#that uniform is bulky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joonipertree · 8 months

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Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.

Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????

But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."

Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.

If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"

You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.

God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.

Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.

IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA

I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.

Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.

If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.

You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.

I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?

If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.

Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."

People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.

Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.

You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'

But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.

You came close and kicked him on the shin.

I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.

The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.

If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.

With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.

The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.

It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.

Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.

Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.

And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.

"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.

"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"

Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."

The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.

"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."

The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Only you can....treat me like that."

Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.

Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.

I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.

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princessbrunette · 1 month

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oofff flashing criminal!rafe through the divider glass when you visit him in prison 🥰🥰🥰

𐙚 ㅤ ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

you promise yourself you won’t cry, and you don’t — brows etched in a permanent knit as the stoic officer leads you through to the visitation centre. you’re seated infront of a glass window and a telephone, awaiting the men in uniform to escort your boyfriend into the room.

he’d been in jail for a few weeks now, and today was finally the day you were able to visit him. it had been long and lonely without him, your communication wittled down to measly 2 minute phone calls that was likely listened in on by guards or other prisoners. you’d only hoped he had been doing okay, trying to put the horror stories you’d heard of prison out of your mind.

they bring in rafe, the man looking already more bulky from his time away, head shaved and orange uniform worn lazily, the shirt open to reveal a wife beater. you try to swallow down the urge to fully check him out, the concern getting the better of you as you snatch the phone to your ear, staring at him with wide glassy eyes. a smirk tugs at his lips at the eagerness as he raises his own to his ear.

“hi, baby.” his voice comes through drawled but clear as day.

“hi, are you okay in there? do you need me to send you anything? i— i just recently got in touch with this lawyer who said there may be a loophole —”

“yeah uh, let’s not talk about that a’ight? another time. i’m… i’m in here now, okay so— let’s just talk. normal shit.” he raises his eyebrows, to show it’s not a request but more so a demand— however at the end his expression melts into a reassuring smile. you sink a little in your seat, sucking in a deep breath.

“yeah, sorry.” you shake your head and he waves you off with a hand to show he didn’t mind, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread a little, phone still pressed to his ear. you stare at eachother in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “that dress… i haven’t seen that one.”

“its new.” you nod, looking down at yourself. he presses a few fingers over his lips, nodding slowly as he stares at the way the fabric is taught around your chest.

“mm… walkin’ round lettin’ other guys see you like that, huh?” he speaks but it’s soft, like he’s not really accusing you of anything — but old habits die hard. you frown, shaking your head anyway and he returns your gaze with his eyes hung low.

“wore it for you.”

“yeah…” he glances at the robotic officers stood stationed at the back of the booth, minding their business whilst simply doing there job. “why don’t you uh… gimme somethin’ to remember when i head back in? hm?” he cocks his head, eyes jumping down to your chest again.

“like what?” you sit forward slightly. you wanted to help him with whatever you could, you just wasn’t so sure what he was getting at.

“like… why don’t you pull that dress down for a sec? just real quick baby, i’m tryna see something.” he lowers his voice, and your eyes naturally flutter at the nasally rich-boy drawl that comes through the phones receiver. you burst into a giggle, looking around at the other visitors.

“rafe!” you sweetly scold, and whilst his lips jump up just a tad, he sits forward like he means business.

“m’not joking, okay? look if— if i could reach through this glass n’grab those fuckin’ titties right now i would, but i can not so i’m beggin’ you to work with me here. you don’t know what it’s like in here, kid — i’m a man starved, a’ight, please.” he drops his voice even more to hiss in a desperate whisper and you look around, wetting your lips as you consider making your move.

you return your gaze to him, and as your dress was strapless all you had to do was pull it down. you giggle mischievously as you do so, pushing your tits together with your hands, squeezing at them a little before yanking your dress up after you suspected the officer taking peeks. rafe grins, pleased — before shifting in his seat, adjusting his crotch area and glancing around. “mm, s’what i’m talkin’ about baby.”

“i miss you.” you’re still giggling, the smiling gently fading into a pout and he presses his lips together with a nod.

“miss you too. when i get outta here it’s fucking over for you, hope you know that. don’t expect to be walkin’ for a few days. that’s a damn promise.”

“well, i look forward to it, big bad rafe cameron.”

𐙚 ㅤ ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #criminal!rafe #prisoner!rafe

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sweetiecutie · 7 months

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Part one: uniform kink~ 🩷Kinktober masterlist🩷

Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, my cranky German, strong language, I’d slurp him right up fr

It wasn’t often that you came to visit your husband on the base - König didn’t really want to show you around his colleges, much rather keeping his private life a secret. The way here was long and tedious - three hours by car just to get to the base - just as much to get back home, but it was always worth it. The moment you entered the privacy of Colonel’s office you were swept right off your feet and sat on top of his working desk - one big hand shoved the hem of your pretty dress up, sliding pink lace of your underwear to the side, calloused fingers toying with cute little button of your swollen clit.

Being away from home, away from you and your sweet cunt, always made König frustrated and needy. He barely undid a zipper of his khaki cargo pants, tucking his throbbing cock out through the slit in his boxers. Using your spit as lube and smearing it all over his length König slid right into your welcoming warmth, his blue eyes rolling at the blissful feeling of your silky walls wrapping around throbbing length.

König was still fully dressed, even his belt was still in place, resting snugly around his torso - numerous pockets attached to it were full of different junk, pair of tactical gloves hanging from the hook at his side, flopping in tandem with each of his thrusts. His hood was long discarded so it didn’t get in the way, plain black cotton of balaclava was wrapped snugly around König’s head, concealed most of his face. But your eyes were transfixed onto his - heavy lidded with pleasure, staring lazily down at you - the only feature of his face visible.

You could see bulky strong muscles rippling repeatedly under the black long sleeve compression shirt König wore - his massive arms and pecs flexing and relaxing with each thrust, the shitty lightning in his office only added structure to his massive built, accentuating it with dark shadows. Harsh pace of his thrusts was making your eyes water, thick thumb on your clit not once stopping abusing it, forcing thick pleasure onto your pliant frame.

- Kleine Schlampe, du magst diesen Schwanz wirklich, ja?* - König growled, his voice hoarse and deep, a mocking edge to his tone. You just managed to mewl out something incoherent in reply, your cunt clenching his dick tighter at the sound of German, making man hiss under his breath. He threw his head back, revealing a delicious-looking snippet of pale skin sitting right under the hem of balaclava. - Fuuuck, missed this pussy so much baby, my hand will never fucking compete.

Your shaky hand flew up to your lips, trying hard to make as little noice as you possibly could - dense cotton of König’s pants subdued the sound of his hips colliding with your bare ass.

- Fucking a Colonel right in his office… But you really don’t care, huh? - he said, by the way his eyes crinkled slightly you could tell that he was smirking. - All you can think about is having this dick buried deep inside you. But don’t worry Liebe*, I’ll make it up for you, for leaving this desperate cunt all alone. Spread your legs wider for me and try not to make much more noise.

And even though leaving your husband for god knows how long was hard, doing so on shaky giving out legs was even harder so💔

Translation:

*little slut, you really like this dick, yes?

*love

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paymechildsupport · 22 days

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I've never done a request before so please bear with me🥲

I was wondering if you could do another Francis Mosses x reader.

I really enjoyed your Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis and wanted to see your take on D.D.D. trainee!Reader x doppelganger! Francis, where we get sent out to 'take care' of Francis.

Really excited to see what you do with this prompt🙏🏾

>nahhh this is a devious prompt, -- I gotchu 🙏😈🙏😈

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“Does this please you, Officer?” // Doppel!Francis x DDD Officer Reader

--Doppelgänger!Francis x DDD Reader tasked with his neutralization 🙏

-!! AFAB Reader, -- though genetalia isn't outright explicity stated -(?) -- there is room for your imagination though 😋

-!! CW: nsfw- (smut), ; Dubcon /// Hand-job; sex against a wall; degradation; implied overstimulation

A/N: the number of Francis requests are CRAZY, -- and I completely understand why, -- man's actually majestic <3.

————-

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

...

This was not how you planned to spend your Tuesday night,— grumpy and exhausted, woken up mid-sleep by an emergency dispatch.

“Mm… hello.?” Your groggy voice speaks into the ringing phone, eyes still sticky from sleep.

“Emergency Dispatch: Doppelgänger identified at Complex II,— repeat, doppelgänger identified at complex II,— dispatch agent, neutralize the threat”. They clicked off, leaving you alone in the dark.

Fuuuuuuck….

You fit yourself to your uniform quickly, practically ripping the hazmat suit in an attempt to get inside. Stupid cheap uniform.

Hurriedly, you grabbed your gear before rushing out the door, immediately stopping to softly tiptoe down the hall, (it would be inconsiderate to wake your neighbors at this hour).

You bolt out the complex, trying your best with the minimal light from the lampposts to groggily stumble your way to Complex II. You recall briefly the mention of a new doorman, a rookie. You figured it made sense,— poor new guy’s first day and he’s greeted by what you can assume as a particularly aggressive doppelgänger.

Trudging up to the looming building, you approach the iron bound mechanical door. You can see immediately the shutters to the doorman’s office are closed, bits of movement visible from the gaps in the blinds. The poor dude was in shambles.

You approach the gate, eyes locking on the figure of the doppelgänger,

Hmm, let’s see who it is tonight…

You’re surprised to see the handsome face of your milkman staring back at you, eyes looking as dead as ever. The air was knocked right outta your lungs,— holy shit these doppelgängers were getting good.

Clearing your throat, you address,

“Uh,— right, sir,” you look at the doppelgänger, “I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

He says nothing, opting to just stare. It’s then you notice the gaping hole that was his mouth, the two black chasms that were supposed to be his eyes. From afar, he’d look perfectly normal,— but in the light all the inhuman imperfections stuck out like a sore thumb

Holy smokes that’s hot.

“I’m going to take you with me now,” you don’t even know why you’re telling him this, why the hell were you being all nice with a doppelgänger? Sure, he was good looking,— sure, you were curious what that mouth could do—-

But that’s besides the point.

You approach hesitantly, hooking an arm around ‘Francis’, giving him a light tug to signify him to follow you.

Surprisingly, he does. Without a single word or complaint. He just… stares. With those beady white pupils. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

Leading him away, you look over your shoulder at the doorman who just peeked out from behind the shutters, giving him a reassuring thumbs up as you walk away with your new companion.

“Threat neutralized,” you repeat into the bulky walky talky attached to your belt, “order complete, over”. You place it back in its compartment, continuing until you and ‘Francis’ reach the anomaly compound for all things strange and odd.

‘Francis’ looks at the compound with horribly disguised disgust. You only chuckle grinning,

“No no, don’t worry. You aren’t going in there…” he seems to breathe a sigh of relief— if that’s even possible—, before you finish the last bit,

“— don’t worry, I have… other plans for you..”

——

“Strip.”

“Excuse me?” He whirls around, taken aback.

“You heard me, strip”

“And why,” his eyes narrow, “would I do that?”

You shrug, “safety protocol,-- we’re in the decontamination room,-- can’t let you in if your clothes are contaminated, y’know?”

'Francis' is absolutely flabbergasted.

“Oh, and for security measures someone else has to be in the room at all times, – but uh,-” you grin, “we’re a lil’ short staffed at the moment, so it looks like it’ll just have to be you and me.

'Francis' only looks at you through narrowed eye lids, thinking, “and if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll strip you myself” and you step closer to do just that.

'Francis' skitters backwards to the other end of the room, back hitting the wall, “h-hey! No need for that, I’ll do as you ask…” he mutters

Chuckling, “at least you can be obedient”

'Francis' looks away almost bashfully as he begins to undo the buttons on his shirt, fabric peeling away to reveal the pale skin underneath. His hat rests on a nearby bench

“Fully,” you purr, “I want it all off.”

You swear you see the tiniest hint of red tinge his cheeks, and you can’t help but wonder just how advanced this doppelgänger was. Good thing you were about to see for yourself in a moment…

The air is heavy, tense, almost, as 'Francis' slowly undoes the buckle on his belt, pants sliding down to his ankles, – his boxers the only scrap of clothing left hiding him from you.

He wearily regards the way you look at him, not missing the growing flare of hunger behind your eyes,

“Does this please you, officer?” his words are clipped, tension building up behind each one. Biting your lip, your breath almost catches at the way he smiles, teeth a little too sharp to be human.

“No.” The words are thick in your throat, forcing them out a bit of a struggle, “Get rid of the rest of it, now”

He bites his tongue, making no move to do so. In a second you’re on him, pinning his figure to the wall, bodies pressed up together. He has no time to react as you hook two fingers around his boxers, harshly yanking them off.

“Oh.”

Free of the confines of his pants, his erect cock springs loose, tip already dripping with precum.

“Huh.” 'Francis' can’t even turn his head your way, face hot and sweating slightly, “Who would’ve thought,” – your hands curl around him, taking him fully in your fist. His eyes fly to your face, pupils blown and dilated, staring in horrified arousal as you began to knead the hardened flesh, “--what a sick little thing you are, getting off on my reprimands, hmm?”

'Francis' sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing almost to a breaking point. His entire body shook with an animalistic need. More strands of precum build up on his tip, all read and agitated. Your thumb rubs the tiny slit, coating him with the sticky fluid. You found it hilarious, – no way this freakish creature had a fucking thing for degradation.

His mouth opens in the shape of a small ‘o’, eyes rolling back as you teasingly pull at his dick, your hands making wet squelching noises playing with the soaked meat.

“Mm,” you hum as you continue to play with him, dumbifying the creature in your hands. His legs start shaking like a dog’s, lewd whimpers flowing from his lips, glistening with saliva and drool. He desperately thrusts himself against your hand, chasing his pleasure farther. Jerking him off slowly, immense satisfaction burning in your stomach at the way your hand milks him. Each low groan went straight to your pulsing heat, drenching your own pants.

Panting, unfamiliar with the immense, foreign pleasure curdling through his gut, 'Francis' seems to forget the guise of his human appearance, pornograpic moans mixing in with groggy animalistic growls and grunts. Carnal desire ripples through his veins, building up in his stomach, molten hot, and threatening to explode from his twitching cock in your hands. Poor thing can’t even formulate words, getting his brains fucked out just by your hand alone.

He gasps, right about to climax into your hammering fist when you suddenly retract your hand. 'Francis' looks at you with wide eyes, looking every bit the kicked puppy, cruelly robbed of his orgasm.

“Hh. huh… nghu..- ga-?..”, panting.

You chuckle slowly, “no, not yet…”

He can only watch with teary eyes as you skillfully unbuckle your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear. You grab him by the hips, positioning him (which isn’t hard, considering the only thing keeping his shaking body up was your torso), and aligning your pelvis, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You carefully slip him into your drenched hole, gasping softly at the sensation of him.

“Hah… like I said….” ‘Francis’ can only gape as you adjust yourself, cock twitching madly inside of you,

… “I’m not done with you yet…”

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plainemmanem · 2 years

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do you ever think about steve playing football

poor baby would get pummeled

#no but that’s actually so cute to think about though like he would look so bulky in the uniform:)#he would do that thing when he’s standing on the sidelines where he grabs the shoulder pads and watches the game so intently dykwim #going to all his games and him talking all excitedly about it aw #having dinner together afterwards :) cause he’d rather hang out w you than the team #sigh i do indeed love him

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moonhoures · 7 months

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Score

🕷️ kinktober — day 15: dry humping🕸️

pairing: minho (stray kids) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, college!au, smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, football player!minho 🏈, dry humping, mild exhibitionism (sexual activity in a parked car), pet name ‘baby’ is used for both minho & reader, minho calls reader ‘princess’ once, minho cums in his jeans 🫣

word count: ~1.8k

synopsis: you reward your boyfriend for winning the homecoming game

a/n: saw this edit of minho in the super bowl mv and the thought of football player!minho would not leave my head so i felt called to write this

posted: october 15, 2023

kinktober masterlist

Friday nights were your favorite. That was partly because it was the last day of the school week, so you had the weekend to look forward to. And the other part was because Fridays in autumn were football nights. And that meant you got to sit at the very bottom of the bleachers to watch your boyfriend run back and forth on the football field for a couple hours. You hadn’t really been a fan of sports until you met Minho, but since he was the left tackle for the varsity team at your university, he begged you to go to his practices and games when you were free. Slowly you found yourself enjoying the sport and becoming his very own cheerleader, rooting him on from the sidelines where he would shoot you smiles and winks when he could.

Tonight was the homecoming game, and it was against the rival town’s team, so the pressure was on the home team big time. Minho had been stressing over this game for weeks, constantly putting in extra practice to prepare. You had texted him some words of encouragement and promised to treat him afterwords if he won—but honestly, you would treat him even if he lost. He had replied with a heartfelt emoji and told you where to meet him once the game was over.

It was a tense three hours, but eventually the scores were settled at 17-15. Your team had won, and just barely so. The second the winning touchdown had occurred the home side bleachers erupted in a roaring cheer, you included. Your eyes were already on Minho, easily finding his jersey number among the several guys on the field. He jumped up and down excitedly, slapping and congratulating his teammates as they celebrated their win. Your cheeks were consumed by warmth despite the chill in the air that was nipping at them.

You waited patiently where Minho had told you to meet him, just outside of the fence far enough away from the exit that you wouldn’t get swallowed up by the leaving crowd. You occupied yourself by trying to make out the stars among the pitch-black sky that were hard to see with the blinding field lights on. You were so busy looking up that you didn’t notice your boyfriend approaching until he was scooping you up in his arms and pressing a sweaty kiss to your cheek.

You let out a shriek of surprise, “Oh my God, put me down!” You giggled through your words, but he listened, setting you back down.

When his face came into view, a wide smile took up the bottom half of his face, his eyes scrunching up from it, “Did you see how much ass we kicked out there? I was getting so nervous towards the end, but we pulled through!”

“I had full faith in you,” you grinned, eyes twinkling as you took in his bulky figure, his uniform still on. His already-broad shoulders were exaggerated by the shoulder pads he wore, and the ends of his hair were dripping in sweat. Oddly enough, you found this version of him incredibly sexy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to act on any desires until he cleaned up.

“I’m gonna hit the showers, but you’ll wait for me, right? I wanted to take you to that new diner that opened last week. Chan said they’re open until midnight on Fridays,” Minho clutched onto his helmet at his side, a hopeful look on his face as he awaited your reply.

“Of course, if you wanna give me your keys, I’ll just go wait in the car. I need a heater after sitting in the cold.”

The football player was quick to agree, escorting you to the gym. He dipped into the locker room to grab his keys from his bag. He handed them off to you, but not without giving you a quick kiss. Then you two separated, him going back to the locker room and you going to his car. You instantly felt cozy with the heater on blast along with the heated seats (a luxury your own car didn’t have). Only twenty minutes passed with you scrolling through TikTok before Minho arrived, startling you when he pulled the passenger door open and climbed in.

“Alright, I’m squeaky clean now. Lay it on me,” your boyfriend leaned forward, lips puckering a bit, expecting a proper kiss from you.

You chuckled softly, leaning the rest of the way across the console to press a tender kiss to his lips. You could tell he had put on some of the chapstick you had been encouraging him to use; the weather recently had been making his lips chapped. The subtle taste of mint lingered on your mouth, and it was pleasant. In fact, it was enticing—that, plus the way his hand gently held the side of your neck.

The kiss deepened, the two of you becoming enthralled in each other like it was a reunion after months of being apart. You two had literally met up that morning for coffee before class, but that didn’t stop Minho from leaning even more over the console until he was practically in the driver’s seat with you. You felt his tongue running along the seams of your lips, begging for him to take it further than just a heated make out in the front seats of his Honda Civic.

You pulled away for a chance to breathe, and your heart thrummed at the sight of your boyfriend’s reddened, puffy lips and flushed cheeks, “We should start heading to the diner.”

He groaned softly, a small frown etching itself on his lips, “I was so close to getting you in the backseat. We can go tomorrow night?”

“Baby-“

“Come on, ________, I know you want to,” he loved to use that teasing tone and sly smirk on you to get what he wanted, mostly because he knew it worked. No matter how stern you tried to be, you always had a soft spot for him.

“I do, but . . . not in this parking lot,” you tried to reason with him, but his expression didn’t change. You had a feeling you were indeed going to do it in the parking lot.

“We don’t have to go all the way.” Determination could have been Minho’s middle name as far as you were concerned. It was a part of what made him so good at football. It was what got him a date with you during your first semester of college. And it was what got you to straddle him in the backseat of his Civic.

With you right where he wanted you, he smiled into another sweltering kiss, his hands on your hips. Unfortunately for your boyfriend, all of your clothes stayed on, but that didn’t stop him from getting you to thrust your groin against his. Though stuffed under his jeans and briefs, his cock was growing stiff under the stimulation your clothed cunt was giving him. After only a couple minutes, you could feel his erection poking against the fabric of your own jeans.

Minho communicated almost solely through noises, deep moans and heavy breaths sounding between your tangled lips. He let out a whine as you grinded your hips down on him, the friction making his cock even harder. If he had taken out like he wanted to, you would be able to see how red it was and how it throbbed, yearning to be in your pussy. But it was confined to the prison that was his underwear where a wet patch was already forming in the fabric over his tip.

Your own panties were becoming a little uncomfortable, your arousal basically soaking the gusset. The wet fabric was trapped between the sensitive skin of your folds and your rough denim. The sensation wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as it would be if it was his cock you were humping, but this would just have to do for now. You were already in motion, and you knew if you focused hard enough you would eventually cum. And with Minho’s hot breath on the shell of your ear, whispering encouraging words to you, you knew your release would find it’s way to you soon enough.

“Wish I wasn’t so fucking impatient,” he admitted through gritted teeth while his hands assisted your movements over his pelvis, “I should’ve taken you back to my house so we could do this the right way.”

“Yeah, well, you were the one who wanted it so bad,” you smiled down at him, “Now you have it.”

“And I’m definitely not complaining,” he spoke nothing but the truth. Sure, he would have preferred fucking you good in the comfort of his own bed, but he wouldn’t turn down the chance to make out with (and dry hump) you in the back of his car. In his opinion, he would be stupid to do so, “But maybe you could come back to my place, and I can treat you better there, yeah?”

“You better,“ you smiled at the way he laughed at that, then he was bringing your face down to his so he could kiss you again. When he got wound up like this, he had no care, no worry. He would make any noises, not thinking about how whiny or pathetic they sounded. He would let the saliva that got caught up between your lips fall out of the corners of his mouth messily. He would leave hickeys on your skin, acting like he didn’t mean to when really he loved the little bruise that showed the world you were taken. You were his.

“Oh my God, yes. Do that again,” he groaned, head falling back against the seat as he slipped his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. Your clothed pussy was grinding down on his lap, each buck of your hips squeezing the top half of his cock against his pubic bone. The precum on his underwear was abundant, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. It felt too good. Moans fell from his lips repeatedly telling you to keep going, keep going, don’t stop. He was going to-

“Holy shit.”

Minho’s hands were tight on your waist, commanding you to stop. He had already made a mess of his boxers; he didn’t want to make another one. You frowned, and you didn’t have to a say word. He was already apologizing, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” he breathed heavily, too lazy to lift his head up from the back of the seat. He reached up and wiped away a string of spit that was webbing from your mouth onto your cheek (residue from your multiple messy make-outs), “When we get back to mine, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, consider this my treat to you for now, for winning tonight. But now you owe me.”

“Of course, princess. Now let’s get out of here, these jeans are getting more uncomfortable by the second.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @pedriswrld @wonrangwoo @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

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tiredofthehumanlife · 1 month

Text

Fuck your boyfriend, he’s a bitch.

Barbie dolls: Mattheo riddle x you

Word count: 3k-ish

Summary: your boyfriend Cormac is a piece of shit and Mattheo is tired of him totally most definitely not inspired by this sound

Warnings: Theo is called a spaghetti whore?, Cormac sucks, reader gets called a bitch, you’re friends with Pansy and she knows a lot of girls, Mattheo mentions sex, Cheating on Cormac’s side and then kinda cheating with reader bc theyre like flirtyish with Mattheo but its fineeeeeee, honestly Cormac’s kinda abusive, it gets kinda extra fanficy at the end but just consider it camp, reader punches Cormac :0, i think that’s it tbh

Your relationship with Cormac McLaggen had started as any relationship in Hogwarts did, a trip to Hogsmeade. You thought he was cute and he seemed sweet enough. So you continued to date him, much to your friends dismay. Draco complained about McLaggen's house. Blaise pointed out his habit of making obscene sexual comments to just about every girl who would breathe near him. Theo explained the time that he ran into McLaggen and Cormac called him a "spaghetti whore." Theo had a few choice words about Cormac, getting so heated he slipped entirely into Italian. You only picked up on a few words you remembered him teaching you in third year, none of which you would translate out loud. Pansy mentioned how he "sucked ass" at Quidditch. Lorenzo told you the filthiest rumors you've ever heard and truly wondered where he heard them. You were a little upset that all your friends disapproved of your new boyfriend. Mattheo had stayed silent the second Cormac's name slipped off your tongue. You turned to him, staring at him. Mattheo clicked his tongue. You didn't need him to say anything, rolling your eyes. You stood up, leaving the Slytherin common room all together.

After that your relationship was a touchy subject in your friend group. Often you'd all just ignore it entirely. When Cormac would interrupt, which was more frequent than you liked, everyone would fall silent and glare at him as he tugged you out of your seat. Though sometimes they would bring it up with you, every one of them always had some bad words to say about your boyfriend. Everyone, except Mattheo. He never spoke about it. Though that didn't mean Mattheo's point wasn't known. Often if Cormac's face was shown or even mentioned, all of a sudden Mattheo went silent. He was clenching his jaw, rolling his eyes, and clicking his tongue every two minutes. If he wasn't showing his hatred physically, Lorenzo or Theo would be reporting back to you. Theo always told you all the distasteful names Mattheo called Cormac. Lorenzo always told you the different ways Mattheo planned on torturing your boyfriend. No matter what he told the boys, Mattheo never said anything to you.

Until now.

You had planned on spending the weekend with your friends, whether that meant a sleepover, almost sacrificing Draco, or teaching Theo how to play charades. You thought it would be fine by Cormac because he never asked you out or made plans with you. You had a spectacular time with them. Just one hour with your friends and you were already feeling the stresses of your school week wash away. All of you laying in the courtyard grass as Draco ranted about his god awful experiences this week. Theo popping in his opinion every few minutes but the group was still filled with laughs and giggles. You were sat at the bottom of the tree you were all scattered around. It was peaceful and happy until you heard someone stopping towards you, the shuffling of a bulky Quidditch uniform. You peered around the tree to see Cormac storming towards you. Your friends noticed your sudden stiffness, looking to the source of the noise. You heard most of them groan.

"Not this bitch again." Blaise muttered.

"Stronzo" Theo whispered under his breath.

"I have got to get my father to hire an assassin." You rolled your eyes at Draco. You heard the muttering of Cormac approaching closer to you. He finally reached you, tapping you roughly on your shoulder. You looked up at him and smiled.

"Why hello, lovely boyfriend. Whatever can I do for you?" You wished your friends had chuckled or laughed but they all winced.

"Save it." Cormac grunted, pulling you up by your forearm. You quickly grabbed the strap to your bag, hauling it over your shoulder. Cormac noticed his glaring crowd of Slytherins. He leaned into your ear before angrily whispering to you.

"What happened to watching your Lovely boyfriend at Quidditch practice? Hm? 'Stead of watching me you're over here dicking around with your freak friends."

"Don't call them freaks."

"Shut up, do not interrupt me when I'm talking. You know my family has a saying? If a bitch doesn't know their place, beat them into it-" Cormac's grip on your arm tightened. You glanced down at his knuckles whitening.

"That's enough out of you Cormac." You looked up at Mattheo. This was truly the first time he said something disapproving of Cormac in front of you. Cormac rolled his eyes, tugging on your arm for you to follow him.

"Release their arm, you incomplete little dickhead." Pansy said, standing up next to Mattheo. You glanced around as all of your friends began to stand up. You suddenly felt like you were watching a children's movie and they were all going to break into song and dance. You wrenched your arm out of Cormac's grasp, stomping off to the Quidditch pitch. Cormac chasing after you and chiding you. You watched Cormac's practice, you cheered, and you ignored your friends for two days straight.

When you did return to them they didn't mention your boyfriend but they kept reminding you of how they supported you. Draco told you he'd hire a very good assassin for you if you gave him the word. No one mentioned Cormac's name but all of a sudden your friends were mentioning their deadliness. You told them you could handle yourself. You didn't need your friends to fight your battles. Sure Cormac said some odd things but it had been a particularly bad day for him. He treated you greatly but he just had a rough time and mishandled it that day. Pansy told you on your next birthday she was gifting you with Cormac's skull. Through all of their planned homicides, Mattheo stayed quiet.

At first you appreciated his silence because at least he wasn't telling you how he'd brutally murder your boyfriend. Now you were annoyed. You used to talk to him all the time, spending all your free time with him. Now Mattheo couldn't even look you in your eye when Cormac was mentioned. With more of Cormac’s appearances, the less Mattheo talked to you. Not only was he neglecting your friendship now he was neglecting to speak to you. You were starting to wish he'd tell you all the ways he'd decapatate Cormac just so he'd talk to you. So you hung out with your friends less. Their constant gorey talk and Mattheo's silence just made it difficult for you to sit through a conversation with them.

It'd been weeks since you last talked to them. You missed them but you had a feeling if you returned they'd make a stink about it. You saw them in the halls while Comarc walked you to wherever he wanted. Mattheo always grimaced at Cormac's hand on the back of your neck, dodging your eyes. Cormac seemed to trip suddenly when Pansy reached into her pocket. So you avoided them like the plague.

Weeks later, You placed your books back where you found them, humming to yourself. You had spent the whole day in the library. You sat in the window nook. Your stacks of read books growing taller around you. You didn't fully finish most of them but you skimmed them and that was enough for you. It felt nice to be alone and peaceful. No Cormac. No Mattheo. No drama. No Quidditch practice. No "oh come watch me arm wrestle Fred Weasley I'm going to beat him." And then lose nonsense. Just you, a peaceful room, and a good couple hundred of books.

"Hey baby, come here often?" And in comes Mattheo. You glanced behind yourself. He was leaning against a bookshelf, looking through the titles of your books.

"Oooh sorry handsome, I have a boyfriend. Awe." He smiled at you, happy to have you joking back with him. Mattheo rolled his eyes at you, remembering that you mentioned Cormac.

"Fuck your boyfriend. He's a bitch. You can do better." You sighed picking up more off your floating stack of books. You did not respond. Mattheo followed after you, taking a few books off the top himself.

"You know how at store if you buy something you can return it and swap it out for a new one? You can do that with your funk ass boyfriend too."

"Mm hm yeah, whatever you say Matty." You flicked your wand. Your books flying off the stack back towards their home. Mattheo held his stack out towards you. You snatched the books out of his hands, sending them back to their original spot.

"Come on, baby. We miss you. Not your skank ass boyfriend but that's besides the point. Come on are you really going to cut your friends out because your boyfriend is all "be my slave, suck my dick, make me dinner my tummy's rumbling"?" Mattheo stuck his arms out and wobbled like a zombie as he mocked Cormac. You deadpanned at him.

"Yes. That is exactly how my partner treats me." You said laced with severe sarcasm. Mattheo pointed at you.

"See. I'm glad you've realized that. But seriously, there's no way he treats you well. His middle name is Cornelius." You glared at Mattheo as you finished putting back your last book. You stifled your laugh and schooled your features. Mattheo caught it though, his grin growing.

"I mean does he even listen to the Smiths thinking of you?"

"Which one? Girlfriend in a Coma?" Mattheo’s face fell as he glared at you. Not the same one he sent to Cormac, this one was softer around the edges.

"Ha. Ha. Baby, come on. Does he even fantasize about your future together? Does he even get sick to his stomach thinking of how much he cares for you? Does he ever just look at you? To watch how pretty you are? Or does he just look at you when you can give him something?" You thought for a moment. You started to realize how little Cormac actually did for you. You covered up your concerns with a bright smile.

"Don't you have friends? Or do you only bother poor defenseless people in the library?" Mattheo rolled his eyes. He leaned against the table behind him.

"Mm hm. Listen baby, you can call me if you need anything. To beat up your-"

"Just say boyfriend"

"Punk ass boyfriend, if you feel lonely, if you need to get rid of a body, if McLaggen can't figure out how to make you cum and you need a very enthusiastic dildo, if you want arsenic to kill McLaggen, whatever I'm here for you." Mattheo gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you closer to him. He rubbed your back as he stared up at you with puppy eyes.

“If he hears you talking like that I think he’ll have your head.” You whispered to him. Mattheo shrugged. You intertwined your fingers behind Mattheo’s head. His fingers gently tracing shapes on your back. Cormac was never gentle. He always tapped you a little too hard, pulled you roughly, yanked on your clothes until you heard stitches pop. Mattheo would take his time with you while Cormac would always try to get something out of you the fastest. He always felt like he was racing against his own personal best to see how fast he could ruin your day. Mattheo tilted his head gaining your attention again.

“Could not care less about that little-“ you pressed your finger to his lips. Mattheo closed his mouth.

“I have to go.”

“To him?” You rolled your eyes at Mattheo.

“Yes I have to go, I have a date with my boyfriend.” Mattheo nodded. Just as you were about to pass him entirely, he reached out and caught your wrist.

“If he says anything to you, I mean anything. Friendly reminder; I keep my wand with me and I’m fully ready to Avada McLaggen.” It felt strange with him saying such terrible things while staring at you with such warm eyes.

“I love it when you talk dirty.” You whispered. Mattheo groaned and released your hand. He stood up from his seat on the table and disappeared behind the bookshelves. You smiled as you left to Library off to your date.

You truly tried to ignore Mattheo’s words. It’s like when you walk into someone’s home and all you smell is dog but they can’t smell anything. You become so accustomed to the smell you don’t even recognize it. Well Cormac’s shameful behavior was the dog smell and Mattheo was pointing it out. All of a sudden you started noticing things. You saw how anytime you decided to do something on your own he’d get upset. Asking if you were going to go see your “freaky Slytherin friends”. He never looked at you unless he was thinking about undressing you. You always felt cold under his eyes like you were vulnerable. Mattheo was right, McLaggen sucked. So you decided that was it. Only problem was figuring out how to end it.

You sent Pansy a long winded letter, apologizing to her and the boys, begging, crying, and plotting your breakup. You watched her as she stared at the letter on her plate from Cormac’s side. Cormac was squeezing your shoulder, always a little too hard. As Pansy started reading while pushing the nosey boys away, a smile grew. When she finished the letter she glanced over at you. Pansy grinned at you as hid your smile with McLaggen’s cloak. Pansy denied showing the boys her private letter, stuffing it into her pocket. She met you where you told her to in your letter and you both spent the night plotting. Pansy knew a girl, who knew a girl, who knew a girl, who knew a girl, who knew a girl, and that girl knew McLaggen. According to Pansy’s informants McLaggen has a crush on some Ravenclaw. Luckily Pansy also knew this girl. Pansy seemed to know a lot of girls. Pansy talked to this Ravenclaw and this Ravenclaw happened to be what Pansy would call a “girls girl.”

Here’s the plan: Ravenclaw Girl will wear her best dress. You will convince Cormac to go to this party. You’ll ask him to go get you a drink. At the drink station, Ravenclaw Girl will flirt with Cormac. He’s utter garbage so of course he’ll reciprocate. Ravenclaw Girl will ask him to follow her up to her room. You’ll wait a couple minutes and all of a sudden oh no where ever has your boyfriend gone best go look for him and now you’ve walked in on your unfaithful lover. Stage a scene in front of everyone, he probably calls you a couple bad names, you breakup and you’re back in business. You’ll be back with your freaky slytherin friends, flirting with Mattheo as friends of course, and calling Cormac every atrocious name in the book.

So the night of the party you dress in the best outfit you knew Cormac wouldn’t fuss about. It was going to be a great terrible night. You hadn’t felt this much excitement since before your god awful relationship started. Cormac complained about the stairs as you both made your way to the party. The music was too loud, the lights were too bright, the people stank too much, but nothing could bring you down. You were beaming even though you spent the first hour sitting on a blue velvet couch tucked under Cormac’s arm. Finally, you pointed out to Cormac you were a little thirsty. He groaned and stood up, moving to the drinks. You watched him from across the room. A beautiful girl with braids that turned blue at the ends approached him.

You understood Cormac’s attraction, she was stunning. Her hair reached just past the small of her back. She had dramatic, sweeping, bright blue winged eyeliner and a blue dress that swayed with her movements. It stopped at her mid thigh, trimmed with black lace. You would cheat on Cormac with her any day. You smothered your grin as you saw her gently tug him up the stairs of the girls dormitroys.

You waited a few minutes. You caught Pansy’s eyes across the room. She gave you a sinful grin and mimicked it. You looked around you. “Searching” for your faithful boyfriend.

“Oh boyfriend, where have you gone? Boyfriend where ever did you go? Oh no I can’t seem to find my lovely boyfriend, Cormac. Best go check the dorms.” You whispered to yourself. You stood and slowly made your way upstairs. You wanted to give Cormac plenty of time to get comfortable with Ravenclaw Girl. You flung open the door Ravenclaw Girl had marked with her necklace around the handle. Cormac had his tongue down her throat his hands squeezing her thighs. You gasped loudly.

“Oh. My. God.” The girl pulled back and gasped just as you did. She covered her mouth with her hands. Cormac spun around and his face fell when he looked at you. He tried to explain this away but all his excuses sounded like an extravagant way to say I tripped and fell I didn’t mean to. You let him have it. You screamed at him. You pulled out the waterworks. You stormed away from him. He followed you still trying to explain this whole situation away. The girl followed after him wanting to see this up close and personal. You spun around when you reached the middle of the stairs, visible to everyone. You called him every name in the book.

“You lying, cheating, filthy, disgusting, revolting, bastard.” You raised an octave with each insult. You saw the people around you turn to look out of the corner of your eye. Cormac tried to get a word in but you cut him off . You spilled everything how he had you working, spending all your time taking care of him and he couldn’t even have the decency to be faithful. Pansy joined you at your side, rubbing your back and glaring at Cormac. You kept yelling and scolding halfway through you noticed most of the crowd had gathered around. You kept shouting and when you finally let everything out you stared at Cormac as you caught your breath. He opened his mouth the second you closed yours. Cormac called you every degrading name he could think of. It didn’t bother you, he said them all before. Then he said it, he crossed the line.

“You hate yourself so much instead of being with a high value male like myself you’d rather fuck the disgusting freak that is Voldemort’s child” You felt your blood boil. You were going to kill Cormac McLaggen. Just not today, maybe tomorrow. You swung and hit him in the nose. Cormac’s head shot back as he quickly gripped his nose. The crowd oooed. Pansy gasped and let out an excited squeal. You heard your friends cheering.

“That’s my fucking girl.” You rolled your eyes at Mattheo’s yells and turned towards Pansy.

“Ready to go?” She nodded. As you turned to walk away Cormac spoke up from his place leaning on the stairs banister.

“I’ll gut you like a fish, and keep your-“ Mattheo’s drink flew at McLaggen’s face, drenching him.

“God just shut your mouth already.” Mattheo added, joining you at your side. The rest of the boys followed after you each stopping by McLaggen to toss in an insult. Blaise had to drag Theo away. Apparently that spaghetti whore comment still made his blood boil. Even the Ravenclaw Girl tossed in one, following after your group.

“You’re really hot when you punched your boyfriend in the face.” Mattheo whispered next to your ear as you all pushed through the crowd.

“Ex-boyfriend. And trust me I know.” You patted Mathheo’s cheek.

#mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin

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nsharks · 1 year

Note

I BEG OF YOU MORE READER WITH SOAP (with months old baby because she gave birth already) , i feel like they would be besties, like ghost is at the back looking like a literal bodyguard while reader and soap are gossiping and cooing at the baby

"uncle johnny"

aka soap and ghost stay at your home for the night. previous dad!ghost here and here

Soap never imagined he’d see the inside of your home again.

Since the incident at the base, Ghost had begrudgingly offered little pieces of information whenever Soap or Gaz pried about it. (Secret’s out of the bag, Soap thought. Might as well.)

You’d had a baby girl.

Your son was off to preschool now.

That’s all Soap knew.

Until a mission nearby at a cargo facility ends with them spotted by cartel (fuck knows how). A barrage of gunfire. A shot tire. They don’t make it very far in the Humvee until they’re debating their options, knowing full well that the base was 40 fucking kilometers away—

“Wait,” Soap pauses, a glint in his eyes. “Don’ you live around here, Lt?”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

It would be silly of Soap to assume your pretty face would be greeting them at the door.

The lights are off, the entire Riley family fast asleep as Ghost finds the hidden spare key to let them in.

“Take your boots off before you’re in,” Ghost whispers harshly, already kicking off his own. He doesn’t seem all too pleased with this idea nor the fact that neither of them had a better one. “Don’t wake them up.”

They line their boots at the door, next to a pair of little purple ones that seem made for a doll in comparison. They shuck off their vests, the gear, all the ammo; carefully set those things in a haphazard pile. Ghost grabs his own gun and then flickers his eyes to Soap.

“Give me it,” he mutters.

While Ghost pads off to some other room, a closet to hide the guns in perhaps, Soap is left standing by the door. In his socks. In the dark of your home.

Noticing the toys and playmat on the floor, he’s wondering about how you manage with two by yourself when the silence is suddenly broken.

Splintered by crying.

Loud enough to carry from your daughter’s nursery.

He closes his eyes. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe it’ll stop before—

Ghost’s heavy footsteps return and he’s glowering at him as if he’s spoiled a mission, gotten someone killed even. In a snarling, hushed voice, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Fuckin’ hell, Soap. Do you know how to be quiet?”

“Me? You’re the one stompin’ around—“

There’s a flicker of light now from down the hall. Shuffling around in one of the rooms. It causes Ghost to hiss out some more swears and then the rest plays out as a blur in Soap’s eyes. Ghost tries to clemently approach the bedroom, so as to not frighten you, but what he doesn’t know yet is you’ve already grabbed something from under your pillow. You’ve slipped out of the room and the shadow of you raises a defensive arm. Hand tightened around—Soap squints— a bloody knife, is it?

But, then, “Christ, love. It’s just me.”

A wave of relief. Your hand drops.

“Oh my god… Simon.” With a hard swallow, your moment of panic fades and you lurch into Ghost. Can’t help it, really. Even now, with your daughter crying and his bulky uniform smelling like sulfur and kerosene, you embrace him.

Soap tries not to watch from down the hall.

Breathing hard into his chest, “You scared me. Why are you here?”

“Needed a place for the night,” is the explanation he gives. A gloved hand settles just above your bum: bloodied, skeletal digits against a silk nightdress. The other hand— gently taking away that knife of yours. “Didn’t mean to wake you both. It was Johnny’s fault.”

And you’re pulling away from his chest only to furrow your brows. “Johnny?” Glancing around the hall, you finally catch sight of the other uniform-clad intruder in your home.

He gives a small wave

Your tired eyes light up. “Johnny! Oh… forgive me for being rude. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Sorry for wakin’ you,” Soap rubs the back of his neck. (Though, he knows for sure it was Ghost’s fault.)

Soap can’t say he is too sorry you’re awake because you are by far a kinder host than your husband. Even in your groggy state, you usher Soap to clean up in the bathroom with the promise of a comfy bed when he’s done. Then, you’re off to finally comfort the baby. Bouncing her against your chest as you direct your husband on how to fix up the guest room for Soap because you rarely have guests over and—

“Simon, give him some of your clothes to sleep in.”

To Soap’s amusement, Ghost follows your orders without hesitation (though, slips a few incoherent mumbles under his breath).

And although he sees your daughter in your arms, has heard her cries, Soap doesn't truly witness the tenderness of your little family until the morning.

The morning— stretched out on purpose.

Because, as Soap hears Ghost murmur to you, they don't really need to leave right away.

It's a domestic glimpse into the Lieutenant's other life that Soap witnesses. Ghost is already awake when he groggily slips out of the guest room that morning, having just had the best sleep in weeks and dressed in his teammate's clothes that are, perhaps, a little too big for him. He pads down the hallway. There are little coos and small footsteps and Soap realizes it's not just Ghost in the kitchen, but the whole family.

All four of you.

A toddler padding around in a onesie covered in trains (his current fascination).

Your daughter bright-eyed and calm against her unmasked father's chest. Snug in a carrier and visibly content with being attached to him as he makes breakfast.

And then you, given a break for this rare moment, hands slipped around a mug of coffee.

Soap thinks this is the strangest safe house he's woken up in.

Strange, but equally pleasant. Your son is the first one to spot the Sergeant, waddling over to him and tugging on the pair of sweats he's borrowed from your husband. And then you’re the second one, immediately slipping into nurturing hospitality as you usher him to sit down for breakfast.

Any prickliness in his Lieutenant is gone whenever he's interacting with his family. He dotes on you, just like Soap has witnessed before. But for this morning, he also witnesses how he dotes on your children. Offering them patience that Soap is rarely on the receiving end of. He cups your daughter's little head and periodically drops kisses on the top of her hair as he weaves around the kitchen. He merely tuts at your son when he tries bouncing a ball against the cabinets— take that to the living room, kid.

It's such a nice change from their usual blood-soaked routine that even Soap feels the pain of leaving it behind.

But breakfast can only draw out for so long, and soon Ghost is handing the baby back to you.

A quiet, "Do you have to?"

Though, you know that not even nuzzling your face to his neck will change the answer.

The two of them slip into the uniforms they came in. Shuck on the gear, the ammo, their boots (for your husband, a skull mask). You linger around with just your morning robe on, chewing at your lip and cradling your baby tightly as if her little hugs and kisses will be enough to supplement the impending absence of Simon's.

"It was nice to see you again," you're telling Soap when Ghost stalks off to get their guns. Voice soft but with a detectable sorrow in it.

Soap offers you a smile. "Thank you for havin' me in your home." And then, he coos at the baby, "Beautiful lass, you've got. Ghost is a lucky man."

"Would you like to hold her?" Your eyes are beaming at him now, and you shift the infant in your arms and utter to her, "Come on, sweet pea. Say goodbye to Uncle Johnny."

And Soap can't say no to that. Flushing, he takes the little girl from you and holds her, carefully, working around all his gear. He's got nephews and nieces but never has he melted quite like this, staring at an infant who's got the eyes of his Lieutenant and a soft romper on. She feels so delicate in his arms.

This is how Ghost finds you two.

By the front door, Soap holding his daughter and exchanging little murmurs with you.

"I hope Simon isn't mean to you. I know he can be a bit grumpy."

"Eh, he's all bark, no bite. Bit of a softie really, isn't he?"

"He tells me about you more than the others."

"Does he, now?"

A hulking man carrying two rifles stands there, just listening for a moment until you notice him. Irritated, maybe, but it washes away once you are giving him a final hug and peppering sweet kisses over the hard shell of his mask.

Then, a hug to his son (be good to your mum, bug). A nuzzle to his daughter, who Soap carefully hands to him.

"Guess I'm Uncle Johnny now,” the Sergeant comments cheekily after they've left and begun their journey back to base.

But the doting version of his Lieutenant is gone and all he earns is a grunt in response.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost #fanfiction #fluff #dad ghost #fem!reader #afab reader

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aweina · 6 months

Text

ᥫ᭡. your name , mike schmidt ( suggestive )

say my name until you lose your breath …

tags gn reader. established relationship. fluff. kind of self-indulgent. teasing. mike + sleeper build combo.

“it hurts mike.”

your body was shaking like a withered leaf — limbs tense with a burning sensation.

“yeah?” he tilts his head a bit, a sadistic twinkle in his eyes.

you couldn’t last long anymore.

“yes! it feels like i’m gonna – ”

your poor face nearly slaps against the cold wooden floor if it weren’t for mike’s rough hand breaking your fall. he saved you from an embarrassing bruise that you would’ve had to heal for a week — what an angel. but even then, you let out a muffled painful cry against the wooden floors. the nonexistent muscles sculpted on your arms ached, the wind in your lungs struggling to spill out from your lips.

mike shakes his head as he soothes your forehead with a sweet brush of his thumb, back against the edge of his undone bed.

“i still can’t believe you can’t do push-ups.” there was a playful condescending tone in his voice that you couldn’t be mad at because he sounded hot.

you lifted your head, an exaggerated pout on your face. mike smiles at that, tracing his hand over your chin to tilt your gaze towards his. a hue of green and gold in his brown eyes — a little detail you loved about him.

“physical education was my lowest grade you know.”

the gruesome memories of being cruelly yelled at for not participating in group activities or the echoing of shallow cheers during the mile, you being the last person standing. yeah, not a great time.

“really now?” he asks with feigned surprise — a quirk in his brow.

you glared at him, getting up with wobbly feet and nearly toppling over. mike catches your fall again, gently guiding you on the bed. it was a little embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to complain.

“yes, mr. high school footballer.” now it’s mike’s turn to roll his eyes at your teasing, taking a seat back on the cold wooden floor.

what you would’ve done to see him in a football uniform — now stuffed in the depths of his mundane closet. not long ago, you happen to see crinkled photos stuffed in the drawers, old high school photos of mike. a youthful glow to his face, the curls in his dark hair longer, strong arms sadly covered in the sleeves of his jersey. high school you would’ve fawn over him, you’d like to also think he would with you — through the bulky clothes and thick framed glasses.

“whatever. i’ll show you how it’s done.”

a lazy hum vibrates your throat as you carefully watch mike stand up, stretching out his muscles just like he always did. the same sneak peek of his coarse happy trail never failed to make your heart skip a beat, letting out the same tired yawn with a lousy scratch through his messy locks. you tuck yourself in his soft sheets, the comforting smell of warm cotton and woodsy cologne nearly lulling you back into a doze.

every morning, he would do push-ups like this. you’d have an empty space beside your sleeping form, panic filling your heart. it’s then you hear deep grunts, the noise making you blank out with a blush — until you look over and see him in his third set of push-ups. dripping sweat sticking between his skin and the thin fabric of his t-shirt. mike subconsciously coerced you into waking up early. with the sun still beneath the clouds, you check him out while you’re smothered under the sheets he tossed on top of you. conversing about what you’ll do that day, what you wanted for breakfast, who’s turn to wake up abby.

if it weren’t for his deep breathing and quiet groans, you wouldn’t have to be so aroused every morning — like now.

planting his palms flat and arms extended towards the freezing floor, mike‘s position was much more stable and proper that you were attempting to replicate. his upper body bobs up and down, bare feet perfectly planted on the ground. you quietly admire mike’s hidden physique, counting each push-up with a whisper. his elbows barely buckle with each bend, keeping a steady pace without breaking a sweat. completely in contrast from the suggestive noises spilling from his soft lips, breathless and sweetening.

“say my name.”

he stops mid push-up, a confused look written all over his flushed face.

“i … w – what?” from how winded he was, his confusion sounded like a low whine — the familiarity leading back to this exact bed.

“say my name while you do push-ups.” beneath the sheets, you hid a sly smirk — the wink of sleep long gone from the excitement bubbling in your chest.

“yeah … okay sure baby.” mike’s genuine cluelessness was laughable. his doe eyes was unmistakably innocent, naturally obedient to your command.

now every completed push-up he executed perfectly was tied with a sweet tune of your name. the quiver in his voice was sweetly addicting. a breathless drawl drags at the end of your name — tired hiccups escaping his throat. reaching towards his limit, he growls your name with each grunt. how does he not notice how he sounds? fuck, he sounded so cute yet so possessive, but you refrained yourself from throwing yourself at him.

with one last bend to his arms, your name comes out as a desperate whimper. hot panting forced through his lips, drips of sweat running down his brow bone. mike crashes back beside the edge of the bed, his head bent back to the plush mattress. you gaze down at him with a soft smile, brushing away the damp strands of hair — still snug under the warm covers that combat the biting cold of the early morning.

“i know why you asked now.” mike mumbles tiredly, reaching up with aching arms to brush your hair in return. a cocky smile on his face.

“i was wondering when you’ll catch up.” you press a soft kiss on his lips, another on his dampened temple.

“you have a dirty mind, you know that?” mike blushes at the showers of kisses, chuckling at your little perverted plan.

“yeah i do. now do it with your football jersey.” he rolls his eyes the second time this morning, sneaking in a warm kiss on your chin before he stands up — cracking his tense neck with a hard tilt of his head.

“or i’ll just get myself a glass of water.” mike jested with a dry strain to his throat, taking your soft hands and tugging you on your feet.

you happily held his hand. both of your bare footsteps pattering through the cold, darkened hallway — careful not to wake up abby from her room.

“orrrr you can take a shower with me?” you suggestively whispered in the shell of his ear, nearly wrapping yourself on his aching arm — barely irked by the fabric draped on his shoulders that was dosed in sweat.

mike grinned in amusement, knowing you both already shared the shower during early, much more rushed mornings.

although, it never hurt to hear it from your lips.

“yeah sure baby.” his voice deep and rich in your ear, pecking a gentle kiss on your bed hair.

mike guided you both to the dimly lit kitchen, a sickly flirty exchange stuffed the cold hallway — quiet mumbles and fleeting touches.

besides the discipline he puts himself through every cold morning, mike learned to love them, especially when you’re there to admire him — despite the fact you would pretend to be asleep. he knows, but he likes to play your game every now and then.

add. note : okay i’m extremely unathletic, so i hope someone reading relates too. and can you tell that i got this idea from tiktok … (￣￣|||)

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike lowkey a lil shit #his wardrobe is just baggy clothes ugh #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #josh hutcherson

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