was starting to form at how you looked at him. Why you were at his door is the least of his concerns, if you don't help him take care of this right now he might lose his mind 🥹

Kenshi Takahashi

He wasn't supposed to be last but I accidentally clicked on a tumblr notification and lost my notes on him so. LETS TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN.

When you caught him he was so so embarrassed. Don't let the calm and hot and sexy demeanor fool you, when it came to you it's like he's a clone; unrecognizable. He was stuttering and trying to justify whatever you just saw but then also asks why you showed up unannounced

You explain he said to come around this time a few days ago to spend some time together, and now he was mentally kicking himself bc how could he forget something so simple?! But hey, the fact that you weren't even budging, and even approaching him with a smile on your face told him all he needed to know. And who is he to say no to some help from a fine individual like you???

a/n: cranked this request out for y'all (fic might be posted today) this is a gift from me to you guys 😄 happy christmas and merry holidays to any and all cultures that do or don't celebrate during this time fr ❤️

[simp-ly-writes]

Lasting Pictures: Up and Under (pt.2)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Photographer!Reader

Summary: Signing the papers was one thing, actually going back and doing the work was another. Memories come hurling back at you as you try and navigate this new lifestyle while getting to know the members of your new task force- some warm up quicker to you than others but are your trials all for nothing? Or maybe, just maybe this new start has other possibilities for you as well....

Warnings: 4952 words, Slow burn, heavy imagery of anxiety attack and PTSD, descriptions of blood and swearing.

A/N: Hey ya'll thank you all so much for all the love on the first post, weird to see so many people liking my shitty writing. Anyways! todays chapter is dedicated to my fellow stranger @cosychick who made this chapter possible (TYSM again, seriously). On another note... I may have written a lot again... and have an outline for many more chapters... hope you guys enjoy this next part! let me know what you think~

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

The cheers surrounding the room are soon put to an end as the boys soon get ordered to return back to their duties on base as you and Gabby stay behind with Laswell. She opens your file on the table, flipping towards the back as she comments on your years of leave from the military. Your task force had all been promoted within the ranks and some were found less on field and more in strategy. You smiled at this newfound information, as it slightly fell when Laswell said how poorly they took your leave and lack of communication afterwards while tailing off on a few names that have you blinking your eyes quickly.

The room falling quiet once more, Gabby grasps your hand in her own- rubbing small circles into the back of it in an effort to comfort you. You squeeze it twice in response; awaiting Laswell to continue her commentary as a knock can be heard coming from the door, Price enters then closes it behind himself as he takes his seat back beside Laswell with his own paperwork in hand and places it on the table. He motions with a flick of his wrist for you guys to continue as he grabs for a pair of glasses and takes the lid of a pen off; beginning to flip through the sheets, signing every few pages while referencing others. Laswell continues to speak while opening a second file with your polaroid clipped to the front. 

“Has your body fully healed from the incident?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Do you still take medication for it or any other symptoms you have experienced as a result?”

“Yes I do”

Laswell hums in response, flickering to the next page as you lightly sigh in relief and Gabby comments, “May I speak freely?”

“You may”

“They have made a full recovery, I made sure of it before contacting them…” Gabby looks over at you, happiness is found in her squished cheeks from smiling so brightly as she drops your hand to reach over the table for your papers, “...I recommend still going through with the fitness regulation test for formal qualities- but they would pass easily nonetheless.”

Price decides to lift his head and joins the conversation once more, “some practice missions with 141 before sending directly to the field would be of value to us all as well. Time is limited- I know-”

You smile slightly at his addition, nodding your head in agreement before finishing his sentence, “but a little team building never hurt nobody” you tease lightly back as John matches your smile before returning back to the work at hand. Gabby leans over, clearing her throat loudly to whisper in your ear, “So what type of team building do you have planned~?” 

Swatting her away while covering your cheeks from your blush, John chuckles to himself as you shrink into your sweater, cursing Gabby mentally as Laswell gives you all a tisk with a small smile gracing its way across her features; her tone lightening. 

“You will get along great with the team, Dice, from what I read and see here today. 0-700 tomorrow for your assessment and I want you to move on to base with the rest of the team temporarily to redevelop your skills for the imminent future. Deployment is set for two weeks from now. That is all, thank you both” Laswell finishes, collecting her belongings before tapping Price on the shoulder on her way out. 

Stacking the papers into a neat pile; he looks between you and Gabby before sliding an unsigned document, tapping his finger to where he wants you to sign and handing you his pen. Glancing down at it, its weight is surprisingly heavy and the small engraving of 141 on the lid has you smiling, you look over the page- reading through each clause before signing your name at the bottom and sliding it back with a sigh. 

Gabby slaps your shoulder with yet another cheer as she calls for drinks tonight that has you shaking your head at the idea. “I have my assessment in the morning scales, can’t be going out and doing that just yet.”

“Lame” Gabby states back childishly before asking if you wanted a drive back, you smile thankfully at this as you begin to stand from your seat. Knees a bit weak from staying in the same position for too long. Yet as your hand hovers over the door handle, a small call out from the table has you turning back to face your new captain. 

“Welcome to the team Y/N”

“Thank you Captain” 

--

Keys swing around Gabbys finger as you both make your way towards the parking lot at the back of the base. Walking through the halls and across the pavement; viewing all the helicopters and equipment tucked nearly away has memories sending goosebumps across your skin, nerves and excitement mixing together in your anxiety driven cocktail as you follow in Fish’s shadow. 

Gabby clicks the small device twice as the car flashes its lights with a small honk. Yet as you begin to enter the vehicle a calling out of your name from another car has you smacking your head against the roof of the car and eliciting a loud groan as you rub the spot gently, turning to face whomever got you into this state. 

Gaz smiles apologetically from the rolled-down window as he asks if you want help tomorrow moving your stuff on to base, he mentioned that your new captain already sent a message to the infamous groupchat you had yet to be added to. Smiling at the man's kindness you accept as he asks for your number. Walking up to his car, exchanging phones; you place your name alone in his as Gaz places a petrol symbol for himself that has you giggling when you read it. Tapping the top of his car in a sign of goodbye, he drives through the gates and away. 

Turning back you see Gabby leaned against the car with a cheeky grin, “do I need to report anything to the council already, lieutenant?” 

“Yet?! Do you honestly think I am getting with any of them, or that they would have any interest in all of this shit?” You reply while flinging your hands up and down your body, emphasising your statement. 

“Well.. you and Soap looked to be getting cosy…”

“I needed physical comfort, you know this”

“Mmhmm”

“Gabby! I swear to god-”

“Mmhmm” 

“Even with my last team, we almost never did any of that shit”

“Almost?” She teases back.

“Not like that Gabs! ugh!”

Gabby does not bother to listen to anymore of your protests as she hops backs into the vehicle, the engine roaring to life as you sit yourself into the passengers side with a huff, buckling your seatbelt before helping her to check the blindspots and give directions back to your place. 

--

The drive back is peaceful after the hellish day you have had. Gabby flipped you off while driving away as your neighbour complained about hearing your cat moving about your apartment too loudly. Apologising you turned the key in the hole and entered, the space was dark with a small candle coming from the kitchen. Cursing to yourself for leaving it unattended, blowing it out you called for Spoons to make sure he didn’t hurt himself from it. 

Checking the cat over in your arms and sighing out in relief, you hunched down slightly so they could move to your shoulders and motioned to get their medication before you started the debate of ordering in or cooking dinner for yourself. Opening the fridge you cursed to find it empty, resting your forehead against its metal door to cool your head, you felt for your phone the jean pocket as Spoons meows loudly in your ear. 

Placing him on the counter and closing the door with your foot, you order delivery and feel for your wallet; walking yourself back into the living and falling onto the cushioned seat, feet pressed atop the coffee table as you threw a weighted blanket over yourself and turned the television on. Doctor Who played across the screen as you chucked at their antics and companions' poorly timed jokes, the doorbell ringing and a tip being served before you switched to the VOD for the football game. 

Your team was losing severely as you whisper-yelled at the screen, afraid of getting a thorough beating from your elderly neighbour. You flicked it off before it finished and noticed that your plate was empty. Placing the containers in the fridge and washing your dishes in the sink, you see Spoons sleeping on the half-wall separating your kitchen from the dining room. Their belly turned upwards as light snores exited their body. Snapping a quick picture to show Ghost in the morning, you began your nightly routine. 

Showering, brushing and flossing your teeth, alongside applying your moisturizers. You shuffled underneath the covers while doing some last minute scrolling through your phone. Rolling your eyes when you saw the endless stream of reels being sent from Gabbys personal account that had you switching your ringer off and placing it on to charge. Setting your alarm clock to sound you closed your eyes as your body jerked throughout the night, awaking in a cold sweat as only a few hours had passed before doing your best at returning back to sleep.

--

The loud sound of ringing gradually made its way across your ears as you groaned and blindly reached over to turn it off; you ended up swatting it off the nightstand, the loud crash had you sitting upright from the sound of it smacking against the hardwood floors. Being stubborn to get out of bed just yet, you reach across the room to pick it up and shut it up. Falling back into the covers you reach for your phone and smile seeing your parents’ name in the notifications, they wish you a strong return back with a string of emojis that has you shaking your head while replying, slightly regretting for introducing them to that submenu on the keyboard.

Stretching and rolling out your yoga mat, you do our daily exercises before setting the kettle to boil and heading for a quick shower. The mirror clouds over as you draw a small heart across its surface while scrolling for just the right song to start getting ready to. 

Coming back out- refreshed you dig through the back of your closet to find parts of your old uniform that you didn’t have the heart to send down to the storage rooms. Placing it across your frame and looking at yourself in the foyer mirror. A tear slides itself down your cheek as you swiftly wipe it away. Spoons soon comes between your legs pawing to be fed as you lightly smile down at them. 

Apologizing to your furry friend, you give them their daily medication and head out the door, to your car in the underground parkade. 06:10 reads on the dash as you drive back to the base from memory. While at a light you start a call with Gabby, hoping that she would fess up to what types of testing you will go through today, yet she gave you nothing much to your dismay other than some teasing as usual. 

“Did you end up talking to Gaz more last night when you exchanged numbers?”

“No, I talked to my parent though.”

“Oh! I miss them, are they still single?”

“Gabs I swear-”

“Hey! Just an honest question…”

“Sure, sure.”

“Are you here yet?”

“Almost, about a block away”

“Okay good.”

“Everything al’right?”

“Oh yeah, Soap just keeps telling me I'm no fun now that he’s met you, butthurt honestly.” 

“Well I have always been the funnier one.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear.”

“You know me- social skills, simply perfection…” you end with a giggle in your voice, “...okay im at the gate now, see you in a few.”

Pulling the car into an empty parking spot, you ended the call while hauling your work bag with your camera inside over your shoulder from the passenger's seat and take your metal water bottle with you. Locking the car with a click you walked towards the main building and picked yourself up a new badge. Wincing at your picture, you hide it in your jacket pocket as you make your way down the hall and towards the locker rooms to put your stuff down. 

--

Taking in a deep breath, you made your way out to the fields and saw everyone standing in a circle, speaking in hushed tones before halting at the sounds of your footsteps nearning. Giving the group a small wave, Gabby came over and wished you luck with a large hug and kiss against your cheek before returning back to her duties. Laswell stood to the side, clipboard in hand as she began to look at her watch, anxious to begin and return to her stack of files as well. 

Soap speedily walks his way over to you, clapping a hand on your shoulder and pulling you in to his side, he wishes you good luck and a few other words told in his native tongue that you didn’t quite catch before Ghost is shouting across the field, in what would appear an aggressive tone to any new listener. 

“English, Jonny”

“Fuckin’ Britts you lot”

“Hey you! Don't assume my nationality you prick”

Soap looks at you wide-eyed and apologetically as words and curses fall out of his mouth like a waterfall. Gaz can he heard chucking off to the side as you pat Soaps shoulder and tell him that you were just pulling his leg. He nods his head and sighs out in relief while looking up towards the grey skies. Making your way over to greet the Captain and Ghost, they both offer you a firm handshake once more as you provide a wide smile back before heading towards Gaz sitting on a nearby bench beside Laswell. 

Sitting beside him, he starts making small talk and eventually asks what you are doing directly after this. Looking towards Laswell she shrugs and reminds you of the team-building you promised to do before calling you to the starting line. Gaz makes a quick note for you to continue your conversation later as he shouts you a good luck as you make your way away. He sits up from the bench and moves to stand beside Simon and the others in line to the side.

--

Nearing the starting line, you notice a series of vertical obstacles ranging from a rope climb, an outstanding rock wall and a fence hop. Leaning your body to the side, you look further down to see a tire you will need to push alongside a series of pylons lining a large section of the tarmac. A long run, how great after all of that. 

Shaking your head of the negativity, you closed your eyes and evened your breathing before sending Laswell a nod of your head, ready to tackle this course to the best of your ability. The sound of a shout coming from the Station Chief has your body moving faster than your mind as you hoist yourself up the rope and jump down to the other side. 

Your body wavers slightly upon impact yet as soon as your knees steady once more you are running up the rock wall to boost yourself up, skipping half of it as you hear Gaz praising your technique while waiting running to wait for you on the other side. Using your feet and hands, you slip slightly from the lack of gloves or chalk before running down the ramp on the other side. Next you are sprinting over to hop over three sizes of fences as Soap claps loudly at the end telling you how many obstacles you have left. 

Smiling to yourself in a layer of sweat, you side-hop the last small fence before whipping your forehead with the backside of your arm and collapse yourself to the floor in low crawl under the wire frames above. The mud finds its way into your boots and underneath your fingernails as you sigh happily at its cool texture on your skin. 

Nearing the end you look ahead of yourself to see the long awaited large tire sitting flush against the ground. Picking yourself up to stand and shaking your hands violently while running over, you heave it up with a large grunt and push it to fall. Completing these repetitive actions tenfold before showing the tire over the designated cones. The long awaited run now awaited you as Price praised you with a large smile, yours matching his own as your feet began to pick up pace once more, now desperately trying to reach the end of the course in time. 

The soon becomes in view as you see Laswell standing there, stopwatch in hand as Gabby appears beside her, jumping enthusiastically and pointing at your approaching frame. This momentarily distracts you from the pain you are feeling throughout your body as it takes everything in you to run the last quarter mile. 

Yet as you near, the shouting of all your awaiting squad members, the sound of your blood pumping through your ears and your laboured breaths has you faltering slightly as your world spins and the finish line is closer than ever before. 

Memories cloud over your senses as you can feel the sweat dripping off your neck and down your back. The feeling of cold metal combing itself against your skin has you shivering in your overheated state as your stomach begins to turn itself outwards.

You don’t notice yourself running across the finish line and slightly pass before a pair of arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you steady as they shake your shoulders in an effort to make you become present. 

You can feel a distant hand running circles on to your lower back as they brush the hair out of your eyes and behind your ears before resting their hand against your forehead, checking your temperature while making a hand motion in the other as the sounds of multiple boots rushing over have you swaying in their hold and holding your stomach as you kneel over. Knees falling to the pavement as you collapse on to your side. Eyes blurry as you see the rough contours of faces shaking your legs and holding your chin before they push you into recovery position as you throw up your guts on to someone's boots. 

Apologising subconsciously in a gravel filled tone. The sounds of cries over power your being as you shrink into yourself, tears falling. But soon enough you feel laying down beside you as they tug you over and point to the clouds in the sky while you rub your eyes. The multiple pairs of eyes on you have fallen significantly as you take in a large breath and whip your eyes and cheeks with the back of your hand. 

Looking over to your left you see Gabby staring at you smiling, remenist to what you would do as kids in your backyard, making stories out of all the clouds above and promises of your futures together. How times have changed as the pavement burned itself against the back of your head that still felt a bit fuzzy and your hands shook slightly against your sides. 

As Gabby directs you to copy her breathing and calls for your bag to be brought over while searching for your medication side, she asks softly if you remember to take some yesterday. Eyes going wide you shake your head and groan to yourself while placing the back side of your hand to rest against your forehead, shielding your eyes from the sun beginning to poke its way through the clouds. 

Doing your best to hoist yourself to a sitting position, your frame wobbles slightly as Gabby rapidly turns her body around and her face turns into horror. Her hands are filled as she watches you sway and almost crash your head against the tarmac once more yet thankfully an arm had you hoisted up against their side as they joined you on the floor. 

Smiling over to Gaz thankfully he rubbed your shoulder and Gabby kneeled down to hand you a cup of water and a few pills. Looking at them in your hand, shuffling them slightly in your palm you threw them into your mouth, tipping your head back consciously as the water made its way down your system. 

Gaz then handed you a pack of crackers that were obviously from an MRE. You winched in reaction that had Gaz giggling at your face before it fell when Fish just about punched him to remove it. Shaking your head slightly at the two and telling Gaz you know he meant nothing poor of it, you begin to take small bites out of the cracker while looking around to find where everyone else went. 

As you stare down the field, you see Laswell and Price in a heated argument as the boys stand to his side, a few grand hand gestures are made as Soap flings his arms around wildly, almost hitting Ghost in the face that has him holding his limbs still so the Captain can focus. 

Looking towards Gaz once more you ask simply, “Hey Gaz…” He hums to you in reply while his focus is on making sure that you continue to eat, “...Shouldn’t you be down there listening to what Laswell and Price have to say?”

“I think something more important came up that held my attention”

As you move to apologise, Gaz holds his other hand up slightly as you pause your next words. His eyes crinkle slightly as he stares eye level into your own, your mouth opens slightly at the sight of his smile so close to your face, yet you shake your head blaming it on all the anxiety still coursing its way through your system. 

“Sometimes all we need is to sit down with someone so that the world can figure itself out.”  

You humm in reply as clears her throat softly as you both jerk your bodies in reaction, forgetting her presence in front of you. She shakes her head and chuckles lightly at both of your reactions before saying, “what about some words of wisdom for yours truly, Garrick?” While fluttering her eyelashes. 

Rolling your eyes you can’t help but chuckle at your best friends seemingly never ending sass as you ask, “Garrick?” While tilting your head to the side, staring at Gaz’s profile as he simply explains that it's his last name and you nod to this newfound information. 

“My full name is actually Kyle “Gaz” Garrick”

“Kyle Garrick” You test the name out upon your lips as he gives you once of his famous smiles once more while squeezing your shoulder.

“My name sounds a whole lot better while coming out from between your lips”

Gasping at his comment, you blush widely in response while holding your cheeks with the palms of your hand in an effort to hide your growing embarrassment. Groaning while leaning forward, your head falls into Gabbys lap as she laughs once more at you while combing her fingers through your hair as Gaz slides his hand to rest against your back.

Mumbling in Gabbys secure hold about his touch not helping your state. You hear a loud laugh as he reacts with his hand apologising. The lack of his touch as you question the equally relieved and disappointed emotions flashes across your brain. Yet this bubble of a moment would soon be broken as the rest of the team returned around you.

Everyone eventually sat down on the pavement that had you mentally giggling to yourself, the ghost of a smile makes its way across your features as you notice the formation you all have made is reminiscent of the duck, duck, goose game. 

Soap soon leans over to whisper in your ear, “tag, you’re it” while poking your shoulder jokingly. Wincing in an exaggerated manner has Soap quickly asking if you alright as you smile kindly in response, “I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you Soap” 

He nods back in response before shifting his focus to Gaz, eyeing how close he is sitting against you now all the more obvious as Gabby moved herself to sit between Laswell and Ghost. Yet making no comments on his observations that has relief spreading across your skin. You did not need anymore teasing.

Looking back around the circle yourself, you notice as the Captain does a quick look over of you before nodding his head in approval and turning his attention towards Laswell who appears to be choosing their next words carefully as you feel Ghosts gaze settling hot against your profile.

Tilting your head slightly, you notice how he plays with his gloves and how soft his eyes appear behind the mask as if asking you a simple question to your state. Offering a small smile and nod in recognition you watch out of the corner of your eye as his fidgeting stops and he too eyes Laswells next words. 

Clearing her throat, her eyes make their way around the circle and stop at you, “you have done well today Y/L/N, flying colours for the obstacle course and impressive return I must add. Yet after today…” Her sentence drifts off as she lacks the words necessary to continue, looking over to Price for help.

The Captain holds your eyes softly in his own as he finishes for Laswell, “from discussions earlier and your best interests in mind, Laswell and the team have decided that we won’t be putting you on attack for now.” A large sigh escapes your mouth as you feel conflicted on how to feel about not fully coming back. 

Price continues, “until then you come with us on missions to gather intelligence for Fish under our watch.”

“I understand sir” you respond back, doing the best to hide your emotion in your voice as you see Soap shift himself closer to your side in noticing your slight change in tone. Your eyes are still being held by the captains as you see his eyes wince slightly at your response before his face returns to its professional state. 

Slapping his hands against his knees with a throat clearing he stands up from the sitting circle and dismisses the meeting, turning around and walking his way back inside the main building. Laswell follows suit, dragging Gabby alongside her while they both compare paper-workloads. 

Gabby turns around mouthing an apology for leaving so soon as you look back and see Ghost is now a bit further away with Soap as they appear to be chatting seriously over something together before Ghost locks him into a headlock. Shaking your lead and looking away all you hear are the sounds of them scraping one another in the background as you find Kyle waiting to ask you something. 

“Do you want me to come over tonight?” Kyle questions softly while tilting his head, awaiting your response.

“To come over?”

“Oh ah-apologies, I meant to move your things temporarily on base”

“Oh,” You laugh lightly while shaking your head of the drifting thoughts you were having, “...yeah some help would be great Kyle! Thank you so much for the offer once more.”

“It's really nothing Y/N.”

“Still…”

“Well, how about after you treat me to some coffee together the day after?”

“I like the sound of that,” You say while doing your best to hide the ever growing smile spreading its way across your rosy cheeks as you notice Gaz smiling back at your adorable self. 

“Why do you get to call Gaz by their first name and not me?! I thought I was your favorite based upon yesterday, what has this British man done to your head beauty?” Soap cries out while quickly walking back over to you as Ghost is nowhere to be seen. 

Your head throws back in laughter as your shoulders rise and fall in swift motions. Gaz shakes his head at his squad member, shoving his shoulder lightly from around your frame with the hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. While Soap remains completely serious in the matter, grabbing your shoulders lightly to make sure you are facing him when you respond. 

“Okay then Soap…” Your voice deepens teasingly at the mention of his callsign “...so what would you like me to call you?”

You watch as his eyebrows raise and a smirk slides its way across his features that has you already groaning, predicting what he is going to say as you can hear Kyle laughing behind you at the interaction.

“Mhmm, well there are a number of things I would love you to call me…” You roll your eyes at this comment,  “...Yet for now let's stick to Johnny.”

“Johnny?”

“You got it, Johnny.”

“Can’t promise I can say it with a scottish accent like you do”

“Humor me”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Just once, c'mon, promise not to record this one…”

“This one!”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, Johnny” You respond in a horrible Scottish accent that has Soap reeling with laughter as he grips your shoulder and pulls you into a hug as Gaz laughs harder in the background. The flash of a camera can be heard as you call pause to face the sound to see Ghost pocketing his phone inside his black hoodie. 

╰┈➤ A/N: so... what did you guys think? Have a favorite member so far? Thank you serious for reading all of this lol.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

[brucewaynehater101]

Breaking in because some months ago you posted an AU idea where Dick kills Batman before Damian arrives but imagine if Dick realized that Batman got so bad a child resorted to being brutalized because he thinks he's needed to fix him

So then Dick ends up killing Batman BEFORE Jason ever arrives, and disposes of the body in such a way, that trying to ressurect Bruce w/ Lazarus waters is pointless

There's two three four ways we can do this

a. Jason only learns of Batman dying after coming back to Gotham and before meeting the Batclan

b. Jason learns Batman died while still with the League, something that throws him, Thalia, Ra's, and whoever else for a loop

c. Jason doesn't even know Bruce is dead after getting to Gotham, and it takes time until he learns Dick is Batman

d. Jason and the League only knows of Batman being replaced or missing himself, and only later learn he's been found or announced dead

When the newest Red Hood tries to pull shit? Dick (the new Batman) has none of it as he is extrq protective of his Robins (Tim and Stephanie) after Jason died and Tim was abused

Now what to do w/ Bruce and Wayne Enterprises? I mean, Dick w/ Barbara and Tim's help can become the new patriarch and owner/CEO but there's also the fact that tjey need to navitage the chaos that is either Brucie Wayne dying or going missing qnd being qnnounced deqd unsuspiciously

There's also the idea that Dick (+any accomplices) would have to navigate relations with the Justice League whilst hiding his murder, and Gotham has to deal w/ the changes a new Batman introduces

Suddenly Batman is putting the wellbeing of the people, especially his kids, over justice and his ideals, and whether or not anybody suspects or knows this new Batman "took care" of the old one leaves a lot of potential for plotlines

Also Cassandra, if she still joins the Bats, has to grapple with the patriarch being a killer because the previous patriarch was an abuser

Gosh how will this affect Damian and how he's raised? How will the LOA respond to Bruce's death?

Oh yeah Jason, I can't imagine Dick would leave Joker alive either after what happened to Jason, especially if there was a Joker Junior incident

It's gonna be a mindfuck for he, he needs wanted for his father to prove himself as still being his dad, for Bruce to choose him over "The Right Thing To Do" even if Jason became something Batman would hate

Except Jason doesn't even get the closure of his father proving himself a failure of a father, because Bruce already failed as a father to Dick to such a degree that his reward was death

Jason doesn't know who his father is or would have beenanymore, just that Dick is to Tim, Stephanie and so on what Jay dad wasn't as he was in the League, training for an encounter that would never come

Ooh! But let's add on more, shall we?

I don't remember the og post you're referencing, but let's be mean to Dick :)

I like the many many possibilities for Jason you've listed out, but imma get specific on how Dick killed Bruce.

To be cruel, let it be an accident.

For the exact stage, perhaps the JJ incident still happened, but after Tim was Robin. Dick didn't find out about it because Bruce never informed him, and Dick was busy with Bludhaven and the Titans (it was another unfortunate timing for Dick).

About a year or so after the event, Tim is doing much better. He's been on the field for a bit and doesn't relapse as much (either into thinking he's JJ, Joker's his dad, or the laughing spells).

Joker captures Tim again and calls him "Junior." Dick has never seen Tim react the way he did to that name.

They have history. A bad one.

Bruce isn't surprised.

Bruce hid this from Dick.

The young adult has to take several breaths, but he holds his reservations. Maybe Bruce was respecting Tim's boundaries (yeah fucking right).

Fighting happens ya da ya da and Dick learns what Joker did to Tim.

He's fucking enraged. Joker has touched another sibling of his.

Then, the Joker and Tim are in a precarious position. Dick rushes to save Tim and barely manages to get him in time.

When Dick looks up, the Joker is perfectly fine. Nightwing feels his blood start to boil.

His baby brother almost slipped out of his grasp when he rushed as fast as he could to save him. Dick moved, without hesitation, to save Tim.

Batman would have had to move, without hesitation, to save Joker over saving Robin.

Batman put Joker's safety over Robin's.

The flip is instantaneous.

Nightwing starts pummeling the shit out of both Joker and Batman. Due to the element of surprise, Dick had the upper hand. He gets broken ribs and a concussion for his troubles, but Batman is beneath his fist taking the beating Nightwing is dealing out.

He never realizes Bruce has stopped breathing until he feels a hand on his elbow.

Tim's expression is grim as he focuses on Dick. The teen is heavily dissociating as he takes in the scene.

Tim's lips, when he glances down at Batman, start to tremble. He presses them together to try to keep a calm facade.

The teen closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out, nods to himself, and then opens them.

Bruce is dead. Joker is dead.

They've got work to do.

~~~

In this AU, Steph becomes Robin during Tim's recovery stage from JJ and after this incident. Tim takes a step back after helping Dick dismantle and hide Batman's body to consolidate Dick's position as Wayne heir, majority shareholder, and Batman. He works with Babs to aid Dick in these various transitions.

Lucius is the acting CEO, which takes a huge load off of Dick's shoulders.

Dick is obviously not doing fine about accidentally murdering his dad. At least he killed Joker too, though.

Tim's not doing great either, but it's fine. He eventually steps back into the cape. Steph and him like to play pranks on Gotham. They both vehemently deny that there's two Robins running around at the same time.

I don't think Alfred would stick around after they murdered and covered up the murder of Bruce :/ I wish he would, but maybe he takes a nice retirement in England.

Babs, Tim, and Dick are good at covering their tracks. There's rumors that the new Batman killed the old one, but there's also rumors that he eats people.

The LoA don't know who killed Bruce, but they know he's dead. Tim and Dick still grieve him (feelings are fun like that), so they aren't on the suspect list.

Red Hood shows up demanding answers.

Batman (Dick) confirms that he *will* put his family first. Always.

[andcars]

𝟯 𝟯 𝟯 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 '

maxiel/you , challengers au !

TAGS . . . # daniel ricciardo/max verstappen/gender neutral!reader , alternate universe — not racing drivers , alternate universe — challengers (2024) , tashi duncan!max verstappen , patrick zweig!daniel ricciardo , art donaldson!reader , implied/mild sexual content , mild angst with happy ending , canon typical infidelity , implied/referenced sexual content , polyamorous FIC STYLE. . . # headcannons , drabble WORD COUNT. . . # 1.1k

━━ ❝ like in every universe , max verstappen is competitive . really competitive . he lives and breathes tennis for as long as you've known him . you don't think you ever had a decent conversation with him about anything except for tennis . it's both endearing and kinda annoying . but the way he looks at you makes you forgive him .

━━ it was in the heat of the 2000s when you met him . daniel ricciardo , one of your longest friends ever , invited you over to watch a match of one of his friend's . you didn't know this friend , surprisingly . he says that he only met him recently and it was via chatroom . you can't imagine meeting someone like that . not when you spent the better half of your childhood with daniel at the back of your chair , whispering jokes to you during class that always made you laugh .

━━ meeting max for the first time was thrilling . erotic . you've never been more captivated by someone in your life . it's safe to say that daniel was experiencing the same whiplash as you . every one of his moves were like a handjob to the both of you . your hands found each other's thighs , gripping it as max dominated the scene . and when he screams , you swear you see daniel's hand move over to cover his crotch . you don't blame him for that . you don't blame him for trying to invite him over to your hotel too .

━━ it was probably dangerous that max came over . because it didn't take long for him to go on your bed , propped on his elbows , looking at the both of you like the two of you knew what to do . daniel wasn't a selfish person , you think you were . you run for his lips and he takes his neck . the memories blur over time but you remembered how max's face twisted into ecstasy when daniel sucked him off . you also vividly remember how the both of them made out in front of you like they starved for each other . you didn't skip out on fucking max verstappen either , loving being under him as he takes the reign . that night must have been the greatest night of your lives .

━━ he asks the both of you to win to get his number . he was young back then , all brattiness and charm falling off of him so naturally . you almost thought that daniel would roll over and let you have it . he didn't though , he beat you at the match and something really changed since then . you were young , dumb , and really fucking dumb . trying to get between them because you missed your friend and you wanted max . it almost seemed inevitable that the two broke it off . you just didn't think it would be because of max's injury . the hospital was the last time you met daniel for a long time . ❞

˖ 🎾 › THE MARRIAGE LIFE ‹𝟹 .ᐟ

⟣ㅤ﹒ㅤ001ㅤ ★ㅤ you never told max how you kept all of your photos of the three of you together , some of them just you and daniel , you keep it in a junk drawer in your storage room , buried beneath piles of random objects max would never take interest in

⟣ㅤ﹒ㅤ002 ★ㅤ he spoke about daniel only once after the incident ; he told you the story how they met . it was way earlier than daniel told you . max was drunk on the outside of a bar and daniel was the one to get him a cab home . both of them were shitfaced drunk but daniel was so protective of max that it just made him sober a little . when they met in a chatroom , he didn’t know who he was . but in the hotel , he has never been more happy to kiss him . you don’t bring up that story again

⟣ㅤ﹒ㅤ003 ★ㅤ when max trains you , he’s careful about it . he doesn’t want to push you , nor does he want to see you lacking . every other day of the week (at the start, it was simply every day) he would watch you play tennis with a machine and comment on your form . and when it’s over , he kisses your cheek telling you that you can do better . but he says it in such a fond way that you just believe he says it out of habit .

⟣ㅤ﹒ㅤ004 ★ㅤ after every match , winner or loser , he treats you for dinner. you for dinner . which is really sweet of him . both of you live on each other's money , mostly from your winnings in your prime . but he's the one to pull out the card every time just to be nice to you . maybe it's because you somewhat blame yourself for the split of him and daniel all those years ago .

⟣ㅤ﹒ㅤ005 ★ㅤ daniel's relationship with the both of you were different . daniel and max had a very physical relationship , and you know about it . days where max would have hickies or limp , daniel having sex hair when he goes to visit you after he visits max . but when it was you and daniel , there was that tension you can never chase off . the longing that you've always wished for all those years when you met him . of course with max , it's not like you can forget how he feels from your touch .

˖ 📷 › GETTING BACK TOGETHER ‹𝟹 .ᐟ

━━ ❝ you met daniel at the parking lot and you almost felt really , really fucking bad for him . you arrived early for the match with max and the both of you saw daniel just sitting at his car eating a sandwhich . both of you ignored him but you knew that he was running around in your heads . something was pulling you guys towards him , and it was awful .

━━ at the heat of the race , when you were giving up , daniel reminds you of something . he puts the ball in the middle of the racket and throws . you stand in shock . because your ex best friend has just admitting to fucking your husband . your husband , cheated on you . what the fuck were you going to say to that ?

━━ you think about all those years ago when you attempted to seperate them . you think about the fight at the hospital . you think about sleepless nights looking at daniel's number on your phone . you think about meeting max for the first time . you think about meeting daniel . suddenly , it's just a passing thought . so what if daniel fucked your husband ? he already did it once and you kinda missed that feeling . you're completely fucked in the head but who cares .

━━ you place the race , both of you know the game and nothing and everything is at stake now . it's a tie at the end , when you end up in his arms and you cry into him . suddenly , it's like everything is fixed . you may have not won a challenger , maybe daniel would win , but it's fixed . max still loves you , you're going to get better , and daniel is back by your side . if the three of you start fucking , who's gonna stop you ? ❞

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . this was absolutely way longer than i thought it would've been . but i definitely enjoyed rewriting challengers for this pairing ! ˎˊ˗ ᝰ.

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments !    by andcar

[chefkids]

Did you notice at the end of s3 ep9 carmy ia getting ready for Ever's funeral service and the last shot it's just a scrunchie and Mike's Jesús pastor image?? Idk what that means but that shot is stuck in my brain

The Scrunchie Does Not Fit In, but Carmy is Saving it for Later

Carmy finds a funeral card from Mikey's funeral in his suit jacket and puts it on top of a book next to the scrunchie and some bobby pins.

The book is I DON’T FIT IN – My Wild Ride Through The Punk and Power Pop Trenches with The NERVES and THE BEAT, which is a memoir about the lead singer from the band The Beat, but not the british one that wrote Save it For Later.

There are actually two bands called The Beat, an English one and an American one. The two bands came up around the same time and were often confused with each other, so the English one went by The English Beat and the American one went by Paul Collins' Beat. They actually ended up touring together. So why have a book about the Paul Collins' Beat when the recurring song this season is written by The English Beat?

Save it for Later has a few versions of it throughout the season. The first version we hear is from the American singer Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam when Sydney is on her way to The Bear after the incident and there is montage of classic Chicago spots. And if you listen closely to the full song, at the very end you can hear in the backing vocals "can't find a better man" from Better Man by Pearl Jam. We know Carmy is a big fan of Pearl Jam. Come Back by Pearl Jam was the song playing in the table scene with Sydney and we know the music in the show is supposed to represent their inner thoughts and feelings, so at this point Sydney is still thinking about Carmy.

Then an instrumental version of Save it for Later plays when Richie is talking to Jess on the phone about the Ever funeral. When Sydney is talking to Shapiro and he makes her the offer, the original Save it for Later by The English Beat plays.

They are setting up the American vs British confusion. Sydney is going to be torn between Carmy and Luca (and Shapiro by de facto), the same way Carmy is torn between Sydney and Claire. The song is instrumental, neither british or american, with Richie because he is the puppet master in this whole british vs american ordeal that is going to happen between them.

So much of this season and the previous have been about confusing people or projecting them on to the other, like with Claire and Sydney in Season 2, and then again in Season 3 with the polka dot dish freezer incident. This all ties back to the plotlines of Vertigo and A Midsummer Night's Dream that are referenced in Season 3 where the love interests are frequently confused with each other, sometimes on purpose and sometimes on accident.

The bobby pins seems more like a Claire item that she probably left behind, but when Claire's hair is tied up it is always with a plain black hair tie. The hair clip at the beginning of Tomorrow is probably Claire's, but a girly floral pink scrunchie? That is so Sydney.

The Bear had pink floral dinner plates back in Season 2 before Carmy switched to natural earthenware in Season 3, which also when he basically erased Sydney from The Bear. The scrunchie is a remnant of Season 2.

Sydney has been seen in pink and florals, whereas Claire never has. Sydney also loves patterns. From her bandanas to her shirts and jackets.

She actually has a whole book about them sitting in her locker. She was probably the one who picked the tropical wallpaper in The Bear's bathroom.

Claire is really never seen wearing patterns or prints aside from Friends & Family night (aka ClaireCarmy's relationship funeral) when she wears a black floral shrug, which is the last time Carmy saw Claire. The funeral card is notably Mikey's, not Marcus' mom, which has also always been tied back to Sydney and the Let it rip note. He texted Sydney before opening the note and then had Richie give it to her in a frame to put on her expo.

It's easy to see why he might confuse the scrunchie with Claire's things and put them together when the don't fit actually fit in, the same way The Beat's get confused. And probably the same way Sydney is going to feel confused about Luca vs Carmy in season 4. Is Carmy going to realize the scrunchie is Sydney's and not Claires? It's in his bedroom so I doubt it was Sydney herself that put it there. Seems like he is once again using Claire to project his feelings for Syd, by missing her instead of Sydney.

[random0lover]

Her Past Is Their Torture

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst/No Comfort (yet), SFW, talk of death, readers fake funeral is mentioned, fake identity is mentioned, healing wound referenced, A gun is mentioned one time, words "terrorist group" is used once, nothing to serious!

Things to know: reader themself is never referenced looks wise so this is POC friendly! Also if you decide to follow me after reading, READ MY PINNED POST, thank you ♡

Notes: I wrote this in 3 hours after not writing anything for a while, so I hope this is okay! This somehow is getting turned into a mini-series, but I cannot make any promises on how fast each part will come out, but it will be a happy ending!! Kind of proof read but not really so sorry for any errors <3

Part 1 Part 2 (You’re here!)

You were not supposed to be alive. Your heart had stopped while you were lying in the arms of the man you loved but somehow you were alive sneaking your way through the base that you used to call home. 

Today was the day of your funeral, a month after the incident, you knew it would be your only chance to make it onto base to grab a few of your main keepsakes from your room, and no matter how bad of an idea it was, you wanted to stop in Simon’s room one last time. 

Laswell didn't know you were here as far as she knew you were on your way to pick up everything to complete your temporary new identity. A 24-year-old from the States wanting to get some traveling in after completing nursing school before going back home to start their job as an ER nurse. Enough information to satisfy anyone that wanted to have a chat but nothing that would be too memorable. 

Kate was the first person you saw after you woke up in a room that was decorated with floral designs that reminded you of the worn couch that sat in your grandmother's living room until the day she passed away. She told you that your getting shot that night wasn’t a coincidence and that the same people you've spent the last few years running from were once again coming after you.

 Before you became part of Task Force 141 you had previously been part of a different unit, one that now has no evidence of existing after a mission that went haywire. You had all been tasked to eradicate a terrorist group that had supposedly made threats to multiple governments not knowing that you were not the first unit being sent in, that it was a death wish going after them. You and your captain had been the only ones to survive at first until four months later you woke in the middle of the night to a frantic phone call from him saying that they were going to come for you next, the sound of a shotgun being cocked, then the line went dead. Not ten minutes later you had packed a bag and were getting ready to go out the backdoor when you heard your front door being kicked in, if it hadn't been for your captain making that call you would've been dead too.

From that day you spent two years running, going everywhere from China to The United States, to Poland, to Japan, anywhere you could hide until Kate had you staying in the UK which is when she introduced you to Captain John Price and you officially became part of task force 141. Price was the only one that knew your full story until you told Simon but you never got the chance to tell him that you might have to keep running one day. That the people that were after you would only show up to try and kill you to then disappear without a trace until they decided to come after you again.

You had become too comfortable, too hopeful that they were not going to come after you again, that maybe it was all over but the healing bullet wound in your side states otherwise.

You shake your head to get out of your thoughts and continue to make your way through the base while keeping your head down.

~~**~~

This morning you had watched to make sure all of the task force members had left so that you didn't risk running into any of them. You had already been to your room making sure to grab the necklace Soap and Gaz had gifted you on your birthday last year, the little notebook Soap would doodle in when he would sit in your room with you, the t-shirt you had stolen from Simon’s closet, and a coffee mug that Price had jokingly given you that said “dad’s favorite”. 

You knew it was all pointless stuff but the little things had always meant the most to you especially when it was things that people that were as close to family as you'll get had given you.

Walking through the men's barracks would not be a good idea usually but today they were mostly barren for obvious reasons. You quickly made it to Simon’s room having to resist stopping in Gaz’s room and staying focused. Oddly enough the door was unlocked but you didn’t think much of it, mainly just thanking the stars that you got lucky enough that he forgot.

You make your way into the room gently shutting the door behind you and move until you're standing beside his bed closing your eyes for a moment taking a deep breath, taking in the smell of pine and cedar mixed with notes of vanilla and a small hint of smoke. 

You open your eyes and finally let your eyes drift across the room. The room itself is completely clean not a thing out of place almost as if it hadn't been touched since the morning before that last mission what catches your attention though is the small desk in the corner that is currently the dirtiest you've ever seen it, covered in a few stacks of paperwork, mugs that have dried-out tea bags in them, and not so shockingly your file. It was sitting on top of everything else but you could tell from the creases and a few dirt stains in the manilla folder that it had been opened multiple times and maybe even thrown or dropped a few times. 

You feel in your pocket for the folded note that you had written the night before and pull it out. You stare at it for a moment before opening the folder and sliding it in between some papers at the bottom of the stack hoping that he’ll find it. As soon as you close the folder you hear some voices coming down the hallway and make your way towards his closed closet waiting to see if you’ll need to hide. You hear the voice fade and let out the breath you were holding until you see the door handle turning and frantically throw yourself into the closet hiding behind his clothes and trying to shut the door.

Simon comes into your view for a moment and you see him looking around the room, you hear him let out a sigh before taking a deep breath and you see his body go rigid, you freeze hoping he didn’t hear you, and hear him sniff again almost as if he smells something weird. He turns towards the closet and you can see his eyes settle on the door, you want to slap yourself for not making sure to close it all the way and suck in a breath as he takes a step forward reaching out to open the door but before he can you hear his door open again.

“You got that file you were looking for Lt.?” Soap asks from the doorway.

Simon looks at the closet door one more time before turning to the desk and grabbing the file, “Yeah Johnny, let’s go.” 

You wait in the closet for another five minutes before you decide that it’s safe to venture out and quickly make your exit, locking the door behind you before you sneak off base. 

As soon as you reach your car the burner phone that was in the center console starts ringing the screen saying ‘GREEN’ in big bold letters meaning that it’s Kate. You pull out the phone and answer it while starting the car. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

 “I'm almost there Kate, I’ll be there soon. Promise.” You sigh before hanging up.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the second part to Open Wounds and War Paint! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. &lt;3

As of right now I have a few requests, but requests are open! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

[kukekakuningaskris]

SSOL, Bojan, and wishful thinking

aka thoughts on Sunny Side of London and a different view than what the band paints it as - a long ramble that resembles an analysis.

So SSOL has been described by the band as a song that captures and describes their concerts, and that the Sunny Side of London is not a real, physical space and rather something that represents their fandom as well as their concerts. Thus it is seen as a fun upbeat song, meant to raise your mood and feel included in something - to feel as if you are part of something fun. I, however, have a different interpretation of the lyrics.

Since London is known for its bad weather and rain, the title Sunny Side of London feels like it is referencing something that doesn't exist. Something you dream of and wish for, but don't actually have. In this regard, the lyrics are wishful. The lyrics wish for a place in which everyone can be as free as a dove, in which your money, sexuality, gender, skin colour or religion don't matter. Wishing for equality and for a place in which all that matters is your happiness and love for others. Looking at this from the perspective of a wishful dream, the lyrics turn sombre, as if painfully aware that this is not real and the place they yearn for does not exist. The lyrics wish for a sunny London and a beautiful day. But only wish, because it is not real, and is impossible to achieve. Or, like a sunny day in London, could be achieved for just small moments before it's all gone again, and what's left is a depressing and unaccepting place,in which you are not free. A representation of reality.

Additionally, the lyrics are often read and understood as being about the audience the band has - the fans that come to their shows. However, I think that the lyrics are about Bojan himself, much like Barve Oceana is written about himself. In 2021, Bojan said that during their concerts he is free as a bird because he is surrounded by friends who know him well, so he doesn't have to be ashamed of anything. This correlates to the lyrics of SSOL that are about hugging your best friend, being as free as a dove, and nothing except happiness and love mattering. In the same interview he said that when he is on stage he never feels like he doesn't belong or that he doesn't know what he is doing there. That is to say, the stage was a safe place for him - his own sunny side of London.

When looking at the recently shared image of the early version of SSOL lyrics, it seems like Bojan himself is even more present in the song than in the final lyrics. Overall, these lyrics are more personal to the band. The earlier version uses a lot of 'we' and 'us', while the published lyrics only use 'you'. This shows that while the finished song is aimed toward the listener, the first versions also included the band itself in the people who were at the sunny side of London. With lines like "It's a place for people like me and you / So if you feel like joining us too" it is clear that this is Bojan himself speaking, and he is also looking for the sunny side of London.

This takes a more depressing turn when considering when the lyrics were written. The song was written in August of 2023, less than a month after the concert during which Bojan suffered a panic attack. He has later said that since the incident the stage hasn't felt as comfortable to him, and that he has lost his safe space. Paired with the idea of the sunny side of London being something unreachable and wishful thinking, it seems as if the lyrics are mourning the loss of the safe space Bojan had. The lyrics are hopeful, aggressively so, as if trying to find a place of freedom while knowing that it is just a dream, and that the reality is much harsher. It seems like Bojan was trying to dream up a place in which he would feel safe and accepted, since in reality he had lost that.

In conclusion, reading the lyrics of the song as if the sunny side of London was something that didn't exist, the lyrics seem depressing, as if knowing such a good and accepting place could never exist. It also reveals Bojan's struggle with trying to feel comfortable on a stage again, since the lyrics seem to be for (if not about) himself.

[sirenjose]

Hullabaloo (Manor Game) Timeline

(Theory based on the letters)

1. Most initially think Joker = Sergei

- Violetta and Margaretha at least initially do

- Mike seems to realize who "Sergei" really is based on Joker’s limping

2. “Rehearsal Schedule” left on the table

- Found by Violetta, who shares it with everyone

* Maybe the “rehearsal schedule” is the nursery rhyme referenced by Violetta and Joker?

3. Disagreements/Factions: Margaretha and Joker, Mike and Murro (with Violetta)

- Someone finds a phonograph/record and plays “Smiley Face Polka”

- Margaretha realizes Sergei = Joker

- Margaretha confronts Joker, sharing how she knows who he is and asks him to ally himself with her for protection against Mike, who she thinks will kill her

- Meet that night

4. (?) Joker gives Margaretha a music box - Joker notices Margaretha’s room has a strange smell - Joker notices a bottle with a strange marking (drug?)

5. (?) Margaretha gives Joker a letter + tells Joker about “the perfume”

6. Joker thinks the “play” is a “fight”

- Baits (“invites”) Violetta by using the excuse of “searching for ‘inspiration’”

- Removes Violetta’s mechanical leg, immobilizing her

- Throws her out of the manor and leaves her to die in the snow

* Joker may have somehow used “the perfume” on Violetta as part of his plan?

- Violetta also saw a nursery rhyme, likely the same one Joker referenced ("We will forget everything in the past and gain new life")

- "The perfume" may be Mnemosyne/Euphoria. Caused Violetta to forget?

7. Mike begins to discover the truth(?)

- "From the moment Violetta was assaulted, Mike had a vague answer to his questions.."

- "It took that incident to make me realize that this so-called family of ours is no better than a stinking sewer"

8. Margaretha fears Joker after what he does to Violetta - Joker seemingly tells Margaretha the "sacrifice" was potentially necessary for the next phase of the game to begin

(?). At some point, Margaretha loses the music box Joker gave her.

9. Game begins - "Guest performance" (planned by Mike and Murro to crush Margaretha and Joker's alliance)

* The "guest" may be Violetta (who may have forgotten quite a bit due to the perfume)

- Truth behind the Moon River Park tragedy is exposed

* Tragedy (or circumstances/situation?) in the circus "repeated itself" and Joker's "armor of lies" crumbled.

* Joker couldn't face his "bare" self (unmasked?), and he lost control of his emotions (mental breakdown)

* Regarding this “guest performance” and the truth of the Hullabaloo tragedy being revealed, Mike may have pretended to be Sergei or Joker or something (maybe Mike as Sergei was the “guest” rather than Violetta? Or maybe alongside her?), based on Mike saying “you didn’t expect white and cinnabar to trick all of you”. Cinnabar being a shade of red, along with white, are some of the colors we see on Joker/Weeping Clown’s face. And as we know Mike was figuring out the truth, it’s possible, based on his sarcastic mention of “Sergei” that he might’ve been trying to reveal who Joker was, as well as what he did, considering his previous letter mentions how, after Violetta was attacked, that Mike “had a vague answer to his questions” (aka the truth) and “light was shone on the numerous dark events of the past”. This could then explain Joker’s “lies” being torn away and the reference to his “bare self”. If Mike maybe understood some of who Joker was, maybe even slightly had an idea to Joker’s inferiority complex, maybe that would’ve contributed even more to why Joker would lose control of his emotions?

Joker's protectiveness for Margaretha "transforms into coercion"

Margaretha goes to extremes. "Lady luck didn't smile on her this time"

* "I-If he really does make me his next target, I will never give him the chance, and I won't let myself be fooled again!"

* If the circus tragedy "repeated itself", Margaretha originally escaped from Moonlit River Park during the tragedy via jumping into the river. If "lady luck didn't smile on her this time", she may not emerge from the river this time

Joker falls into a depression from losing Margaretha

Mike gives up on revenge (family is most important to him) and "remained on the stage he'd missed for so long"

Mike realizes "his stage of happiness only existed in that short peaceful memory. Once his core value collapsed, Mike couldn't face reality in a mature manner anymore.

Mike’s “Grand Performance”

* Mike seeks the truth, closure.

* "I've even prepared a grand performance for it — an explosive performance! Bernard was always against it due to safety concerns, but he failed to realize that burning up in a sea of flames is the best ending "Hullabaloo" could ever have!"

10. Ending

Hullabaloo burns? (Mike doesn't plan to escape/survive with Murro)

Joker "followed in Margaretha's footsteps"

* If Margaretha jumped into the river, maybe he attempts the same thing?

Murro is the sole survivor

As for the trailer for the Hullabaloo event/game, based on Mike being on stage and the main person shown, and him specifically addressing Sergei, no one else being seen, I assume this could be part of Mike's "Grand Performance"?

(If not, I imagine it's the "guest performance")

[anthroposeen]

tmagp 12 relisten notes

Celia:

- requests tea, not coffee, the OIAR custom. points to her being from the TMA universe + bonus thing! there was no tea in the OIAR and sam lended her some. potentially a demonstration of their relationship dynamic lore-wise (celia representing other-wordly things and sam's insistence on interacting w them. this is definitely a reach, though, since im very much a 'the curtains are never just blue' person)

- she agrees to go out with sam but needs to "sort some things out" maybe related to jack, georgie, or her individual research

Sam:

- he asked her out! oh my god (alice's father)!

- is trying to distance himself from the magnus institute (TMI) but is still unable to break his curiosity about it

Alice:

- watched sam ask out celia (we can assume it was with the manner of a deer in the headlights)

- "its rude to have no game" i love you maam

- no glitch after she says "i cant believe im missing out on all of this- devastating" but could be because it comes off as more sarcastic than a blunt lie

- "we dont always get what we want, do we?" potentially a hint at her feeling about sam

- "i go by alice, now, actually" important only because i adore you miss dyer

- seems to genuinely care about gwen, lending to the idea that shes protecting her coworkers

- "i dont wonder. i know" no glitch followed this statement. it could be because it was meant as a joke and not to deceive gwen, but who is to say

Gwen:

- she's trying to discuss the morality of their roles and seems to be unhappy to participate in mascot strip club murder

- "you dont wonder what the point is? who benefits from all this awfulness?"

Glitches/lies:

- "dont worry about it, it wasnt that bad" alice, referencing TMI

- "no." sam, lying about not being interested in information about TMI

Incident:

- this is the result of gwen giving mr bonzo the hit, and it seems to have been read at her computer (once again implying theres a consciousness within FR3D1 or jmj)

- incident made by jordan bennett -> maybe related to this universe's bennett family (connection to barnabas bennett) but i doubt its lore relevant

- no obvious alchemic ties in this incident

- this case is narrated by norris/martin, but goes against the regular theme of his incidents (lonliness, loss of a loved one)

- the robotic sound of the narration seems to be diminishing, with very little of the beginning and end of the incidents being read in a monotone and robotic voice

- i want to voice my deepest appreciation for the title being "getting off", along with mr bonzo initiating a hit for the uk government in a strip club. incredible. absolute cinema from the minds of AJN and johhny sims truly

The target:

- before this episode, my theory was that klaus, colin, and teddy were the most likely to be the hit

- based on this list, if the target is the groom, it makes the most sense for it to be klaus, since there has been no mention of colin or teddy being engaged, and thats a clue i dont think the writers would leave out. however, the groom is called "baz" by his friends, which is a nickname i dont recognize (but its potentially on the rpg somewhere?)

- im not very convinced that klaus was the groom in this incident. i think the hit may have been obvious to lena, but gwen has yet to connect all the dots, leaving the audience a bit in the dark as well

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

so i keep referencing the What Broke Delirium essay i plan to write but never actually writing it, so let's dig into that one!

because. sandman does not spoonfeed information. neil gaiman even said this in regards to the tv show, most shows are written these days under the assumption that audiences aren't really paying attention and need things spelled out for them - but sandman is not one of those shows. you gotta notice everything to get the full story

which honestly i love in many ways because it's part of why i'm never gonna run out of sandman essays to write - every time i reread the comics or rewatch the show i catch something new

and this is one of the first hidden bits of info i caught - remember this spread from overture?

it's a fucking gorgeous page and one of my favourite in the entire sandman run, both for the pretty art and the content itself (i love delirium SO much)

but let's just zoom in on the center of those flowers for a sec

because there's tiny tiny text written inside them

(for anyone who can't parse that, the first says "delight was sad", the second says "delight went mad")

now i've mentioned in many of my posts before that the endless all struggle to experience their own aspect, they are that thing, it exists for the most part out of their reach, and that causes problems for all of them

but i usually leave delirium out of these explanations

and that's because, for whatever reason, delirium is the opposite. and delight was too. i don't know what it is that makes her different, but while her older siblings all seem to be barred from their own domain by nature (or have to go to great lengths to experience it), del is too much of it. she's utterly absorbed by it. and while i think she's learned over the centuries how to be a bit more flexible (she understands the coins have two sides thing better than any of them, and can be lucid when she needs to), she didn't start out that way

we don't know what it is exactly that broke her. but we know why.

she had spent all of her life as the personification of happiness and joy, and someone who embodied those emotions. she appeared most as a little kid as delight, because kids definitely find it a lot easier to stay in that perpetually excited, happy mindset

but nothing stays that way forever. and this is where she is like her siblings, and why she's so familiar with the coin metaphor - when you're missing a fundamental piece of being human (either by being barred from your aspect or by being absorbed by it), that's not sustainable. it will tear you apart. dream refuses to accept that this is the case, and that breaks him. desire is equally stubborn about it, and they've outright admitted (in narration) that they're hanging on by a fucking thread

but death figured it out, when she realised she couldn't fulfill her function properly without learning what it was like to live. destruction figured it out when he ran away to go create. and delirium figured it out the hard way, because as soon as the world got a little too big for her singular aspect to make sense, it shattered

and it shattered slowly

there may have been some form of inciting incident, but she didn't become delirium overnight. i think a lot about her describing it as "growing up, or at least growing older", because that's both a very mature way to look at it and also an extremely tragic way to look at it, the idea that she knows too much, is never going to see the world the same way again, and that means delight is never coming back

(and that realisation is when she stopped presenting as a child and started presenting as a teenager)

and i think for a while, early days of being delirium, not delight, she didn't know what to do with that. delight broke into scattered pieces and the more fell away the harder it became to connect them

but she's also the only one of her siblings who's picked herself up from that. and it's why she's the wisest of them. because from there she learned

okay, so her innocence is gone. so delight isn't coming back. but there's still parts of her around, if delirium ever needs them. and the more she observes about the world, the more she experiences, the more different pieces she gets to add to the puzzle. they don't fit together, but that's del's real strength - they're not supposed to. she could have tried to reassemble herself piece by piece, like gluing together a broken statue, but why would she do that? then she'd be exactly as breakable as before, if not more so

instead she's more of a floating amalgamation of pieces, or rather, she's the ties between them. and because there's no set puzzle, she can put those pieces together in any order. she's no longer susceptible to the same problems as her siblings, because she's not missing anything anymore. she didn't lose parts of herself when becoming delirium, she gained some

and yes, no one is entirely without flaw - her downside is she's still susceptible to strong emotion, and when that overwhelms her mind she stops being any kind of person, we just see that floating amalgamation, until she can calm down. but that's the worst of it. her siblings may see her as broken, but she's more whole than she ever was as delight. and she's never going to break again

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4042

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

5. Jiggly Soufflé Cake

Steve

“I should be in there,” Bucky says again, making Steve roll his eyes.

They’re sitting next to each other, out in the waiting room at the Center. It’s been over an hour, but Steve remembers how the intake worker had told them that Mary’s evaluation wouldn’t be short. Already, he’s read through half the crappy magazine selection. He lets the edge of an outdated issue of Dominant Monthly flop down to his lap. “Babe …”

“It’s taking too long. What if they’re harassing her or—”

“You know that’s not true. The people here are good. You’re just trying to control everything,” he reminds Bucky.

“If I was in there I could—”

“Get in the way. She needs to feel like she can express herself.”

“What if she’s not honest? What if Linda’s not asking her the right—”

“Buck, stop,” Steve says, injecting some command into his voice. Bucky might be the Dom, but Steve can put his foot down with his husband when needed. “The therapist knows what she’s doing. All the people here do. This is what they do.”

They’re at the Center for Designated Peoples, the place where people like Bucky go for … well, anything related to their dominance or submission needs. That’s all Steve really knows. He knows that Bucky has been in and out of CDPs since he was a kid. “It took almost a week to get her this appointment, alright? You want to mess that up?”

Bucky grumbles. “No.”

“Good. Cause they don’t need you in there, interfering in her assessment. So sit tight.”

Bucky shuts up after that, satisfying Steve that he’s made his point.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky eventually says, when another ten minutes have passed and the door to the therapist’s office is still closed. “Of her?”

Steve glances over. “You mean in general?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Steve can tell when Bucky’s being defensive. “You like her,” he says. “And not just cause of her lemon tarts.” He’d seen him looking at weighted blankets on Amazon, yesterday. “Admit it,” he prods, nudging Bucky’s shoe with his. “You can tell me how you feel. Why d’you need me to qualify it for you, first?

“Because I’m married to you, not her,” Bucky snaps. “Jesus, Rogers. Never met a man with less self-preservation instincts than you.”

“Mmhm. Aand?”

“... Okay I’m drawn to her,” Bucky says. “But I can’t tell how much of that is instinct and how much is normal people stuff.”

“‘Normal people stuff’,” Steve echoes, amused.

“I want to know what you think of her.” Bucky kicks his shoe back. “Tell me.”

“I like her too,” Steve concedes. “It’s not just you.” He can see as Bucky’s shoulders relaxing a little bit, knows that his opinion matters to his husband. “She’s different. Plain, but …” Steve searches for the right word. ‘Cute’ doesn’t seem right. She’s too prickly for that and too old besides. She’s a woman, not a girl, and he’s not just trying to describe her physical appearance. “I don’t know,” he says. “Editorial?”

“Editorial?” Bucky scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno, just, not off the rack. Different.” Bucky snatches the magazine out of his lap and chucks it back to the coffee table. Steve rolls his eyes. “Wish she wasn’t so defensive, though. And I wish we could’ve met her … you know, like on a date or at the gym or something.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah.”

“She grows on you,” Steve decides. Like an angry, stray cat. That’s dirty and scraggy a little.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky offers, but the words fall flat. They can both see that she’s attractive, that isn’t news. Bucky and Steve are attractive people themselves. They aren’t hurting for opportunities to be with attractive women (or men), if they want to. And it’s been a while since they invited another person into their bed. But …

“I haven’t been with a woman since my twenties,” Steve mumbles, thinking about it. He glances at Bucky. “You have.”

They both know Bucky was dating women casually when he met Steve, years ago. “Yeah,” he says simply.

“You ever miss ‘em? Women?” Steve kind of does sometimes. He likes how soft they are; the contrast. It had taken him a couple of dates and a few glasses of wine, back when they’d first gotten together, to admit to Bucky that he was bi. Steve had told him that, and then Bucky had disclosed his designation status. “We used to talk about the whole poly thing a lot more.”

“Hm, yeah I guess.” Bucky shrugs and reaches to take his hand. Steve gives it a squeeze. “I dunno babe. Kind of hard to think about anybody else when I’ve got you around.” He gives him a lecherous look that makes Steve glad they’re the only ones in the waiting room. “Your hot body’s been enough to keep my attention.” His eyes drag up and down Steve, mentally undressing him.

Steve feels heat creep up his neck and he chuckles, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Stoppit. Jerk. I’m a person.”

“Punk,” Buck smirks. “You like it.”

“Shuddup. Not here. God, you’re such a creep.” They’re both grinning—probably like complete, horny letches—when the door to the therapist’s office opens.

The professionally dressed woman offers them a friendly smile. “Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Linda,” Bucky greets.

“How’d it go, Doctor?” Steve asks, not on as informal terms with the CDP staff as his husband is. “Is she …”

“Mary is fine. Would you like to come in and talk with us?”

Bucky is immediately standing from his chair. “Yep.”

Steve has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s wrist. “Hang on now, Buck. Maybe she doesn’t want us in there. We should try and give her choices where we can.”

Doctor Linda surprises him by saying, “Actually, Mary says she’s fine with discussing this all together.”

Bucky shoots him a smug look and tugs his wrist back. “See?”

This time Steve does roll his eyes, but he nods at Linda and gets up to follow her back into the office.

Bucky

Bucky can recall very clearly the first time he’d been told he had a mental illness. He’d been ten, had been sent to the school shrink for misbehavior. He remembers how his mom had come in, harried about being called off from work when her kid wasn’t even sick. Bucky had felt bad about that, had felt like he’d done something wrong (well, he had scrubbed Trixie Wallace’s face into a mud puddle at recess).

But still, even at ten years old he’d been smart enough to know that this meeting with his mom and the counselor was more serious than another simple admonition or in-school suspension.

Long story short, His mom wound up reacting with something like embarrassment, and Bucky had wound up internalizing that for a long time, feeling like his “condition” was something to be kept private and not discussed.

Now, he sits in Linda’s office and makes sure to exude an air of calm and acceptance. He doesn’t want Mary to be embarrassed about this like he was. It helps that times have changed a bit since Bucky was a kid, and he knows this particular Center very well. They do good work with the designated community. Bucky knows that no one here is going to announce to Mary that she’s a deviant.

Mary’s sitting in her own chair, separate from where Bucky and Steve share the couch. Even though Bucky’s instinct is to tell her to come sit with them, he holds back. He knows that the seating arrangement is likely purposeful on Linda’s part. He tries to remember Steve’s words about giving Mary choices where they can. Domination may be what she needs, but too much of a good thing, administered too fast, can still be harmful.

“High needs,” Steve is saying, echoing what Linda’s just told them. “... So, she’s like Bucky, but submissive?”

“Yes,” Linda confirms. “We did the assessment twice, and both times Mary tested at the far end of the spectrum.”

“Fantastic,” Mary mutters.

“We’ve been discussing what this might mean for her care plan, going forward. Mary has several other issues that I believe tie into her unfulfilled needs as a submissive.”

“I don’t understand how it went undiagnosed for so long,” Bucky says, feeling vaguely upset about it. “Doc?”

She shrugs. “Mary’s from a part of the country where mental health awareness isn’t so advanced. They didn’t test in the public school system where she grew up.” Mary makes a quiet noise of discontent and Linda adds, “So we’ve been talking about the physiology of it, the role of neurotransmitters and how important it is for her to be dropped regularly. And we’ve discussed what that might look like, different options she has.”

“Options?”

Here, Linda hesitates. “Well … Mary has expressed an interest in taking advantage of the Center’s social programs.”

“No,” Bucky says right away. “Absolutely not.”

“She said you do it,” Mary counters, and when Bucky looks over he finds her glaring at him. “Apparently, I don’t need you after all. I can just come here and hook up with any old body.”

“I’m your legal guardian right now,” Bucky reminds her. “And the clubs are for people who know what they’re doing. It’s too unstructured for you. You need more stability than that.”

Mary scoffs and crosses her arms, but Dr. Linda is already nodding in agreement. “I think Bucky’s right, Mary,” she says gently. “A reliable, dominant partner and regular drops in a safe space are what you need right now.”

“Why can’t you just write me a prescription or something?” Mary complains. “You said it was a brain chemistry thing, so why not?”

Linda looks uncomfortable as she explains, “Medication is usually only considered as a last ditch treatment option … and with your substance use disorder and other issues I'd rather not —”

“I am not an alcoholic!”

“No meds,” Bucky says, hating that idea. “Come on, Mary. You don’t want to be drugged up, do you?”

She glares at him. “You just want to control me.”

He fights very, very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he quips. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mary groans and slumps back into the cushions of her chair, looking put out. “This sucks.”

“It’s manageable,” Linda reminds gently.

"I don't want to be this way," she mumbles. "'High needs'. It's embarrassing."

“It's no different than needing air, or food or sleep,” Steve supplies. “You guys just have this extra thing.”

Mary makes a face, probably at being lumped into the ‘you guys’ category with Bucky. “So, what’s the plan then?” she asks mulishly, crossing her arms. “We go back to your place and you break out the whips and chains?”

Bucky barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Oh, honey. I promise there aren’t any chains.” He winks at her. “I prefer leather.”

Mary

After the therapist, it gets a little easier to be around Steve and Bucky. Mary’s still quick to anger, thinking about the situation that she's managed to get herself into, but there are some ameliorating factors to the situation.

Having an official diagnosis—no matter how much she doesn’t want this diagnosis—is at least a starting point. Mary doesn’t have to keep exhausting herself, arguing with Bucky that she’s not a sub. She is. That’s that.

And when he takes it upon himself to speak with Mary’s boss about her situation (effectively getting him to unfire her for the multiple days of work she’s missed) some more of Mary’s contempt for Bucky slips away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly once they leave the café, her next shift already scheduled for that upcoming Monday. “ I … this job, it means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Bucky says simply, though Mary can see the self-satisfaction in his posture. He takes her hand as they walk together down the sidewalk, and to Mary it feels like some sort of test, like he’s waiting for her to pull away.

So she forces herself to curl her fingers around his and keep holding his hand.

Again, she can practically feel the reaction coming off of him. He’s pleased with her. Mary’s cheeks flush from the domineering squeeze he gives her hand from time to time as they walk, and she’s grateful that she can blame it on the day’s chilly air.

Doctor Linda had explained everything, of course, when Mary went in for the assessment. The testing hadn’t been what she was expecting, hadn’t been embarrassing or invasive. And, perhaps most disappointing of all, it hadn’t been predictable. Mary hadn’t felt like she knew which way to fake her responses, to get the test to declare her mentally fit. So she’d answered honestly. 

And where had that gotten her? Lumped into the same group of deviants as James Bucky Barnes. “High needs”—God it sounds awful.

“It’s not necessarily sexual,” Linda tells her at her second appointment. “Or, well … it doesn’t have to be, at least. There are ways around it, if you really need an asexual dynamic.”

Mary nods along, but inside she thinks about the last time Bucky scolded her or praised her or held her hand on the sidewalk. She thinks about when he’d put his hand on her throat and applied pressure. Thinking about those things doesn’t make her feel asexual at all.

The first time Bucky doms her in a coordinated manner, she’s actually unaware of what he’s doing at first. It’s one of Mary’s  three days off and she’s terribly bored, researching how to make grapefruit soda caviar and wondering if there’s a gym nearby that she could join. She hasn’t exercised in weeks, and honestly, if there’s even the slightest chance that she’s going to wind up being naked in front of Bucky or Steve (or, oh god, both of them), then she really feels like she needs to work out.

Scratching fingernails over the skin of her lower stomach, she googles nearby gyms, finds one that looks decent, and tells Steve that she’s headed out to go join. She’s tying one sneaker when Steve objects.

“Oh but wait,” he says. “Um, Bucky’s going to be home soon. And I think he uh, I think he had plans. … For us.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. She likes Steve—thinks he’s kind of a big, beefy sweetheart, actually—but sometimes his devotion to Bucky and what Bucky wants is annoying. “Fine, you stay here and tell him where I went. I’ve got to get out of this apartment.” And out from under you and your bossy husband’s constant supervision. “Got to … I dunno, burn off some steam.”

Bucky’s timing is impeccable. He comes through the door just as she’s bending over to lace up her other sneaker. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, which he dumps onto the kitchen counter with fanfare. "Honey, I'm home."

“What happened to using the reusable bags?” Steve drawls, earning an eye roll from Bucky.

“Forgot 'em.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s grinning at his husband, until he catches sight of Mary crouched in her gym clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her.

“None of your business,” she snips, standing back up and heading for the front door.

“Stop right there, Princess.”

Oh. Well that’s a new one. Mary turns back around with what she’s sure is an incredulous look. “‘Princess’?”

Bucky smiles warmly and drags her over to inspect the groceries that are in the bags. She’s quick to catalog: eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. “What?” she asks, looking up at him. “You think I’m going to cook for you?”

“Oh I know you’re going to cook for me,” he says calmly, taking dry goods out of one of the bags and arranging them in the pantry. “Bake, in fact.”

Mary might stare a little, maybe with her lips parted. She feels equal parts annoyed and intrigued by his audacity. Something vaguely squirmy and warm stirs in her. She's planning on throwing some haughty quip back at him, maybe casually threatening poisoning, but somehow what comes out of her mouth is a subservient, “Well … what do you want me to make?”

He turns back around with bright eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he practically purrs. He gets right up in her space and says, “Something … delectable.”

Mary has to avert her gaze and turn away. She says a quick prayer that he hadn’t been close enough to hear the little hitch in her breath, then tries to focus her attention on cataloging the ingredients the jerk has brought her. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk …

Hadn’t she … hadn’t she been going out somewhere? Oh yeah, right. The gym.

She squeaks when Bucky claps a cheerful hand on her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “Good girl,” he simpers, then walks over to the couch and flops down next to Steve, giving him a kiss hello. They proceed to chat with each other and chat about their days like Mary isn’t standing less than twenty feet away in the kitchen.

She suddenly feels like some 1950’s housewife. … One with damp panties, now that Bucky’s called her that right in her ear. Christ. Had Steve heard? She glances back over to them, but they’re not looking her way. Mary flushes and looks back down at the countertop. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. She tries to think if she has everything she might need for soufflé cakes.

“How can something so plain be so good?” Steve wonders at the dinner table, where he’s squinting closely at his third helping of dessert like he can glean answers from it. “And what is it?”

“Satisfying,” Bucky says sagely. “That’s the secret.”

“The secret is buttermilk. And it’s cake, Steve. Just eat it.”

“How’re those dishes coming, Doll?” Bucky calls back, shooting her a sly look from over his shoulder. Mary resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him and dunks her hands back into the soapy sink water. 

Steve pokes the jiggly cake with his fork. “What are yooou?” 

By the time they’re finished with dinner and dessert (and dishes), she’s figured it out. All the pet names, the casual touches and the confident demands? Bucky’s trying to dominate her. She thinks about calling him out on it, but promptly forgets to do that when they go into the living room to watch a movie and Bucky firmly suggests that she make herself comfortable on the floor instead of the couch. At his and Steve’s feet.

Forget about damp panties, she just hopes it doesn’t start to show through her leggings.

Asexual dynamic her ass.

Mary had only held onto the illusion that the guys were gay gay for about two whole days, before it became very apparent that they actually like women, too. Steve’s comments alone about Daenerys while watching Game of Thrones are enough to broadcast that he swings both ways.

So that takes it from regrettable to just plain insulting when, as time goes by, Bucky doesn’t initiate anything sexual with her. He keeps doing his whole Dom thing, aided and abetted by Steve, and almost always in ways that take Mary off guard. He’s never mean, never does any of the intimidating things she’d imagined a dom would do to a submissive. 

And Mary won’t admit it, but she’s starting to look forward to when Bucky gets home from work at the end of the day. She spends more time than she’ll ever admit planning out something new to make for dessert, all the while anticipating the beginning of Bucky’s early evening commands and how they elicit those first tendrils of effervescent, pink fizz giddiness. 

It’s the later commands—the ones that come after dinner and during tv time, that tend to bring on the warm, sunken bathwater feelings. Marys pretty sure that Steve is a bit of a voyeur, because he seems fascinated by it all, watching every night as Bucky bosses her around, sometimes even joining in his own small ways, by petting her hair or telling her she’s sweet, or something like that.

Every evening, they play this strange game. And every evening Bucky and Steve each give her a kiss on the cheek and send her dazed little self off to bed, the two of them retiring to their own room. In the beginning, being left alone to go to bed is nice. She ignores the arousal between her legs in favor of floating in her syrupy sea of sweet feelings. Going to bed in subspace gives her the most solid sleep she’s ever had in her life. But after another week of it, and then another, the arousal starts to linger a little more at bedtime. She starts to fantasize about what it would be like to keep things going, to take Steve’s hand at the end of the night and let him guide her into his and Bucky’s bedroom, rather than her own; be held between their two big bodies while they whisper more sweet things to her and touch her in new places …

Maybe Steve and Bucky really do just want this to be platonic, she thinks, as another week of the same goes by and her dreams are getting dirtier by the minute. She’d surreptitiously stuffed her vibrator into a bag when they’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve her belongings, but she’s been too afraid to use it when Steve and Bucky are right across the hallway in their room, mortified to think that they might hear the buzzing and know what she’s doing.

Best not to add fuel to the fire, she thinks, when she ignores how increasingly horny she’s becoming and forces herself to lie still and count sheep and not fantasize about the two insanely hot, not-gay-gay men in the next room. They’re still a happily married couple, she tells herself. They’ve got no interest in her as of yet, and she’ll just be making herself into a homewrecker if she pushes for more.

… Or maybe they’re just not attracted to her that way, she eventually starts to think. Steve and Bucky are both in amazing shape, and they’re very good looking. They probably see her as like … maybe a solid five—with makeup and a blowout. 

She gets a little down in the dumps about it, realizing that all the heavy drinking and crap diet of this past year and a half has taken its toll on her, and she’s just not physically their type. She convinces Bucky to start adding salmon to the grocery list, she researches the pros and cons of lip filler, and starts whitening her teeth with one of those nasty little gel kits.

She stands in front of her bathroom mirror each night and scrutinizes her naked body, dragging her nails absentmindedly against the skin of her lower stomach and cataloging everything that’s not as good as it could be. She considers the scars on her hip that have no new slices added to the roster, wonders if Bucky ever wound up telling Steve about how … how awful they are …

“Night, Mary!” Steve chirps from across the hall, making her inhale and flinch in surprise.

“N-night!” she calls back through the wall, feeling the pleasant effects of that night’s drop fading away faster than she’d like.

Maybe she should just be happy that she’s getting at least this much attention from them, that things have improved a little and she at least isn’t drinking herself into a stupor each night anymore. That’s a positive, even if she is still left pining after them like a fool every night. Steve and Bucky are okay guys, but they probably just don’t want anything more than this from her. They’re helping her because she shares this mental illness with Bucky, and that’s super nice of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to be attracted to her, too. Mary’s not entitled to anything.

She joins a 24 hour gym and takes to binge exercising in the middle of the night to push away the uncertainty.

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