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sim0nril3y · 6 months

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Handy Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon begins to notice that some things around your flat are a little worse for wear, so he makes it his job to fix them. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, smut, p in v, very little foreplay, dirty talk, praise, cumplay, creampie, canon-typical swearing.

The sound of sizzling frying in the pan seemed to become background noise around your idle chatter, using a spatula to move and flip it around the pan whilst you spoke. “… and she was telling me…” Even your incessant talking became background noise instead all that Simon could focus on was that sound of the drip, drip, drip of the tap. His eyes focusing on it like it was a target he needed to eliminate. Drip, drip, drip it mocked him again and his fingers tightened on the mug in his grip.

Did you not hear that? Did it not drive you fucking insane? Simon’s eyes flickered over to where you stood with your back to him, continuing to natter mindlessly. “… I was thinking that she had to be joking…” Then you laughed whilst drip, drip, drip consumed his attention again. “… there was no bloody way…” It didn’t faze you at all. No, you simply kept your attention on the bacon in the pan that was swiftly becoming burned. “… Oh, and then-”

“Love.” His voice was tight and stern as you glanced over your shoulder at him, eyes bright and inviting, reminding him that you didn’t think like he did, you didn’t obsess over the tiny details and that was something he loved about you. “You, uh… you got any tools 'round here?” He asked, standing in a moment to approach the offending tap, observing it, moving it, turning it on and off a couple times. “Tools?” You quizzed before frowning heavily, moving the bacon aside and switching off the hob. “Oh.” The opening a stiff looking drawer to produce the oldest looking screwdriver he’d ever seen. “I have this…” Announcing like some accomplishment.

Under his breath he muttered. “Fuckin’ hell.” Holding the tool in hand, gripping the handle hard before throwing it aside uselessly. “Stop fussing.” Your voice announced then, placing down a plate that held freshly made bacon sandwich where he had originally been sitting. “Whatever you’re obsessing about…” You took a hearty bite of your own sandwich. “It can wait…” Another bite. “Until you’ve eaten…” Then licking your fingers as you grabbed the condiments from the fridge and held it out to him. “Red or brown?”

Simon’s shower had been everything but relaxing. The water had been cold for far longer than he had appreciated and directly above him the light flickered so horrendously that for a moment Simon could have convinced himself he was at a rave. “Light is flickering in your bathroom.” Simon announced, towel wrapped around his waist as he stepped into the lounge to find you. “What’s that?” You quizzed from where you stood observing a canvas, then turning to him. “The light. In the bathroom. It’s flickering.” He reiterated in a low voice whilst your eyes were lingering on his broad chest, watching the water trickle down his skin. “Oi. Pay attention.” Simon bit out playfully.

Snapping you from your trance a low hum came from your throat. “The… light…” Then out made a small noise of recognition. “It’s actually always done that.” The statement followed a careless shrug as you turned your back to him to regain focus on your painting. “You told your landlord?” He asked with concern. “Uh, yeah…” The response was quick and Simon knew you too well. “Think I’ve mentioned it before. Said he tried to fix it but it was some bigger wiring problem, or something…” Another shrugged and it bothered Simon significantly.

He had a problem with you living in a place like this. It wasn’t a good area to begin to live in. Outside teenagers screamed and caused mayhem all night, idiots drove cars around too fast and noisy at night and others got up to shady things away from prying eyes. Too many times Simon had left your flat to find never seen before dents in his car or a bunch of teenagers loitering around it. It didn't scare him but he didn’t like the thought of them playing the same tricks on you.

Besides all that, the flat just wasn’t up to standard for you. It was tiny and cluttered and half of it didn’t work or was in the process of falling apart, all that on top of knowing that you rent was way too high for what you were getting. Simon knew he needed to fix this.

That evening a frown pressed to his lips as he walked into the bedroom with a couple glasses of water. Placing one down beside you he pressed a kiss to your hairline. Then moving to the other side of the bed Simon stopped by the radiator. His hand reaching out to touch it as he frowned. The heating was on full blast everywhere else, so why wasn’t this one hot at all? He removed his hand and touched a different part and his frown intensified. “This rad isn’t working…” He mentioned as you glanced up from where you were rubbing a sweet smelling moisturiser into your legs, as if you could be anymore soft and supple, Simon lamented internally. “Isn’t it?” “You didn’t know? Babe, it’s stone bloody cold.” Then pressing his hand to it again, as if he might have gotten it wrong, but it remained completely unchanged beneath his fingers. “I know that must bother you ‘cause you’re constantly putting your cold feet on me.”

A delicate laugh fell from your lips. “Well, what’s the point of having a warm, strong body beside me if I don’t utilise it?” You jested causing Simon to scowl. “Wind your neck in.” He muttered, before trying to fight the smirk that pulled onto his face. Once again, his eyes focused on the radiator, as if his new targed. Simon mentioned. “Probably needs to be bled. S’not hard. It’s something you should learn to do…”

You simply nodded, continuing your night-time routine that he actually enjoyed watching, by the end you smelt absolutely delicious and he was more than happy to eat you. “Y’know, there isn’t much that works in this flat, babe.” He said then, moving to lay down on the bed beside you, leaning on his side in your direction. “That oven is dodgy. Every tap leaks. Lights flicker. Rads aren’t working….” Then he frowned again, reaching out to rub your knee. “These are things your landlord should be sorting…” For a moment you were quiet and then looked at him with a genuine smile. “I really hadn’t noticed, Si. I think I’ve just gotten used to it.”

It may have been something that you’ve gotten used to, but it certainly wasn’t something that Simon was going to allow. By the time that you woke up the next morning to your dismay Simon was gone from your side. Instead of worrying yourself too much you started your day and decided to put some more work into the canvas that you were obsessing over. Maybe some green? Or… maybe some blue… that would be a nice bit of contrast… what story were you trying to tell with this piece?

A knock interrupted you, placing down your brush and then wandering to open the door and smiling as Simon stood there, toolbox in hand. Your eyes trailed over his frame, looking as handsome as ever and very handy too. “Oh, you here to check my pipes?” You cooed flirtatiously causing Simon to chuckle as he stepped inside, kissing your forehead and muttering. “I think you mean clean your pipes, love…” He corrected you. “I’ll do that later if you’re a good girl and let me work.”

You allowed him as much time to work as you could manage, but as you found him working under your sink, tight dark coloured shirt riding up to reveal the trail of short hair leading down it seemed impossible to resist. “My-my…” You whimpered, your voice quaint and lewd as you sauntered a little further into the kitchen. “That is an awful big hammer you have there~” You purred in a breathy tone. “Maybe I could hold it for you~” “Fuckin’ hell…” Even without seeing him you could hear the smile on his face. “You’re bloody insatiable, love.” Sliding out from the cupboard to look at you standing there, shifting from one foot to the other as if waiting for his command. “Fuck, c’mon then…” He mentioned, lifting his hips off the worn tiled floors and shifting his jeans and underwear down to his upper thighs, cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. “Hurry up.”

Hastily you moved to straddle his thighs, rubbing your clit in tight circles and humming as you warmed yourself up, stroking his cock languidly with your free hand. His eyes rolled back for a second, lower lip gripped between his teeth. “C’mon, baby…” Large hand spanked your hear and a moment later you were lowering yourself onto his hard member, gasping at the way it intruded and stretched your slightly underprepared walls, pressing your hands hard to the wide expanse of his chest as you happily bounced your hips. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Quicker now.”

The look on your face was completely enchanted with lust and love, unable to form even the most basic of sentence. All you could manage was huffing and puffing, bouncing yourself with an unsteady rhythm. “C’mon, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” Simon grit his teeth, plating his feet on the ground and resisting the urge to begin to fuck up into your relentlessly, if you wanted this then you were gonna work for every fucking second of it. “Go on. Ruin that perfect little cunt on me…” His hands cupping and caressing your hips, feeling the way they faltered and sort his guidance.

In your defence, it was difficult to concentrate on keeping a rhymth with the way your thighs were burning, Simon had a way of keeping you his pillow princess, so times when he made you work for it felt extra hard. Not to mention, the way his cock split you open was mind-numbing, each time you sunk down his cock would press firmly against your special spots before bumping firmly against your cervix, kissing it before sliding back and promising to meet it again mere seconds later.

“S-Simon~” You cried softly, feeling your thighs cramping and pressing your hands firmly into his chest before your desperate eyes found his own. “Simon, please~” The sound was nothing more than a whimper, but it was enough for him to take mercy on your poor worn body. Beginning to thrust up firmly into your tight cunt, locking you into place with a firm hold on your hips. This produced loud gasps and moans beginning to tumble from between your lips, instead of planting your hands into his chest, now your desperately curled his shirt between your fingers. “Ohfuck. Ohfuck.” You cried helplessly.

“C’mon pretty girl.” He muttered coolly, fucking up into you without stopping or pausing, finding lasting stamina that were thankful that he had. “C’mon, get yourself there. You know how. Show me.” He pressed, watching the way your fingers slipped down and began to rub your clit in tight circles, whimpering, leaning forward, panting and then finally. “Simon~” That beautiful noise. Oh, he if he could play it on repeat in his head he fucking would. It was like a fucking lullaby that would coax him into a peaceful sleep everynight.

The way your body convulsed and locked up above his own, Simon observed with adoration, taking in the way your eyes rolled just slightly before sealing closed, mouth popping open, tongue sometimes bit between your teeth, nose scrunching, chest thrumming. It was fucking beautiful. Every second. He wanted to enjoy it over and over, but the way that you tight walls strangled his cock caused him to splutter out a low noise and then begin to shoot his thick load inside whilst your walls milked him for every pump.

There you leant into his body, breathing hard and both completely spent. It was bliss. All his worries had disappeared, the sound of that dripping sink was gone and instead replaced with your adorable whines as you slowly regained composure, smiling down at him so sweetly and carefully sliding from his length and sitting beside him.

For a moment he lay there, his body almost numb and then reaching over to pull your thigh aside and watching the way his cum seeped from your spent walls, convulsing weakly as it dribbled to the floor. “Beautiful.” He commented, closing his eyes for another second and committing that image to memory. “That’ll be me through the rest of this…” Simon mentioned, reopening his eyes and gazing at your cunt one final then and then tucking himself away. “Go on. Off you go. I got work to do.” Climbing back under the sink and resuming his handy work as if he hadn’t just destroyed your sweet cunt.

“Yes, sir~” You cooed, carefully climbing back to your feet and lingering in the doorway. Still sensing your presence Simon spoke without looking. “Thought I told you to bugger off.” Listening to you giggle in response. “Just give me a minute, I’m trying to think of another porny handy man line to use on you…”

Masterlist | Ask | 16-11-2023

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n #ghost mw3 #cod mw2 #ghost simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #1k

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missclarasoufflegirl · 1 year

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Steve who so badly wants his little girl to play sports, but she's completely uninterested in it. But one day he and Eddie pick her up from grandpa Wayne's and she's wearing a droopy pink tutu, but has never looked happier, so they sign her up for classes.

It starts with ballet ("It's the foundation of all dance Steve, it's necessary for her development as a dancer" Dustin tells them), but their little girl heard the noisy ringing of tap shoes one day, and quickly added that to her repertoire.

Saturday mornings were now spent at the studio with the other dance moms. Steve was the star of the waiting room ("She's so lucky to have a dad that's interested in her dancing", "He's perfected the ballet bun, her hair is always perfect", "his wife is so lucky"), so it shocked all the moms when Eddie waltzed in one day with a screwdriver to tighten a loose tap screw, kissed Steve on the cheek, then stopped to watch the class. The moms were hesitant at first, but Eddie became part of their group soon enough.

Eddie, ever the crafty one, was a master with fabric glue. He became the go-to for costume needs, stoning leotards, sewing ribbons, painting shoes. Their little girl was a natural, and if didn't take them long to step into a routine to support their little dancer.

The boys could drop their little girl off backstage, but dads weren't allowed in the dressing rooms at the theater, so Steve and Eddie enlisted the help of Nancy to make sure she was in costume for her call time. (Nancy helped fix her makeup too because unfortunately, her dads had quite the heavy hand).

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Eddie was the more competitive of the two. He gripped Steve's hand as soon as her number was called, lips pursed as he nodded along with all her cues. He whispered a small "yes!" as she landed her pirouette, and a "that's my girl" when all the sounds of her four-count pickup came out clearly. Steve, on the other hand, was an emotional wreck. She could have gone out there and done the chicken dance and Steve would have thought it was the greatest thing in the world. When the routine was done, both of them stood and cheered, clapping Wayne on the back knowing they wouldn't be there without him.

Their little girl found them after the show, holding a bouquet of roses nearly as big as she was. Eddie picked her up and Steve took the flowers from her, and she smiled at both of them with a big toothy grin, glitter dusting Eddie's leather jacket. "Hey Daddy, I was wonderful!"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads #dad!steve harrington #dad!eddie munson #this is so stupid #i just have a lot od feelings about dance moms steddie

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luveline · 9 months

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if you're still taking them I would love to make a request for Eddie and Roan! do you know how sometimes little kids will call their parents workplace just to talk about the most random things or just ask some totally super important question? I feel like roan would do that with the reader and Eddie

thank you for your request!! eddie and roan —roan learns how to use the phone, 1.3k

Eddie used to feel nervous when the phone rang for him at work. "Call for baby Munson!" shouted across the shop while Eddie was usually flat on his back under a truck or elbow deep in a scooter engine, he'd get this pit in his stomach thinking something was wrong.

It was usually daycare. Roan's sick, Roan's wet herself and her spare clothes aren't here, is Roan allergic to veggie sticks? Because she's saying she is.

But nowadays, a phone rings for him and it's almost always you with something nice to say. You miss him. You've been thinking about him. All manner of gooey soft confession that has him clutching the phone like a loser, desperate for your voice.

He springs away from his lunch when he's called. Darwin gives Eddie a funny look as he passes the phone.

Eddie shrugs it off. "Hello?" he asks. "Y/N?"

"It's me!"

Eddie feels his eyebrows leap up. "Hi, me." Roan hadn't ever used the phone unassisted, to his memory. "Where's mom?"

"She's trying to fix your hair dryer."

Eddie hears it, then, the roaring blow in the background. "Why does it sound like that?"

"She dropped it. I think she's sad."

"Ro, I fixed it!" you shout, followed by an even louder howling of air, and a heavy silence. "Okay, I didn't."

"Is that why you called me?" Eddie asks, bemused.

"No, I called you because I want to know how they make corndogs. How do they get the hot dog inside of the corn, dad?"

Eddie puts his hand on the wall to steady himself as he laughs. "You wanna know how they make corndogs? Are you gonna make some?"

"I could if I knew how!" she stresses. "I'd ask mom, but she's pre-oc-u-pied."

"That's a big word, babe, where'd you learn that one?" Eddie asks, impressed.

"Dad, corndogs!"

"Right, right. Okay, well. They put the hot dog on the stick first, and then the corn part is actually batter. They roll the hotdog around in the batter and cook them together in the fryer. So it isn't the hotdog going into the corn, it's actually corn going on the hotdog."

"Batter like for cakes?"

"No," he laughs fondly. "And it's not sweet corn, babe, it's something called cornmeal. Maybe we can make some this week, wouldn't that be fun? Then you can see how they make them for real. I think that would be super fun."

His bubbly tone attracts the attention and subsequent laughter of his colleague. He throws them all the bird, totally content and more than happy with his life and his curious girl.

"Yes," Roan cheers, dragging the 's' syllable until she's out of breath, "oh my god that would be so fun!"

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Are you being good for mom?"

"I'm being awesome." There's a weird crunching noise. "Did you hear that? I think she put the screwdriver in the hairdryer again."

"Again?" Eddie asks worriedly.

Roan must put the phone down. Eddie genuinely can't hear a thing, until you pick up the receiver and say, "Hallo?"

"You blowing up the house?"

You make a pleased noise that has his heart doubling in size. "Hi, Eddie. I'm having a technological mishap, but rest assured, we are in no danger of explosion. Anymore. What did you call for? It's lunch, isn't it?"

"Actually, Roan called me. She wanted to know how to make corndogs."

"You do know everything," you say. "Go and eat your lunch, baby. We'll still be here when you get home, yeah? I love you. Roan, come and tell daddy you love him before we hang up."

A small silence. "Dad?" Roan asks.

"Yep, still here."

"I love you, okie dokie? Please come home in an hour."

Eddie laughs warmly. It's more like four hours, but whatever she wants to think is what he'll tell her. "I love you. Tell Y/N I love her, too, will you? Thank you."

"Yes!" Her voice comes quieter, "I love you," Roan says to you.

"I love you, too. Let's make dinner."

You must think he's said goodbye, because the phone gets a knock and the dial tone sounds.

—

You're sitting at your desk shovelling pretzels into your mouth while you click around your emails when the phone rings. You slide it between your ear and shoulder, pausing your frankly messy chewing. "Hello and good afternoon, Y/N L/N speaking, how can I help?"

"Y/N?" Roan says worriedly.

"Roan? What's the matter?"

"Oh, it is you! It didn't sounded like you at first, that's weird."

"Sorry, gorgeous, I was using my voice for fancy grown ups."

She giggles like this is the funniest thing you've ever said to her, "You're being funny," she praises.

You're secretly incredibly pleased. Making your six year old laugh never gets old. "So nothing is wrong, then? You know, those numbers on the fridge are for emergencies."

"This is an emergency."

"Yeah, I bet. What's going on? Where's dad?"

"He's making toffee cake for you. I was helping him do the buttercream but my arms got tired from whisking."

"Is that why you're calling me?"

"Yeah."

You dig for a saltier pretzel and chew thoughtfully. "What's the tiredest part? Your shoulders?"

"And my fingers."

"Asked daddy to kiss 'em better?"

"I would but he's trying to be perfect about the cake. It looks yummy."

"Did you get to lick the bowl?"

"Yeah, and dad let me eat a spoon of the melted chocolate. It was pretty great."

You grin into the receiver. "I bet it was amazing. Maybe you can try and rest your poor arms. Make daddy pour you a big glass of cranberry juice with the heart shaped ice cubes and watch TV until I come home, okay? That's an order."

"Okay," she laughs. "When are you coming home?"

"I can leave in about twenty minutes, and the drive home takes another twenty, so…" You check the time on your computer. "I think by five."

"Ugh, that's forever away."

"I know. Do what I said, okay? Sit down on the couch. I can have a little look at your arms when I come home, maybe we can have a pamper night tonight. We can use some of my fancy lotion and rub it in like a massage," you say.

"That sounds nice," she hums.

"Alright, sweetheart. Listen, can I talk to dad before I go back to work?"

"Yep, yep." You know what's coming as soon as she inhales. "Daddy!" she bellows at the top of her lungs, "Y/N's on the phone!"

It's flattering how swiftly he gets there. "Hey?" he asks.

"Hi, do we need anything for me to grab on the way home? I know you ran out of deodorant, was there anything else?"

"Nothing I can think of. You okay?"

"I'm awesome. I told Ro you'd make her a big cup of juice for her sore arms."

"She told you about those, huh?" He kisses her audibly. "She's the best mixer ever. I was thinking we'd change her name to kitchen aid."

You choke on a pretzel. Coughing, you laugh through a chastisement. "You leave her name alone. Roan is a nice name all by itself."

"If you insist," he says grandly. "See you in an hour? I've got a surprise for you."

"I can't wait," you say. You'll pretend to be totally surprised at his cake, no problem. Anything to make him smile. "Love you both. See you soon."

"Love you. Say love you," Eddie prompts.

"I love you!" Roan yells. "I'll make dad put your blanket in the dryer!"

You put down the phone with a small smile, wondering if you can weasel your way past your eagle-eyed coworkers for an early finish.

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wintaerbaer · 4 months

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ringing in the year (jjk)

summary: Your six-year relationship with Jungkook certainly hasn't been devoid of the occasional mishap. But when Seokjin accidentally winds up with a gift meant for you, Jungkook's proposal may wind up being the biggest blunder of all.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: generally sfw, sans a handful of swear words

genre: established relationship au, pure fluff, bit of a crack fic

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was so fun to write, and a bunch of the details were inspired by real life events! thanks to @animeniacss for brainstorming this one with me and sprinting me through it. wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year! <3

MASTERLIST

Jungkook knows he’s messed up several times over the course of your six-year relationship.

There was the time in college when he wanted to cook you dinner and, upon realizing that he didn’t have a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, tried to pry it open with a screwdriver and sprayed most of it all over the kitchen and himself.

There was the time when he ate suspiciously old-looking dumplings out of the fridge for lunch in spite of Hoseok’s warnings and spent your anniversary date that night going in and out of the bathroom.

And of course, there was the time when he'd insisted that it was fine for you to get frisky in the living room because Jimin wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Only to realize, oh wait, it's Saturday, the second the man himself walked in the door with both Yoongi and Taehyung in tow, all three getting quite the view of you and Jungkook on the area rug.

But this right here, he thinks, has got to be his biggest fuck-up of all, watching Seokjin peel back the wrapping paper on his white elephant gift to reveal a white mug that says, in large black lettering, “WORLD’S BEST WIFE.”

“Awww, Jungkookie,” he coos, raising the mug up above his head to show it off. “You’re proposing?”

He is, in fact, trying to propose, but certainly not to Seokjin. Every New Year’s Eve since sophomore year of college, your friend group has gotten together to party and do a holiday gift exchange that consists of a white elephant round and a general present swap.

Jungkook, wanting to propose amongst your friends and on what you’ve always said is your favorite day each year, had intended to give you the mug and propose later in the night. But, it would seem, he must’ve mixed up the two presents, putting your mug into the white elephant pile instead of the travel mug he had meant to contribute.

“Ah, Y/N,” Seokjin is now sighing, “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

You're giggling, wrapped in a burrito blanket that was courtesy of Hoseok. “It's okay. I understand that your love can't be denied.”

“Actually, hyung,” Jungkook finally gets the courage to pipe up. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. He might be sweating. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“You need to talk now?” Hobi asks, wearing a t-shirt that also happens to be a collage of Seokjin's face–his white elephant offering. “It’s Yoongi’s turn. Let’s finish the white elephant, and then you can talk.”

“But–”

“I want Namjoon’s,” Yoongi says, snatching up the gift and tearing away the paper to unfurl a large black Snuggie. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“You got a Snuggie?” Jimin jeers in Namjoon’s direction. “Lame.”

“Lame? It’s funny,” Namjoon argues.

“Yeah, if it was 2008.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Yoongi slides his arms into the sleeves, settling into the couch and eyeing the rest of the group warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him. “No one is going to steal it, hyung.”

“Nobody better fucking steal it.”

The game actually finishes with no steals. Namjoon opens up your gift (a KFC-scented fire log) and Jimin and Taehyung choose each other’s only to find out that they both bought Bob Ross Chia Pets. With the game over, your group devolves back into party mingling–Yoongi dozing off on the couch in his new Snuggie, Jimin and Taehyung heading immediately to the dining room to get started on their chia projects, and the rest of you trying to decide which party games you’re going to play as the night goes on.

But when Seokjin stands up, declaring that he’s heading to the kitchen to get a drink for his “fun new mug,” Jungkook jumps to follow him, bringing along the slab of granite with twenty dollars taped to it that he’d opened (“I’m renovating my countertops,” Yoongi had explained).

“Hyung,” Jungkook hisses as Seokjin reaches into the fridge for a beer. “I need that mug.”

Seokjin turns, sizing him up in the glow of the refrigerator. “Then you probably should’ve picked it.”

Jungkook huffs in exasperation before stepping in closer, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Listen, I am trying to propose to Y/N tonight.”

“With a white elephant gift that anyone could’ve gotten?” He clicks his tongue, scolding. “That’s just terrible planning, Jungkookie. And proposing with a mug? A little boring.”

Color rises to Jungkook’s face, giving his cheeks a natural blush. “We were watching reruns of The Office when I kissed her for the first time. And it wasn’t supposed to be a white elephant–you know what? It doesn’t matter at this point. I just need the mug back.”

He reaches for the counter, intending to steal the mug away, but Seokjin gets there first, cradling it to his chest with a pout. “No, it’s mine. I opened it, and I’ve already imprinted–”

“We never should’ve let Y/N show you Twilight. Here, look.” He raises the granite sample and money in his hands, offering it up. “I’ll give you Yoongi’s gift and the gift I was supposed to be giving for the game. You’ll get two.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What was your original gift?”

“A travel mug that says, ‘Weird to be the same age as old people.’”

He gets a wrinkled nose in response. “Well I like this one better. The other one calls me old. This one says I’m the best wife ever.”

“Oh my God, hyung. You’re not a wife!”

“I’m not old either!”

Jungkook throws his arms up in frustration, practically launching his hunk of stone across the room. “Then what am I supposed to do? You’re really going to ruin my entire proposal?”

“Hmm.” Seokjin lifts a hand to his chin, the other still clutching the mug to his body. “Thirty-two-race drunk Mario Kart?”

“Hyung.”

“What? You want the mug–this is how you can get it.”

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face, accepts the inevitable. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Hooray!” A clap of his hands as Seokjin practically skips from the kitchen. “I’ll get us set up!”

By the time Jungkook drags his feet into the living room, Seokjin has already gathered a crowd, your friends piling onto the couches and armchairs to watch the upcoming event. Surely they’re expecting a slaughter; Seokjin is notoriously a Mario Kart ace.

“You looking to get drunk, babe?” you ask, settling into the spot next to him on the couch. “There are easier, less humiliating ways, you know.”

He pouts, eyebrows squishing together. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbles, immediately forgiving you when you press your lips to his.

“For luck,” you say, giving him one more peck before sitting back to watch Seokjin hand him a controller, shot glass, and bottle of soju.

“Pick your character.” He plops onto Jungkook’s other side, selecting his own racer on the screen.

“Peach? Really?” Namjoon teases.

Seokjin shoots him a look. “I don’t wanna hear that from a basic-ass Mario main.”

Jungkook, meanwhile, chooses Donkey Kong, and loads up the first map, Peach and Donkey Kong lining up in their pink and yellow go-karts at the starting line.

“May the best me win,” Seokjin says, a split second before the light goes green.

He does win the race. And the next one and the next one. And Jungkook is three shots in before he even knows what hit him, fingers wrapped tightly around the controller.

“Not too late to back out, Jungkookie,” Seokjin jests, nudging him in the ribs. “At least leave with your pride intact.”

But before Jungkook can even respond, mouth already half-open in indignation, you wrap a soothing hand around his knee, massaging lightly.

“You've got this, Kook. You can do it.”

The sound of your voice puts him at ease almost instantly, and he ignores Seokjin, loading up the next track. This time, he does his best to relax, letting the feel of your palm siphon away his anxiety.

This is for you. He can do this for you.

The race is close, their cartoon avatars neck-and-neck until Jungkook manages to gain an edge at the very last second and blow through the finish line first.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. “The Kart King lost?!”

“Calm down, it's one race,” Seokjin says. But he shifts forward on the couch as he takes his shot of soju, clearly miffed. “We have twenty-eight more to go. I like my odds.”

Seokjin wins the next one again, celebrating with a whoop, but Jungkook goes on a run after that, winning three in a row so they're tied. And once the thirty-second race has been driven, Seokjin has won sixteen, Jungkook has won sixteen, and they've each drunk two bottles of soju apiece.

“TIEBREAKER RACE,” Seokjin slurs, swaying on his feet. He's played the last dozen games standing up, claiming it “helps with the turns,” whatever that means.

“I think you two have had enough,” you say, patting Jungkook lovingly on the arm. “Just call it a tie and leave it there.”

He jerks away, stretching his arm out like he thinks you're going to try and take the controller from him. “No, Y/N! I need that mug!”

Your lips pull down into a frown. “What mug?”

“I think Y/N is right, you guys,” Namjoon chimes in. “You both need some water.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up. I'm trying to sleep,” grumbles the Snuggie blob.

“ONE MORE RACE!” Seokjin yells, insistent. “FOR IT ALL! FOR THE MUG!”

“Again, what mug?”

But you don't get an answer. Instead, Jungkook shouts, “FINE! RAINBOW ROAD, ASSHOLE!” and everyone's eyes fixate on the screen, eager to find out who will emerge victorious.

Both characters rip off the starting line, Seokjin quickly obtaining a mushroom power-up that gives him a speed boost and comfortable lead. But after Jungkook lucks out on a green shell throw, causing Seokjin to spin out of control, he takes the lead as the first lap ends.

“C’mon, babe!” you cheer, Jimin and Taehyung joining in in their desire to see the Kart King tumbled from his throne.

Jungkook holds his lead for most of the lap, but Seokjin takes it back after a couple more mushroom boosts and a red shell. The final lap is tight, the lead going back and forth and back and forth until all hope seems lost as Seokjin begins to pull away on the last leg…

Only for him to cut the final turn too closely, allowing Jungkook to bump him right over the side of the track and into space before blasting across the finish line.

The room erupts in cheers, Jungkook leaping to his feet with a shout even as Seokjin falls to the floor with a scream of anguish. You stand as well, trying to give your boyfriend a hug, but you’re shocked when he moves away from you instead, preoccupied with something on the dining table.

He crosses the room–dodging Jimin and Taehyung, who are now flossing over Seokjin’s prone body–to grab the “WORLD’S BEST WIFE” mug and triumphantly raise it in the air before stumbling back to where you stand both perplexed and amused by the scene before you.

“This,” he says, clumsily pressing the mug into your hands, “was supposed to be for you.”

“World’s Best Wife?” you ask, heart hiccuping as you begin to have a suspicion. “Like Michael Scott’s mug?”

“Yes!” The word feels heavy moving off of his tongue, and he suddenly regrets not being sober for this. “Because uhhhh…I have this for you, too. Shit, wait.”

He fumbles around his pockets, panicking until he finds the ring, slips it out of his pants, and drops to his knee with a graceless thud.

“Ow, crap. Y/N.” He takes your hand, and in spite of the absurdity of it all, in spite of the fact that part of the room is now fawning over you while the other part is either sleeping or on the floor, you feel tears pricking your eyes.

Really, you couldn’t think of a more perfect scene.

“Y/N,” he begins again–slowly, like his words need to be corralled, “I love you. So much. And I know I may sometimes be forgetful or foolish or careless–sometimes I might accidentally spray wine all over the kitchen or ruin a proposal because I gave Seokjin the wrong present by mistake–but I just…love you.” He blinks, thoughts drifting away from him as the soju continues to take its toll. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I’m saying is even making sense, but…I find I don’t mind having those moments as long as you’re there with me. I’m fine making a fool out of myself if it’ll make you smile or laugh so…” He hoists the ring up just a little higher, eyes hopeful. “Marry me?”

A leaping sensation takes off behind your ribs as you gasp, “Yes, Jungkook. Of course, yes.”

For someone who’s drunk, he surges back up with incredible speed to capture your mouth in a kiss, dragging your body to his and swaying you side-to-side.

“Congratulations, you two,” Yoongi says through the applause of your friends–even Seokjin managing to clap his hands like a seal from the floor. “Now can I please get some fucking sleep?”

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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the-whispers-of-death · 4 months

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Me: Okay, my brain hurts. No more imagines Simon "Ghost" Riley: *staring into my eyes* ..... More Imagines Me: ..Fine...

So imagine here with me: You're a homebody, a recluse (maybe because of your time in the military or maybe you're just a civilian), and Simon is your next door neighbor. You two don't talk, you get all of your groceries delivered and stuff so you don't even go out so you have zero idea about how intimidating Simon can look.

Until he one day knocks on your door and you finally meet him. Maybe he's a mammoth of a man compared to your shorter stature or maybe he's either the same height as you or you're taller, but he still manages to catch your interest either way. He asks you for a screwdriver or a hammer, saying that the neighbor to the other side of him has never given back the hammer/screwdriver he gave the neighbor as a kind gesture and now he needs to fix something in his apartment with a hammer/screwdriver. He says it in a way where there's really no refusing his request, and so you give it to him.

You never except for him to give it back to you but then the next day, you're (pleasantly) surprised when he knocks on the door with a gruff thank you before handing you back the tool he had borrowed. You think that's that and continue on being a recluse, but then he's suddenly knocking on your door every so often, asking for tools (he could just buy a new one, but then he wouldn't have an excuse to see you).

It gets to the point where every time he comes back with the tool to return it, he always manages to worm himself inside the flat, talking to you. You don't mind it, not really, because he listens to all your interests, your ramblings about your favorite books and tv shows. You get so comfortable with him that you accept his offers to cook you a thank-you meal for lending him your tools, even if it means you have to go into his flat for it. And inside his flat are copies of your favorite books and dvd collections of all of your favorite shows so that you keep coming there, because he's not intending on letting you go.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warefare 2 #cod #cod x reader #desi!reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #:)

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jonathanbiers · 2 years

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steve is good at fixing things, but you wouldn't expect this considering he's a rich kid. but we know his parents left him alone a lot of the time, and we know he thinks of his dad as an asshole, so when things break around the house (as things tend to do) or maybe he breaks something accidentally, he knows he'd better figure it out himself or risk his father's wrath. so, he's actually pretty handy

eddie is good at fixing things, he's very fidgety and always needs something to do with his hands. also (assuming he's lived with wayne most of his life) growing up in a trailer park things break more often and they might not have been able to afford replacements or to have someone repair things for them. so, wayne noticed eddie's natural inclination toward tinkering and whenever the opportunity arose, he'd show eddie what he was fixing and how to do it himself and eddie loved it bc this gave him a way he could help wayne out bc he's so appreciative for taking him in

one day!! steve is over at eddie's (he tries not to overstay his welcome but he basically lives there at this point and they love to have him anyway) and let's say one of their appliances is really finnicky, will break on you at random. this happens to steve and without skipping a beat he just goes "oh shit, sorry" pauses only long enough to find a screwdriver lying around or something and fixes it, no fuss. except he doesn't do the simple bandaid fix that wayne and eddie have been doing, he finds the root of the problem quick and makes it so that it won't break again (or as often). at first wayne is like "boy what are you doing" but quickly realizes what the problem is that he missed and there's this quiet smile of approval that only eddie notices until wayne pats him on the back and goes "well shit. you done good, son"

this floors steve, because he is so used to any of his efforts going unnoticed or blatantly ignored, if his parents acknowledge his existence at all it's usually negative. and he already knew he had eddie's uncle's approval, but that was as close to outright affection as wayne seems to be capable of and steve is just g l o w i n g

#stranger things #wayne munson #good dad wayne munson #stranger things headcanons #wayne munson headcanons #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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teddybeartoji · 7 days

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彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

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Services/Goods of Equivalent Value

Summary: You decide to renovate a crumbling farm house into a teashop, not realising there is a military base right down the road.

Work Count: 3.9k (this was completely by accident)

CW: None, the whole thing is a fluff piece

This was probably crazy. It was definitely crazy right? People didn't actually get to pursue their passions and have their dream job under relentless capitalism, that wasn't a thing right? So then why did you think that you could be different? Especially standing on this road (dirt path really) looking at the crumbling wreck of a farmhouse with only one suitcase and a backpack to your name.

The property had already taken a chunk of your savings and you'd need every penny of the rest to try and turn it into what you imagined. You walked over the threshold and took a breath. It was a rainy day, the puddles on the floor evidence of the holes in the roof. Parts of the floor were cracked and rotting. Only one window had managed to stay completely intact, the rest either totally gone or cracked beyond repair. But when you turned the tap and found that after a heroic sputter the water did flow through you grinned.

It didn't matter how the small space looked now, it mattered what you could see in it. You got to work.

You threw the screwdriver on the ground and huffed, stopping your feet like a child. This was the 5th time you had attached the new front door and the 5th time it was wrong. It wouldn't fit in the frame properly. You kept plaining down the edge gingerly, taking off a tiny bit at a time so you didn't go too far, and every time when you propped it up it seemed like it fit until you actually added the hinges.

"Ye ok there hen?"

Oh that was embarrassing, there was a man on the road. He was jogging in place, pausing what must have been a run judging by his workout gear to give you a bemused grin. You flustered a little, wildly gesturing to the door in accusation. You had every good reason to be in a huff, the door was being a dick.

He laughed at you and you blew out a breath before groaning and slumping down to hug your knees and bury your head there in embarrassment, your voice muffled.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, it just won't go on."

You heard warm laughter and then footsteps coming towards you. Felt a hand gently petting at your head in a 'there there' gesture.

"I wouldnae expect it tae. It's the wrong type of door for this frame."

You unburied your head and looked at him, aghast.

"But can't I just make it smaller? I've been making it smaller. I really love that door."

"Aye that would eventually make it fit, but it's an interior door, wilnae dae fuck all to keep the elements oot."

You groaned and just accepted your fate, falling back on your ass and then laying star fished on the ground to stare at the sky. You were bone tired. You'd laid the floor, it was crooked as hell. The windows were fitted but two of them just did not open properly and you couldn't figure out why. You had given up on the leaks, putting buckets down for the moment and hoping the next downpour would hold off until you could come up with a solution.

It wasn't like you weren't trying your hardest, but it was just so much all the time and you wondered why on earth you thought you could do this. A shadow fell over you as the man leant to look at you with a smile.

"I can help ye with the door" he offered, holding out a hand which you took to shake from your spot on the ground, telling him your name. "Nice tae meet you, John MacTavish."

"I can't pay you John MacTavish, so thanks but I'll figure something out."

"Wisnae offering for pay hen, just tryin' tae help a damsel in distress."

You considered him for a moment before hauling yourself up and making your way inside, motioning for him to follow. You started tearing through the place to find a pen and paper, clearing tools and assorted nonsense off of the countertop to lay the paper flat.

Johnny took the place in with some sense of awe. Last time he saw this place it was basically a ruin and he had to hand it to you, you had done a half decent job with it. There was charm in all the flaws, made the place feel undeniably cosy. He noted the buckets, would have to fix the roof. He wasn't any good at that kind of work, but hadn't he seen Rudy doing roof work on one of the safe houses before? They were due a visit from Los Vaqueros soon, he'd ask him to come help. Wasn't too far a trip, this road was a half hour run from a small off record military base the 141 tended to use when they didn't feel like being miserable in some rules bound grey prison of a base.

Rudy was a bit like him, always loved a project. He tried to figure out what exactly you were doing with the place. The counter looked like a bar of some sort, maybe a shop?

"Ok John, here you go" you said, presenting the very hastily written contract.

I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value as soon as I have the means to do so.

"Services and goods eh? Wit ye selling?"

"Once I get the place fixed up, tea."

Johnny couldn't help but grin at your expression. You were so determined and so excited about the prospect, like the idea of it had completely re-filled your energy. Cute.

"Add coffee to the menu and you have a deal."

You liked Alejandro immediately and immensely. John, or Soap as you were now calling him and honestly you had no clue why, and Rudy were absolute terrors together. You actually did enjoy being around them, but my God if it didn't tire you out something awful. It was impossible not to be high energy with them, bouncing around and laughing and having fun. But when Alejandro had joined he had calmed you down, allowed you to take it slow and easy after days of feeling like a live wire.

With the roof fixed and a front door that worked you were able to start actually unpacking the suit case you had brought into the place months ago. Two kettles and your favourite tea set along with a big copper pot you loved, some utensils and some hand blended tea. It wasn't a lot, but being able to make that first pot of tea almost made you cry.

You were extra attentive, making sure it was brewed perfectly before going outside to find the others. You were nervous, the first time you had felt that way around them. None of the three were much for tea, that you knew.

"Hey I... uh, I made tea. I don't actually have any coffee just yet but I promise I'm going to get some soon! It was just in the meantime, if you wanted something to drink. Tea I mean, if you wanted to drink some tea. Which you do not have to" you rambled, trying to give your best winning smile to the three men currently working away at one of the windows. The ones that you couldn't open you had installed completely wrong so they had taken to reinstalling them.

Johnny and Rudy were content to watch you ramble away, seeing you like this being new to them so choosing to enjoy it while it lasted. You were adorable like this, heart on your sleeve telling them that it was important to you that they enjoyed something you had made for them. Alejandro only smiled and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them in his back pocket and going over to you.

"We would love some tea, it's the first time you've made it here no? Thank you for trusting us to share it" he said warmly, watching how you visibly relaxed. He liked that he could have that effect on you.

"Well if the boss says we drink tea then we drink tea" Rudy laughed, him and Soap following after.

You reckoned that if he went by first impressions, Simon Riley probably thought you were the biggest airhead he had ever met. In your defence though, you had the worst cold known to man when he had come round.

The place was looking great, but the fireplace wasn't done yet. As you had been since starting this project, and as you had been hiding from any visitors, you were sleeping in the building in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was getting bitingly cold and you were bundled up in layers whenever you went to bed. You could not afford to rent somewhere nearby while this was going on and to be honest you hadn't really thought ahead to what you would do when you actually opened the place. Probably just keep on sleeping on the floor, or maybe once you got furniture on one of the cosy armchairs you wanted to get.

He had made a house call when you were miserably sipping at a hot chocolate. Rudy had taught you how to make it, a recipe from Mexico. It was gently spiced and beautifully warming and smooth, but with your current cold you could barely taste it, hence the misery.

"Y'should really lock the door, I could be a murderer walking in here."

The man who had walked in was tall, in full tactical gear and wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. Probably was a murderer.

"Please put me out of my misery Mr murderer."

You honestly hadn't meant to say that to a complete stranger, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton wool instead of grey matter today. Thankfully he only chuckled gruffly instead of fulfilling your request.

"And then where would I get more of whatever tea Johnny brought back to base?"

Johnny. Right, this must be Ghost then. Soap talked about him sometimes, said him, Gaz and Price liked your tea which had made you jump up and down in excitement at the time. Your signature blend had taken you years to get just the way you liked it. Soap had also said something about Ghost having a mask, so you at least assumed this wasn't one of the other two.

"Oh right, let me get you some to take away with you. Hang on" you said, going to pack some of the leaves up into a little brown bag for him.

You put it on the counter and then went into the cupboard, grabbing the mug you had gotten in a Halloween sale. It was a white mug in the shape of a ghost, two little eyes on the front. You ladled in some of the hot chocolate from the pot on the stove and put that on the counter as well.

Ghost watched the whole thing with concealed amusement. He had genuinely come to get some of the tea, he liked the blend and they had run out of what Johnny had brought. But he had also come out of curiosity. It was clear Johnny was fond of you from the way his eyes lit up when he'd tell them all what he had done with you that day whenever he would come back to base. Rudy and Alejandro too when they had been visiting seemed enamoured, tense from mission planning right up until a visit to you would have them coming back relaxed and happy.

Part of him had been hoping to scare you a little showing up the way he had in gear and mask. It was probably because you were clearly sick, but you weren't treating him like something scary. No, you were sluggishly getting him tea and then giving him hot chocolate in a cute little ghost mug.

"You shouldn't be working sick, definitely a health and safety violation."

"Place isn't open yet so not technically working."

"In that case, thanks for the hot chocolate."

When he left, he took off his massive cosy looking jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word before grabbing the bag of tea and taking off.

You tried a bunch of names for the cat and none of them seemed to fit just right. The scrappy little thing started hanging around the place when you started leaving out snacks for it and you found you enjoyed the company.

The place was nearly ready now, interior cosy and furnished with a bunch of mismatched furniture you had thrifted that somehow managed to match the vibe very well. With the fire going the place glowed just the way you had always dreamt it would, and the way the scent of tea clung pleasantly to the air was more than you could have hoped for. Simon and Soap had helped haul a lot of the furniture, but they had been gone for a month now. You really hoped you would see them again so you could show them the place now, completely transformed from when they last saw it.

Cosy enough now for this cat to enjoy at least. She even had a favourite spot, one of the wing backed armchairs by the fireplace.

"How about Binks?" you asked her, currently leaning behind the counter and mulling over a cup of tea.

In response the cat only yawned and blinked lazily at you.

"Ok, not Binks then" you laughed, taking a sip and sighing in contentment. Honestly who knew if you'd ever get customers, this place was completely out of the way, but you were proud of what you had created. Dirt poor, but proud. You'd open soon you thought, actually give this a go.

The cat eventually stretched and padded over to the door, looking over at you expectantly.

"Alright alright, time for you to go wherever it is you go" you said, going over to open the door and let her out.

There was a giant on the other side of the door and you all but jumped out of your skin in surprise. The man looked like he had been considering knocking, just as surprised as you were for a moment. Purring broke you both out of your surprise, the cat butting up against the man's legs.

"So this is where you've been getting to Herzogin" he said to the cat, leaning down to give her some scratches which resulted in more purring before she went right back to her spot on the chair, leaving you and the giant stood at the doorway alone.

"Is Herzogin her name? I'm sorry, I thought she was a stray" you said with a slight smile, hoping you hadn't accidentally become a catnapper.

"She is a stray of kinds, the base nearby feeds her sometimes so I got used to having her around is all."

"Oh my God the base! That makes way more sense now, I didn't realise there was something like that nearby."

So that's where all these men had been coming from. You wondered if that meant Ghost, Soap, Rudy and Alejandro weren't stationed there anymore or had been moved. The military wasn't something you understood, but you assumed they must move around a lot. Did they have a home base of sorts? Was it selfish of you to sort of hope the one near you was a home base for them?

"If they had told us about this place we would have visited" the man said as if in apology.

"Oh no don't worry, I'm not actually open yet. I'm just sort of practicing drinks until I work up the nerve" you laughed. "Do you want to try something? I'm best at making tea, but I've been trying out coffees and hot chocolates as well."

You moved to unblock the doorway, inviting him in and telling him your name. He said you could call him König. Luckily this place had high ceilings so he could experience the cosiness without it being cramped for him.

König found the next few hours to be some of the most calming he had experienced in years. He wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the bloodthirst of battle, it gave him a manic energy that suited him. But there was something to be said for letting himself be fully off duty. It was nice to teach you how to make Einspänner, laugh at your pronunciation of it and have you laugh back rather than be nervous around him for his size or his reputation. Sipping his drink by the fire with a cat in his lap and you softly telling him all about your big plans for the place if it started to do well was something he hadn't known he had been yearning for.

He knew him and the others in Kortac were only here a few more days, the 141 being gracious in allowing them to use their base to lay low while they handled the absolute mess happening in America just now. The whole thing had at least given the teams an uneasy alliance for the time being. Maybe he'd put some effort into keeping that alliance going so he could visit again.

You knew that you should do some sort of advertising for an opening, but the idea was overwhelming. Instead you just quietly popped a little open sign by the door and went about your day as normal. You would probably get nobody coming in because nobody knew this was here and that suited you fine. It felt like once 'opening day' was over and the pressure of it was out of the way, then you could actually seek out customers and not feel like it was as big a deal.

If zero people showed up your first day then the only direction was up right?

Only two people did show up. Price and Gaz. They had greeted you warmly like you were an old friend, explaining that they knew Soap and Simon who would be home soon but that they wanted to visit themselves. They seemed to like the place which made you happy, both settling in at one of the tables and chatting amicably away with you while you made their tea.

Herzogin didn't seem to care that there was company, barely even looking to check before curling back up in her spot happily purring away.

Captain Price found he liked this place immediately. It struck him as bordering on fantastical, seeming like a tea shop from a fantasy novel on the inside. It was an hour at a brisk walk to get here but he regretted not making the trip sooner, imagining that any customer who had come once would certainly become a regular regardless of distance. It was a relaxing spot, almost nostalgic feeling.

For Gaz the place was lovely, but he was more fascinated with you. He had wanted to visit before, had tried to tag along with Ghost and Soap and been denied. He reckoned he probably knew why now, bastards were being selfish and keeping you all to themselves.

"Is it always so quiet for you on weekdays at this time?" Price asked at some point in the conversation, watching the pretty blush that stained your cheeks with interest.

"Oh well technically, this is the first weekday I've been open at this time. It's actually sort of opening day? I mean I didn't really advertise or anything, I wasn't actually expecting anyone to show up if I'm honest" you replied sheepishly.

"It's a soft open then, just to test everything out yeah?" Gaz said gently.

"I think that's an idea. This can be your soft open and then in a week you can open proper. That way Ghost and Soap can be here for it" Price added.

Both of them were giving you such soft looks that you couldn't help but agree with them, settling on a date in a weeks time for a real opening. When the conversation turned to how you would advertise they had promptly told you not to worry about it with a knowing look to one another.

Every seat in the place was taken and the tables and counters were overflowing with sweets and snacks from all over the world. Bukkumi, halva, berlinerkranser, churros, shortbread, teacakes, all brought in for everyone to share. You were so busy making drinks that you didn't even register how ridiculous it was that you were happily hand fed bites of different desserts every so often by whoever happened to be near you when you stopped to fill a cup or mug.

It was nice to see everyone you had met again and to meet new faces. Herzogin took it all in her stride, figuring out quickly who she liked. You hid a laugh seeing König huff when she curled up in Simon's lap. The official opening was by all accounts an outrageous success and everyone absolutely overpaid on their bills regardless of your efforts to stop them.

Farah promised to teach you how to make the halva while Horangi swore that the bukkumi would remain a trade secret and you'd just have to hire him next time he was in town to make it for you. Aksel had rolled his eyes at the Korean man and pressed a kiss to your cheek in thanks for taking care of them. Kate smacked Soap upside the head when he immediately made a beeline to give you kisses as well which made you laugh before blushing and pressing a quick peck to his cheek when he pouted about it.

When everybody was finally out of the door you were absolutely exhausted. By the time the sound of the last car leaving faded away you were already done with tidying all the plates and cups away to the sink. You'd deal with the cleaning up tomorrow, you were far too beat to even consider doing it now. Giving Herzogin a kiss on the head after you had gotten ready for bed, you curled up in the chair by the fireplace, crashing out hard almost immediately.

"Told you so."

"Ye always have tae be right about everything don't ye LT."

"Alright. Get her in the car would you Sergeant."

"Right-o Captain, we kidnapping damsels now?"

"It's not a bloody kidnapping you cheeky bastard. We're putting her in a proper bed for the night and taking her back in the morning once she's made a bad attempt at explaining herself."

"She can take my room."

After some discussion on that point it was decided that you would indeed take Ghost's room with the reasoning it meant nobody would disturb you. They could hardly put you in one of the empty rooms where anyone might walk in. Everyone who they had invited for the opening was staying at base and they were not about to risk the likes of König or Rudy figuring out you were sleeping under the same roof as them. They'd avoid that for as long as possible.

Tomorrow they'd let you sweat a bit and then tell you in no uncertain terms that you'd be staying with them for the time being until they could build you an extension to your shop with a proper living space. You could pay them back with services/goods of equivalent value after all, and they could think of plenty of ideas for what that looked like.

#cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #konig x reader #los vaqueros x reader #fanfic #truly I was in a very cosy mood this evening and could do nothing but write about cosy vibes #shan't apologise #mhairiwrites

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1-ker0sene-1 · 3 months

Text

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"A Sargeants Bad Luck"

Word Count: 2k

CW: Johnny can't leave well enough alone, misunderstandings to the max

You were starting to come out of your shell now. Gaining some real confidence. Defiance. Threading your personality into the tightly woven design of this team. You still avoided the couple, however it wasn't out of fear. You gave them the respect of coworkers, but because of their actions you made no effort to befriend them. Simon could handle and understand. But it was wearing on Johnny.

"How do we even apologize?"

He groans, laid back lazily in Simons bed. Who rolled his eyes at the dramatic scott.

"By apologizing."

The masked man grumbles in return. He knew a simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't fix everything, but it would be a start. The real rough part was to do it, cause that meant they would have to directly explain their pathetic behavior of strategizing against a disabled coworker.

"She already hates us I swear it-"

Johnny sighs, sitting up with a frown. Watching you with Gaz and Price was driving him up the wall. He liked being close knit with his team, knowing them and fighting beside them. Maybe you weren't out on the field with a gun, but now you were officially one of them. And you didn't want a damn thing to do with him. You had every reason to, of course, he knows that. He wants to fix it. You have such a strange affect on Johnny, you make him so damn nervous.

He tried first with coffee. Leaving a cup ready for you in the common room, where you'd usually sit by your laptop doing your morning routine and chatting with Price. He can fix this, little things at a time. He was never exactly great at leaving things be.

But then he sees your face, scrunching with confusion staring at the mug in your spot. Johnny doesn't speak up yet, watching emotions flow through you. You take the mug, carrying it back to the counter. Mortified, he watches you pour it right down the sink. Turning to the coffee pot to pour yourself a new cup. As you prepare it, he realizes what happened. He wants to slam his head through a wall.

Fucking idiot.. He made it no where near how you like.

His next attempt, he was sure it would work this time. At least get him on your better side. Was to adjust some of the cupboards. Johnny noticed how sometimes you struggled to reach all the way up with your sitting position. Taking the time to remove the cheap box cupboards, and screw them in a bit lower on the wall. He was almost finished when Gaz interrupted him.

"Hey mate you wanna help with the recruit situation? Got a couple idiots fightin' in the mess hall."

John groans, nodding and heading out with the fellow sargeant to deal with it. The cupboards were mostly done, he just had a couple screws to tighten back up.

By the time he was walking back to continue, he hears a crash. And your voice cursing out. Gaz and Johnny look to eachother before rushing towards the common room. And where you were, holding the detached handle of the cheap cupboard, the rest of it fallen on the floor. It almost fell on you. Once again Johnny wanted to bash himself. He opens his mouth, but Gaz is already coming over to you.

"You alright?"

He asks, resting a hand on your shoulder. His free hand takes the cupboard door and tosses it on the countertop.

"I'm fine just-"

You glance at Johnny, blinking as you see the screwdriver poking out of his pocket. Your eyes shoot away from him. Lips pressing into a tight frustrated line.

"I'm good."

You mumble, reaching to grab something else from a more stable cupboard.

"So you're way of apologizin' is making her coffee that could give her diabetes and dropping a cupboard on her head?"

Simon asks, crossing his arms. Watching Johnny bump his forehead repeatedly against the bed post. The brit is leaned back in a chair, mug of tea in his hands as he watches his distressed scottsman.

"Tha fuck is wrong with me?"

Johnny mutters exasperated.

"You're pushing too hard. We'll apologize tomorrow. Leave it be Johnny."

Simon advises, his hand coming over to his partners shoulder. Giving him a stern squeeze. It was for the best. Give you some time to cool off from Johnny's attempts, hopefully you won't take his actions as more threats. They've done enough of that bullshit.

Johnny swallows.. leave it be. That's what he should do. That is the plan. Leave it be and tomorrow they'll get on track to make things better. He was never good at leaving things alone. He just drowns in the paranoia of your hatred. The way you look at him and Simon makes his stomach ache, embarrassed to admit that it matters to him what you think of them. They started off so harshly with you. Now he's left to watch you show the rest of the team utter warmth and acceptance, things they should have shown you.

Now they're fucked. Utterly fucked. He didn't leave it be. Far from that actually. Johnny slams the door shut behind him in the room. Looking pale with wide eyes. Simon raises a brow at him. Johnny swallows.

"I know ye said ta leave it-"

"What did you do?"

Simon growls, Johnny sucks in a breath. Slowly revealing what he was hiding behind his back. The footrests to your chair. Simons jaw snaps shut, snapping the cigarette in his mouth clean in half.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'!?"

Simon curses, wrenching the footrest from Johnny's hand. Looking down at it with furrowed brows. The blue eyed man starts his explanation.

"I thought I could fix it- she was talkin' all mornin' about it being too high. That it needs lowered cause it hurts her ankles- she was workin' out so I tried adjusting it and the damn thing just fell off-"

Rambling about how his intentions were to assist you. Make things better. But this was far from it.

"Johnny you don't fuck with a mobility aid."

Simon scolds instantly, eyes narrowed. He had a fucking plan. An apology to make. The damn bastard couldn't wait one night!? He runs a hand over his face with a groan.

"You couldn't put it back on?"

Johnny deflates.

".. The screw was stripped. Gotta find a new one that size-"

They're interrupted by harsh banging on the door. Johnny grimaces. Simon gives him a deadpanned glare. Should have let it be. Simon pushes the footrest back into his lovers hand, turning him with a push on the shoulder. Grumbling sarcastically.

"By all means love. Go explain yourself."

Johnny sighs and reaches to pull open the door. Opening his mouth to spew apologies but you don't even give him the chance.

"Where the hell do you get off!?"

You boom, face twisted in a snarl. You are fuming. Sitting in your chair, arms crossed, nails digging into your own skin. Eyes lit up in a furious glare. Your chest heaving up and down. Your feet hanging just above the ground is a sore reminder of Johnny's worst mistake of the day.

"Y'know- I was fine with letting you guys do your thing and not bothering you. But you have no fucking right to make my life hell when I haven't done a god damn thing to either of you!"

Johnny's throat is impossibly tight, strangled by his own actions.

"Lass I'm really-"

"Don't call me that. You call me by my name, or nothing at all."

You snap. He takes a breath and nods. Mumbling your name. Simon stands behind him tense and looking at you.

" 'm really fuckin' sorry. I never meant ta break it."

"Why would I believe that? You've been fucking with me all day!"

You say, brows furrowed. Johnny blinks, shaking his head as he tries to pitifully explain himself. A feared soldier on the battlefield, a menace of explosions and tech, now babbling out excuses to you.

"No- I swear- I was tryin' to find a way to apologize ta ye."

"Apologize? .. Then why wouldn't you just fucking say that?"

You huff.

Simon cocks his head to the side, looking at Johnny with a glare.

"Yeah Johnny, why didn't you just say that?"

He repeats, trying to beat his point into his stubborn partners head. They could have apologized and not been in this mess. Johnny swallows and gives Simon a glare from the corner of his eyes.

"Yer nae helpin'."

Simon rolls his eyes, looking at you again. For once, a little softer. You've been fucked over all day.

The blonde mindlessly adjusted his balaclava a bit, before clearing his throat. Gesturing you inside the room. You give him an untrusting look, before rolling your chair into the room, letting him shut the door behind you. You grumble something under your breath, snatching your footrests back from Soaps hands. Resting it on your lap for now.

Simon grasps Johnny by the nape of the neck, pressing down on him with an authoritative grip to sit down on the edge of the bed. They were going to talk. They were going to start making this right. By doing it the right fucking way so help him god.

"You got every right to be angry. You deserve a proper apology yeah? No excuses. Just the truth."

"Bit of an understatement.."

You mumble, making Johnny wince. Simon nods in understanding. You suck in a tight breath and continue.

".. I already told you I wasn't telling anyone about you guys- so what the fuck do you have against me? .. That I'm new? That I'm not Laswell? ....Is it because of the chai-"

"No!"

Johnny says quickly, Simon almost says it at the same time.

"It's nae like that.. we were right pricks. We know. I really was tryin' ta make it up to ye today. Jus' dinnae know how.. and kept fuckin' it up.."

Soap rubs the back of his neck, blue eyes full of remorse and swimming in guilt. Simon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We made a .. Few mistakes. We got off wrong from the start. The apology is long overdue. But we are sorry. We can pay for the repair."

You glance between the two of them with eyes of scrutiny, trying to dig for any hint of insencerity. When you find none you huff in annoyance, it would honestly be easier to hate them.

"Doesn't need a repair. Just a new screw. ... Just thought you did it on purpose."

You mutter. Johnny's shoulders sink.

"I promise ye I dinnae..I wouldn't."

Simon huffs, arm resting on Johnny's shoulder. He looks down at you.

"We're a team.. you're good for this team. We need to start treating you better. As one of us. .. Maybe we can start over right."

"No."

They blink at your rejection. But it's clear you're serious. You raise your brows at them.

"You guys don't just get to start over when you're assholes... Fix your actions instead."

You say, crossing your arms. Simon swallows thickly, you were right. You could go and tell Price of their treatment. Not only get them reprimanded, but you could come clean about all of them and get them in some real trouble.

"No more running around behind my back. Tell me when you want to help out.."

Johnny lifts his head at your words, opening his mouth. But you hold up a hand and give him a light glare.

"And no touching the chair anymore. Shouldn't have to say that at all."

You say, Johnny nods instantly.

"I deserve to be here. I know you're a Lieutenant, and I know you're a Sargeant. But I have a job to do too. Frankly it's to make sure you guys get back alive..... I'm not telling Price what happened."

Both men slack with relief. But you're not done yet.

"But if you pull that shit again. I'll transfer out. I know my worth. I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted."

"We know-"

Simon starts.

"Then act like it."

You finish. Effectively silencing them. Simon gives a short nod to your order. In a way it was hard to describe the affect you had on them. Your strangely strong and suffocating presence. You weren't to be stepped on. You weren't to be taken lightly. Not anymore.

{Tag list: @waiting-so-long @redz0mbie @lolly145 @infpt-zylith @missmidnight-writes }

#disabled reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x you #ghoap x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghostsoap x reader #ghost cod x reader #soap x reader

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firegirl888101 · 8 months

Text

Insatiable Madness (7)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

It seems you'll have to restock some food soon... But is that really your biggest concern?

Reader is Gender Neutral!

You couldn't get the words you wanted to say out of your mouth. How could you be so blind? So naive? It should have been obvious, the way their voices sounded the exact same, the way their characters acted a little too accurate for a fan...

What the fuck could they possibly want with you? You're not the leader of the country, or a famous figure, or.. or...!

"Stop squirming." Capitano ordered you, letting a brief and satisfying hum leave his lips when feeling you move less.

This is really happening. You thought it couldn't possibly get worse after seeing your family massacred in the restaurant. The clear pain and agony on the corpses faces, their screams being silenced by sharp weapons out of this world.

Perhaps if you never felt the need to play that stupid game you'd have been killed along with them, maybe that would have prevented your now never-ending grief.

Let's calm down, rethink things and gather what I already know. There's no use wishing for a different outcome when I can't change what's already been done. You thought to yourself, taking a deep breath.

These... Fatui Harbingers are after someone called The Decider. They used that... compass thing Dottore supposedly made to locate them, and as it pointed to me, they think I'm the person they're looking for. They killed everyone in the restaurant for some unknown reason and now they're trying to take me back to their world...

Arlecchino said 'The Tsaritsa has been searching for someone who can control what can't be seen for awhile now'... What could that possibly mean? As far as I'm aware, I have no special abilities or anything like that.

"You know, this is the quietest I've seen you since first finding you hiding in the toilets. It was very amusing..." Scaramouche taunted you, knocking your head.

You pretended to continue being stuck in your thoughts, and ignored him.

"Well, apart from when I beat you senseless." He corrected himself with a laugh. "How are those mortal bones you have? I should have hit you harder, that way you wouldn't be able to move..."

What a monster. I can't believe the harbingers were my favourite characters.

"Your taunting will break them if you continue." Signora rolled her eyes.

"Rosalyne is correct. Heartless puppet..." Arlecchino cursed under her breath.

"And your arrogance will lead to your demise, witch." Scaramouche snarled at Signora, turning his head to give a warning glare to both women.

"Enough." Pierro warned the two, seperating them with a push. He looked at you staring at the drama for a moment, then continued walking next to Dottore.

Capitano then placed you gently on the ground, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders to stop you from moving.

"Do not think this is a regular occurence," He sighed to himself, grumbling like an old man. "We're all a little unsettled in this world, we're usually more calm and collected in the presencse of prisoners."

Oh, no, I know very well from the game that this is a regular occurence.

"Stupid gadget..." Dottore cursed to himself, taking a screwdriver and tinkering with it.

"Dottore, you've been tinkering with that compass like a mad man since we first arrived in this world." Sandrone eyed the doctor suspiciously.

"Assuring it'll function correctly is all I'm doing."

"Deary me doctor, I'm beginning to doubt your intentions." Columbina smiled at him whilst using her body to block his path.

"You're mistaken in your intrusive comment."

"Miss Columbina is correct," Pulcinella frowned at his coworker. "It's becoming suspicious how you're delaying our departure of this world.

"Do you really think I want to stay here without my lab? Without my clones? Without my life's work?"

You could feel the tension rising as each harbinger began to question the doctor. You knew they didn't really get along in game... but it was frightening to actually view it in real life.

I'm starting to feel sorry for the fatui underlings who have to pretend they don't hear anything...

As they continued to argue, you began to notice where exactly they had taken you.

The park? It's practically deserted, nothing like how you saw it earlier in your aunt's car. The bird's which once flew for their children hid in their nests, the squirrels hiding in their little burrows for comfort.... It truly was something new.

"Hey comrade! We're talking to you." Childe tapped your forehead.

"You definitely weren't talking to me. You were talking to him." You pointed at Dottore, who's arms were crossed.

Although, now that you're paying attention, somethings noticeably wrong. The Harbingers all don't look as confident as they once did, they were all looking at you, some had hopeful expressions whilst some glared at you.

"We definitely were." Sandrone scoffed.

Next to Dottore's feet was a crushed compass... wait, did he destroy his gadget?? How the hell were they going to leave Teyvat without it?

Hold on, isn't that a good thing? That means they can't take me to Teyvat... but it also doesn't change me being held hostage...

Also what happened to the police? They left as fast as they came!

"Stop leaving us." A harbinger clicked their fingers in front of your face. "The Director asked you a question."

"..." You stared at him in confusion, due to you not hearing the question and being too scared to ask him to repeat.

He simply sighed, and realised the context of your conflicted response. "Do you happen to have a house near this area?"

what.

"Of course..." You replied quietly. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and it wasn't going somewhere you found favourable.

"Guide us to your home, any tricks will not be tolerated."

Are you kidding me? I'm not taking them to my house!

"Do I have the right to refuse due to privacy?" You asked after pretending to think about it.

"No." All the harbingers replied at the same time.

Great.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

You unlocked the front door of your parent's house with frantic thoughts. Good thing you were gifted an extra set of keys for your 16th birthday a couple years ago...

Fortunately, you hadn't encountered anyone who recognised the harbingers. Unfortunately, however, the police still hadn't found your new location. You thought they would have thought to track your phone by now, but it seems they haven't...

Is there something stopping them? Or maybe, they're trying to think of a plan to save you?

Let's not think about that right now, right now you have unwanted guests in your house.

"I'm setting some rules." You spoke loudly, causing the whispering schoolgirls to hush.

"Who said you could set rules? Have you forgotten you're not in control once more of your situation?"

"That's where your wrong!" You smiled. "This is my house. Which means I am in control here. That's just how it works, sorry!"

"What sort of bullshi--"

"We understand." Pierro nodded. "What rules do you plan to set? As long as they are equal I will not stop you."

"First of all, my bedroom is off limits." You glared. "This is because it's a special place for me, and I don't want it to be ruined by Fatui Harbingers whose manners are that of a barbarian."

Of course, you weren't going to tell them the real reason was because of the embarrassing merchandise and a certain Childe pillow and whale plush on your bed.

"Understandable." Dottore glared at Pantalone, who simply shrugged with a playful smile.

"What? I routinely check your lab for good reasons you know."

"Secondly," You shushed the millionare. "Don't fucking break anything or take apart a piece of technology in this house. Any questions must go to me."

"Who do you take me for?" Sandrone crossed her arms.

"Weren't you the one talking about taking apart the giant machinery in the restaurant earlier?"

She stayed quiet.

"Where's the fun in that Decider? How do you suppose I understand this world if you won't let me investigate?" Dottore whined, picking up the TV remote he found next to him.

"You ask, like a normal person."

"How normal do you think I am?" He argued back pressing buttons on the remote with confusion.

"This can't possibly control a weapon, there's too many buttons..." He muttered to himself.

"That's a remote control for the TV. Well, since you'll probably want the full name: the television." You said, snatching the remote out of Dottore's hands and pressing the power button.

The TV lit up, and showed a woman introducing the news of the previous day.

"Woah! That's so cool!" Childe swooned, walking directly in front of it.

"Don't stand so close!... Oh my god, I sound like my mother." You shuddered at the end.

"What exactly does it do?" Pantalone questioned, slightly smiling whilst taking a seat on the sofa.

"One, I didn't say you could make yourself at home. Two, it displays what you want it to display. It's a type of monitor, meaning it's programmed to be connected to whatever you want it to connect it to."

"I don't follow..."

"Alright," You sighed. "This Television screen displays the programming in this little box." You guided the harbingers.

"This remote control guides the programming to show what you want to see at a point in time. For example, if I didn't want to see this woman talking, I go to the menu where I can see all the channels and choose what I want to see! Or, if you know the specific number for that channel you want to watch, you input it using these buttons."

"Like a performance on a stage!" Columbina giggled, her hands clapping with glee.

"Not exactly, but if that helps you understand I suppose the idea works."

"This is genius." Dottore hummed in delight. "But you're absolutely terrible at explaining. Let me try."

Dottore then scrolled down the list you demonstrated, he squinted his eyes at the words... almost as if he couldn't understand them. He then pressed on a random channel which almost seemed coincidental.

"Oh please don't click on that one, I'm squeamish." You sighed, covering your eyes when watching him click on it anyway.

"Dottore get that disgusting surgery off of the... the... thing!"

"The screen." You reminded Sandrone.

"That's right! The screen!"

Finally done! Updates will begin to slow down once again as school holiday's are almost over and stress begins... No need to fear, I won't stop working on this.

Little unrelated note: I HATE THE DESERT. I wanted to finish it before I move to Fontaine but it's taking me forever 😭😭

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @conspicuous-mayonnaise @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

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cherryfennec · 4 months

Note

what are some of your favorite Super Paper Mario headcanons?

I wasn't sure how specific you'd want those to be but I tried to think of a few that I personally enjoy/tend to apply myself!Includes spoilers.

Some general headcanons:

SPM takes longer than than a day/few days (maybe about a month or two)

Flipping into 3D is a nauseating experience and it takes time to fully adjust to it (especially for Mario, he never really managed to get over it).

Pure Hearts emit a comforting aura, a sense of warmth and calm, while the Chaos Heart feels like a thousand voices are whispering in your ear.

Some character specific headcanons:

Mario finds himself confused and lost more than he ever did in his life during this adventure. His usual confidence and grounded attitude are shaky because almost everything in these other worlds makes no sense to him, which is rather frustrating, especially at the beginning of his journey where he's completely surrounded by strangers and forced into the hero role. (Seriously, Mario couldn't even go home if he wanted to because he's stuck not on an island but between dimentions where he was TELEPORTED IN. There isn't really a door that leads to the Mushroom Kingdom.)

Peach's parasol is hardened by steel and enhanced by magic with a sharp tip at the end. She changed her heels to something more comfortable on the Flipside and put her hair up so it doesn't get in the way during travel and unavoidable combat.

Bowser takes his 'marriage' very seriously. He cares more about Peach than Mario in the team so when she's trouble he'll dash to assist her (he can run when he really wants to huh), but if the red plumber's in trouble he'll pretend to not see it or brush it off. (unless his lovely wife nags him about it).

Luigi, after landing is the Underwhere, finds lots of stuff in his pockets that he doesn't remember squirreling away like firecrackers, bolts and a small screwdriver. He is in fact very confused.

Count Bleck isn't very emotional. Most of the time he only has one, sad and dull expression. Any type of larger emotion showing through means that you've REALLY pushed it to the extreme.

The minions know the kind person that the Count is deep at heart so they're not put off by his frown, except for Mr.L. A default reaction that the brainwashed soldiers get as a 'bonus' from Nastasia is the highest respect for the Count, yes, but also fear of him. The fear ensures that they are most obedient but it's more of a failsafe than anything. You can imagine how it looks when Mr.L, an exploding and tempered personality, runs around the castle causing havoc like a brat and then suddenly just FREEZES on the spot at the sight of Bleck.

On the topic of the quirks of Nastasias ability, usually a person only needs to be brainwashed once. HOWEVER due to a certain someone who likes to provoke the man in green and his subconscious she is required to sometimes strengthen the control on Mr.L as she doesn't trust the magician with keeping his mouth shut. At one point she directly orders L to actively stay away from the jester, even forcing him to follow her around when she works.

Dimentios poncho and hat are covered in glitter and his mask is porcelain-esque, also the idea of him being the "son of the magician". I just think this theory is quite fitting and I like the thought of him being actually 3000 years old. He's not very popular at the castle but everyone has a silent agreement to not bother him. He however bothers everyone and likes to stare. When he's intrigued he tends to tilt his head slightly.

Mimi enjoys designing clothes and tries to give fashion advice to her teammates (to absolutely no avail because who cares we're literally ending the world, we're evil and depressed blehhhh). She and Dimentio have an 'annoying sibling' dynamic and she wouldn't hold back against him in battle at all for all the times he's messed with her. She also enjoys filing her nails to be super sharp.

Nastasia is a very strict person who takes her duties seriously but she does have a side for fun. You just need to search for it a little.

O'Chunks likes to spar with Mr.L in his free time. Mr.L is in general one of the few people he can do this with since Mimi says that 'she doesn't want to ruin her dress over such a stupid thing' and Dimentio always finds an excuse or simply dissapears.

Post SPM headcanons:

There is little conflict with the neighbouring kingdoms after the void incident. Peach, Mario and Luigi use that free time to have fun and just relax after everything that happened. They need eachothers support for the time being.

'Team Bleck' still meets up often after everything and hangs out. They don't necessarily talk about the Count but it's nice knowing that there are other people who understand what you're feeling right now. *They've been trying to have a full group reunion with Luigi included for some time now. Things are a bit awkward among them but it's still nice when he agrees to come along.

Luigi inherits some of Dimentios mannerisms which shine through from time to time such as laughing patterns, hand gestures and a rather malicious looking grin... A bit more unrelated and physical change is that his hair tends to turn white when he's around strong sources of power. (Dream Stone and Dark Star levels kind of powerful ykyk maybe Super Star as well or stardust in general cause star child origins) and the eyes somewhat darken.

He's also never really informed about the specifics of his Mr.L and Super Dimentio arc. Mario doesn't really want to burden his brother with something that was in the past and not a necessary in his eyes knowledge since it wasn't truly him.

The Chaos Heart isn't completely gone. It rests, slowly regaining power within it's host, accumulating all the scattered fragments like puzzle pieces. Try all you want but you can never fully get rid of chaos, it's an inescapable force.

I might gather up some more another time but I'd say that's it for now! You might've already heard some of these before but I hope it was at least a good read.

#spm #super paper mario #myart #askbox

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Okay. So. The Doctor. Troughton incarnation.

It's a well known fact that Time Lords and Vampires are natural enemies. I wouldn't exactly call Dracula a Great Vampire, no matter what Van Helsing says, but the principle still applies.

The Doctor is always going to have the advantage of knowledge and ingenuity, but in his Cosmic Hobo phase he particularly has the advantage of being Just A Silly Little Guy. No one looks at Patrick Troughton and registers a threat. Especially no one who thinks he's All That as much as Dracula does. This, in Castle Dracula, is a huge survival bonus. The Doctor is always good at talking his enemies out of killing him by being really very strange at them, but in this incarnation he's particularly good at it. He can say things like "don't execute me, I'm a genius" while looking genuinely frightened and making all the appropriate little noises that are so good at keeping villains amused. He actively weaponizes being unassuming.

The Doctor is also well armed for escape. I don't think the sonic screwdriver of this era would be effective against Dracula's massive front door, but he is very good at picking locks the old fashioned way too, and his pockets might well have a big enough magnet to shoot the bolt.

...it's also worth noting that in this incarnation the Doctor is more than typically willing and able to kill. (Although perhaps not as committed to his duties as a Time Lord - that is, vampire slaying - as he will be later on).

He also can't be hypnotized and is very very good at running away from things: two advantages against the Girlies.

He might have a spot of trouble with the wall, but you know who's great at walls? Jamie McCrimmon, who is most definitely coming to rescue him. (If and when he does, the Doctor chides him for interfering, because he's very nearly got this Dracula thing figured out, and now look, he's getting away...)

But very definitively yes, the Doctor can survive Castle Dracula, and is probably best equipped to do so when he's Patrick Troughton

#doctor who #classic who #second doctor #aliens #spacemen #tricksters and weirdos

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yesokayiknow · 4 months

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okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face

he needs to change. obviously

and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes

he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?

(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)

he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?

actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm

why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left

it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant

he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands

(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)

everything goes wrong. his fault, like always

(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)

you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh

no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?

like he knows. like they've ever-

she dies.

she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it

we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver

well, she never was subtle, his donna

the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe

unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact

the last wardrobe is open. and empty

he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors

and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders

after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.

he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room

the last wardrobe is empty

he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes

#13 🤝 14 (🤝 12) -> dysphoria 😔#doctor who #the doctor #fourteen #my fanfic #i mean ig #the tardis is including war. and so am i #the fugitive doctor's clothes are around somewhere also #then he leaves the wardrobe and donna's like literally all you've done is change your colour palette #and he's like oi i've only been me for a few hours! give me time to get a fashion sense!#and she's like well how long were you your last face #and he's like idk. bout a century?#and she's like i saw your clothes before this. that one had decades & never found a sense of fashion so i'm not holding my breath with you.#it's the new year i've decided to write about things only i still care abt probably dsakjlaskjl #why isn't this a proper fic. because i can't be bothered. hope that helps #bye im gonna go make brownies

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madwomansapologist · 7 months

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the show must go on | buggy

synopsis: When he captured the crew that has stolen from him, Buggy expected a lot of things. His precious map, his ship back, maybe even some berries. Buggy for sure didn't expect to be allured by your scared eyes.

warnings: smut. bondage. groping. spiting. edging. oral sex. penetration. tw: use of 'prettygirl'. same female!reader oc from nami (you can read as the stories being conected or not, your choice bae).

The chains were too heavy for you to break free. They had your ankles glued to the wooden chair' legs, arms tied behind it. The more you struggle, the more your muscles ache and your wrists burn. Your eyes sting with forming tears, and the lights in the mirror in front of you made your vision blur.

It all happened so fast. The poisoned mist, a caused fainting, the opening act of that terrified circus. Nami running away. She left you and the others, but you were truly sad that they catch her. You thought she would be able to escape. You wanted that to happen.

After that, Buggy's crew were even faster.

Zoro was imprisoned in what looked like a storage room. Nami was dragged there too. Pirates found ropes, probably to torture Luffy somehow. You tried to run, but you knew it wouldn't work out. You ended up locked on a old dressing room with a pirate watching over you.

The only thing you could do was to remain silent and keep on looking at yourself in the mirror. Until Luffy screamed.

Cold sweat spread across your skin, but soon Luffy's adorable laugh relieved you. What was amazing for you was a reason for your watcher to ran towards the main stage.

And all you needed was to be alone for a moment.

You bet money that Zoro is strong enough to break out of the chains in your place. You can almost hear the iron shattering. And Nami is stealth, you know for sure that she has something with her to break free from anywhere. But you also have something they don't: a screwdriver.

You still can't believe how his crew didn't check your pockets.

That's not the first time you hear about Buggy. He's a wanted pirate, known by his sadism and a delusion that you still not sure if it's an act or not. He clearly have no respect for the people living on this island, or your crew, not even his crew for that matter.

You guess he assumed you didn't represent any threat. And he was absolutely right. You can't put on a fight with him. You're not a swordsman, a trained thief, someone that ate a devil's fruit. But if you break free and manage to help your crew, than all those things won't fucking matter.

It was difficult to handle the screwdriver with your back turned, without seeing what you were doing and with your hands still tied, but that didn't stop you. Luffy would rather die than surrender, which means someone needs to save his ass.

With the incessant clicks of metal against metal, you imagined the ways Buggy would torture him. And then he would go after Zoro. Nami. You. How would he tear you apart? In which ways would he break your soul?

Steps startled you. In a second you hid the screwdriver and pretented that your chains weren't lighter than before. You looked back at the mirror, the lights momentarily blinding you, and put your head to work.

With your watcher back, you won't be able to free yourself. But maybe you can persuade him. Lure him into helping. That you can do.

You thought he would do like before: sit in one of the armchairs and act like you weren't there. Instead, you felt hands on your shoulders. You shivered, but they tightened your skin and stopped you from squirming any further.

Did he noticed what you're trying to do? Maybe there is a mirror you can't see, something that let him observe everything you did. You held the screwdriver stronger. He's right behind you, it can't be that difficult to hurt him.

"Poor thing. This wasn't how you expected your day to end, was it? Tied up, alone in a strange place, helpless." You foght the burning in your eyes and tried to focus your vision. Even though you struggled to see, you knew who was behind you. You recognized the voice the moment he opened his mouth. "Not at all my intention. Althought every show gets better with a damsel in distress."

You grind your teeth. Not just kidnapping and immobilizing you, Buggy also wanted to humiliate you? You'll show him where he can put all those poisoned words. "Oh, wasn't that your intention? That was quite clear the moment you ordered them to tie me to where I am."

Buggy squeezed your shoulders again, but this time it felt more like a massage than an act of control. He pout, softening his eyes. "But can you blame me? Your gang stole something from me."

In another situation, that touch would be comforting. Welcomed. But tied to that chair, not even the most beautiful words would be able to have any effect on your body. "But you weren't the one who stole the map, were you?"

Buggy leaned in, his face beside yours. Now you could see him perfectly. The condescending smile, the accusing eyes, the unstoppable mocking tone. His skin was so warm. "And I will get it back", he whispered against your ears, ignoring your question. "So why don't you help me, sweetie?"

"You can get fucked", you snapped. You turned your face, looking at him straight on instead of using the mirror. You gave him a sneer. "I'm not saying anything."

"Geez", Buggy smiled back. Or maybe he didn't. It was difficult to say with all the makeup on his face. He touched your cheeks, you tried to turn your face away from him but he held you by the chin. "Guess your time alone has left you in a bad mood."

He squeezed your face, his nails scratching your skin. Buggy continued to act as if nothing unusual was happening. Maybe for him that was commonplace. "I saw the things you created. All spread out on the ship your little friend stole from me. That means they're mine, right?"

Your struggle in the chair, but he held you in place. An animalistic sound escaped your lips, unintelligible because of Buggy and the anger you felt at the mere mention of losing your inventions.

"Losing all your instruments, your tools, the progress reports," Buggy said this as if he was reading the ride list at an amusement park. "And the inventions, of course."

In a display of strength and agility, Buggy easily turned your seat. Now facing him head on, his face so close to yours, you held your breath. "Or you could join my crew."

You spat on his face. "I'd rather die than be one of your freaks."

It was a risky choice. A move that could go very wrong. But you needed to make sure Buggy wouldn't notice the sound of your hands going back to work on the chains.

He wiped his face with his thumb, snorting at you. Then came silence. Just his eyes staring into yours, your hands working, your heart beating loudly against your ears.

Buggy leaned over, his face inches from yours. You could almost feel his nose against yours. "There are certain things you don't do with a host. Things that cannot be ignored."

He grabbed your hair, his fingers brushing your scalp, and squeezed. You were forced to look up, your neck burning. "Now open your mouth. Lick it clean."

"Fuck you", was your answer.

Buggy tugged on your hair, you felt your scalp burning, and he stuck his wet fingers in your mouth. He didn't wait for you to open up, he just made them cross your lips and press your tongue down.

You could have bitten his fingers. Struggled somehow. Instead, you remained still. If you were a great liar you would have believed it was out of fear of Buggy. Or because it was better to focus on the chains than on beating him in any way. But you weren't, so truth has become visible and palpable in you.

The long fingers in your mouth, the digits sinking against your tongue, his cold skin. And his lack of care, of delicacy, made you feel so full. You salivated against Buggy's fingers.

You liked it, and it surprised you more than anyone else.

But not only visible in your sharp gaze, and palpable in your wet mouth, the truth also became audible. When Buggy tried to take his fingers out of your mouth, a moan escaped with it.

So maybe Buggy was more surprised than you. And its been a long time since he last got surprised.

"Oh," Buggy licked his lips. He let go of your hair, your neck finally relieving. Buggy bent down, sitting on his heels and looking at you from his height. Now he got a smile on his face. You're pretty fucking sure he has one. "I see it now."

He slid his dry hand over your cheek, caressing it with an affection that surprised you. You almost lean on his touch. Almost.

His hand slid from your cheek to your waist. Buggy squeezed you, almost tighter than the chains you're trying to free yourself from. But his touch didn't bother you. It didn't make you feel trapped.

Buggy was that nightmare that occupied the minds of anyone who ever heard of his exploits. But there, crouched in front of you, you didn't think about any of that. You didn't think about anything at all.

"Pretty face, sharp mind. I won't get any answer out of you," Buggy whispered. His nails scratched your knees, moving up your thighs in an excruciatingly slow motion. Buggy stopped at the hem of your skirt, and played with the fabric. "So tell me, inventor, do you want to have a good time?"

"You kidnapped me,” you replied. "Arrested my friends. Tortured one of them."

"He didn't even cry", Buggy's nails lightly scratched the back of your knee. He threw the hat away, you heard the sound of something else falling. "And the past is the past."

You swallowed hard. "I can't do this."

"I will be your dirty secret", Buggy kissed your knee. The kiss went further on your skin, giving you goosebumps. "C'mon, pretty girl. You really gonna say no? I'm on my knees."

"You're not on your knees."

Without hesitation, Buggy knelt in front of him. He squeezed your waist, mischievous eyes staring into yours. "Say you don't want this."

At some point the truth would escape you. "Be quick", Buggy was sure he saw flames behind your eyes. "I still have to escape from here."

“Ah, pretty girl,” Buggy chuckled against your thighs. His laughter seemed to go through his body. "You won't escape me."

It wasn't a threat. For you, it landed as some kind of promise.

"Just wait and see", you promised him back.

Buggy lift your skirt, revealing you to him. He glared at you, almost making you shy away. Of course you couldn't move, but it still made you want to. His gaze rose to your eyes, and this time the smile was more natural. Almost a hidden line in all that red makeup.

Slowly, looking you in the eyes, Buggy licked from your entrance to the top of your pussy. Buggy seemed to be someone who was insatiable, but his calmness made you shiver.

It made you feel like this was going to take longer than you imagined. It made you feel like Buggy was going to devour you until there was nothing left.

And so he did. Buggy calmly played with you, got to know your body, found every nerve and got lost in them. You could feel yourself melting against his face. Turning into this brainless creature because of his touch.

When he got tired of torturing your lips, Buggy focused on your soaked entrance. He stuck his tongue into you, finding every nerve, and fucked you with it. You felt yourself grinding against his face, his nose pressing against your clit just the right way.

And when you were about to reach your peak, he pulled away.

"Do I need to wait more?" Buggy mocked you. You grunted, making Buggy laugh. "Anytime now you gonna magically break free?"

You lost count of how many times Buggy repeated this. He would take you to the gates of heaven only to bring you back to earth. It was torturous. Intoxicating. But one thing you can't say: that it didn't give you the time you needed.

Buggy pulled away, leaving bites on his thigh. "How much longer will I need to wait?"

At your limit, you didn't even bother to tell you. You just let go of the chains that previously held you, making Buggy's eyes widen, and pushed him with your feet. He fell onto his back, his face terrifyingly staring as you moved, his body propped up on his elbows. "How did you-"

You threw yourself at him, pulling his pants down. Buggy squirmed in your hands, feeling your fingers pressing against his cock. "Magic", you answered him.

Buggy would believe on anything you said to him if you kept on touching him like that.

Soaking wet, your pussy didn't need anything else to accommodate his cock. You felt it stretching you, making you feel so full, and heard Buggy's wit comments turning into desperate whimpers. He was just as sensitive as you. Just as needy as you.

Leaning on Buggy, your hands against his chest supporting you, you bounced on his cock.

And you didn't have the same patience as him. That wet sound, that impure and malicious sound, echoed through the dressing room. Their moans, Buggy's still surprised whispers, filled the entire room. For a moment you thought the whole world would be able to hear you.

To hear how good it was to be torn apart by Buggy.

But as Buggy said, he would be your dirty secret. A nasty memory about something you shouldn't have wanted so bad, but that you did it anyway. Buggy would be someone you shouldn't have been with, but fuck you would do it again if you ever have the chance.

And when you reached your so desired orgasm, when Buggy felt compressed by you warm wall and cum inside you, Buggy was the person you left whimpering on the floor so you could help your crew.

Little did you knew you carried a part of him with you.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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