#so hit me up I'll tell you more if you want more I'm simply out of control
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The Ink Shop Part 2
Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it?
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.
A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars.
❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️
7k words
Masterlist Part 1
For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier.
Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile.
“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”
You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.”
“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.”
Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station.
Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.
The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes.
“I see London, I see France…”
You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display.
“Eddie!”
He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple.
“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-”
His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent.
“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you.
“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side.
“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you.
Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.”
“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?”
Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him.
You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”
If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.
Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek.
But that just makes his smile wider.
“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you.
“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door.
“Good afternoon, can I help you?”
“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?”
“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?”
You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world.
At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone.
So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about.
As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff.
“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.
“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment.
You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care.
“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you.
“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air.
“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?”
Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand.
“Shit princess, what did you do at college?”
“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you.
“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.”
In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat.
Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear.
“Good girl.”
Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.
For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie.
The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines.
Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served.
Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes.
“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card.
“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin.
“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out.
“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.
You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,”
He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you.
Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”
“May I have a beer, please?”
“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.”
Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!”
Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.”
As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.
“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink.
“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being.
“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully.
“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, shoot.”
Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.”
Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery.
“Oh princess, you are too cute.”
Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks.
“What? What is it?”
Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.”
“What, like, kissing?”
Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.”
Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer.
Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?”
His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar.
“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.”
“Oh.”
Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.
“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now.
“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together.
“Liar.”
Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks.
“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?”
He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.”
“I know that, I mean…”
For a second he just gapes at you.
“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?”
Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.”
Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing.
Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?”
“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.”
He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand.
“Please?”
“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment.
“Fine. Right now.”
“Oh I didn't-”
“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.”
Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him.
“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes.
‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely.
“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”
Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.
“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs.
For a second you stop in sheer surprise.
“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?”
He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.”
You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified.
“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.”
“Eddie!”
He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you.
“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside.
Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.
“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head.
“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door.
“No, no, it's very… you.”
“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious.
“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar.
“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-”
“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.”
You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.”
Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway.
The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if-
“You can sit down, princess.”
Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet.
“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you.
“No I- I was- maybe this-”
“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle.
“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.”
“But i haven't showered-”
“When did you last?”
“Well… this morning.”
“You're fine. Trust me.”
He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together.
“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.
He'll break your heart.
“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.”
A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns.
“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?”
Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head.
“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra.
He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?”
Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck.
“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.”
He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.”
Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.”
Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.”
Staring at you, he shakes his head.
“You should. You should be told every fucking day.”
You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair.
It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.
“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.”
It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes.
His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.
“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need.
“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him.
He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?”
As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear.
“Fuck, look at you.”
The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms.
“Don't hide from me. You still want this?”
You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him.
“Say it. You need to say it.”
‘Yes, please Eddie.”
That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex.
“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.”
“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands.
“Relax princess, it's a compliment.”
Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture.
The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom.
He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line.
Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real.
“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?”
“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!”
You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure.
Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed.
Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick.
“You OK princess?”
OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup.
“Think you can go again?”
That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?”
Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling.
“I think you've got at least one more in you.”
Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up.
“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.”
This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him.
You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched.
“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do.
With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment.
After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin.
“So? Good?”
It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek.
“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden.
For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose.
“That's not part of the deal.”
Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile.
“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs.
“Stay here. I'll take the couch.”
“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-”
“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip.
“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.”
“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him.
“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.”
“You'd probably like that,” you tease.
“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.”
“Night Eddie.”
When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down?
Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?
After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions.
Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything.
As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond.
There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head.
Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.
You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements.
A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs.
Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example.
Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more.
It looks like it's going to be a long night.
********************
“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.”
It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine.
“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth.
“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table.
The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early.
“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly.
“Morning, can I help you?”
“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you.
Face lighting up, you fix your best smile.
“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID?
He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride.
“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?”
Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles.
“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself.
When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting.
“You're not my 10:30.”
The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong.
“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder.
Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter.
“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.”
Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.
“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?”
He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes.
Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves.
There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda.
Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear.
“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.”
“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat.
“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?”
Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension.
“Hey, keep it at home guys.”
Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip.
“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie.
“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.
You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window.
“So, as I was saying-”
“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red.
“I was only-”
“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!”
Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally.
You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac.
When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you.
Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest.
********************
It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently.
By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest.
He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.
The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.
“Eddie, can I talk to you?”
He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom.
“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-”
“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile.
“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out.
“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug.
“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.”
You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips.
“Really?”
Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong.
“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.”
Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.”
His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?”
“Of course I would. You got their number?”
He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William.
“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?”
He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored.
“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.”
Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait.
“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is- well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.”
Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly.
His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character.
“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?”
You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.”
He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly.
“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.”
“Eddie I already owe-”
He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!”
You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you.
“Who the fuck is Barb?”
“I dunno, she sounded worldly.”
He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.”
Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other.
Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time.
“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!”
Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly.
“You did good Miss, he's really happy.”
“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.”
He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.”
He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled.
“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately.
“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look.
He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.”
“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening.
He smirks at you in response.
“You free tonight? I can show you.”
Taglist
@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes @tlclick73 @reidsgubbler @siriuslysmoking @keanureevessmile @fhsbsvy @yourdailymemedelivery @aurora-austen @rach5ive @honey-teaaaaaaaa @nina211544 @bbabycass @cactusangie @skrzydlak @took-me-hours-to-steal-those @hereforshmut @nabiiturner @darlingbravebelle @freak-of-hawkins @randomworker @serenadingtigers @1paire2vans @sapphire4082 @xmasterofmunsonx @steamystrangerfics @vol2eddie @storiesbyrhi
#ms gexy writes#ink shop eddie#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie x you#tattoo artist eddie munson#tattoo artist eddie#eddie x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female!reader#older eddie munson#older! eddie#older!eddie#stranger things imagines#stranger things#stranger things smut
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simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.
gambling's illegal, you know.
thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.
a veterinarian.
good thing we're all dogs here, then.
he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.
seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.
what, did they guy like steal them or something?
no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.
incredible. (that's insane.)
he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.
lemme take ya out, love—
don't call me that.
and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—
stop talking, simon.
and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.
a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)
with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."
he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"
always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"
the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.
there's never any rest for the wicked.
"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"
the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.
"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."
you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"
his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."
he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"
"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.
"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.
the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.
"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.
black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"
simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."
you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."
he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"
his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."
johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.
pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."
you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"
he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"
"stop talking, simon."
johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.
--
this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.
simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.
even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.
"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.
pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.
simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.
heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.
he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.
"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.
johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."
he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.
oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.
"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.
simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"
he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."
you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.
"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.
"shit, let me go get my medbag."
he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."
a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.
"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.
"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."
you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon riley x reader
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trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think
you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.
you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.
you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.
so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.
"what's wrong?" he asks.
"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.
"you're burning up."
his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.
"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.
"what?"
"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."
you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.
"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.
"yes, miss y/n?"
you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"
coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.
"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."
he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.
"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."
the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.
you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.
by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:
"get well soon, darling"
#politician!coryo x secretary!reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coryo x you#coryo x reader#tbosbas#bosbas#tom blyth#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you
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s.jy x fem.reader | fingering (f.) · pet names · swearing | 18 + 🩶
you and jake laid together like every other night. however, this was different — you're laying with your back to him, which he hates. he'd just got home only a few hours ago — exhausted, and suffering from jet lag... so tired he barely noticed you, dropping his bags and walking straight into your bedroom.
it was a petty argument, if you could even consider it that. you were hurt, feeling totally disregarded by your boyfriend, but still you'll admit you were wrong — going as far as ignoring him for the rest of the day, and now.
it's killing him — jake can't stand the silence.
"y/n." it's a simple statement — one that makes you flinch, because it's the first time you've heard him speak since your quarrel. "y/n." jake repeats himself. he knows that you hear him, you're not asleep. he can clearly see you shuffling under the duvet every few minutes. "what?" you reply dryly, much more solemn than you usually would — not even bothering to turn around.
he simply scoffs, because there it is: another thing that he hates... your attitude — especially during petty fights like these when there's only one solution: he'll either have to fuck it out of you or try and talk — which in your current state of irritability, the first option's looking best.
"baby... m'sorry." his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you close. you tried turning your head to face him but he beat you to it, his head buried in your neck stopping you. "why're you upset, princess? without the yelling, tell me what's wrong..." as he was trailing hot kisses down your neck, your resentment began melting away. one of jake's hand fondled your chest, pulling and tugging at your nipples as the other slipped through the waist of your sleeping shorts, easily finding his way inside of your panties.
"fuck," you cursed under your breath. you weren't supposed to be this easy, but when it came to jake, you knew all self control was absent. "jake..."
"are you still mad, baby? 's why you wouldn't face me?" his fingers grazing your clit, making you shiver. the rings adorning his fingers were cold in contrast to your skin — burning up. "shit! i just..."
he slips a finger into your heat, creating a scissoring motion all too familiar to you. "hm? talk to me, baby." you can feel his bulge grinding into your ass, another one of his dexterous fingers finding its way inside your gummy walls. with each curling motion you think he's closer and closer to hitting that soft spot somewhere deep inside of you.
"fuck, jake... y-you just got home, and! ah, and didn't even look my, shit... look my way!" you managed to huff out. it was hard to concentrate with his fingers pumping inside of your heat. "hmmm..." he hummed against the soft of your neck, "you're right, m'sorry pretty girl... i should've paid attention to my baby, right?" jake mumbled into your skin, leaving small bites and wet kisses. "mhm..."
each plunging motion of his fingers drove you closer to the brink of cumming, his speed increasing. "such a good girl, mhm? 'so sweet, letting me fuck her on my fingers... even after i so mean," you were becoming impatient. the knot in your stomach was wrapping itself tightly around nothing, "shit... i can't, please, 'want to cum, jake."
he just smiled against your skin, "go ahead, i won't stop you, princess." and another hot kiss landed on your shoulder. after you came, jake's fingers left your sticky cunt feeling empty — bringing them to his lips, slick lathered around them as he stuck them inside his mouth and then into your own. "i'll give you all the attention you want, hm... sound good?" the idea sounded more than good.
you turned over to face him, "good." before placing a chaste kiss on his lips and falling asleep in his arms.
guidelines and disclaimers | my polls aren't working so i'm uploading this totally on whim 😭 hopefully it's enjoyed though !!! even though, it was sort of rushed and maybe confusing 🫶🏽
#lil-ma-shae#enhypen smut#sim jake smut#jake smut#enha hard hours#enha smut#jake x reader#enhypen x reader#poc!reader
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Who's gonna tell my boss that I'm in fact not willing to work more than I'm paid for. 20 hours a month are not enough for the amount of work she wants me to do so either give me more money or get your shit done without me
#seriously that woman is getting on my nerves more and more#unable to give clear instructions constantly changing her mind asking me to do everything she can't get done#for some weird reason#i literally gave her the names of the notaries i contacted for her and she just texts back asking me for Links#it seems to be incredibly difficult for her to type that into google and hit the first thing that comes up#idk how to tell her this but#I'm not her secretary#i have no problem working more hours if it means getting less hours the next month#but i already worked for free in july and i definitely did. write all of the hours down and will add them to the next few months#also every email and every extra meeting that doesn't work out because apparently she thinks *I* should have prepared better*#gets counted as work. I'm no longer willing to work for free just because i don't want to seem lazy or rude or because i like the person#pay me more and I'll work more. easy.#*i Literally couldn't have prepared at all because in order to do that i would have needed her access to a platform and her sending me the#stuff she wants to upload there. i had neither. she simply cannot give clear instructions and also keeps forgetting about everything#so no#it's not me wasting my and her time. she's constantly wasting mine (and hers. every extra thing she wants will cost hours of my work time#which will lead to my monthly hours being full within days so ..)#love how my mother is just 'she sucks. quit' lmao. like i need the money. please#also love how my other boss is just 'work whenever you want and it's totally fine if you don't manage 40 hours in a month#there's no pressure haha alright let's hear from each other again someday i won't bother you as long as theres nothing urgent'#sweet#also i think that boss (the one I'm complaining about) thinks i have an unlimited amount of time? like im sorry but i also have to write#papers and do other stuff? again I'd happily do all the work if i got paid accordingly or if that was my main job#but alas its not so sorry i only have 1 hour a day for you planned lol#shut up amy
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The HQ!! boys with their number 1 princess
I highly recommend listening to world is mine while reading!!
in case you couldn't tell this is based on the song world is mine (i'm sure my mutuals are sick of hearing me talk about this song atp lmaoooo)
Characters featured: Ushijima, Kageyama, Kenma, Oikawa, Kita
𖦹:･ﾟUshijima Wakatoshi
"Well, are you gonna say anything or not?!" your sudden outburst surprised Wakatoshi.
"Was I supposed to say something?" he asked, almost used to you getting angry for seemingly no reason at this point.
You huffed, crossing your arms. "You didn't even notice, did you?!"
"Notice what?" he asked, clearly confused. He simply wanted to know the reason you're angry with him and how he can fix it. He thinks you look much better when smiling, after all.
"You idiot! I got my hair done! I was flipping my hair at you all day and you didn't even acknowledge it!" you turned away from him, hmphing.
"Oh. I did notice the hair." he stated simply.
"Well then say something about it!"
𖦹:･ﾟKageyama Tobio
"Hey, let's- what is that?" Kageyama stopped mid sentence when noticing the drawing in your notebook.
You closed it at light speed.
"Hey! Don't look at things you're not supposed to!" you scolded him, clutching the notebook in your hold.
What Kageyama just got a glance at was your self-indulgent drawing of him as a prince kissing your hand.
"It was wide open for everyone to see!" Kageyama defended himself, clenching his fist.
"Whatever, just- you didn't see anything, okay?" you swatted his chest lightly with your hand.
"Wait, that kind of looked like you-"
"You didn't see anything, okay?"
𖦹:･ﾟKozume Kenma
"Get me pudding. That's an order." you crossed your arms, plopping down on the bench.
His very fortunately colored hair left you with a little craving.
Kenma sighed, going back to walk into the store. How in the world does he always end up complying to your demands, anyways?
After he bought the pudding, he brought it back to you, who was still pouting and sitting on the bench with your legs crossed. When you noticed him and the pudding in his hands, your face lit up.
"Thank you!!˜" you smiled cheerily, snatching the pudding out of his hands.
Oh, now he knows why. That sweet smile is far too addicting.
𖦹:･ﾟOikawa Tooru
"Hey! Look at me, will you?!" you kicked Oikawa with your pretty pair of heels.
You went to hang out and he barely even looked at your cute outfit. This is absolutely criminal.
"Owww, stop that, will you?!" he complained, mumbling about how he can't catch a break from being abused. How does he always end up with friends who hit him, anyways?
"Fine, fine, I'll look." he rubbed his back, finally looking you up and down.
"You look..."
"I look...?"
"Pretty okay, I guess?" Oikawa winked, shrugging, as if he didn't just experience ten consecutive heart attacks from how cute you looked in that dress. Internally, of course.
"You little- Ugh!" you swung at him again.
𖦹:･ﾟKita Shinsuke
You walked away from Kita, who was busy with something else. If he isn't going to pay attention to you, you might as well go pet that cat across the street.
Ohh, it looks so cute and fluffy. You're ready to pounce.
Suddenly, you felt yourself being embraced from behind, flinching and turning your head back to see Kita.
"Uhhhh?!" you stammered out, completely flustered. What in the world?! He's actually hugging you right now! Could this mean...
"You almost ran into that person. Be more careful." he explained simply, letting you go and turning back to whatever he was doing.
Suddenly you're worried about your walking abilities with how much your legs are shaking.
#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie's works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushijima x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama x reader#kozume kenma x reader#kenma x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x reader#kita shinsuke x reader#kita x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#x fem reader#fem reader#haikyuu fluff#based off a song
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Gun that doesn't shoot.
You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.
Warnings: Hard Dom Spencer, Bratty Reader, spanking with a belt, degrading, hair pulling, slapping, fingering, crying, orgasm denial.
WC: 3.7K
For reasons you don’t know, you were being overly bratty towards Spencer today. Actually, you had a completely valid reason. He’s gone soft, to put it simply, and quite frankly you were tired of being babied 24/7
So today, whenever he asked you to do something, it was met with a mocking grumble and hesitance to do said task. He thought it was just a one time thing, and let it slide, but now here you are again, facing the other way with a pout as he talks to you.
"What is the matter with you, Princess?"
Your heart skips a beat as you hear him call you by your favorite name, but you huff and cross your arms over your chest, as if throwing a silent tantrum.
“Don’t give me attitude, Princess. You’ve been in a sour mood all day and I haven’t done anything to you.”
Spencer crosses his own arms across his chest as his tone is one of pure disapproval and disappointment. He sighs.
“What has gotten into you?’
You almost make a show out of turning your head away from where he stood, exaggerating how much you wanted to do everything but look at him.
He slightly bends over to firmly grab your chin and force you to look in his eyes.
"What's the matter? Speak."
You suck your teeth as you look up at him with malice burning in your eyes.
“Why should I tell you?”
Spencer’s eyebrow twitches as he becomes irritated with your behavior.
"Because you're being bratty, and I'd like to know what you're upset about." His voice starts out stern, but slowly turns gentle at the end of the sentence.
“And why would you care? It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.” You’re still avoiding his question, wanting to see just how far you can push him before he snaps. He was always so gentle and caring with you, and for once you just wanted to see what’d it’d be like once he finally lashes out on you.
"Why wouldn't I care?" He seems genuinely lost at your response.
"Just tell me what's wrong, and I'll see what I can do to fix it, okay?" His tone is still gentle, but he seems a little confused and maybe even hurt. With a scoff, you turn your body so you’re facing away from him.
Spencer sighs heavily as he stands back upright, getting more and more frustrated.
"Look, I can't fix what's wrong if you won't tell me. So talk, or I'm going to give you something else to pout about."
You have to suppress the small smile that grows on your face, you’re finally getting somewhere. You huff once more.
“You wouldn’t.”
"Try me, Princess." He says the name in an almost mocking manner, and takes a few steps closer to you. He leans down and grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. He gets just an inch or two from your face.
“That’s what I’ve been doing all day, didn’t think it’d take a genius like you to take this long to figure it out.” Your voice is sarcastic as your words bite at him.
You can see violent anger flash in his eyes for a moment, before he’s squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. His hand slides around the back of your neck and grabs you there, dragging you like a dog over to the kitchen counter. Your back hits the edge of the island, and his voice is quiet as he speaks to you.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, but for your own sake, please tell me what's made you so angry."
You simply bite the inside of your cheek as you stay silent, despite all of his warnings and pleads for you to just talk to him. His hand slithers from the back of your neck to your throat, and gently holds it in his fingers.
"You don't give up, do you?" He asks after a moment, still holding you there against the counter. As his frustration continues to grow, his grip tightens, but he doesn't seem to realize it.
"I'm begging you, sweetheart. Just talk to me."
You push down a sound of pain at the feeling of him gripping at your throat, and swallow nervously before speaking. “Or what?”
Spencer sighs and his grip on you gets tighter and you can tell his frustration is only growing at your stubbornness.
"Or I'll have to punish you. You know how much I hate doing that, Princess." He sighs again, clearly hurt by the thought.
This time, you don’t stop the soft grunt that escapes your mouth, and you stutter when trying to speak.
“Y-You’re all talk..”
The man's eyebrow quirks up, and he shrugs.
“If you say so.." His expression is now cold and serious. "Your choice, Princess." He suddenly lets you go and takes a step back. He crosses his arms and stands in front of you, waiting to see what you will do next.
A look of confusion and disbelief crosses your face, and you’re sputtering out your words.
“W-What are you doing? You..You’re supposed to punish me, why are you just standing there?”
As you speak, you can see a cocky grin spread across his face.
Spencer looks at you for a moment before speaking, his tone coated in disdain as realization sets in for him.
"You really want to be punished, don't you? That must be it." He starts walking in circles around the kitchen island that you’re leaning against, slowly shaking his head.
"You're being bad on purpose to get my attention.” His tone is mocking and his grin is teasing, but there's still some coldness behind his words.
He knows he’s read your intentions perfectly, just as you had recited them in your head. Your heart starts to pound in your chest as you try everything in your power to not look at him, as he circles you like a shark would their prey.
He continues to circle you, his look turning more predatory as time goes on.
"Is that what this is really about? You get some sick satisfaction out of pushing my buttons until I snap at you and have to put you in your place? You just like seeing me angry." His grin grows, and he chuckles darkly. "Does it get you off, Princess?"
The tone in his voice is dark and condescending, and it sends a shiver through your senses. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“I-I..”
Spencer watches you as you try and fail to speak, and his grin only grows darker. His eyes are cold and unforgiving now, looking down on you like you're one of the worst of the worst that he's put behind bars.
"Speak up, Princess. Unless you have nothing to say?" He gets even closer to you, getting right in your face and leaning a hand against the counter next to you. You can see the anger starting to boil in his eyes, despite him trying to keep himself calm.
And it’s clear by the way all your previous confidence has crumbled underneath you, that you have nothing to say. You were trembling with fear and anticipation as you could feel the huffs of his heavy breathing hitting your skin.
His eyes narrow at your silence, and his hand suddenly shoots out to grab a fistful of your hair. You are pulled forward painfully and he pulls you close.
"Speak. You don’t have a choice." He growls at you as he grabs your hair tighter and his face looks like he's just one step away from losing control.
You wince in pain at the feeling, but also moan softly. As his fist gripped at your roots, it shot a feeling of pure arousal through your body. You take a shuddering breath before you speak.
“Y-Yes.. Just-Just wanted you to put me in my place..”
His face doesn't soften at all at your confession. He seems just as cold and unforgiving as he did before you spoke, and his other hand now grabs your throat.
"And what is your place exactly, Princess? Remind me."
His gaze is piercing and his breath is as heavy as your own is.
“I-I’m yours, Sir..”
The grip on your hair and throat only tighten as you whimper out your words.
"That's right, Angel. You are mine. And you know what you do when you're mine?" He leans in even closer, so that he's nearly nose-to-nose with you, his grip becoming almost unbearable.
"You behave, Is that understood?"
Your lips drop in an attempt to gasp for air, and you manage to nod in his hold. You swallow and squeeze your eyes shut.
Reid lets go completely and you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. You choke on your own breath as your lungs greedily fill with air.
"That's what I thought." He mutters in a low, almost whispered tone. He watches you with a sick look of sadism for another moment as you fight to breathe, then lets out a sigh and steps away. His face is blank for a moment, then his eyes quickly fill with desire.
"On your knees."
The tone he uses is colder and less forgiving now as he says that. He hasn’t moved in his place away from you, and he crosses his arms, waiting for you to obey him.
At his command, you take a few steps forward and immediately fall to your knees. You bow your head down to the floor as you await his next order.
“Yes, Sir.”
He looks down at you and reaches a warm hand out to run over the expanse of your jawline, before quickly pulling it away to slap you across the face. Your head jolts to the side and you let out a quick noise of shock.
"I don't want you to say another word unless I ask you to. Understood?" His eyes are trained on you as he withdraws his hand, waiting for you to respond and confirm that you’re actually listening to him now.
“Yes, Sir.”
You nod and say not another word afterwards. Your body was practically shaking in both excitement and fear for this, you had him exactly where you wanted him.
Spencer nods and reaches out for the belt he keeps on his waist. He pulls it out of his belt loops and holds it in his hand, seemingly taking his time to torture you.
"Look at me." His voice becomes harsher, and you can tell he's lost his patience.
Your head almost immediately lifts to look him in the eyes, and you can feel the littlest of tears brimming your wide, “innocent”, eyes as you gaze at him through your long lashes.
"You’ve left me no other choice, Princess.” He states monotonously as he holds you in his gaze.
"It won't be pretty, or gentle. You're going to leave with bruises." His voice is dripping in condescension, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver of fear through you. He holds the belt tightly in his fist, waiting for your response.
“That’s exactly what I want, sir.”
The look in his eyes doesn’t waver as he sits down on the couch and looks over at you expectedly.
"Over my knee."
There's no room for argument. His face remains unmoving as he holds his arm out, waiting for you to do as you're told. With a nod, you lift yourself from trembling knees and walk over to him, before bending your body over his legs, your stomach resting against his thighs and your ass raised in the air.
Spencer looks down at you as you do, his face blank and his expression serious again. Once he makes sure you're fully in position, he flips up your skirt and pulls back his arm.
"Don't you dare move, Princess.”
You hold your breath as you wait for the first hit and squeak out.
“Yes, Sir.”
The thick leather of the belt crashes down against your bare bottom and you hiss through your teeth. It hurt, but you knew this was as gentle as they would get, so you take it with gratitude.
"Let's see if that attitude of yours is the same after a few more, hmm?" He asks in a condescending tone, his voice having turned into a cruel whisper. He pulls back his arm again as he speaks.
"Tell me again what you are, Princess."
“I-I’m yours, Sir.. I belong to you—“ Your words are cut off as he swings the belt and lashes it against your pink tinged skin, making you cry out in pain. The tears that brimmed your eyes before fell down your flushed face now.
"Good, Princess. That's a good girl, isn't it?" He says in that unforgiving mutter as he pulls the belt back and whips it forward again, just as hard as the last.
"Tell me again, Princess. I want to hear you say it. What are you?"
Your body lurches forward in his lap and you practically scream at the pain.
“I’m yours, Sir.. Y-Yours..”
"And how should I treat my Princess? Do you think I should treat her gently? Is that what you want?" His voice is sarcastic yet menacing and it sends a shiver down your spine. He pulls the belt back and whips it forward once more, hitting you with even more force than before.
You know better than to answer him, you know he’d like you better with your mouth shut right now. But that proved to be quite difficult, as the second the rough leather slapped against your bottom, your mouth dropped in a screech.
"Shut up. Do as you're told." His voice grows brutal and he continues to spank you, his face becoming one of rage and fury as his hands turn red and white from the tight grip he has around the belt.
"I don’t want to hear a single sound from you unless I want it, Princess. Now, say it again. What are you?" He asks, his voice once again dripping in a scornful frigid tone.
You don’t even have to look back at your ass to know it’s absolutely bruised with purple and red marks, you can just feel them.
“I-I’m yours, forever..”
"Yes, that's right. You belong to me. So don't you ever behave like this again, understood?"
He stares you down and punctuates his words with a bruising hit.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry sir..” Your voice is wavering as tears stream down your face and your body is shaking against his. His free hand reaches up to grab a handful of your hair and he forcefully yanks on it, making you groan in pain.
“I don’t fucking care. Shut your mouth or I will make you.”
An animalistic sob leaves your lips when he tugs at your roots harder and brutally assaults your already abused bottom. It’s like you can almost feel every line and crack of the texture of the belt at this point, as with every hit he dealt to you, the pattern was being imprinted on the red raised surface of your ass.
Then, suddenly, the hand in your hair lets you go and you can hear him switching the belt from his left hand to his right. All you can do is hang your head low and pray he’ll take it easy on you. But you know better. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted to watch him snap, break from that caring and nurturing role he always regarded you with, and ruin you.
When rough fingers take hold of the bottom of your panties, the fabric is ripped with an unforgiving tearing noise. Your eyes widen against the darkness of the couch and you clench at the feeling of being exposed so suddenly.
Above you, you can hear him let out a deep chuckle at you bent over his lap, arching in anticipation as your folds glistened pathetically.
“So pretty.. Shame you have to be so bad.”
Is all he says before you feel two large fingers prod at your hole, not giving you a moment to think before they roughly push into your plushy wet walls. Your cunt hungrily swallows what he’s given you, and he shakes his head at the sight of his fingers disappearing inside of you.
“It’s never enough for you, is it, Princess?”
The digits curl inside of you, making a scooping motion as they thrust deeper and deeper into you. Your eyes cross as they fall under heavy eyelids, and a strained whimper leaves your mouth.
“You just.. take, take, take..”
He pulls back his fingers and fucks them back into you with each word he lets leave his mouth.
“And it’s still never enough, hm?”
You shake your head the best you can, and moan out at his claims.
“N-No, Si-”
The otherwise forgotten leather belt in his other hand thwacks down against your already welted ass, cutting you off. You practically scream in shock at the feeling, before he does it once more, just to shut you up again.
“Do not fucking speak to me right now.”
A third finger joins the others inside of you in a slick motion, and the stretch has you dizzy in his lap. It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to his girlfriend right now, not speaking at all to the woman he loves so unconditionally. No, it sounds like he’s talking to one of his worst enemies.
His tone is full of hatred, malice, and coldness. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on beyond belief. He’d never treated you this roughly before and you were getting used to it all too easily.
Usually when he opened you like this, he took his time with you. Slowly pushing in each long digit and feeling your warm liquids gush around him, making sure you’re alright before moving another centimeter.
But now, his hand was pistoning into you like he didn’t know how to do anything else, and his shaking fist held onto the belt above your ass so hard you were wondering how long it would take for him to pierce his nails through it.
He was furious with you, and you adored it.
“People would kill to be treated the way I treat you. Pampered like a princess, spoiled rotten.. And yet-”
Spencer raises his hand once more and slashes the leather against your bottom before he finishes his sentence. You hold back a cry.
“You don’t want it.”
His fingers push impossibly deeper into you and stay still against your stretched walls, giving your soaked pussy the opportunity to finally mold around them, tight like a vice.
“What happened, baby? What happened to my Princess?”
There’s a faux tone of concern and sympathy for you in his voice, but you see right through it. You simply shake your head in response and try your damndest to not squeeze around his digits to avoid him getting even madder at you, as tempting as the idea sounds.
You can hear the material of the leather hitting the couch as he drops it, and you can feel a comforting hand come around to lightly run through your hair.
His fingers start to move once again, but much slower this time, and much more gentle. The 180 turn confuses you, but you didn’t want to be ungrateful and prove him right.
The once stoic tone in his words softens, as he speaks to you in a comforting voice.
“Think you can cum, just like this, Princess?”
This time, you don’t stop yourself from squeezing around him, urging him deeper to press against your sensitive spot. When he reaches it, the pads of his fingers caress over it, and it makes you whimper pathetically. You nod, and swallow the drool that’s started dripping from your lips.
Spencer smiles down at you and brushes his hand through your hair. He can feel your arousal leaking out of your cunt, dripping from the fingers stuffed into you and onto the surface of his palm.
He twists his digits around inside of you as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge, and it doesn’t take much for him to get you there, because after he deals one last press of his middle finger against your spot, you’re crying out.
“Sir.. Sir, I-I’m.. cum..I—”
Your eyes cross and roll back into your head as you right there, and just as fast as he’d gotten you from that point, he robs you of it.
Before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling all of his fingers out of your drenched pussy and looking down at you with a cruel smile. The hand that was in your hair was still running gently through the strands, almost mocking you.
Your eyes widen and you’re quick to look back and up at him, a look of panic and betrayal all over you. Tears quickly fill your waterline, threatening to fall at a moment's notice.
“W-Wh..Why?”
A dark chuckle leaves his mouth before it’s stifled by his fingers dipping against his tongue. He cleans all of your slick from his skin, groaning at the taste.
You can fill your impending orgasm crashing back to square one and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to just make you cum.
“You can’t have it both ways, my love. If you want to be a bad girl, then I’ll treat you like one, understand?”
Tears finally begin to stream down your face, and even though you asked for this, you still couldn’t help the pitiful cries you let out at his cruel but deserved actions.
“Are you ready to be my Princess again, or are you still going to be a bratty little bitch?”
As he throws the insult at you, his fist tightens on your head and pulls tauntingly at your hair. You shake your head and swallow down a moan, your cunt is still painfully wet, pulsing and clenching around nothing.
“I-I’ll be good, I pr-promise!”
You weakly whine, and it’s humorous to him how quickly your little charade ended. You had planned on breaking him, but it’s clear now that you’re the only one left broken.
As you beg him for forgiveness, you feel the teasing touch of his fingers slowly pushing between your silky wet folds. An evil smile creeps onto his face, and his voice is as dark and taunting as ever.
“That’s what I fucking thought.”
#spencer reid#spencer x reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid smut#dom spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#hard dom spencer reid#dom spencer
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If you are excepting requests? May I request a ghost x reader where he sees reader working out and at first he thinks she’s doing it because she wants( he lowkey doesnt want her to lose the weight, 🩷he likes her chubby :((( )but then she just stops eating and doing things she normally does because she’s insecure and he just comforts her. kinda long but only if u wanna do it🫶🏼🫶🏼 feel free to change some thingsss
Aww, thank you anon. Requests are open, I'll happily write for you guys (please send me stuff 😅😂)
Beauty standards.
Cw: unhealthy weight loss, unhealthy coping mechanisms, eating disorder (in standard), Ghost taking care of you. Just fluffy.
Ghost is absolutely enamored by you. As a 6'4 man with muscles for miles, he absolutely adores you to be somewhat opposite of him.
There's just something about your soft tummy and despite how much you workout and how strong you get you never lose that soft plush to your skin that makes him want to pick you up and cradle you for hours.
There was something about your warm thighs. He loved holding them. He loved when you sat on his lap and he could pull your thighs in and squeeze the soft skin in his calloused hand.
What he would give to feel your tummy in his hands, sleeping with his head on your chest and your hands on his skin.
Your body is everything to him. He would love it, kiss it, and worship it every day. He just thinks you're absolutely beautiful.
But lately you haven't been feeling as excited about your body as he is. You'd promised yourself you would stop going on Instagram just to split compare yourself so much to the obvious filtered oblivion that were the supposed supermodels. And you promised you wouldn't let any of it get to you.
You were chubby, and sometimes being labelled as simply cute hit a little nerve inside you. Especially in military.
Slowly falling back down that hole. First staring to with a random weight suggestion board that had been cycling around. You decided to try it, and soon exercise took up a huge chunk of your day. More than it usually did.
Grabbing a half a bite of breakfast to leave for your ass crack of dawn morning run followed up by the crazy workout routine you'd been suggested.
At first Simon commented on the stride and how he was impressed you were stepping up. Under the impression you were taking care of your body's needs.
But it only got worse. Until you felt no change in the workout routine and simply decided you would just stop eating.
You had to get thinner somehow and you wouldn't stop until you could confidently post a picture looking like one of the Karcrashions.
You skipped out on meals and simply gave the excuse of being tired and that you'd get food later. But this only flew for so long. How you thought you'd get away with it with the others let alone your own boyfriend was a wonder.
Once again, laying in your bed after rejecting dinner, hearing the door open. You recognized the heavy footsteps as he approached, kneeling onto the bed.
"Hey Simon..."
Simon hummed, his arms wrapping around you, pushing the blanket back and laying down behind you, kissing your neck.
"Tell me what's wrong." He whispers, pressing another soft kiss behind your ear.
"I'm fine baby, I'm just not feeling hungry."
Simon kisses your nape again. "You're never hungry anymore..."
"Just on a new diet..." You mumbled, wanting to tell him and wanting to hide at the same time. Simon squeezed you gently, his hand splaying across your stomach. His kisses slowly stop and he lays his head there, just listening.
The moment of silence passed before you finally managed out. "I feel Hideous..."
Simon shifts slowly. "Why? What makes you feel... Hideous."
You roll onto your back, giving him a firm look. "You know exactly what. Look at me... No matter what I do I can't get rid of this stupid fat!"
Simon remained silent, nodding a little. His heart sank. Simon understood what it meant to hate yourself. He still remembers the time when he felt like he would rather die than live in his body.
But he loved your body. He could never see you as hideous.
"What? You mean your stomach?" He gently rubbed the plump area. You scoffed though. "It's everything. My thighs, my arms, my stomach..."
Simon looked you up and down, effortlessly lifting you up. He kneeled in front of you, gently wiping a tear before it could fall far.
"Fuck what anyone else says. Fuck it." He leans forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently kissing your thighs.
"I love every inch of you." He whispered. "The world can burn before I give one fuck about what they say about you."
You sniffled and grimaced. "I hate it... I wish I was skinny."
Simon looked up at you. "Sweetheart, you're beautiful. You're perfectly healthy. What woman wants a bloke with abs and no fluff. Like sleeping on a goddamn xylophone." He gently kissed your stomach, holding your thighs.
"Everyone likes a little bit of fluff."
"I know I do."
He stood and swept you up again, making you gasp and grip onto him, legs curling around him. He played back down on the bed and postures you on top of him.
"No woman's stomach is completely flat, thigh gap? I couldn't give less of a fuck. All I care about is that you're still healthy, and ultimately, you're happy."
Your eyes brimmed with more tears, sniffling. "You don't... Think I'm ugly?"
Simon leaned up, sliding you down into his lap. He wrapped your legs around his torso and kissed you softly. "Not a day since I met you."
A lot of times, seeing your body in a positive light is a hard thing. Even with people around you who encouraged your proportions. Simon knew this. He knew he could help, he could love you and reassure you that he wasn't here just because of your body.
He loves his fluffy princess 😊.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty#simon ghost riley x female reader#cod x y/n#fluff this time
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situation ask game: joe hills for 16?
16. Meeting past/future self
"Howdy!" Joe Hills says.
"Howdy!" Joe Hills says back. "This seems to be quite the predicament."
"Oh god, there are two of them," whispers Doc. He'd just wanted to check on the log shop, man. Joe had said something about fixing some redstone (inherently terrifying to hear), and he'd just wanted to come check on it and inevitably fix the fixed redstone, and now there are two of them.
"I have to say," the first Joe Hills--presumably, the original one, given that he's insisting on saying everything through that stupid hand puppet he made this season, although Doc couldn't tell you--says. "I'm fairly certain seeing my own ghostly visage is normally considered a bad sign in most literature. Luckily, this isn't literature, so I can ignore the ill portent."
"Alas, I am, in fact, a bad omen," the second Joe Hills says, all too cheerfully. The second Joe Hills does not have a hand puppet and appears by all measures to be a ghost. Doc would generally agree that's a bad sign too, except for the fact that the Joe he knows is a ghost about fifty percent of the time, and oh no, he's already confused. There are two of them and he's already confused.
Maybe he should go get some coffee. The cafe Cleo set up is supposed to be good, and if he's this confused, maybe he'll manage to get himself to walk past the cats before he remembers he's supposed to be scared.
"Oh no," Doc's Joe says. "I don't have time for bad omens. For one, I'm not any good at killing pillagers. For another thing, I'm busy. See I was trying to help and I accidentally broke Doc's redstone and I feel bad because I think he's like, actually for-real mad about it, not fake mad, and we're supposed to be business partners, right, so I thought I'd come here and fix the redstone. Except then when I was hanging out with Mumbo at the end of our setup confessional Mumbo mentioned something and I just now remembered it and I think I fixed it wrong, so I'm here to try to figure that out, and that means I really don't have time for a bad omen."
"We never do," the ghost Joe says, shaking his head.
Doc, weirdly, feels touched.
"So if you could go away and give me dire warnings later--"
"Sorry, I don't have time to be put off for later! If you put this off for future Joe, you're putting this off to me! Then I'll have to do this all over again, and it'll be a closed time loop. Or, I guess mostly closed, because I don't remember this. But maybe you hit your head and forget everything! I don't know! I don't know how time travel works, but closed time loops were always the really confusing ones because they try to make sense. If we don't try to make sense you might still be able to change things."
"Oh no. What if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy?"
"I hadn't considered that," the ghost Joe says.
"I mean, everything I've ever read says that in trying to avert catastrophe, I am likely to accidentally cause it!" Doc's Joe says.
"Maybe the solution is for you to not believe my warnings?" the ghost Joe says. "No, that always ends badly too. That means there's dramatic irony!"
"Right, right. Maybe you just have to be as clear as possible, so I can't misinterpret your words?"
"No, I think the solution is to be vague," the ghost Joe says. "Good prophecies are normally vague that way. I mean, I'm mostly just here to tell you how to avert the nasty end of the world that kills everyone super dead, not anything too complicated! If I put too many details in, I'll leave in a dramatically appropriate loophole by accident, and then you'll never manage it."
"True, but Cleo says that I should always be given exact instructions, or I'll do the wrong thing on purpose," Doc's Joe says.
"We do that even more with exact instructions."
"That is true! And I guess it's harder to remember exact instructions?"
"Maybe the solution, given that I am going to vanish back to the past in five minutes," the ghost Joe says, "is that I should simply write down my instructions. That will make them harder to misremember or misinterpret."
"I will lose those too! This is too much responsibility!"
"I know! That's what I said!" ghost Joe says. "I said, why are you asking me. I mean I know the ghost thing is the only reason I can do this, but I don't want this kind of responsibility! I am not trustworthy! You all have known this since, like, day one, stop putting this kind of stressful responsibility on me! I do weird things when I'm stressed! I mean, I'm always stressed--"
"That's true, we are," Doc's Joe interjects.
"--but this is even more stressful than that! If I thought anyone else could do it, I would have said no! And now I don't know how to--"
"Man, if the world is going to end and kill all of us, stop worrying and just say how," Doc says, stepping out of his hiding place and throwing up his hands. "You're wasting time!"
"Oh, you're right," ghost Joe says. "So, the world will end when--"
He vanishes.
Doc and Doc's Joe stare after ghost Joe into the distance. Finally, Joe, with the world's most betrayed expression, turns to Doc.
"You scared me off!" he says. "If you hadn't shown up I'm sure I would have explained eventually."
"WHAT," Doc says as calmly as possible back. It does not appear to appease the Joe he's left with at all.
#answered#boonbeenblade#ask game#a bee fic#joe hills#docm77#hermitcraft#hermitfic#two joes would form the world's dumbest feedback loop is what i'm saying.
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Otome Game ~ *Idia Shroud*
Summary: It was Idia's idea to game with you. But when you ask him for help with your otome game, he can't help but notice some similarities between him and your favorite character...
Pairing: Idia Shroud X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluffy Oneshot
Word Count: 1004
Warning: Otome gaming
Masterlist
Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew
It was Idia's idea to game with you, although he only asked because you mentioned that you had a new game that you haven't gotten around to playing yet. You were sure he had ulterior motives when he asked you to hang out, but you didn't bring it up with him as you didn't want to scare him off. Instead, you simply grabbed your game and met him at his dorm.
Ortho was more than excited to see you. You always held a special affection to Idia's little brother that didn't go unnoticed by both parties. On more than one occasion when you weren't around, Ortho would beg his brother to finally ask you out. But Idia was far too terrified to approach you with a romantic relationship. So he simply settled for a friendship that he would never ever, ever, EVER take advantage of.
Idia made sure to clean his room before you arrived and you were pleasantly surprised. Whenever you crashed the Board Game Club meetings, Azul would go on and on about how filthy his room was. Still, you didn't point it out to him. You didn't want to make him feel any more self-conscious than he already was.
After exchanging some casual pleasantries, the two of you fell into your gaming. It was calm and relaxing. You found yourself enjoying your time with the dorm leader of Ignihyde more than you anticipated. He was considerate about your own gaming experience and kept his reactions to his game quiet. Every so often you would look up and watch what he was doing, asking questions when you felt it was appropriate. He answered all of your questions with ease and even reciprocated by asking questions about your game. All and all, it was the perfect afternoon with one of your favorite people.
Then you hit a rough patch in your game. Your sigh of frustration alerted Idia, who knew exactly what it meant: you needed help. Now, Idia doesn't like to boast about his exceptional skills when it comes to video games, but surely he could appear like your knight in shining armor and lend you a hand?
"What's wrong?" He softly asks, his gaze still trained on the game he was playing.
"I'm stuck. I don't know which boyfriend to choose." You mumble, flicking through the different options in your otome game.
Idia thought it was a good thing you weren't paying attention to him as his hair flickered pink for a brief moment. He fumbled with his control to pause his game before finally addressing your issue.
"What, what do you mean?"
You showed him the screen of your game console. "So my new game is an otome game. I have seven boys to choose from. I just completed the intro and now I have to pick one, but I don't know who to choose."
He frowned and looked at your options. "Why don't you just pick one that you like and then do the other routes later."
"That's the problem. You can only choose once. If I want to complete the other routes, I have to buy another game. It's a major capitalism scheme, but I thought the game looked fun." You shrug. "Any idea who I should choose?"
"Uh... why don't you tell me about them and then I'll help you decide."
You nod with a smile that makes the tips of his hair turn pink again. "Okay in order here you have: Ryushi, the strict student body president who just needs someone to soften his edges, Ietsuna, the lazy slacker who only cares about you, Amane, the bad boy who likes to tease and torment, Kobo, the golden retriever who is the fan favorite, Michinori, the cultured exchange student who is a little fruity in my opinion, Masanobu, the secret prince of the school who would do anything for you, and Ichibei, the otaku with a heart of gold."
"Wow." He's surprised with how typical the choices are like every other otome game. He would normally say pick the one you're most interested in as they're pretty average, but considering you can only make one choice, you have to be careful. "I guess I'd have to say the choice is up to you."
You give him a pout. "You're really going to make me make such a tough decision all on my own? You're so mean, Idia!"
He panics at your words, not meaning to make you upset with him. "Well I mean it's your game! You should pick the boy you feel is the most special to you! I can't really help you make that decision."
"I suppose you're right..."
"Who do you feel is special?"
You shrug and glance back at your choices. "Well, I first thought about Masanobu because who wouldn't want to be a princess? But I felt he was trying too hard in the prologue to try and gain your favor. So I went through the options again and I'm stuck on two: Amane and Ichibei."
He tried to not let you know how surprised and flustered he was. "Oh?"
You nod. "I mean, I'm so like other girls when I say I love a bad boy, but Ichibei... he seemed so sweet and shy. I couldn't help but be drawn to him. I think he might be my favorite."
Your explanation was not helping the poor boy's rapidly beating heart. Based on your little description about him, Idia couldn't help but see similarities between him and Ichibei. Was this your subtle way of saying he was your favorite too? Was it too much to hope that that was true?
"I think you should go with your favorite."
You beamed at his words and his heart skipped several beats. "I think you're absolutely correct! Thank you Idia!"
"You're welcome." He mumbled and tried to return to his game. But he was distracted. Your words and your choice hit him harder than he anticipated. Perhaps Ortho was right. He should ask you out…
#Twisted Wonderland#Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction#Twisted Wonderland Oneshot#Anime#Anime Fanfiction#Anime Oneshot#Ignihyde#Idia Shroud#Idia Shroud X Reader#Idia Shroud Fanfiction#Idia Shroud Oneshot#Idia Shroud Fluff#Idia#Idia X Reader#Idia Fanfiction#Idia Oneshot#Idia Fluff#Gamer#Gamer AU#Oneshot#Fluff
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light in the dark | kim gyuvin
pairing: gyuvin x reader
genre: fluff
word count: 763
warnings: none. lowercase intended, not proofread
notes: im back!! hopefully pretty permanently. but i wanted to pick a random request to get me back in the zone a little so here we go,, i'm a little rusty so sorry everyone </3 i love you all lots i hope you're doing well!!
you were tired, exhausted even. so tired in fact, that you were sure the second your head hit the pillow your eyes would shut and you'd be on the ride to dreamland. oh how wrong you were.
the first half hour laying in darkness wasn't too bad, telling yourself maybe if you just laid there still for another few minutes that you would finally slip into a peaceful sleep. the half hour of that, not so fun. there was only so much tossing and turning you could too, only so many positions you could lay in in an attempt to finally get some rest.
the apartment you shared with your best friend was quiet, almost too quiet, and it was starting to get to you.
maybe i'll just get a drink of water. you thought to yourself as you hauled yourself out of bed, quietly slipping out of your bedroom and past your roommates door just across the hall. gyuvin shouldn't have to lose sleep just because you are, right?
you must have spaced out drinking your glass of water, trying to convince yourself that you could just lay down and fall asleep, because the voice emerging from the darkness nearly made your soul leave your body.
"you're still awake?" he called out quietly, the sound still amplified in your nearly empty apartment, the sleeping world outside only making everything feel that much louder. you let out a tired huff, "gyuvin you nearly gave me a heart attack," you took a second to steady your heartbeat, "but i could ask you the same, what're you doing up?"
he only shrugged as he walked closer, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen. his hair was messily laid across his forehead, dark circles found themselves under his eyes. even his shirt was all twisted around his tall frame, the small light on the counter made the collarbone peaking out from his oversized shirt more apparent... not that it mattered, obviously.
"go back to bed gyu, you look exhausted." you gave a small smile, bringing your hand up to fix the mop of hair on his head. only to have his hand grab yours gently, "you're the one who can't sleep," his usual goofy tone was gone, replaced with a soft, perhaps caring cadence. "don't think i didn't hear you kicking your blankets off the bed." a smile spread across his lips, despite the obvious concern for your wellbeing this evening.
you didn't know what to say other than mutter a brief apology for the disturbance, maybe you could've come up with something better, something more intelligible had the time not been pushing 3 in the morning. but that wasn't the case.
"you don't have to apologize," he said simply, squeezing your hand that was still in his, now hanging beside your standing figures. "what can i do to help?"
a moment of silence passed as you considered the options, considered what truly would help; you had no idea.
gyuvin seemed to take the silence as an answer in itself, simply tugging you back into your bedroom, hushing your protests about leaving the cup out on the counter. that's a tomorrow problem, he insisted.
he only let go of your hand for a moment to rearrange the blankets on your bed, picking up the ones that had been kicked off earlier in the night. he lightly hit the pillows in an attempt to fluff them, before hopping into your bed himself.
with his arms open he muttered a soft, "your turn." and before you could question him, he was grabbing your hand and dragging you into your own bed beside him, whether you liked it or not. but you were too tired to argue, and his embrace was too warm and inviting to resist, especially now.
his breathing so close to you would usually have you ready to playfully smack him, but like this? you could get used to this. it was safe. he was safe.
maybe it was the soft hands through your hair or the warm hand against your waist, but you felt yourself drifting off easier than before, and maybe it was just that sleepy haze that made you just that much more sentimental. "thank you gyuvin," you mumbled, breathing in the lingering scent of his body wash, "for everything, i love you."
you had started to drift off right as the words left your mouth, but you could've sworn you heard the boy mumble back as he pressed a kiss to your head. "i love you too y/n."
#zerobaseone#zerobaseonefics#boys planet#boys planet fics#boys planet imagines#boys planet reactions#kpop#boys planet drabbles#zb1#zb1 x reader#zb1 imagines#kim gyuvin imagines
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bets made (and mistakes happened) - a restaurant au
john 'soap' mactavish
cw: restaurant!au, one night stand, smut/pwp, cocky!soap, bets/wagers, dirty talk enemies-to-lovers, (accidental) pregnancy, semi-long
bunny says: like this fic? leave a comment! really like this fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!
you could stand toe to toe with whoever got in your way. you REFUSED to be talked down to like a dog. you were a good sous chef, you didn't need the guy who washed the dishes to tell you how to do your job! you could've KILLED john.
and he probably would've let you. he wanted to see those blunt nails of yours dig into his throat. he'd take it as a challenge and give you the same energy. he'd probably grin as you like a madman before he could finally sink his teeth into you. he had been wanting to for years.
so in order to keep some semblance of peace in the kitchen, chef price sent you two out in the back for a smoke. you sat on the milk crate near the door and john pulled out his pack of cigarettes.
"i like yer fire." he said.
"i wish you'd go to hell." you replied.
he chuckled and shook his head, "yer too sweet. i'm surprised you didn't poison me when you had to show tonight's dishes to the rest of staff."
"i didn't expect you to count as staff. it was meant for the other cooks."
he put his hands on his hips, apron on and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth he tilted his head to the side and chuckled, "i'm staff, bonnie. more of the backbone than you are."
you stood up, and got close to him. you were facing each other and painfully close. you plucked the cigarette out of his mouth before you took a inhale of it. he looked at you in shock as you placed it back in his mouth. you turned away from him and said, "how about this, soap. you come to my place, we see who's the better cook."
he stood up a little taller and asked, "what do i get when i win?"
you narrowed his eyes at his words, you amped up the stakes. you replied simply, "i'll let you sleep with me."
the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth from the shock. he soon took it out his mouth and exhaled, "nah, nah. really, what is it?" there was a smile on his face. he leaned in a little bit to you.
"i told you... you, me, sex. do i need to spell it out for you?"
he laughed, "oh yeah. that's a good prize, that sweet cunt." he closed the gap between you two and took your chin in his hand, he held his cigarette in the other, "deal. maybe i can finally put ya in yer place. talkin' big game for such a little girl." he shook his head. he pulled away to have another drag of his cigarette.
-
the first thing you noticed at the end of the week. john 'soap' mactavish didn't taste like an ashtray when he kissed you. currently it was friday night, the only night you two had off, and john had just won your little bet.
he had you up on the kitchen table with his hand spread out on your thigh, pushing up your dress. his lips were on yours and you tried your best to NOT melt into the kiss.
when he pulled away he pressed his forehead to you and said, "how was that?"
"it's a bet, it shouldn't matter how i feel." you replied as you kept your arms around him. his laugh pulled something in you when you were so close to him.
you expected him to make some pasta with packaged noodles and a jar of sauce. you had seen what lunches he brought. but instead in your tiny apartment, he made you a scotch pie with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth the entire time. even with the ash, it was still the best thing you had ever tasted.
he knew he won because you couldn't hide the expression on your face fast enough after the first bite. when he laughed,you hit him then went in for seconds. who would've thought the annoying dishwasher could cook this.
"how?" you asked.
he put a finger over his lips, "family secrets. only shared through marriage, doll."
after the meal, then he took his dessert. his winnings from your bet. and in all fairness, if/when he was going to fuck you, he'd rather he did with after you had a good meal. it was going to be quite the energy waster.
you broke the kiss and looked at him, those big blue eyes stared back at you. you held his face for a moment to stop him from leaning in again. you said, "i'm not fucking on a table i got from goodwill."
he chuckled, "of course, my majesty. would you like for me to fluff the pillows first." then made a noise when you squeezed his face.
"i'm saying because the fucking thing will break." then let go of him. he backed up enough for you to get off the furniture and head towards the bedroom.
he trailed behind you, his cock stood at full attention in his jeans as he get his first glimpse of your bedroom. while he noticed that there wasn't much life to the decor of the walls. he did notice that your bed was unmade and looked very comfy.
but what drew his attention was the sight of you undressing. he watched you zip down the button of the dress. you stepped out of it then quickly got your underwear off. he was barely out of his socks by the time you were naked. your curves glowed under the light of the city outside.
you sighed and approached him, "i guess i have to do everything, huh?"
he was brought back to reality and stepped back, "you don't have to do shit, love. i just need you to lie there and look pretty. if you really wanted to put on a show, make the girls bounce a little." he chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. he showed off his lean body and caught you staring a moment before he went to his jeans.
soon both of you were naked, and you led him onto your bed. you kicked the covers further down the mattress as you laid in bed with the other man. you kissed once more trying hard not to fall for him with each linger of his fingertips across your back.
he held you like a protective force, even if his words were often biting. he wanted you. in a carnal, lustful kind of way. the kind that sent shivers down your spine.
his hands roamed your backside, his cock twitched against your thigh as you continued to make out with him. finally that cocky mouth of his was quiet.
you pulled away soon after and placed both hands on his chest. he looked up at your curiously and you gazed down at him. those blue eyes were like dark like rocky seas as you rubbed your knee up against his cock. he hissed through his teeth.
"careful, doll." he said quietly.
you held his face once more and gave him one last kiss before you moved away and got into his lap. your ass rubbed against his cock. the sensation made him exhale deeply to try and hold back a moan.
he placed his tattooed hands on your hips. you always did find his tattoos quite appealing. you did have a dream once where he was shoving those digits inside of your pussy. at the time it made you want to put bleach in your eyes. but now... you were second guessing it.
"like this?" you asked.
"oh yeah. i love a good girl on top." he purred as the two of you began to move your bodies against one another. his eyes closed for a moment as he pressed his head into your pillow. he was drowning in the scent of the strawberry shampoo you used often. he could get whiffs of it at work when you walked by, but to be smothered in it made his cock hard.
you placed your hands on his chest and leaned forward so his cock was pushed inside of you at an angle. you panted which was accompanied by his own heavy breathing.
"feel real good. like a glove." he said, heavy on the accent, "like two pieces the same puzzle. you and i, doll, are meant to be."
"one night." you affirmed.
he chuckled as he dug his fingers further into your hips. he watched you take all of his cock and replied, "that's what they all day." before he started to meet your pace more aggressively.
the bed creaked from your movements. the heavy thrusting of sex in the cramped room of your one bedroom apartment. you funded this life through cooking and you got out cooked by a dishwasher.
you should hang the apron up already!
the thought made john smirked as he felt his cock deep inside of you. he wondered for a moment if you could still run a kitchen while caring for his brats. but that thought was pushed away from the intense rush of pleasure through his body. made his head feel full as he got closer to orgasm.
"shit, soap. ah." you moaned.
he gave your ass a slap and chuckled, the sweat dripped down his back, "you can't get enough of me. you just love it so much. you love me."
you groaned, "in your dreams." the sex was amazing. you could feel the sweat on your brow as you rutted against him. your nails dug into his pecks as you moved.
he hissed through his teeth and drove his cock deeper into you. he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. nothing like a feisty chef to get his blood pumping! with a spark on inspiration, he took you by the hips and rolled you onto your stomach.
he lifted your hips up with ease and pounded away at your cunt with vigor. the angle took the air out of your lungs, you could feel his ramming against sensitive areas. your legs were practically in the air!
the angle was amazing for both of you and soon you were gripping onto the mattress under your head.
"who would've thought scotch pie would've let me fuck ya." he laughed as he scratched at your hips due to the force he was holding you.
"shut up!" you whined as your back arched. with a few more stokes of his cock, you both came. your mind went blank. you came so hard that you honestly forgot that he wasn't wearing a condom and had dumped a bunch of his scottish seed into your aching cunt.
this wouldn't be a problem later, right?
-
a month later you're sitting on top of the toliet with a pregnancy test in hand. your hand over your mouth as you watched the test read positive.
for a second you tried to rationalize that it COULDN'T have been john who got you pregnant. not that blue-eyed, mohawk having, smug dishwasher! but you sure as hell weren't pregnant before your night together.
you pulled your hand away from your face and putt he test down on the counter. you cupped your middle and sighed. you had no choice but to tell john about it. he was going to find out eventually.
you sent him a text message, 'soap. need to talk. urgent." then put the phone down. instantly you were on the phone with him, when you heard his voice you broke down. the normally cocky john sounded sincere as he asked what was wrong. you composed yourself for a moment and wiped your eyes and said, "you are your stupid scottish cock got me pregnant."
there was silence on the other end for a moment. he then said, "anythin' ya need, doll. it's yours."
you swallowed and replied, "you and some more scotch pie." you felt your heart do a somersault.
"ay." he said, "already got the scottish in ya."
xoxo,
bunny
(might do a sequel, let me know!)
#soap call of duty#soap mw2#soap mactavish#soap cod#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish#call of duty smut#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#soap smut#john soap mctavish smut#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap x reader#john soap mctavish x you#bunny babbles#restaurant au#reader insert#cod smut
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Forehead Kisses | Arthur Frederick
Summary: Arthur being the biggest green flag and taking care of his sick partner.
Pairing: Arthur TV x gn!Reader
Warnings: Fluff
Word count: 1.3k+
A/N: Short one to start the week. I have a ton of requests that I'm currently working on at the moment (honestly I'm a lot slower at writing than I thought) and I'm hoping to get out 2 longer fics next week (if work doesn't keep me busy that is) 🤞
Thanks anon for the request! Hope you enjoy!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
As you step into your apartment, the door creaks softly behind you. You clutch your forehead, rubbing your temples in an attempt to ease your pounding migraine. Each step you take only worsens your body pains, leaving you feeling as though you've been hit by a truck. You shed your jacket and kick off your shoes, your body craves rest, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed. However, thoughts of the work you still have to complete nag at you, not wanting anything to pile up for the rest of the week.
Tossing your keys onto the table, the loud clatter disrupts the quietness of the room and you mentally curse yourself. You try to move as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Arthur, who had mentioned his plans to live stream for a few hours today. And despite your best efforts, an uncontrollable fit of coughing wracks your body, sending a sharp pain shooting up to your head again. You groan out in pain, unable to ignore the discomfort.
Arthur was in his office in the midst of a live stream, chatting away with his viewers when he heard you from the living room. Pausing the game he was playing, he swiftly excuses himself from the stream, taking off his headset and exits the room.
You glance towards his office, the soft click of his door catching your attention. Upon spotting your red nose and sunken eyes, he doesn't hesitate for a moment, swiftly hurrying to your side. "Hey, darling, are you okay?" His voice is laced with genuine concern as he assesses your condition.
"I just had a bit of a headache, so my boss sent me home early," you shrug as you explain, trying to downplay the situation. "It's probably nothing, maybe just because it's cold and windy outside—" Your sentence is cut short by cough, prompting Arthur's concerned gaze. "Why didn't you tell me before you left for work?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "How long have you been feeling like this?", his hands come to rest on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.
"You see, this is why," you remark, sounding slightly exasperated. "Weren’t you going to stream today?" Arthur immediately responds, "Don't worry about that, darling," he assures you, still just as worried.
"I'm fine, babe," you quickly reassure him, not wanting to worry him any further, knowing he'll drop everything to take care of you. "I'm feeling better now that I'm home. I'm actually gonna get some work done." But before you can continue, Arthur shakes his head adamantly. "No work, absolutely not. You need to rest," he insists firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he gently guides you towards the bedroom.
“But…I don’t want stuff to pile up”, you attempt to protest. But Arthur remains resolute, his gaze soft as he looks at you caringly. "There are others who can handle your work for now," he insists gently. "Right now, you need rest, medicine, and some tea."
You look back at him with a small pout, hoping to sway him, "Off to bed you go," he says, as you two step into the bedroom.
"But Arthur," you begin, whining, but he cuts you off with a pointed look. "No, Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look.
Finally, you concede, a sigh escaping your lips. "Fine, I'll sleep for an hour, but promise me you'll wake me up so I can finish up work." Arthur simply nods, accepting the small victory.
After changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, you sit down on the bed "Just stay put, I'll get you the medicine," he says, but you attempt to get up from bed, insisting, "No, no, it's fine, Arthur, I'll get it myself." However, he gently pushes you back down. "No, I've got it,"
"But what about your stream?" you worry, but Arthur dismisses your concern with a laugh. "Just sleep, darling," he urges before leaving momentarily to fetch the medicine. Returning with water and the medicine, he hands them to you. "Here, take it," he instructs, watching as you comply before he helps you settle into bed.
"Do you need more pillows or a blanket?" Arthur asks, but you quickly decline, insisting that you're fine. "You just get back to your stream. Don't leave your viewers staring at an empty chair," you joke weakly. Arthur chuckles, "You just worry about getting better," before you interject, "It’s literally nothing, Arthur. I’ll be fine after a small nap. Just make sure you wake me up in an hour okay?" He responds with a sarcastic chuckle, “Yeah sure darling”, and you soon start to feel yourself getting drowsy. He brushes the hair out of your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before quietly leaving the room.
Ignoring your request, Arthur allows you to sleep for as long as you need to, making sure to check up on you every 15 minutes or so. If he hears even a peep from the bedroom, he excuses himself from his stream to ensure you're okay or to make sure you've taken your medicine, sitting beside you until you drift back to sleep.
After another 30 minutes or so, Arthur decides to end his stream early, apologizing to his viewers before quietly slipping back into the bedroom to check on you. He walks up to you and sits beside your sleeping form, noticing a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. Gently grabbing a towel, he wipes it, causing you to slowly wake up. "Sorry, sorry, go back to sleep," he quickly apologizes, feeling slightly guilty for waking you. However, you decide to sit up in bed, “No it’s fine,” you say, giving him a small smile.
He smiles softly and leans in to kiss you on the forehead, gently rubbing the sleep marks on your face. "How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Better," you reply with a slight smile. "My head doesn’t hurt as much." Leaning to grab a tissue, you blow your nose before asking, "What time is it?"
"It's around 7 pm," Arthur responds gently. "You've been asleep for about 3 hours."
"You told me you’d wake me up," you start to say, your tone slightly whining.
"Yeah, but you are really sick," Arthur interjects gently. "You don't need more work, you need to rest."
"But—", you begin to speak, but then you cough, a sharp pain shooting to your head. You look at him sheepishly as you groan, finally accepting, "Yeah, fine. I’m sick."
Arthur nods understandingly as he laughs at your admission. "I'll be right back, let me get you some tea," he says, getting up before quietly leaving the room.
He comes back after a few minutes, finding you sitting with your eyes closed, leaning against the headboard. As he walks in with the tea and more medicine, setting them down on the nightstand, he sits on the bed next to you, causing the mattress to dip slightly and the movement wakes you up.
"Hey, I’ve got your tea," he says softly, offering you the cup. "It'll help with your throat."
You pick it up and take a sip, feeling the warmth trickle down your throat, soothing the ache.
You look at him with a small smile, "Thank you, baby."
Arthur smiles warmly, replying, "Anything for you, love. You know I always wanna take care of you."
"I love you," you say softly, placing your palm on his hand that was resting on the mattress.
"I love you too, more than anything," Arthur responds, his eyes filled with affection.
His hand comes up to gently rub your cheek. As he leans in for a kiss on the lips, your hand comes up to cover his mouth, saying, "No, you'll get sick too. And then I’ll have to take care of you, and you’re the clingy type when you’re sick."
He feigns hurt for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Okay, okay, forehead kisses only," he agrees, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, eliciting a smile from you as he leans and places a kiss on your forehead.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Requests are open..or just drop in for a chat 😊
#arthurtv#arthurtv x reader#arthurtv fics#arthurtv imagine#arthurtv fluff#arthur frederick#arthur frederick x reader#arthur frederick fics#arthur frederick imagine#arthur frederick fluff#fluff#chaos crew#youtube#sick girlfriend#sick boyfriend
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Catharsis: Christmas Special
Phos!Reader x Teen!Gojo Satoru and Teen!Geto Suguru
Warnings: Gojo - centric, usual angst, fluff if you squint, major character death, dead bodies, set in 2006, lots of talks of politics, death, murder, trauma, morals, etc, borderline bullying? (Satoru is a jerk), self - blaming, grief, and all it's stages, trouble processing and understanding emotions, Gojo is seriously just his own warning
Notes: Merry Christmas!!!
"You're weak. Why do you bother being a sorceror?"
Satoru's words make you freeze, eyes widening at their bluntness. He doesn't react, however, because in his mind, he's simply telling you the truth.
You're weak. He's known that from the moment you set foot in this classroom almost three months ago.
He doesn't understand why Suguru and Shoko seem so fond of you. All you do is get into trouble, injure yourself, and make it everyone's problem to save you. You can't fight, your Cursed Technique is subpar, not to mention that you're annoying.
Stepping into battle like some sort of self-righteous hero knowing full well that if a curse so much as touches you, you'll crumble. Literally. That's another thing he finds annoying about you. How easily your skin chips and cracks like porcelain revealing an ocean of Phosphophyllite underneath.
You can't lift anything heavy, you can't fight, you can't help out without injuring yourself, you're clumsy, you're annoying, and the list could go on.
What he finds the most annoying about you, however, is your soft voice going, "Gojo - san, are you alright? You look tired", "Gojo - san, you should rest, you don't need to use your technique so often", "Gojo - san, you haven't eaten yet, so I brought you this, I hope you don't mind".
Gojo - san this, Gojo - san that, God. You drive him crazy. How do you manage to see through every front he puts up? Every act? Even Shoko and Suguru can't see through it, and yet you have the audacity to call him out.
You're a liability in battle, and you're practically useless, more like the team's overglorified mascot. So, for the life of him, Satoru doesn't understand why everyone likes you so much. Even Nanami, his grouchy underclassman, doesn't seem to mind you.
What annoys Satoru the most, however, is the tug his heart feels when he looks at you. Because no matter how he tries to deny it, you're growing on him like a parasite, and a part of him wishes he was as close to you as they were.
"I am weak." You agree, seemingly taking no offence to Satoru's question. It's just you and him in the classroom. You're standing at your desk, bag still in hand, and he's sitting a desk, two desks behind yours. Shoko and Suguru are still on their way, and he's taken this opportunity to ask you what he's been dying to.
Satoru's eyes widen at your response.
"If you know you're weak, why do you try so hard? It's kind of pathetic, you know." His brows furrow, glasses sliding down his nose bridge as he tilts his head.
"I- because, I'm selfish, I guess." You say softly.
There it is again. That annoying soft tone of voice that makes his chest hurt whenever he hears it.
"I know I'm weak, but I want to keep trying. I want to fight. One day, I want to be able to repay everyone for everything they've done for me. Yaga - sensei, Shoko, Suguru, Ken, Yuu. Even you, Gojo - san. I want you to be able to rely on me. I want to be able to protect innocent people like you guys do. So I hope you can bear with me for a little more, Gojo - san. I'm sorry for being such a burden, but I promise I'll pay you back." You say earnestly, looking Gojo in the eye.
Satoru's eyes widen, and he's silent for a moment. Before he bursts out laughing.
You suddenly feel embarrassed. You were being serious and heartfelt, and all Gojo does in response is laugh.
"What's with that? Did you quote that from an anime?" He cackles, hitting the desk with one hand and holding his stomach with the other.
"I- I did not! I was being honest!" You defend, feeling the heat tinting your cheeks.
"If- if you really want to repay me, buy me something sweet from the vending machine." Satoru stutters between fits of giggles.
"OK, I'm on it." You nod, turning on your tail to leave the class. A hand grabs your shoulder, stopping you.
"Where are you going?" Satoru asks, leaning down to look you in the eye.
"The vending machine?" You reply, brows furrowed in confusion.
"You're going now?"
"Yeah? I'll be back really quickly."
Satoru scoffs, but there's a smile on his face nonetheless.
"Really? I'll time you then. You have 5 minutes." He challenges, smirking as he tilts his head at you.
"5- 5 minutes?" You stutter, eyes wide. The vending machine was on the other side of the school. There's no way you'd make it back in 5 minutes.
"Yeah. The clock is ticking. Didn't you say you'd pay me for saving your butt all those times?" He mocks.
Satoru's eyes widen as you put down your bag, determination clear on your face.
"I did. I might not be back in 5 minutes, but I'll be back in less than 10!"
"Hey, wait-"
And with that, you've rushed out the classroom, leaving Satoru absolutely bewildered. As he sticks his head out the door, watching you run and almost slip multiple times, Satoru thinks he's figured it out. He understands why Shoko and Suguru keep you around.
You're amusing. And he wants to get closer to you.
Unfortunately, things never go as planned. And if Satoru had known the outcome before, he would have tried to get to know you much sooner.
Things change quickly when you're a Jujutsu Sorceror. People come and go, live, and die. They change, they evolve. People grow apart, and people grow closer.
Regardless, it's not a pleasant feeling when you lose someone close to you.
Gojo Satoru had never thought the day would come when he'd feel regret. He was the strongest, after all. Everything he wanted he got. The world was his oyster. Money, power, good looks, everything. So it's safe to say that loss was also a new concept to him.
A feeling he decided he'd prefer to live without.
It hurt in a way he couldn't explain. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, as if there were something heavy on his chest. Almost as if he were having an out of body experience but could feel whatever the stranger he saw when he looked in the mirror felt. Pain. Anger. Despair.
Cold and light. That's how your body felt in his arms. He couldn't bear to look at the white cloth covering it. This, this couldn't be you. This body in his arms, the broken shards of its head cutting into the cloth.
Yet it was still vivid. Amanai Riko running out and finding him, letting him know that you had died saving her. A bullet straight to the head. Pushing her into Suguru's arms and telling him to run with your last breath. Riko's tear filled face as she begged for him to help Suguru because she couldn't bear to have anyone else die because of her.
Since then, he's felt numb. It hasn't faded. The coldness in his skin, the haze of his reality, brain clouded as it was forced to process the events that had taken place.
"Suguru... should we kill them all? I probably wouldn't feel anything right now."
Did he say something? The words don't register in his mind. Was that his voice? Raw and soft.
Them. The higher-ups. If only he had known earlier that they were supportive of your death. That there was a bounty for your head somewhere.
He didn't know why. He didn't know anything. You had kept so much to yourself. Just what were you dealing with alone? All this time, smiling wide, eyes always sparkling, hiding everything behind your carefree, happy - go - lucky persona.
You didn't deserve this. You of all people. You weren't weak. You were sweet, kind, caring, and selfless to a fault.
This was not you. Lifeless in his arms. You were never this cold.
He remembered it, how warm your hands were all those time your fingers brushed his forehead to check if he was well, when your fingers brushed his whenever you handed him something, how warm they were when you held his face in your hands and scolded him for being reckless. He remembered it vividly.
What would you say if you saw him now? The exhaustion in his face, the blankness in his eyes, the way his- his hands were... trembling?
He could hear your voice, clear as day.
"Gojo - san! What happened to you!"
"You should really take care of yourself more, what were you thinking?"
"I don't care if you're one of the strongest! You're a teenager. Right now, you're just Satoru, and you're going to learn to be kinder to yourself. You- you don't deserve this."
What did Satoru deserve? Was it really kindness? Care? Gentleness? Love? He had messed up. If he had been stronger, he could have saved you. If he had been stronger, you wouldn't be dead in his arms.
What was the point of awakening his powers when they weren't there when it mattered? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn't protect the people he cared about? The people he loved?
What made matters worse was finding out the higher-ups were happy you were gone. The people that had singlehandedly been the cause for his suffering. His. Suguru's. Shoko's. Yours. Those filthy old bags who only thought of themselves.
What would really happened if he killed them all? Would it really be such a bad thing? Weren't they supposed to be the pillars of the Jujutsu world? The elders for people to look up to and learn from. A symbol of hope, something, anything even remotely positive, beneficial to the future of the young next generation of Jujutsu Sorcerors?
All they had done was applaud the death of someone innocent. A teenager. A child. How dare these self-righteous ba-
Your hand falls from the covers of the white sheet, hanging limply.
Satoru's brain goes blank. A pale arm, an empty hand, and familiar phosphophyllite fingernails.
"No need. It's meaningless." Suguru's voice is low, as if the reality that you're gone hasn't hit him yet. His eyes linger on your hand. The palm that patted his back, the fingers that ran through his hair, the hand that was so warm in his.
Before he can stop himself, he finds his own hand grasping it. It's cold. He drops it like the contact physically hurt him.
"Without the higher-ups, the Jujutsu world will go up in flames. And even if they die, there's the possibility even worse people will come into power. Killing them won't bring her back either."
His words don't make sense, even to him, but Suguru utters them nonetheless. The look in Satoru's eye is enough to tell him that if he doesn't do anything, today will mark the beginning of a massacre. And although he feels the same anger Satoru does, Suguru's moral compass, as well as his understanding of the type of person you are... stops him.
"Meaning... huh?" Satoru repeats.
The Satoru in front of him is not the Satoru Suguru knows. The playful, snarky, overburdened boy replaced by something else. Something unfamiliar. Something... cold.
"Do we need that?"
Suguru hesitates for a split second. The girl in Satoru's arms is just as unfamiliar. A bubbly, bright, kind girl replaced by something else. Something unfamiliar. Something... almost sinful. A shell. An empty shell. The existence it harboured long gone. A disgrace to the being it had once been.
"Yeah. It's very important... for sorcerors."
Your corpse wouldn't decompose. The crystallisation forming a perfect seal to your body, and perhaps that's why they can't bring themselves to immediately bury you.
Clinging onto the false hope that perhaps you'd wake up, bounce back like always. Familiar head of teal hair poking over Suguru's shoulder, a second softer set of footsteps padding behind Satoru's, a warm hand flinching at the touch of Shoko's cold ones.
It's sickening. How quiet everything has become in your absence. How the shadows seem darker due to the absence of your light.
Perhaps you wouldn't know it, but your death was beneficial in a way. Suguru spiralled into depression but your words of the past kept him strong, and somehow, he managed to graduate with Satoru and Shoko.
They left an empty seat between them at graduation. Your certificate is still in Shoko's office to this day.
Your warnings and nagging that reminded everyone of their mother saved Haibara's life. You had always told them to never accept missions alone, and it was thanks to your words ringing in his head that Nanami became paranoid while Haibara was out on a mission. This led to him going out to check on Haibara and ended in him saving his life.
It was almost idealistic how almost everyone graduated that year. A rare thing in the Jujutsu World to have so many young people survive.
Satoru jokes its because you took on the unwanted burden and closed the gates of Heaven yourself. You always did. Eating the bitter parts of his food that he didn't like, letting everyone choose first when Yaga gave you rewards, not touching your food until everyone had started eating. You always took on the unpleasantries so that everyone else could live without knowing suffering.
Why did everyone deserve happiness except for you?
Why did everyone deserve to live except for you?
"Gojo - Sensei."
"So even Sensei sleeps, huh?"
"Of course he does. What kind of nonsense is that?"
Satoru's eyelids flutter. He pulls up his blindfold, his vision coming into focus as he sees a blurry image of his students.
For a split moment, he's in high school again. He's in his second year, and he's sleeping before class. He hears soft footsteps approach him. Feels someone lean down near him, but he's not scared. Not even annoyed.
Rather, he plays dumb and waits in anticipation. There's butterflies bursting in his chest, a smile pulling at his face that's hidden in his arms. Smirking at the familiar scent of yuzu and caramel engulfing his senses. He'd chosen it, after all.
"Gojo - san? Wake up, class is about to start."
"Gojo - sensei!"
But when his visions focuses fully, he realises it's been 12 years and his beloved students have visited his office.
"Oh, he's awake!"
There's a red rim to Satoru's eyes, but it's almost unnoticeable. He smiles before pulling his blindfold back down.
"Please don't fall asleep after summoning us all here." Megumi states.
Satoru stands up, and Yuji and Nobara are quick to fight over who gets to sit on his chair.
"What are you smiling about?"
It's today. By 4 that morning, Satoru had found himself sat in front of a familiar grave. He was always the first to visit. He brings a bouquet of white heliotrope and places it on the grave. He crouches in front of it, his blindfold tucked away in his pocket.
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dear Y/n. Happy Birthday to you."
If there's one thing Satoru wishes, it's that he was able to tell you his feelings truthfully while you were still alive. It's unhealthy, but he finds himself uttering the same three words on every occasion to a stone in the ground.
If only he could have seen your pretty face while he uttered them in person.
Satoru doesn't know if he believes in the afterlife, but he hopes you're listening. And maybe, just maybe, you're screaming at the top of your lungs, repeating the words in hopes he'd somehow hear.
"It's nothing."
A lie. Because deep down, Satoru knows he's thinking about a certain place, a certain person.
Maybe in his next life, he can finally go home to you.
#houseki no kuni#jjk angst#jjk x hnk crossover#land of the lustrous#phos!reader#catharsis#hnk x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#platonic getou suguru#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru angst
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Can you do any of the Haikyuu boys x Fem!reader, where they get into an argument (with an angst ending please🥹🥹🥹) if you can’t that’s perfectly fine <3
Haikyuu boys getting in an argument with Fem!reader, and never solve the problem.
Warnings: angst, no comfort, swearing, harsh words, cheating, heavy breakups.
Oikawa
You were such a perfect couple, at least, that's what you thought. You were so proud of him, always comforted him after losing, he cared for you, he helped you with school. It was kinda weird that he never showed you publicly, or even mentioned that he has a relationship in interviews, but those didn't matter that much to you. You were in love, right? So then, why did you find him like this?
“Oikawa how could you do this to me?” you asked him desperately trying to hear that it was just a dream. “I’m sorry, I got bored of this relationship’’ he simply replied. Your eyes widened. “Y-You got b-bored?? Oikawa Tooru, how could you? I was there to wipe your tears when you lost, and I still didn't get bored -you paused- i hoped and prayed that one day you’ll win and be happy, and I would’ve wiped those tears again because they would’ve been of joy. And you got b-bored?” you looked at him with tears running down your cheeks. “I don't need to explain myself, it’s not my fault you were dumb and got attached” and with that he simply left you there, crying all by yourself.
Atsumu
He was so full of himself tonight. His team won an official match against Karasuno, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat you like this.
“How about we celebrate by eating out?” you asked while he sat on your shared bed. “Nah, I'll go talk to the boys and maybe play a game or two” he said standing up from the bed. “Why don’t you celebrate with me and you celebrate with them? I was there for you in stands of all your matches”
“Y/n, they are my teammates, they are more important than you are. Plus, you are a woman, why don’t you go back in the kitchen and make me something to eat.” your face got all red and flushed, you grabbed your purse and hit him in the head with full force. “Fuck you!” you grabbed your keys and left the apartment.
You slept at your friend's house, actually, you barely slept. You waited for him to call you all night, but he never did.
Kuroo
The last few days had been very tense. You and your boyfriend Kuroo were having a lot of small arguments,about the fact that he got late home almost everyday, he wasn’t giving you enough attention, you couldn’t come to his matches, things like this. But none of the small fights ended like this one in this morning:
“All I’m saying is that you could come home earlier from practice, or at least bother to text me that you’re gonna be late, it’s like you don’t even care that I'm here waiting for you day and night!” you yell at him. “Whatever Y/n, I’m late to practice” you both knew this was a lie. But you heard him mutter under his breath “I wanted a break anyway.”
And with that, he left. He left with no goodbye, no explanation, no excuses. You felt your whole world collapsing on you. You sat with your knees to your chest, crying, hoping he will come back and tell you that he didn’t mean what he just said.
Bokuto
Today he lost another game. And he felt like it was all his fault. So why won't he blame somebody else and maybe let his anger out on that person too?
“Baby, Kou, it’s fine, it’s just a game” you get interrupted by him. “No, it’s not just a game, Y/n, it’s volleyball, everything is important about it! WELL, I MEAN HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A HOBBY, YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING! ALL YOU DO IS BOTHER ME AND KEEP DISTRACTING ME FROM THE ONLY THING THAT I REALLY LOVE!!” you pause your breathing. You felt so guilty, you look down, you don’t even dare maintaining eye contact with your “boyfriend”. Tears pick at your eyes, and you cross your arms.
“Yeah, sure, cry, that’s all you can do, since you know what I just said is true.” You felt those words cut so deep, your heart broke in a million pieces.
Osamu
You never really learned how to cook, but seeing your boyfriend cook everyday made you learn a few things, so you thought you could make something special for him tonight. I mean, what could go wrong? Everything.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU WASTED SO MUCH INGREDIENTS, AND YOU STILL FUCKING BURNED IT, HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE?!” he yelled at you, showing you the mess you made in his kitchen. “I'm really sorry, I just wanted to make something good for you once…”
“Well, apparently you can’t, so why don't you just leave?” You looked up at him, but his gaze scared you- there was no more love in his eyes, not even a little bit. What was wrong with you, were you that hard to love?
Iwaizumi
“I love listening to you” you confess to him. “You do?” you look at him, reassuring him “Yes baby, of course i do! Even when you talk about how much you hate Oikawa, you know, i had a friend that i hated her the exact same way but-”
“Well if you like listening to me, then why do you make it about yourself?” you froze. Did you just do that? “I-” you looked into his eyes searching for his love and reassuring but where were those? “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to, you know that, right? I’m really sorry, Haji, look at me” you tried grabbing his face but he pushed your hands away. “Just leave me alone already, with your excuses and everything. I’m getting tired of this. We’re done.”
You hated yourself. That small mistake you didn’t even know you made, cost you everything.
...
Hey!! Of course I can write this! Sorry it took a long time, someone caught a cold and couldn't do it on time. Hope you liked it!
💕💕💕
#haikyuu angst#hq boys#haikyuu headcanons#hq angst#haikyuu boys#hq headcanons#oikawa tooru#oikawa x reader#oikawa angst#oikawa headcanons#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu angst#atsumu headcanons#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo angst#kuroo headcanons#bokuto koutarou#bokuto x reader#bokuto angst#bokuto headcanons#miya osamu#osamu x reader#osamu angst#osamu headcanons#iwazumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi angst#iwaizumi headcanons
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A Call Away (Help, I’m Still Hard!)
Josh Futturman x gn!reader | word count: 1.6k
SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY
Warning: stablished relationship, Sub!Futturman, SoftDom!Reader, erectile medication, oral sex / handjob (only josh whomp whomp), toy usage, facial, porn without plot.
pet names used: baby, dear
Notes: I wrote this out of boredom, and i revised it ONCE so there’s probably a lot to of mistakes. If you want more smuts with plot and better writing than this consider checking my masterlist, thank you 🫶🏻
Summary: After taking some pills to have some fun by himself, the harness doesn’t seem to go away so he calls his beloved partner for help.
"What's up, baby?" You softly said, eagerly waiting for Josh's response on the other end of the line. You could hear him take a deep breath, but he remained silent. His heavy breathing was the only sound you could muster, and the silence was deafening. It wasn't until you had almost hung up that he finally spoke, his voice husky and quiet.
"I know it's late, but can you come home?" He asked, his voice full of need and desperation. His tone left little doubt about the urgency of the request, and he seemed unable to hide his distress. "Please?" He added, his words sounded more like a plea than a request.
“Why? Is something wrong?” You were slightly concerned.
"Well..." He paused as if searching for the right words. It was clear that he was trying to gain control of his breathing. You could hear the light whimpers in his voice, along with the sighs and pauses that indicated his desperation. "I took some of uh... those types of pills, you know what I mean?" He hesitated, seeming to stumble with his own words. "I've tried everything; trust me, but nothing is working." He sighed. "I need you right now, please."
“Josh.” You sigh. “Why did you take those pills anyway?”
Josh let out a sob, his voice broken as he declared, "I wanted to stroke one out, but nothing seems to work for me anymore since I met you. So, yeah, I bought pills hoping they would work, 'cause I wasn't going to call you just to... you know. "
You simply replied, "But you’re doing that right now."
Silence continued for a moment as he finally muttered in response, "I know, I'm sorry. I'll pay you back. I'll do anything you want, please."
"Fine, I'll be there in six minutes." You responded immediately, your impatience making your tone sharper than intended.
"Please, please hurry." He begged with desperation in his voice, making it crystal clear how much he needed you.
You hit the road with a need and urgency that were unlike yours. This was no ordinary drive. The sudden rush to be with your boyfriend—his desperate and needy nature—fills you with excitement like no other. The laws of the road held no sway at all as you pushed the limits of the speed limit, determined to get to your destination as quickly as possible.
You entered his apartment using the spare key he had given you months ago, your steps quick and determined as you hurried upstairs. As you neared his room, you could hear his frantic breathing and see his hunched figure in front of the computer. Your picture was plastered on the screen, and his attention was focused solely on it.
"I need you, I need you," he panted, his hand moving frantically up and down his shaft until he heard the subtle creek of the door opening. When he realized that you were there, all the tension and desperation he felt immediately dissolved. "Baby, you're here!" He exclaimed excitedly, his voice full of relief and joy. "Oh, thank God you're here. I need you."
“I could tell.” You said this as you looked at the screen.
“You must think I'm pathetic, huh?”
"How could I think that?" Your words were comforting and reassuring, conveying your understanding and empathy. You gently took his jaw in your hands, looking into his eyes as you spoke. "Everyone gets needy sometimes; it's nothing to be ashamed of, but next time, don't wait, just call me."
Futturman nodded eagerly, seeming relieved by your words and encouragement. He turned his gaming chair in your direction, his erection imploring you to help him.
Your eyes caught a glimpse of his body beneath his shirt, and your stomach fluttered with excitement. You stepped closer, your playful mood leading the way as you leaned above him, your fingers lightly brushing against his thighs.
His eyes were locked on you, his face full of excitement and anticipation. "Like the view, Futturman?" you teased, the hint of a smirk crossing your face. You saw his face turn red with embarrassment, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of admiration for him.
"Yes, yes, I do; I mean, it's you," he stuttered, his embarrassment making him seem even cuter.
As you bent down, the sight of his throbbing member filled your field of vision, the tip glistening with pre-cum. With a gentle smile playing on your lips, you began to trace its length with featherlight kisses, starting from the engorged head. Each tender peck sent ripples of pleasure coursing through him, causing soft moans to escape from his parted lips. His breath hitched with every caress, his hips twitching slightly under the stimulation.
Your movements were slow and deliberate, taking your time to savor the taste and texture of his skin. As your mouth moved lower along the veined shaft, you paused occasionally to let out a soft sigh, drawing attention to the wetness of your lips. This only seemed to fuel his desire further, his breathing growing ragged. You continued this dance, slowly covering his entire length with delicate kisses, never rushing, allowing the sensations to build between both of you.
With each pass, his moans grew louder, filling the room with raw lust. It was clear how much this simple gesture meant to him. Even though it might have been something small, it showed him that you loved him.
“Please.” He pleaded again, his voice trembling with urgency, but instead of rushing, you decided to take things slower. You knew that patience would make the experience even more intense for both of you. Leaning in close, you placed a gentle kiss on the sensitive tip before wrapping your lips around it. Slowly, bobbing your head up and down, letting his length slide deeper into your warm mouth inch by tantalizing inch. The feeling was enough to send shivers down his spine, his breath catching in his throat.
Each movement was calculated and controlled, drawing out the anticipation and building the intensity. Despite his earlier impatience, he found himself appreciating the slowness now. Every sucking and pulling made him shiver, the pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. His grip tightened on the armrests of his chair, his nails digging into the fabric as he fought to maintain control. The rhythm you set was hypnotic, pulling him further into the depths of lust.
His deep moans and labored gasps reverberated throughout the otherwise silent space, creating an intimate symphony solely dedicated to shared pleasure. His hips bucked wildly, thrusting his hardened member deeper into your hungry mouth, seeking release. Yet despite his desperate pleas, you remained steadfast in your pace, teasing him mercilessly.
After several minutes of this tortuous yet heavenly treatment, you finally pulled away, leaving his head wet with saliva and precum. Breathlessly, you asked, "Do you want more?" His answer came out as a strangled cry, almost too low for you to hear properly.
"Ah, my dear, we can try something else," you murmured, standing up and heading towards the closet. Your gaze fell upon the discarded sex toys, and you quickly picked one of them up—a sleek and powerful vibrator that promised to bring immense satisfaction. Turning back to Futturman, you kneeled before him once more, placing a tender kiss on his forehead before reaching out for his length.
Gripping it firmly yet gently, you began to stroke him with long, firm motions, eliciting soft cries of delight from him. Simultaneously, you powered on the vibrator in your other hand, adjusting the settings until it hummed with vigor. Guided by instinct, you pressed it against the pulsing head of his cock, watching as his muscles clenched involuntarily. A muffled cry escaped his lips, followed by a series of short, sharp pants as the newfound sensation overwhelmed him.
Slowly, you traced the vibrator's surface along the underside of his shaft. The cold steel contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his skin, amplifying the sensations coursing through him. Each brush of the vibrator sent jolts of pleasure racing through his core, causing his hips to buck uncontrollably.
Watching his reactions, you adjusted the angle ever so slightly, ensuring maximum impact. His moans became more pronounced, intertwining with the steady purr of the device.
Time seemed to lose meaning as his climax approached. Suddenly, he arched violently, his scream piercing the air as waves of pleasure engulfed him, his entire being convulsing with unrestrained euphoria. Unable to contain himself, he released, painting your body with his come.
“Fuck baby, I’m sorry.” Apologetically, he tried to wipe the stickiness from your features, but instead, you extended your index finger covered in his essence to your mouth and delicately licked them clean, savoring the tangy flavor with relish. An electrifying charge surged through him at this bold display of carnality, leaving him uncertain whether to fret or rejoice. One thing was certain, however: your sensual act reignited his flagging libido. His cock, which had been lying limp mere seconds ago, began to stiffen once more, responding to your audacity with renewed interest.
The sight of his twitchy member made you effortlessly push him onto the mattress, following suit and landing on top of him. Your lips sought out his, exploring his mouth with reckless abandon while your hands explored his form. Nips and kisses rained down on his vulnerable neck, eliciting soft moans that fueled your desires.
Drawing back slightly, you gazed into his dazed eyes and murmured huskily, "This night isn't finished yet, Futturman." A devilish gleam sparkled in yours, promising more adventures ahead.
Futturman breathed out a soft and nervous "Oh boy," his face flushed red with embarrassment. Then, your voice cut through the atmosphere, unexpectedly innocent and unassuming.
"You have cuffs, right?"
His face flushed a deeper shade of red as he stumbled over his words. "Oh my god..." He mumbled, both stunned and aroused. “I’m dating a freak.”
#lowkey a shitpost smut ngl#josh futturman#josh futturman smut#josh futterman#josh futterman x reader#josh futturman x you#josh futturman x reader#josh future man#josh futturman headcannons#writing smut#smut writing
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