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dottedsilktie · 1 month

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Spring cleaning

Nanami Kento is the perfect man. At least, he would be if he wasn't so hellbent on dragging you into his maddening cleaning routine. Luckily, he knows just how to get you on board. cw : tooth-rotting fluff ! a little suggestive if you squint

You used to be partial to spring, looking forward to the last days of March when the prospect of warmer days thawed the chilly remnants of winter. Then you met Kento, and spring was no longer associated with flowers in bloom and sunny days ahead. Ever since you moved in together, you started dreading the last two weeks of March.

Kento had a peculiar way of welcoming the new season and it involved a day of thorough and almost debilitating spring cleaning. The first time he told you about it, you waved off his detailed plan for the day as a joke. Now, years later, you still cower at the thought of the back-breaking, mind-numbing and, quite frankly, infuriating cleaning programme he puts together every year to test your patience.

You've tried everything to get out of it - faking an illness, 'inadvertently' scheduling a conflicting business trip, crying and grovelling at his feet - but nothing worked. So you've come to accept your fate and gave up on throwing a tantrum first thing in the morning when your alarm rang at 6 AM sharp on that dreaded day. Kento was already out of bed, probably gearing up for a long day of power raking the yard and getting off on it. You were almost tempted to snooze it but you knew he would just slither in your room and snatch you out of bed himself. So you steeled yourself to get up, get ready and get cleaning. Kento was waiting for you in the kitchen, brows furrowed and deep in thought as he went over the printed plan he'd stuck on the fridge. He barely acknowledges you when you croak out a hoarse 'good morning' and kiss his cheek, only humming and squeezing your waist in passing. A glance at the plan he perused was enough to send shivers down your spine : it involved raking, watering, trimming everything in the garden, followed by never-ending laundry and finally channelling Kento’s Marie Kondo obsession to sort through your closets and get rid of enough junk to appease his vendetta against unworn clothes.

Once you settle on your high chair in front of the marble countertop, Kento pushes a cup of coffee towards you, and when you wrinkle your nose at the uncharacteristically potent smell, he explains with a small smile, “Blond roast ristretto - you’re going to need it, darling ” before kissing your forehead and standing up to his full height in front of you.

You just stare at each other for a while - you sipping the sewer water he called a coffee, and him shooting you a sharp scrutinising glare that’d have you squirming the right way any other day. “You are usually quicker than this, almost feels like you’re stalling for time”, he observes with the slightest amused upwards twitch of his mouth. God why must a man this handsome be so insufferable. “Just savouring the exquisite coffee my darling husband made for me, is that wrong ?”, you retort, tone dripping with sarcasm that only makes his smile wider. You think you might just be able to charm and laugh your way out of this but he’s quick to pinch your nose to distract you and snatch your mug from your hands, fine blond brows quirked and rosy lips stretched in boyish mirth. He doesn’t have to reprimand you, you’re already raising your hands in defeat, mumbling in a tone nothing short of dejected, “Okay, okay – no need to get handsy, it’s not easy giving up on my freedom”. To drive your point home, you make a show out of slowly sliding off your high chair, hissing and groaning as you stretch your arms over your head and crack your knuckles right under Kento’s nose. “I’m not fit for these things, Kento - every time I move I feel my body cracking and all, I’m not made for physical labour”.

He listens intently, amusement shifting into mild concern as his hangdog gaze darts between your cup that he rinses off and the pathetic stretching routine you’re performing. Kento moves to dry his hands on a kitchen towel before cupping your cheeks. His amber eyes are so soft and he looks at you with a fondness so genuine, so poignant you’re sure he’s going to let you off the hook. You inch even closer to victory when he bends down to brush the tip of his nose against yours and ghost chaste kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, then your temples. He stays like that for a while, one hand at your nape brushing the delicate hair there, the other cradling your face and rubbing soothing circles against your heated skin.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers right into your ear, his voice smooth and comforting, then he’s back to peppering your temple and cheek with small pecks that make you melt against him. “It’s fine, I know you wouldn’t want to put me through that now that you see just how bad it’d be for me to — " “I’m sorry that you thought this would be a convincing performance”, he cuts you off, biting down on your earlobe, making you gasp at the unexpected nip of his sharp teeth against your sensitive skin.

He pulls back to appreciate how your pretty face contorts in fluster, then surprise, before twisting in an angry pout. You’re gnawing at your bottom lip, arms crossed over your chest, truly defeated this time and the shame of being played only adds to your growing irritation. “My petulant little thespian is at her wits’ end”, he taunts you in a singsong tone, his usually inflectionless baritone voice sounding uncharacteristically chipper. You stare at your feet with the vexed mortification of a child caught red-handed and Kento has to hook a finger under your chin for you to look him in the eyes.

“Do a good job cleaning today and I might just help you work out those aches that make you ‘unfit’, mmh ?”, he offers, the swift flicker of his gaze between your eyes and your lips sullying the apparent innocence of his offer. He doesn’t give you time to answer as he brushes past you, a smug smile playing on his lips, and you all but scurry out of the kitchen, hot on his heels and bursting with energy. Needless to say, the house is spotless by the end of the day, your assigned chores crossed off at record speed.

can you tell i love domestic kento

#jjk fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn #gn reader #nanami fluff

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celestie0 · 4 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 4 a day in the life of a hot soccer player

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 4/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 3.4k

a/n. yay for gojo pov chapter! i originally tried writing this from reader's pov but it wasn't really working for some reason so i switched it up.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. He had a sort of rotation of women that he'd go through every couple of weeks. Now wait, before you think he's an asshole, he once tried to have a serious girlfriend in college. But he quickly realized that it's really difficult to coordinate down time. When he's taking an exam, she's calling to ask if he's free. When he's off practice, she's got work. Once a week ended up being all he could really see her. And for a guy with a sex drive as high as his, that just wasn't enough. But having multiple women meant more chances of at least one of their schedules lining up with when he’s free, and bam, he was getting laid on a consistent basis. Okay, now you can think he's an asshole.

He knew he was a bit of a slut, a manwhore, a player, whatever the girls in his Instagram comments liked to tease him about. But it felt good to be those things because for some weird reason it gave him confidence. It was just a stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman feeling that's probably carved into the DNA of every man out there. He can't help it.

Turns out he just really likes it when people rely on him. He likes it when his teammates entrust him with the winning goal during the final moments of a match, he likes it when women put their pleasure at his mercy during sex, and something within his stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman mind really liked it when you had that intent spark in your eye asking him to help you achieve something for your dreams.

Gojo lay in his bed, ankles crossed and rested up on a pile of folded laundry at the end of the bed. One of his hands was tucked behind his head that was resting on a couple of pillows, and his other hand was scrolling through his phone.

This weekend’s party was a bit more exclusive with each member of the frat only getting two invites for the list. There were restricted parties like this in the past, and Gojo very rarely used his plus-ones/twos. Most of his friends were already from the frat, and most of the hot sorority girls would be invited by other dudes anyways. But this time, he was considering inviting you.

His mind wanders to that first night he met you at that party. You looked slightly different in person compared to your photos, a bit edgier than the soft persona captured by the candids on your social media that your friends took of you. Gojo scoffs at himself when he remembers how worked up he got over the belief that this random girl he Instagram DM’d was insinuating she would be down to fuck that night, some arrangement where he shows her a damn good time as a reward for bringing her roommate to his friend. It was a pretty sexy scenario in his head. Despite the hindsight he has now, for Gojo that kind of thing wasn’t an insane thing to assume. Excuse him for sounding a bit arrogant, but women tended to blatantly throw themselves at him pretty much everywhere he went. And besides, you were cute, so maybe a part of it was just his wishful thinking, too.

You were like a deer in headlights at that party. He watched as you looked around the room at one point in the night, searching for something before you disappeared into a hallway. When he finally had you alone to himself in the kitchen, and he realized all you wanted to drink all night was water, the prospect of a casual hookup seemed to be slipping further and further away from his grasp.

But his chest filled with a different, unfamiliar feeling when you mentioned what you really wanted from him, and he’s been chasing that feeling ever since.

Right now, he just wanted to see you again. He hated how you seemed to just abruptly leave any time the two of you were together, which has only been twice so far, but still. He wanted to see you in something that wasn’t just a plain t-shirt and jeans (although that was definitely his favorite clothing on a woman most of the time). He wanted to know what you were like when you were a little bit tipsy, maybe even a little bit drunk. Were you talkative? Emotional? Touchy? Flirty?

Gojo’s thumb hovers over the Instagram chat that had your name on it. He should really just ask you for your number at this point.

When Gojo clicked on the chat and used it to go to your profile, he noticed you posted some more photos. Just a slideshow of your life recently. Some pictures of flowers you spotted on what looked like a bike ride judging from the shadow, a cake you baked recently for a friend’s birthday, a snapshot of a cat running away in an alleyway. The last picture was a black and white photo looking through a soccer goal net towards a tree in the distance, and Gojo quickly recognized it as the one on UTokyo’s practice field.

His thumb double taps the post and then he’s back to the page with your messages. He had reached out to you again after Monday's practice saying that the team was doing another practice match on Thursday, which was yesterday, but you mentioned you were busy working on something for a club you’re in.

An iMessage notification pops up at the top of his phone from one of his frat brothers.

|| 3:12pm ryota the GOATa: gotta finish sending out qr codes. you got the names/insta handles for your invites tonight? or you just not gonna invite anyone like usual?

He sighs, wondering what to do, when he ultimately decides against inviting you. You were probably busy with something anyways, and he didn't want to experience the disappointment of you saying you can't come if he does ask, fearing that there might be a reason that didn’t have anything to do with an accumulating pile of class assignments. It’s a bit of a cop out, he knows that, but whatever. You very clearly told him that the two of you weren’t friends.

He types out a message that reads yea my homie @ThePope, pls. Also, your mom to which Ryota replies fuck off.

Even though there was no practice today, Gojo felt like he just needed to get out of the house for a bit. There were too many thoughts in his head, most of them about you, and he didn’t like it. He wants to be smooth-brained Gojo that just thinks about soccer and partying. He slides his legs over to the edge of his bed and sits up, inhaling and exhaling harshly, before standing up in resolution and heading to his closet. He pulls his soft cotton t-shirt over his head in favor of an athletic long sleeve and pulls on a pair of sweatpants over his SpongeBob boxer briefs (don’t make fun of him, please).

When Gojo opens his door, he’s hit with the smell of food cooking and with the noise of two of his roommates, probably Sota and Hide, yelling profanities with video game sound effects in the background. He walks downstairs, pushing his left arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, where are you going? We don’t have practice today,” Geto asks from the kitchen as he flips his quesadilla on the pan, spilling a bunch of its contents everywhere. “Shit.”

“I know we don’t,” Gojo says, tilting his neck from side to side to loosen it up. “Just going for a run.” He extends his right arm across his chest, holding it in a stretch, and grunts a little.

“Ah, yes, our star player,” Geto muses as he wipes the counter down.

Gojo twists his torso to stretch out his back and releases a slow exhale from how good it felt. “Gotta keep that stamina up,” he says, “for more reasons than one.”

Geto lets out an annoyed sigh from where he’s washing his hands at the sink. They both watch Hide almost chuck his controller at the TV before Sota stops him. By the entryway, Gojo slips on his running shoes and puts his airpods in his ears, then he’s out the door.

The weather is nice. It’s pretty sunny, a bit hotter than Gojo was expecting, but he wanted to work up a sweat anyways. He taps at his smartwatch and realizes his running app isn’t working, so he shrugs and just decides to guess what running six miles feels like.

As he’s running, his mind wanders to you again. The last time he saw you out on the field, you had a strange expression on your face. It seemed like you were in a rush to leave, which is fine, but it was like you refused to make eye contact with him. Was it something he said? Or something he did? It probably was, he had a habit of fucking things up with people sometimes, but he doesn’t really know what he could’ve done for you to avoid him. Your messages back to him have been pretty curt and weirdly polite, too.

Somewhere lost in his thoughts, six miles turns into twelve and he’s drenched in sweat by the time he makes it back to the house at around 6PM. Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, he gets into the shower and gets himself fresh, then throws on a black t-shirt, some black joggers, and non-cartoon-related underwear.

He finally checks his phone for the first time after coming home from his run and sees a bunch of new DMs and messages but none were from you. And the fact that he was still thinking about you after running nearly half a marathon had him annoyed. Which is why he’s grateful for the party tonight. Alcohol and sex typically made most things better.

When Gojo runs into Geto in the loft and asks him about his plans tonight, Geto says he’s got an essay to write so he’ll leave for the house party probably closer to midnight. Gojo calls Nanami, who says he’s not going until Geto gets there because until then there would be no one to buffer Gojo’s fucking idiocracy throughout the night (his exact words). Apparently, Chosou’s still sick with food poisoning. When he checks with Hide and Sota, they say they’re going to go but only after pregaming at a sorority party, which Gojo has no patience for. Todo says he’ll be there from dusk ‘til dawn, of course. He sees a bunch of texts in the fraternity group chat that he has muted, as well as a lot of DMs from girls, asking when he’s going to show up but he doesn’t respond to anyone and decides to just go whenever he feels like it.

He ends up leaving home by himself at around 11pm, the walk to the host house taking eight minutes. He walks by some other houses that were having incredibly crowded parties, probably for the people that weren’t invited out to this one, and the smell of weed in the air causes him to scrunch his nose. When he walks up the driveway of the house, he sees Ryota at the door, scanning people’s phones and ushering them inside.

“Hey, man,” Gojo greets Ryota with a solid grab of his hand and slap on the back.

“What’s up, dude.” He returns the greeting.

“Did your mom make it?” Gojo asks.

“Just get the fuck inside,” Ryota says, pointing to the entrance behind him with his thumb.

When Gojo enters the house, the flashing lights temporarily blind him until his eyes quickly readjust. The DJ had the bass-boosted all the way up to where Gojo could feel the music in his bones and his lips curl up into a smile at the excitement running through his veins. It was mostly dark inside, except for the sporadic lighting from the couple of light fixtures near the DJ’s console, and people seemed to move in slow motion as they were briefly illuminated every other second.

Gojo hears some people call his name, but he makes it straight towards the back where he knows the drinks are and downs a couple of shots of tequila before he even considers talking to a single person.

“Yo, dude, you’re here,” he hears Sota say from behind him and he turns around. Sota and Hide are both barely standing up straight with their arms around two sorority girls each. It seems somewhere along the night the two of them had lost their shirts. “Did Geto come with you?”

Gojo shakes his head, making eye contact with one of the girls that was tucked to Hide’s side. “Nah, he’s still working on his essay.” Sota mutters something like lame and Gojo notices the girl miming an obvious blowjob gesture while looking him straight in the eyes. He ignores it and turns around to face the drinks table again, working on mixing himself a drink. He was clearly not shit-faced enough to deal with anything right now.

There’s people yelling in the backyard and Gojo spots Yuuji through the window doing a keg stand outside. He’s about to make his way over there to bear witness too until someone’s grabbing at the back of his shirt.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gojo fucking Satoru,” he hears a voice call and he sighs, turning around.

Shoko’s standing in front of him, wearing an extremely cropped shirt and a denim skirt, with a couple of her friends by her side. They have their sorority’s symbols drawn across their cheeks in sparkly paint that matches their equally as sparkly makeup.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shoko fucking Ieiri,” he mimics her with a smirk on his face, “oh, and, uh, friends? Never met you two before.”

One of the girls beside her rolls her eyes. “We’ve fucked like twice,” she scowls, crossing her arms, and then she looks up at the ceiling to ponder something before looking back down at him again, “actually, I’m pretty sure three times.”

“You’re not the only one with a busted memory, sweetheart,” he says and he’s about to continue towards the backyard when Shoko walks in front of him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards a bit, the movement causing some of the drink in his hand to spill. She’s standing up on her tiptoes and then clenching the fabric of his shirt in her hand, pulling him down towards her.

“You in the mood to make out tonight?” she asks him, biting down on her lip, and Gojo’s eyes are quick to watch the action.

“Sure, but later,” he says casually. Again, not quite shit-faced enough to deal with any of this yet. He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand from his shirt then makes it to the backyard, exchanging greetings with some of his frat brothers on the way there, and makes work of the absolutely horrendous cocktail he’s mixed up for himself as he watches Yuuji entertain the masses.

The night goes on, Gojo getting progressively more alcohol into his system until he’s worked up a steady buzz and finds himself about ready to do a backflip off the patio roof in front of a bunch of cheering people when Geto has to convince him to get down.

“Dude, I’ve literally been here for two minutes,” Geto grumbles.

Gojo slings his arm around his best friend, half in camaraderie and half for support. “I missed you, man, where have you been?” Gojo drawls in Geto’s ears, clearly a bit drunk, and Geto doesn’t even bother answering him as he’s walking him back inside.

When the two of them spot Sota and Hide by a beer pong table, they make their way over. Gojo sobers up a bit when he realizes Todo isn’t there.

“Yo, where’s the king of beer pong at?” Gojo asks, his speech slightly slurred.

Nanami, who had his arms crossed and was leaning back against the wall, shrugs slightly. “He said he’d come later.”

“But he said he’d be here from dusk ‘til dawn!” Gojo’s whining loudly near Geto’s ear and the dark-haired man winces at the volume.

“Alright, let’s sit down,” Geto says and the two of them make their way to the set of couches in the center of the living room where some people were chatting, some were (hopefully) sleeping, and others were getting handsy.

Gojo slumps down on one of the couches, relishing in the comfort, and when he spots Chosou next to him he’s convinced he’s hallucinating. “What the fuck, aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

Chosou shrugs and glances up at Gojo from the screen of his phone, leg bouncing up and down impatiently. “Nah, I was never sick. Just had an exam to study for and had to get out of practice somehow.”

Gojo’s about to get angry at him but instead he just sinks further into the couch and throws his head back to look up at the ceiling, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over him. He was at this party, alcohol running through his veins, yet there was this feeling inside of him that he just couldn’t shake. It was some type of disappointment, an emptiness, like despite everything going on around him he was still missing something.

“This seat taken?”

He tips his head back down and sees Shoko in front of him. His line of sight follows the direction of her pointed finger until he sees that she’s gesturing to his lap where he was very obnoxiously man-spreading.

“Nah, but I was saving it for you,” he says with a grin and she’s rolling her eyes as she takes a seat on his thigh. She seems a bit tipsy herself, giggling at the pinch he gives her at her hip. Ah, yes, Gojo realizes the emptiness he was feeling was probably from the fact that he has yet to get laid tonight.

“Satoruuuu, take me upstairs,” she’s purring in his ear and he shakes his head.

“Jesus, Shoko, relax,” he hisses, already feeling arousal building up inside him. But he himself had no interest in putting any of this on pause.

The details are irrelevant, but she’s gotten him up on his feet, her hand wrapped around his wrist, and dragging him along with her upstairs. Somewhere in Gojo’s hazed and horny mind, he swears he hears a familiar voice downstairs, one that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest, but Shoko’s busy pulling him into the dark hallway upstairs and eventually into the bathroom.

Gojo closes the door behind him, watching as Shoko quickly hops up onto the counter, and it’s not long before she spreads her thighs for him to take his place in front of her and start kissing her. Her hands grab onto his shirt, impatient with the fabric, and he starts trailing kisses down her neck as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Hey…” she sighs when his mouth reaches her collarbone, “d-did you lock the door?”

“Huh? Yeah, think so,” he mumbles against her skin, hand playing with the hem of her top.

Those were Gojo’s famous last words when the two of them suddenly heard the door open, hinges creaking, and in his periphery he sees that it’s opened almost half-way when the movement stops.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” a voice squeaks out and Gojo’s blood runs cold. He turns his head to face the entrance of the bathroom, and then he sees you.

You, in your plain t-shirt and jeans, standing in the hallway with your hand wrapped around the doorknob, blinking as the recognition of his face registers in your mind.

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. Yet for some reason, when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes, and with the faintest hint of hurt in your expression, what he was doing suddenly felt so wrong.

a/n. thanks soooo much for reading!

➸ take me to chapter five!

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dotchannie · 28 days

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- 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎 :: c.bc x reader (MDNI)

synopsis: channie finds his lovers little toy whilst trying to entertain himself in a rare moment he’s left himself home alone.

a/n: repost ik ik whatever, im stilling moving blogs technically but one day it'll be something new <3 part two will probably drop in the next week or so ! fem reader in that part but this one is more solo chan than anything else !

wc: 1,256.

Warnings: housewife chan he is a domestic queen and he’s lonely:(, mentions of living repetitive days, solo male masturbation with toys oop, vibrator over clothes, mentions of a hand job(not described), he busts quick sorry chan<3, cumming in his pants, petnames(baby twice i think), whiny booooy ! next part will be filthier <3

Chan feels very uneasy in his own home at the moment- so used to being the one jetting around the world that he can't quite settle at it being your turn instead.

It's only a fleeting trip to visit relatives, but it’s enough to have him picking his phone up every couple of seconds- blinking notifications having hope settling in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you require his attention.

Alas, your love is needed elsewhere, your partner left to his own devices- bandmates caught up in their own commitments back home too, their leader struggling in what should be a relaxing time. A period of down low. Chan prefers to be busy, to have a task weighing heaving on his shoulders and engaging his mind.

Hence his current situation, rooms gutted one by one as he works his wonders with whatever cleaning supplies he can get his hands on- the kitchen his first target. Spices long forgotten in the depths of storage pulled to the light, discarding as necessary as he uses his new found hobby to hone in on his organisation skills.

He even dabbles in some cooking, various ingredients already creeping up to their best before thanks to only feeding one mouth- if nothing else he has a couple hearty meals prepped in your absence.

The next chore see’s him tackling the living room. All he really needs to is straighten up some blankets and pillows, hoover a little, maybe a candle or something to make it feel homey while you're still away- more of his time spent in the four walls making up the bedroom.

Days begin merging into one as far as Chan’s concerned, each one starting with cleaning and ending with, well, cleaning.

By the time the next day rolls round he's more than half way through scrubbing the entire house- the plans today were to face your shared bathroom, but when he bypasses through the bedroom and is greeted by the chaos he's currently living in, he feels guilty that you're usually the one keeping on top of it.

Clothes tossed all over the room, shoes kicked off and forgotten about in favour of launching himself straight into plush sheets instead- and he can already hear your nagging at how his dirty clothes are on the floor near the laundry basket, not in it- something he now realises is completely justified.

Room cleaning is never straight forward though, and now he’s sat himself infront of the lower drawers attached to the wardrobe, legs criss-crossed as he folds, cramming in even more clothes he's managed to pull out of every crevice in the room.

Reaching forward to scoot some of your belongings around, he makes contact with a metallic object.

It’s cold when he takes it between the pads of his fingertips, believing it to be something else he would need to find a rightful home for on his mad cleaning spree- spending a couple moments rolling it back and forth before spinning it far enough to see a small power symbol near the base of the foreign object, gasping at his own discovery.

He's holding his breath as he presses the power button once. Nothing. He holds it in for a couple seconds this time. Nothing again. He let's out a sigh- no idea if it’s relief or defeat.

But curiousity has already gotten the better of him, inquisitive hands rummaging in the same drawer once more to see if you have a charger for this thing. And low behold you do.

Chan wastes no time plugging it in, busying himself with more tidying- bed stripped and remade with fresh sheets, all the while repeadeatly looking back towards the bedside table.

He manages to forget about it long enough to go take a shower, skin grimey from the accumulation of sweat and dirt but he's back to square one when he lays down to rest for the night. Scrutinising your little friend as it lays by his side- staring at it like it's going to do something spectacular before his very eyes.

Eventually, bravery takes over- thoughts of you quick to flood his mind when it’s in his palm once more. Do you use it when he's away? Do you use it when he's home and busy in the janky makeshift studio in the spare room? He always has headphones on he'd probably never hear you anyway.

He doesn't even realised he's pressing the button, mind running through a million scenarios, a soft "oh" slipping his lips as it begins to frantically buzz between his thumb and index finger.

Chan’s pleasantly surprised by the power it packs and he can only imagine how good it feels for you when you put it to use- excitement building as he considers his next action, a shake of his head stopping the train before it gets on the tracks fully and returning it to it's charger before rolling over to be welcomed by a restless night.

He goes about the next day much like he did the previous, starting to feel like he was stuck in a groundhog kind of situation.

Welcomed by the duvet, he makes himself comfortable on your side of the bed- eyes locked on to his new found enemy that has his brain turning to mush in his head.

But when he picks it up this time he has much different intentions.

Instinct alone guiding him to place it directly on his tip, hips violently rising of the bed with a heavy "oh fuck" when the bullet springs to life.

He's completely underestimated the capabilities of such a compact toy- chest immediately feeling like it's caving in from stimulation.

The brief contact ensuring him that one, this is going to be the quickest release since his first and two, it's going to become addicting- not daring place it on his bare skin.

Slowly running it up and down his length, his eyelids pull shut against his will, never having felt anything like it, doubting he ever will- back arching so far off the bed he's almost resting on his crown.

Ragged puffs of air escape his nose, nostrils flared wide- chest heaving as he begs to keep up with his own self inflicted torture.

Chan's completely taken by surprise by his own orgasm- quick and powerful when it hits him, announcing to an empty room that he's going to come.

"oh god, oh fuck- im cumming, ahhhhh im gonna bust baby, just like that", pent up energy being realesed in the form of repeatedly slapping at the blankets as he does.

With his head feeling like it’s full of cotton wool he can't help but groan at the tacky feeling of his boxers clinging to him, mouth dry and uncomfortable from hanging open so long.

In his state of bliss, Chan barely makes out the sound of his phone ringing- scrambling to pick it up when he eyes focus enough to register your name, news you're finally on your way back to him.

"Chan! I'm in the taxi now I'll be home soon!", your voice comes through the speaker in a sing song tone but he's struggling to make sense of what you're saying.

"Chan? Can your hear me? Hellooo?".

He let's out something akin to a whine, completely beyond his control and using what little breath he can catch to huff out a dazed response,

"baby, you gotta hurry I need help"

You ask the driver to pick up the pace and rush you home, quick.

🏷️: @rose-tinted-kalopsia

𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 !

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x reader smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader smut #skz smut #skz x reader

259 notes · View notes

matchaelette · 9 days

Text

GIF from pinterest

when days without each other feels like torture and none of you know what to do with yourselves

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, this drabble takes place after jungkook’s graduation ceremony in the military— which unfortunately, ash couldn’t attend. basically she didn't get to talk to kook once after he left. this gives us a sneak peek into ash’s life while kook’s away, she’s lowkey falling apart (as am I), ending with tales of our favorite boy. also, introducing sky, our girl’s best friend (mom?? I love her)

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: suggestive af, be responsible kids

word count: 3.5k

notes: two updates in less than ten days?? who is she??!! (can you tell i’m jobless?) however, I had quite a hard time writing this so?? enjoy??? :DD

it’s been more than a week since you’ve entered your apartment.

warm purple lights greet you when you step inside past the main door but the silence is mocking. the house is empty. there’s no music blasting from the speakers, no melodic humming coming from the kitchen, none of the usual jungkook noises that welcome you when you come home on your last legs. the house seems empty even with you in it.

you remove your sneakers and tread softly on the floor wearing just your white socks. with weary steps, you make your way to the living room, collapsing on the couch. a yawn escapes your lips, resonating through the apartment.

exhaustion grips you with its hands of death, but you know that you won’t be able to sleep tonight. for the longest time, you’ve been immersing yourself in work, using it as an excuse to avoid sleeping. But the truth was you couldn’t fall asleep even if you wanted to.

you’ve had trouble sleeping ever since your boyfriend’s departure from the military. the situation has gotten out of hand now, to the point where even sleeping pills were effectless, making you listless and dull.

you stretch out your limbs on the couch. your gaze drifts towards the windows, the barren branches of the trees swaying with the wind, fine works done by the end of the winter. spring should’ve been here by now but there was no sign of it. yet the walls of your shared apartment kept you warm, the memories built inside kept you contended, comfortable, and whole, away from all the bad things in the world. winter may have done its art on the world outside, but there was no entering this home built on the foundations of love.

so long as you can keep the chilliness from patterning into vines inside of your heart.

you couldn’t. now you’re hungry, sleepless, drained, and all alone.

the silence was pervasive. you couldn’t bear it anymore. that’s why you flew to busan at the end of last week, spending a few days at jungkook’s parents’ house. for a brief period, you magically forgot about your misery under the care of mrs. jeon. jungkook’s mother enveloped you in love, the same way jungkook always does, pampering you like a delicate blossom that was just beginning to bloom. you expected you’d be reminded of jungkook there, more than ever, being in the room of his teenage self, surrounded by things that were a part of his life before you were. but it was the complete opposite. it was a therapeutic experience.

you couldn’t step away from your work for a long time, so you took an early leave, and have been spending the last few days at your best friend, sky’s place. you couldn’t bear coming back home.

you love it here, you really do. but everything reminds you of jungkook in this place.

bunny plushies, marvel figurines, oversized t-shirts, balenciaga boots, his gaming equipment scattered on the tv tray, his pink toothbrush beside your baby blue one, sparkly hair clips you used to tie his long locks with— he was everywhere, everything bore traces of him. you couldn’t look at the kitchen without seeing him humming there with his carrot aprons on, you couldn’t do your laundry without feeling his smell on your clothes. jungkook left like the last remains of winter, leaving everything barren and cold behind, and every bit of it felt like an ongoing nightmare you were struggling to wake up from.

with a resigned sigh, you reluctantly rise from the couch and make your way to the walk-in closet. you had meticulously packed every single one of jungkook’s favorite, worn-out sweatshirts before he departed for the military, but knowing how much you love to wear his clothes, he sneakily left a few here and there for you to sleep in. you also remember him wearing a lot of new shirts before he left. when you asked him what was up, he said he wanted you to have as many things as possible with his smell on. it’ll feel like i’m right there, he said.

you pull out one of those shirts now and find yourself embracing it. an involuntary smile forms on your lips when you smell him, peaches and baby soap. you know, it does feel like you’re right here.

you know you won’t sleep tonight. but you think you can bring yourself to take a shower, wear his clothes, and spend the night watching the stars from your balcony.

the sound of a beep diverts your attention from your thoughts to your phone. you pull it out of your pocket— one new notification— it was from sky, your best friend.

sky: you left your typewriter at my apartment

sky: laptop*

you: straight from the tortured poet’s department?

you: you gotta be kidding me.

you: I need it!!

sky: no you don’t.

sky: go to sleep.

you: I NEED IT!!

sky: no you don’t.

sky: go to sleep.

you: this could go on for a while.

sky: how about we grab coffee tomorrow?

sky: i’ll bring the laptop then

you: seeing me for a few days in a row?

you: will you be okay?

sky: i’ll survive.

sky: 12 pm sharp. at blind spot.

sky: see ya

you: okay

you: if I manage to stay alive

sky: when I said go to sleep, I didn’t mean the permanent sleep

sky: how dare you seen zone me.

sky: your laptop is on the mercy of my hands

sky: k goodnight

you smell peach and baby soap the moment you step into the hallway from the elevator.

you come to a staggering halt.

sky bumps into you, and you hear her say something you couldn’t quite decipher. you find yourself frozen in the place, unable to think or blink. the smell, it overwhelms you completely, luring you into a trance like the sweet flute of the pied piper. it can’t possibly be what you’re thinking, right? jungkook is currently serving in the military, and he still had to complete two entire weeks before he would be allowed to contact any of his friends or family. there is no way he can be here right now, not when it’s almost midnight, not when he’s probably under strict supervision about sixty kilometers away from here.

but yet— you instinctively close your eyes and inhale like a person deprived of breath— the overwhelming aroma of the smell you’re way too familiar with, the scent where you created a hearth, of peaches and baby soap, the unmistakable presence of jeon jungkook, was doing everything in its power to convince you otherwise.

how deep in the pit of delusions are you that you’re physically smelling him when he isn’t present here? when he hasn’t been present here for a while? at this point, jungkook needs to contact you just for the sake of keeping your sanity intact.

“ash?”, you stumble forward, breaking out of your daze as a concerned sky nudges you. “you alright?”

you shake your head in disbelief, mock laughter coming out of your mouth. “I think I am going crazy”.

“what in the world just happened?”

“I— I thought I smelled something.”

“smelled something?”, your best friend looks confused, “like rotten onions?”

“why—”, you gape at her, “why the heck would I smell rotten onions?”

“I don’t know!”, sky raises her arms in the air, “what else could you smell that makes you all teary in a second?!”

you falter. slowly, you bring up your hands to your eyes and realize that they indeed, are brimming with tears.

“i’m crying?”, you look dumbfounded, “oh, i’m crying”

“well, almost”, sky scoffs and wipes your eyes with her sweater paws, “what the hell did you smell if it’s not onions?”

“it’s stupid”, you laugh dejectedly.

“hon’, look here. nothing, and I mean nothing, can make me convinced that you are not stupid, so you might as well say and be done with it.”

you give her a halfhearted glare. “for a moment, I thought I smelled jungkook”, you say quietly.

sky’s expression suddenly goes blank.

“you can laugh”, you sigh, “it’s stupid, I know. i’m smelling things in my mind now. how pathetic am I?”

“you’re not pathetic”, sky smiles at you softly, “you miss him a lot, don’t you?”

you smile wistfully. inhaling in the lingering scent of your boyfriend one last time, you firmly push it out of your head. “he’d absolutely hate it if he knew I’m crying my eyes out for him every night. I don’t know when I became so emotionally dependent on him. I don’t know when my life started revolving around him. I feel like I am overreacting but I really am losing it every day. and I— I—”, you fail to continue.

“oh please. your life never revolved around jungkook. you can say anything but you can’t feel bad for missing him! fuck, they— they took your boyfriend away for eighteen months! you’re allowed to have little to no communication, you don’t know how he’s doing there, they’re probably working him to his limits every day— there’s no way in hell you’re overreacting, let alone feel bad for it.”

“I couldn’t even attend his graduation ceremony.”

“oh yeah, i’ve been meaning to ask— why didn’t you go to the ceremony?”

“schedules got mixed up. I was in the states. the ceremony was held earlier than it was supposed to.”

“shit. talk about bad luck”, sky grimaces, “how can you still feel bad after that?”

“i’ll be fine if I could just talk to him for a minute”, you close your eyes, “just hear him say that he’s okay, even if it’s a lie.”

“how much would you pay me if I could make that dream come true?”

“huh?”, your eyes flutter open at that.

“I don’t know! I could drag him out somehow if you promise cash”, sky grins foolishly.

“you and your stupid jokes”, you smile and walk in front of your apartment door. balancing the handful of shopping bags on your forearms, you type the door code successfully without dropping anything.

initially, sky and you were just supposed to grab coffee together. she was just supposed to return your laptop over that. but somehow coffee ended up turning into lunch, and then subsequently dinner, ending with an impromptu shopping spree where both of you, by the way, did not go crazy and out of control.

hence, the shopping bags.

you were quite surprised when sky asked if she could stay over at yours for the night. perhaps ‘asking’ would be a strong word- she basically invited herself over. it came as a surprise because she was one of those introverted people who’d come up with the most elaborate excuses just to remain in the comfort of their own home and avoid social interactions, even if it was their best friend. being friends for almost six years, sky didn’t need to make any excuses now when it came to you. she could easily tell you that she didn’t want to talk or meet up because “your incessant quacking” tired her out and, you couldn’t care less and show up in her house unannounced regardless.

it was weird when she was the one who wanted to stay over. particularly after the whole weekend, you spent at her place.

but you were more than glad, partly because you missed hanging out with your best friend, partly because you dreaded facing another night of overwhelming loneliness.

“okay, forget cash, forget about me. I say, we fix you.”

“and how exactly do we do that?”, you raise an eyebrow.

“take a day off. take a bubble bath. drink tea, or champagne, whichever one suits you. buy yourself some flowers, maybe a vibrator since jungkook isn’t her—”

“oh my god”, you groan. sky nudges your door impatiently and it opens with a beep.

the same aroma overtakes your senses once again when the door opens, but this time you make an effort not to be swayed by it. jungkook is not here. you losing your mind over that wouldn’t help. you can go back to being yourself, the pathetic mess, from tomorrow night. tonight, you enjoy life with your best friend.

the darkness, however, makes you frown. “huh, weird. I always keep the lights on when I go out.”

you stumble in the dark, muscle memory easily locating the light switches and turning it on.

and for the second time tonight, your entire world stops.

not even five feet away from you, jeon jungkook was standing in the middle of the living room.

i’m seeing things, i’m losing my mind, you take a sharp breath, and close your eyes, this will go away when I open my eyes. i’m not crazy. i’m not crazy. i’m not cra— I don’t want it to go away when I open my eyes.

several seconds pass before you open your eyes. and when you do, your face distorts in pain.

jeon jungkook remains in the same spot you saw him in, an unreadable expression on his face. the last time you saw him, he had close to no hair. now, standing in the middle of the living room, he resembles the same jungkook you once fell in love with, yet wildly different. his cropped hair still as untamed as ever, he looks much bigger, buffer and stronger than you’ve ever seen him. he is clad in gray sweatpants and one of his black oversized sweatshirts, which you realize no longer seems quite oversized; hands occupied with a large bouquet of blue irises, wrapped with cobalt blue satin ribbon, your favorite.

“s—sky? I think I am hallucinating”. your voice is barely audible— dry, indistinct. the shopping bags in your hands drop on the floor with a thud.

“I don’t think you’re hallucinating, ash”, she replies back softly, gently patting your shoulders.

a strangled sound leaves your throat.

before you know it, you’re staggering toward jungkook unceremoniously, crashing into him with bruising force. jungkook catches you. he snatches your waist and lifts you up in the air effortlessly, spinning you around with a choked laugh. you bury your face in his neck and feel him do the same, wrap your legs around his waist, and feel him clutching onto you with the same desperation.

none of you could talk.

“ookay, my part is done”. after several minutes, sky clears her throat and breaks the silence, winking at jungkook when he lifts his face up from your neck, “i’ll leave now. don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kids.”

jungkook smiles and mouths a ‘bye’ at her. sky closes the main door as she takes her leave, leaving the two of you alone in your apartment.

when jungkook planned this surprise, he imagined sunlight. he imagined being a child again, standing in front of the christmas tree in the morning, the sunlight casting an iridescent glow on the colorful boxes of unknown delight. he imagined happy, two parted lovers meeting after a long time— just as it is now.

he never thought it would feel like this.

tears flooding down his cheeks, jungkook felt unrelenting pain, feeling both your anguish and his merging into a torrent of melancholy. all this time, he was yearning for your love, missing you, worrying about you, without fully realizing the extent of your suffering. now holding you close in his embrace, vulnerable and almost heartbroken, all jungkook felt was dread. he had to leave the day after tomorrow. how in the world would he survive the second wave of breathlessness? the suffocating nausea he felt every time he was away from you, every time you cried? his delicate little butterfly —how would he live without you?

how would he live knowing you’re suffering just as much as him? for him?

“b— babe?”, he manages to choke out.

you whimper in response, struggling to form coherent thoughts between crying and hiccupping. you still aren’t sure if this is a dream. if it is, you never want to wake up again.

eyes brimming with tears, jungkook presses tender kisses on your neck and walks the both of you towards the bedroom. he carefully climbs onto the bed with you clinging onto him like a leach, trying to set you down gently. but you are unwilling to let go, even if it’s for a millisecond. you pull him down with you, causing both of you to tumble on the soft surface of the bed, entangled with each other.

jungkook presses down, not a single inch of space left between you. you free your hands from over jungkook’s neck to lift his face, palms framing his cheeks. your face is so intimately close to his that you can see the scar on his cheek, the mole under his lips, the hundreds of lashes framing his dark orbs that have literal sunlight trapped in them. you brush his hair, not only transfixed by the sheer beauty of your man but also carefully observing if he’s hurt anywhere.

he is mesmerized by you, following your every move.

“jungkook”, your voice is awfully quiet when you finally speak.

“i’m here.”

“jungkook?”, you whimper, “you’re— you’re—”

“right here. i’m here. i’m yours.”

“touch me. please.”

five years later, and jungkook still looks at you the same way he did when he met you for the first time. it has been more than two years since you two moved in together, and he still acts like a lovesick puppy around you, still feels like he’s a teenager with a massive crush on you, one that will eventually explode him in bits.

jungkook is a puppet on a string and you’re the puppeteer.

wordlessly, jungkook hooks his arms under your waist and crashes his lips against yours.

he kisses you with bruising force, hands sneakily playing with the waistband of your underwear. he steals your breath, making you devoid of any air, but this is the first time in months you feel like you’re actually breathing. his mouth works its way down from your lips to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue.

your hands roam freely upon the expanse of his back and even in this clouded haze, you realize that he is much broader than before. jungkook settles himself between your legs, pressing his lower body against your core, your delicious moans driving him to the edge of insanity. his lips are on your mouth, on your neck, on your chest— you didn’t even notice when he ripped off your shirt.

he’s everywhere. crawling inside your body, blazing a crest on your soul.

“kook, please.”

he pushes your jeans down, calloused hands making their way inside your underwear. jungkook pauses for a second to guide your legs around his waist, before dipping his teasing fingers in your wetness. protective. possessive.

“you’re so—”, jungkook takes your lower lips between his when you groan with mad pleasure.

“you say ‘wet’ and we’re done here.”

“—beautiful. you’re so fucking beautiful”. both of you burst into giggles, tear-stained faces worshipping each other.

and after months, the house finally roars into life with joy and contentment tonight.

you tell jungkook everything. you tell him how you’ve been overworking to keep him out of your mind, how much your appetite has lessened these days, how hard sleeping has been for you lately. you tell him about how you stuffed the family hello kitty inside your closet cause you couldn’t bear to see it anymore, how much you miss the other boys, how you’ve spent your last week at his mom’s. you don’t hide anything. you know all it would do was worry him but you don’t hold back anything.

in return, jungkook cradled you in his arms and told you about himself. he told you how he was (very much expected) putting his everything into the training sessions every day, how he accidentally hurt his heels again, in the exact same place he got stitches before the love yourself concert in london, how he’s been working more carefully now after you appeared in his dreams that night and threatened to shave his eyebrows off if he wasn’t cautious. he told you about the new friends he made, about jin and jimin’s antics, how they miss you just as much as you do.

you both talk all night.

“so, you asked sky to take me out?”, you muse after a while, “I was wondering why she was being so nice.”

“I was supposed to arrive in the evening. the plan was to decorate the whole house, buy something for you, and cook something so we could have dinner together. but the traffic was so bad— I got here only thirty minutes before you did. I just managed to get some flowers.”

“you’re crazy”, you scoff, “you’re here. that’s more than enough.”

“I wanna stay like this forever”. jungkook tightened his arms around your waist, nestling his face in your hair. finally, the bed tonight, wasn’t empty. it was just like it was meant to be.

“hmm, let me see, we have the entire day tomorrow and the morning after that. think you can fit forever in that?”

“I don’t think even forever with you would ever be enough for me.”

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slafkovskys · 4 months

Note

can we have a little sneak about each of the boys and jealousy with angel

warnings: language, jealousy, mentions of sex/sexual activities

“oh,” she says before she can stop herself, eyes scanning over the notification. she thinks maybe she had said it quietly enough where it had gone unnoticed by the boys that she was sandwiched between, but she was wrong.

jack moves his head from where it had been resting on her stomach for the better part of an hour as she had corralled them onto the sofa to watch the great gatsby, “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, jacky. look, you’re missing the good part,” she tries to turn his head back to face the tv, but he quickly moves and lifts himself up on his elbows, “i’m serious-”

“you’re being weird.”

“he’s right,” luke chimes from where he was propped on her behind, a pillow in between his head and her ass because she swore he’d have a sore neck in the morning from his position. with a sigh, he pauses the movie and pushes himself up to look at her, “what happened?”

“nothing happened, you two. i-” their gazes that silently told her ‘cut the bullshit’ causes her to close her mouth and look down at her lap. she finds a loose thread on the t-shirt she had stolen from jack’s clean laundry and tugs on it, muttering under her breath. there’s a pinch to her thigh, a warning from luke (and a reminder to curse quinn about teaching the youngest his ways) and she frowns, “um, one of- one of quinn’s teammates just sent me an instagram dm. it’s fine-”

“let me see it,” jack demands and she hesitates before grabbing her phone, pulling up the message and handing it off. he rests a hand on her crossed legs as he takes his time reading the message before scoffing, “oh, that’s hilarious.”

“my turn,” luke snatches the phone from his brother and she takes her lip between her teeth as she awaits his reaction, “‘i can’t remember if i told you, but you looked beautiful last week. we should hang out the next time you’re visiting if you’re down?’ the fuck? is this how people flirt?”

“you slid into my dms,” she points out and luke sends her a glance, “but yours was better than that.”

“obviously because here you are, but back to our current situation,” jack points a finger at the phone, “who is he and why is he messaging you?”

“kids these days,” luke mumbles like he wasn’t much older than the culprit.

“we were talking when i went with quinn to the canuck’s charity thing for like, five minutes max. i didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” she explains. she watches as jack stares, nods, then reaches for his phone. her eyes go wide, “what’re you-”

“i have to call quinn.”

“please don’t,” she pleads and the line starts to trill once, twice, and then,

“hel-”

“one of your rookies just slid in angel’s dms,” jack interrupts and she swears she hears quinn’s phone clatter to the ground.

“they did what in her where?” he asks after a moment of rustling on his end. “who? what did they say?”

“one of your call-ups thought she looked really beautiful at your little gala last week and wanted to know if she’d be willing to go out next time that she was in town,” luke has a smirk on his lips as he relays the message that they all had scanned over by this point, “because apparently the q around her wrist doesn’t mean much to you?”

“okay, fuck you,” quinn spits, “angel, can you hear me?”

“hi quinny,” she starts nervously playing with jack’s hair now that the oldest’s attention is on her.

quinn sighs, “did he say anything to you?”

“i mean, we were talking while you were doing your captain things, but i was friendly! i’m always friendly, you guys know that-”

“we’re not blaming you, angel-”

“just some people don’t know the difference between flirty and friendly. i introduced her as my date,” quinn defends himself, though he didn’t have to. jack and luke just liked to make their brother squirm whenever the opportunity presented itself. “i’m sorry that i can keep it in my pants and don’t parade her around public functions covered in hickies or with my cum running down her leg.”

“there was that one time-”

“please,” she pleads, clenching her legs at the thought. jack and luke share a smirk before jack gently pats her leg. she huffs, “just- block him, luke. i won’t even respond to him and that can be the end of it.”

“oh, i’ll be saying something, angel. then that can be the end of it,” quinn says and she can hear the annoyance in his tone at the mere prospect of the pending conversation.

“quinny-”

“what are you all doing?”

and it wasn’t ten minutes after they hung up the phone and got back to their movie that she got another instagram notification. her stomach drops as she sees quinn had tagged her in a story and when she clicks it, she feels a small grin grace her lips. it was a picture brock’s girlfriend had taken of the two of them and while both of their heads were conveniently clipped off at the top, her back and dress were still very visible. just as visible as the hand quinn had on her ass, much too low to be considered friendly.

and that was that.

#hughes bros x angel #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes

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jammyjen26 · 3 months

Text

ALL PICTURE CREDS. TO THE OWNERS (FOUND THE PICTURES ON PINTEREST)!!

Simon Riley, late valentines post!

Simon unfortunately had to go on a 6 week long mission right as the month February started which made him unable to be there on valentines day.

Although you told him that you didn’t care about the holiday he decided to surprise you on his day back. He comes home and he just tells you to get dressed. (Your outfit at the end of page!)

Very confused on why he’s in a rush and telling you to get dressed, you question him.

“Why? Is something going on?”

You say as he’s undressing and rushing to get in the shower. Throwing the clothes in the laundry hamper without thought.

“You’ll find out later, mama. Be patient. Here, put these on.”

He kisses your cheek and hands you a bag with a box of shoes and clothes before heading into the shower.

You take each item out of the bag and gasp, smiling at the cute outfit once you’ve finished putting it on. You want to question him but you know how stubborn he is so you just do your hair and makeup and wait for him.

He gets dressed in an all black suit(his outfit at the end of the page also).

“Close those pretty eyes for me, mama?”

He asks as he grabs a blindfold, he notices your suspicious expression and just chuckles. Once he blindfolds you, he carries you downstairs, he sets you on your feet and locks the house door.

You can hear him unlocking the car and fixing things before your blindfold is taken off, he hands you a bouquet of money and a bouquet of red roses. His eyes light up at your shocked expression, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Simon.. I..I don’t know what to say..”

You hug him tightly and kiss him. His hands immediately find their way to your hips and pulling you closer to him.

“You didn’t have to, I told you that I did-“

He cuts you off by placing his finger on your lips.

“Shh mama, let a man love his pretty girl yeah? You deserve more than this if we’re being honest.”

He opens the car door and a basket of gifts is sitting in the passenger seat leaving you gasping once again. You can’t thank him enough, he puts the gifts in the backseat and buckles you up in the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he starts driving.

“It’s a surprise for a reason, if I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” His hand squeezes your thigh.

After a long car ride of you asking him various questions, you arrive at a restaurant. You walk in and notice how the place is decorated and there seems to be a curtain that’s separating half of the restaurant as if to not let you see. You also notice how it’s just you two and the workers.

“Did you reserve the place? No way..Simon Riley, this must’ve been so expensive.” You guys walk over to a table and sit down.

“Just enjoy it, Mrs. Riley. You deserve it.” He smirks and gives you a warm smile.

The table has wine and champagne inside an ice bucket, a champagne glass and a wine glass with plates as well. You put the napkin on your lap as the waiter gives you guys the menu.

“Woah, this is so cool.” You look around the restaurant with a big smile on your lips, not noticing the way he’s been staring at your left hand and fidgeting with his pocket.

After a great filling dinner, he blindfolds you again and leads you to where the curtains are. Walking past the curtains, he turns you around and makes you face a projector. He takes off the blindfold and a video starts playing.

It’s clips of him after his mission with Price, Gaz, Soap, Alex, Graves and more.

“Hello Y/N! We are Ghost’s aka Simon’s friends. And today we are here to deliver a message.” Price says.

“Before we begin, don’t turn around until we say so okay?” Gaz says.

Everyone introduces themselves and they both read something off of a paper.

As you’re busy watching the video, Simon is on one knee behind you. Waiting for when the video tells you to turn around.

After everyone made a speech that describes your relationship with Simon and how it’s made Simon a better person and how he truly loves and trusts you.

“And now turn around!” Everyone in the video says before the video cuts off.

You turn and immediately gasp, tears wetting your eyes as Simon is on one knee with a love sick smile on his lips. One hand holding a small box with the same ring that you’ve been talking about.

“Y/N, I seriously can’t describe how much I love you. I am a monster, I’ve killed thousands if not millions of people in my line of work. Yet you somehow still find a way to love me, my past, my scars, and even my trauma. You’ve been nothing but an angel to me, I don’t say it often and I definitely should say it more but I truly love you so much. So.. will you marry me?” He says, tears wetting his eyes as well.

“Yes!” You jump on him, making him fall to the ground.

After multiple hugs he puts the ring on your finger, as if on cue your favorite song starts playing and he starts dancing with you. You spend the day bragging about your proposal and clinging to him. Posting the proposal video on all your socials as well as his so everyone knows that he’s a taken man.

Of course you two fuck that night, the best fuck of your life from the man that you love.

————————————————————————

The pics:

#call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley #valentines day #valentines day cod

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shadowlali · 10 months

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COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: 1.8k summary: phillip comes home to find his lovely fiancé lounging by the pool. masterlist

warnings: NSFW, age gap (fem!reader in her 20s and graves is in his 40s), explicit, engaged/domestic couple, oral (fem! receiving), p in v, creampie, first time writing and writing smut (i’m still learning lol), some proofreading a/n: first thing i ever wrote

You were attracted to his powerful and charming persona the first time you two met. You had gone out to a nice restaurant with your friends and the entire table was sent a round of drinks. Once the waiter told you a man at the bar had sent them as an introduction to you, you turned towards the bar and saw him. He looked to be in his 40s, with muscled arms and tailored clothing. Phillip raised his glass, smiled, and looked away. You smiled in return and were eventually persuaded by your friends to go and say thank you.

His dirty, blonde hair and blue eyes were captivating. He was older than you, confident, and cultured. It wasn’t your intention to flirt with him, only thank him for the drinks and return to your friends. However, the conversation flowed naturally and you both enjoyed being in each other’s presence. You exchanged information and a week later, you went on your first date with him.

As you two started dating, you realized just how much he loved his job and the people he worked with. Fortunately for the both of you, his busy schedule worked well as you were independent and enjoyed being on your own. His way of showing you appreciation was expensive gifts and monthly allowances.

You realized just how much fun it was to be spoiled. Once he proposed a year later, he bought you a cozy home with a vast pool in the backyard. You had mentioned before how your dream was to buy a house with a pool so you could swim and tan whenever you wanted. While he had bought the house to fulfill your dream, he couldn’t deny how much it excited him to have you slip on bikinis and relax outside.

It's the day after a fun night out with your friends and you're lounging by the pool. You've dozed off with the warm sun on your skin so you don’t hear the back door open. Phillip tried so hard to ensure his mission went well but most importantly (and selfishly), making sure the mission finished fast. He's grateful you're understanding when it comes to his line of work, but he can’t deny how much he missed you while he was away.

He rounds the pool and sees you lying face down on the chaise. You're sleeping and don’t feel his hand slowly sweeping over the back of your leg to find the warmth between your thighs. He teases the seam of your bikini and removes his hand to lightly squeeze your waist. You jump at the pressure and let out a short scream once you realize who it is.

“Baby, your home!”

He laughs as you quickly turn to wrap your arms around his neck. He smells like soap and laundry, which means he took the time to clean up at his headquarters before coming home. Phillip’s head turns to fuse his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss.

His tongue teases the seam of your lips to then push it inside your mouth the moment you give a small moan. His hands tangle in and pull your hair until you felt a slight sting on your scalp. You moan louder and begin pulling at his belt buckle. He stops your hands to slightly pull your head back.

“It's been a while since I’ve had you, doll. Lie back down. I want to taste my sweet girl,” he says, gently pushing you down.

You whine, ”Phillip please, I need you inside of me.”

“You’ll have me once you’re ready. Lie down, now,” he scolds.

You quickly lie down and spread your thighs. You can feel your wetness seeping through your tiny bikini. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and you can feel a deep pulsing inside of you. His hands pull your hips towards him and he kneels down by the end of the chair. Phillip squeezes your hips before peeling the bikini from your stickiness.

“Oh sweetheart,” he groans, ”look at how pretty your pussy is.” He gives a light kiss right above your clit, ”so wet and sweet for me.”

His tongue gives a few long swipes up and down, up and down. You shudder, “Oh fuck, Phillip!”

Phillip continues with the rough swipes of his tongue on your pussy. He adds two fingers gently into your entrance and begins thrusting them with a slight curve upwards. He missed this tremendously.

While he loves being on missions, he loves being home with you much more. Your taste and body are sweet and perfect to him. Everytime he leaves, he counts down the days until he can have you in his arms once more (and on your back). Your stomach clenches and you swipe your top to reach and twist your sensitive nipples.

“Yeah sweet girl, play with your pretty tits for me,” he says as his fingers speed up their movement.

His mouth latches onto your clit and you feel him begin to suck. He alternates between sucking your sensitive clit to giving gentle bites. His other hand holds your lower stomach down as you squirm from the pleasure. Each lick, suck, and bite feels like heaven. Your body responds to him so well.

“Please Phillip,” you whine, ”don’t stop!”

“I know baby, I know. I’ll give you what you need.”

He removes his fingers and mouth and gives three quick, stinging slaps to your pussy. You gasp loudly and clench, around nothing, empty and needy. He does it again, a few more rough swipes with his tongue and with his fingers inside of you. He likes hearing you whimper and decides to torture you once more.

Another few, quick slaps land on your clit. You feel an electric shock across your entire body until the exquisite, numbing warmth spreads throughout. He quickly sucks your clit and thrusts his fingers in as your orgasm hits you with full force.

Your warm wetness coats his tongue and he moans at the taste. After a few more moments, he removes his mouth and slows down his fingers as your full body quivers stop. His mouth presses light kisses and his tongue licks up your stickiness from your inner thighs.

He gives a light laugh, “was that good, baby?”

You can only respond with a small whimper.

He slowly makes his way up your body and presses kisses to your hips and stomach. He removes your top and gives your tits a firm squeeze. Phillip grazes his teeth around each breast until he bites and sucks each nipple.

His clothes are still on, but that doesn’t stop him from grinding down on your lower belly. Once again, you reach for his belt buckle and luckily this time he doesn’t stop you. Your hand wraps around him, so deliciously warm and hard. You begin to lightly squeeze and rub while using your other hand to tilt his head up towards you. Your mouths lock and you lap at the taste of you off his tongue.

He groans deeply and makes quick work of removing his jeans and shirt. He gives you one more hard kiss before bringing your hips down to his.

“You’re gonna remind me how flexible you are, sweet girl?” He asks, bending your thigh up to your chest.

“Yes – yes I will!” you breathe heavily as your hips began to move once you feel him slide his cock up and down your slit.

You both moan loudly once he presses himself inside. He gives one more thrust and he's fully sheathed in your warmth. His hand grips your waist to stop your rolling hips, dropping his forehead down to yours. He brushes away the hair stuck to the side of your face, both of your bodies beginning to sweat.

“You feel so perfect and warm, baby. Like you were molded just for me.” He gives a hard thrust and grunts once you squeeze down on him.

“Please Phillip, no more teasing. I need you!”

A man like him is trained to have restraint in any situation. Therefore, while it kills him to not immediately fuck you into the chaise, he decides it's worth it to tease you just a little bit more.

“What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me exactly what you need.” his hips continue their slow, controlled grind.

You whimper and pressed a kiss to his mouth and chin. Your hands run up and down his back as your nails lightly scratch him. You look up at him with wide, glazed eyes, ”I need – I need you to fuck me. Hard.”

He smiles and nips your bottom lip. He slowly pulls his hips back and immediately thrusts his cock in. The stretch and slight sting from his size feel beautiful. The orgasm he gave you made you incredibly sensitive. The veins along his cock rub back and forth against your inner walls.

His head dropped down to your neck to lap and nip at your sensitive skin. His hand travel to your thigh pushed against your chest and spread it open even more. His thrusts are hard and steady. He loves the velvet feel of your walls and how tightly you squeeze him. Your whimpers only encourage him to deepen and quicken his thrusts.

“Oh fuck, baby. Do you know how perfect you are? Do you know how perfect your pussy feels?” he groans into your ear.

It's difficult for you to respond. Your breathing becomes erratic and your nails dig deeper into his back to keep him as close as possible. Your bodies are sticky with sweat and your wetness.

The sounds in the backyard are a mixture of loud moans and your bodies slapping against each other. He moves a hand to your clit after swiping through your folds to gather your slick.

“I’m almost there baby, I need you there,” he states as he swipes his thumb quickly over your clit.

It only takes a few swipes of his thumb to take you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and your pussy squeezes hard on him. He moans loudly as his thrusts become short and sloppy. You feel his warm cum spill inside of you.

He continues moving his hips, as if making sure his cum stays deep inside. After a few moments, he stops the movement of his hips and drops his body over yours. Both of you bask in the warmth of the sun and the afterglow of your love making.

You feel so satisfied and truly happy. He's back home, safe and in your arms. He rolls off of you after a few minutes and flips you so you can lay your head on top of his chest.

“Welcome home, Phillip.”

He squeezes your hand and rubs his thumb over the ring he gave you with a smile on his face. “Thanks, sweet girl.”

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #phillip graves #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #graves x you #shadowlali

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dreamingonfilm · 1 year

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✧˖*°࿐ Pumpkin Bread pt. 2 | N.L

Neville Longbottom x gn!reader, fluff

Summary: In which your relationship with Neville blooms in ways you could never imagine.

Part 1

w/c: 2.3k

Request: Yes

Your relationship with Neville grew close rather quickly, and more often than not, you’d find yourself hanging out with the boy in the greenhouse for hours; your secrets being shared in between fits of laughter and embarrassment. However, this was not to say that it was easy, there had been many times where your mouth seemed to run off on its own, a deep regret flushing through your whole body whenever you’d realize that you had just insulted your new-found friend. But thankfully, the boy always understood.

Today was the last day of your detention, and you’d now be able to spend your free time however you’d want. Four weeks ago, you were impatiently praying for this day to come sooner, knowing that you would no longer be obligated to spend time in the greenhouse. But now, the end of your punishment was something that you had been dreading, all thanks to the shy Gryffindor who knew so much about plants.

You had forgotten about a life that didn’t include you stressing over Herbology, or your yelling at the brown haired boy whenever he’d get mud on your robe. How were you to continue as normal, if this was what you now craved? The long walks back to your dorms as you two tried to make the most of the time you had left, the way his fingers would brush over yours every time he handed you pumpkin bread, and the way he would hug you each time you’d show him your latest Herbology quiz grade – a mere 72% blotched with red ink, something that he was so proud of you for.

Neville became a part of your everyday life, and you almost hated yourself for it.

And just like all the other days during these past few weeks, you found yourself in that cold glass room alongside him.

“(Y/N), can you pass me the scissors?” The boy’s voice broke through the calm ambiance. You looked up at him before passing him the small object from your hands.

As he took care of the plants, ones you didn’t know the name for, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after today. His hands gently touched the plant, as the small snips filled the room; your eyes dancing between his concentrated face and the tender movements of his fingers. This is what you wanted every evening to look like.

Your eyes danced for a few seconds more before you dropped down to the floor with a small huff. The boy laughed softly before turning around to face you. Your habits now memorized as he grew to know you like the back of his hand. If it was attention that you wanted, then attention you would get.

“What is it this time, hm?” His gaze softened as he watched you dramatically woe.

“Nothing!” You responded rather aggressively, turning away from him to face the wall.

He nodded before returning back to his plants, “Very well then.”

You stared at him dead-panned, as you now realized that he grew accustomed to your antics. The air now becoming more stuffy as you try to figure out how you were going to ask him. Finally, after a few seconds of fiddling with your fingers, you spoke.

“Actually,” you looked up towards him, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” the boy hummed in response, still attending to the plants, not bothering to turn around to look at you.

The frog in your throat grew large before you finally asked, “What’s going to happen to us after today?”

He froze. His eyes now concentrated on his hands, not bothering to finish tending to the leaves that he was once so focused on. After a few moments of silence, he finally turned around, staring into your eyes as he brought himself down to you.

You scooted over to the side as he took in the space next to yours. His lanky legs filling in whatever room there was once left, and his body so close to yours that you could almost smell the detergent he used to do his laundry yesterday. He awkwardly turned his face towards yours, and gave you a small smile.

“Well, I’d imagine you’d go back to ignoring me, is that it?”

You tried to figure out whatever look was now on his face. He seemed almost sad but at the same time, hopeful? This boy, one that has consistently slipped beneath your fingers and has accidentally hidden himself from the gaze of others, was now the only person that you could talk to without growing tired. Whenever you’d give him a cold glare, or sneered his name in a way that could only resemble Draco Malfoy, all he would do is give you a smile back, handing you his sweater – leaving a smudge of dirt on your hands. You wouldn’t get angry, you couldn't even find yourself to yell, this reckless and clumsy boy has now found himself in your heart. How could you ever go back to ignoring him, when his mere existence was enough for you to stand alone?

“No!” you looked down at your feet sheepishly, noticing how the tips of his shoes were touching yours – both of your knees rocking back and forth, “unless, you don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

You turned over to look at him, both of your noses almost touching as you felt his breath hit yours. A soft look in his eyes indicating that whatever feelings were locked in this garden, were those shared between both of you.

“Then I guess it’s settled,” he stood up, grabbing hold of your hands and pulling you with him as he made his way back to the unattended plants, “you’re stuck with me.”

With a nervous smile, you grabbed hold to the scissors, helping him with whatever was left to tend to. He watched you in adoration – a feeling that would quickly come and go between the anxiousness of knowing that you were now his to keep outside this room. Neville’s heart was simply too full of love, and if it weren’t for you asking him that one simple question earlier, he feared that it would explode onto the glass ceiling for everyone to see.

It was a love that was shared between him, you, and whatever poor plant you managed to get your hands on. The dirt on your face, and his thumb rubbing it off softly. Your hair full of leaves, and him there to pick them out.

—

“Don’t look until I tell you to!” The boy laughed, his large hands covering your eyes as he blindly led you to a place unknown.

You hesitantly nodded as you continued to walk, hearing the snapping of twigs and crunching of the dry grass below you. Small beams of the summer sunlight somehow managed to sneak in through his fingers, as you tried to figure out where on Earth you could be. If it were anyone else, they would be on the floor right now, you leaning over them as you call them almost every bad name in the book, but thankfully it was just Neville; you’d follow him blindly to hell if he asked it of you.

After 15 minutes of walking you finally came to a halt. The breeze ran past your shoulders as the boy slowly took his hands away from your face. You groaned at first, trying to adjust your eyesight to the brightness, before looking ahead at the scene that Neville had been keeping hidden.

A beautiful garden in full bloom, all different types of colors drowning in a pool of petals and thorns, dozens of plants whose names you couldn’t memorize no matter how long you tried. A small porcelain fountain right at the center that was flowing with fresh water. And right at the front, in Neville’s terrible handwriting, a sign that said “Our Garden.”

You were smiling so hard that the apples of your cheeks were starting to hurt, something that never in your life you’d imagine would be possible, and for the first time ever, there was no anger, there was no coldness, and there was no hatred. It was just pure happiness, one that was bestowed to you by the same boy that you couldn’t stand nearly half a year ago.

You turned around and wrapped him in a hug. “When, I mean, how,” you stuttered over your words, nearly mimicking him, “did you do this?”

“My Nan helped. She knew how much it would mean to you.”

“But it’s summer, how are they in full bloom?”

“Ever heard of magic, petal?” He laughed at your confused face.

“But, we aren’t allowed to use magic outside of school, and–”

“(Y/N), stop worrying so much. You sound just like me,” he released you from the hug and gave you a kiss on the forehead, “there’s a reason I said we’d have to keep this secret.”

You laughed silently through your nose and nodded, making your way hand in his to the garden. You admired the new found life with a sense of appreciation that wasn’t there before, pointing to each one and asking the boy beside you what it was. He would answer each time, not growing impatient, now even bothered when you’d forget seconds later.

“And this one?”

“Asphodel.”

“And this one?”

“That’s - that’s also Asphodel.”

And after hours of admiration and awe, your attention was now placed fully on him. You took notice of his overgrown hair that fell right below his eyes, his slender fingers as he placed a daisy in your hair, the way he bit his lip out of nervousness from doing so. Here, right in front of you, in this garden, was the first day of your life.

If it were six months earlier, you would have greedily grabbed at it; squishing it in the palm of your hand before it had the chance to choose for itself. But when it came to Neville, you were not greedy. You wanted to yell his name out to the world, This is my friend Neville, you’d shout with a voice so full of hunger, And I’m so utterly in love with him that it makes me sick!

The daisy on your ear now stood on its own as the boy's fingers interlocked with yours. A shy smile on his face as he looked you in the eyes, the same eyes that he wanted to drown in. He’d throw himself in if it meant that he could be with you forever.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, both of your faces close, the air almost intimate.

“You.” He whispered, if it were any more quiet you would have mistaken it for the breeze.

“Mmm, what about me?”

“I just,” he took a deep breath in, the boy was scared and you knew it, “I just, really like you (Y/N). And I’m w-worried that you’re only going to ever see me as your friend, and that one day you’re going to find someone that can give you something more than a few plants an–”

Suddenly he found your lips pressed against his. His eyes opened wide at the sudden contact, but slowly closed themselves as he started to kiss you back. His hands made their way to your waist, and yours to his neck. You stayed like this for a few seconds; your teeth hitting the others as you both would laugh into the kiss, both of you trying to figure out what you were doing. It was an awkward first kiss, but it was yours.

You both pulled away, your foreheads leaning against each other as you decided to break the silence, “It’s our garden, is it not?”

He nodded.

“Then why would I ever leave.”

He smiled softly and brought his lips back down to yours. A kiss, short and simple, packed with so much tender love. A love that you couldn’t wait to explore for the rest of your life. And once again you found yourself hand in hand with the brunette, a grin placed upon both of your lips as you made your way back to his house, knowing that this was now the beginning of a new chapter that included something more.

His feet tripping over yours as you’d laugh at his clumsiness, the garden in full view, and in the oven – freshly baked pumpkin bread.

✧˖*°࿐

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist here

#neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom #neville #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n #neville x reader #neville x you #neville x y/n #neville longbottom fluff #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x y/n #fluff #fanfiction

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magneto-was-fucking-right · 3 months

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The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 6

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; semi-sexual content

Chapter Summary: In which Simon's neighbor gets drunk with his best friend and ends up, once again, on his couch.

Word Count: 3.1K

On a cold, rainy Friday night, Riley Thomas knocked on her neighbor’s door in sweatpants and a hoodie, a large pizza box from the restaurant down the street in hand. When Simon finally reached the door, the young woman slid inside quickly, sighing in relief at the comforting heat of his apartment.

“Why’d you take so long? The hallway is freezing!” She complained as a way of greeting, setting down the carton box on his table before rubbing her hands together.

“I took two minutes, you big baby.”

She rolled her eyes playfully.

“What’d you pick for tonight?” Riley asked curiously, peeking at his TV as she settled on the couch and quickly covered herself with their designated movie blanket.

“Mamma Mia.”

“Fuck off.” She stared at him in disbelief, a mocking grin slowly creeping about her cheeks. “Guilty pleasure?”

“One of many.”

She shook her head in amusement “You’re a man full of surprises, Simon.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He chuckled.

A slow, tentative friendship had begun blooming between them over the weeks, as Riley found herself in her broody neighbor's company more often than not. Simon’s icy walls had started to crumble increasingly easier at the young woman’s terrible jokes, finding comfort in her amiable invitations for a movie night, a dog walk, or something as simple as a quiet talk while each of them did their laundry in the building’s basement.

Tonight was different for Riley, as it had been Simon’s idea for them to share the evening together, excitement bubbling in her stomach at their new found companionship. She spent her work days longing for their moments together, when she would come home to find he had prepared dinner and “accidentally” made enough to share, dropping by as soon as he heard her turn the key on her door. She noticed the recurrent acts of service with a soft, yearning heart when he took out his trash and offered to take hers as well, maintaining a neutral expression and shrugging awkwardly when she beamed at him and thanked him endlessly.

A few days before, when she had invited him over for a hot cup of tea and cake, Simon had ended up washing the dishes, despite her constant protests, appearing nonchalant as he claimed he was just checking for leaks in the fickle plumbing.

Despite growing closer, the pair still maintained a set of respectful boundaries that assured their mutual trust: as Simon filled each of them a glass of wine, placing them on the coffee table along with the pizza, Riley knew she shouldn’t look as he removed his usual black facemask to eat, keeping her eyes on the screen as she made occasional remarks about the movie.

“I can’t believe you like this.” She laughed as the dramatic musical unfolded, cheesy and cheerful songs filling the dimly lit flat. “Big old broody man enjoying Abba songs in a rom com.”

“It’s entertainin’.” He grunted as he grabbed another slice of pizza, trying to ignore how close they sat to each other under the blanket, her feet up and near his muscled thigh. Simon’s phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it with his clean hand, reading the notification and stifling an affectionate smile.

He could almost feel how hard she tried not to stare, as well as ask about it, as she took another long sip of wine.

“Still interested in findin’ the pup an owner?” His deep voice made her snap her head at him on instinct, quickly looking away as she realized his face was still bare.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks heat, but Simon merely shrugged, eyes glinting as he put the mask back on. “Yes, I really can’t keep him trapped in such a small flat, let alone keep listening to Mrs. Parsons complain about the noise.”

“The old hag still botherin’ ya?”

“Every single day.” Riley sighed in defeat, running a nervous hand over her messy braid.

“My friend’s coming back from deployment in a few days. Might come visit and stay over to meet the dog, see how they get along.”

Riley felt her insides boil with something hot she tried hard to conceal. It wasn’t pleasant, and she felt ridiculous as she asked:

“Do you think she’ll be interested?” Her tone was almost casual enough that Simon didn’t pick up on her small trap. Almost.

“I think he is very interested.” He made sure to drag out the pronoun and noticed her flustered expression, even as she kept her eyes on the screen. “He’s always wanted one.”

The young woman nodded silently and hummed to the music as she took another bite of her slice.

“Why’d you take on rescues anyway?” He asked, killing the awkward silence between them.

“They were gonna be put down! I couldn’t just let them die! Can you imagine being sentenced to death just because of undesirable traits or features?”

“I can. It was called the Holocaust, love.”

“Simon!” She scoffed, smacking him on the arm.

He pretended it hurt, and she pretended he wasn’t funny.

***

Johnny MacTavish was a burly, five foot ten, crackling ball of energy that put any other force of nature to shame. With bright blue eyes, a questionable hairstyle and a barely understandable accent, the Scot appeared unaware of the existence of the very concept of shyness or social anxiety.

When Riley Thomas had opened her door on the next lazy Friday evening, in nothing but leggings and an oversized sweater, she found herself in the man’s bone crushing hug before she could even utter a simple “hello”.

“Christ…” She gasped, unable to process why, exactly, the stranger was so excited to see her, until she peeked over his shoulder and saw Simon leaning against the hallway, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes at the scene.

"There ya are lass" he cheerily put her down, and the young woman discreetly gasped for breath, laughing nervously at the unexpected display of affection. "I'm Johnny. I heard so much about ya."

"Did you?" She scowled at Simon "Unfortunately I can't say the same."

Simon's facemask covered his smirk.

"Aye, do not worry lass, I know Ghost can be an old grump"

Simon grunted in response and Riley quirked an eyebrow.

"Ghost?" She turned to Simon inquisitively, but he gave no signs of willingness to indulge her curiosity.

"Aye, it's his call sign becau-"

"Johnny" Simon warned firmly, and the Scot toned down a notch, nodding.

"Right...anyway lass, I thought we ought to invite ya to the pub with us tonight." His smile was so endearing she couldn't possibly refuse, despite looking down at her own clothes with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were coming today." She shrugged anxiously "I'd have to go get ready an-"

"That's alright! Wouldn’t want to steal yer night with him. We'll wait, won't we Simon?" He nudged the man with an elbow, his frame so much larger than Johnny's that it was almost comical.

Simon was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the outcomes of what he was getting himself into, before looking her in the eyes and nodding once in approval.

“We wait.”

And that was how two hours later, the trio had ended up bumping shoulders at a packed bar in downtown Manchester, the two men always by her side. Riley glanced over her shoulder, amused by the view: it was like walking with a very intimidating Dobermann, alongside an overly excited and friendly golden retriever. Opposites in every possible way.

Simon wore his casual black face mask and hoodie, along with denim jeans, his blonde locks handsomely swept back, the only indication he had made an effort to look better than usual, other than the smell of his expensive cologne that Riley kept discreetly trying to get whiffs of. The young woman had opted for a pair of her best jeans, the ones that didn’t yet look too washed up and hugged her curves just right, along with a warm, modest top that didn’t reveal too much cleavage, covered by a faux leather jacket.

Simon quirked an eyebrow at her gaze, silently challenging her to say something, to which she giggled, flushing slightly as his hand lightly nudged her lower back to steer her into the right direction. The three of them ended up sitting on a corner booth, after venturing to the counter to fetch their drinks: for Simon, a bourbon, for Riley, a gin, and for Johnny, a massive pint of beer that would make him carry his weight in piss in half an hour.

“I gotta say, you’re a bonnie lass.” Johnny was slurring out by the time the fifth pint was half way gone. By then, Riley was feeling tipsy from her own alcohol, her cheeks flushed as she giggled at Johnny’s predicament.

“I’m gonna pretend I understood what you just said.” She lazily twirled the straw on her third drink, playing with the ice at the bottom of the glass.

Simon rolled his eyes, the bourbon barely warming up his blood, but there was a glint of affection in his eyes as he countered “Easy, McTavish.”

“Don’t lose yer wits, Simon, just trynna’ help you remember how to treat a lass.” He leaned forward, confiding in Riley “Did ya know he hasn’t gotten laid in-”

“Sergeant.” A low growl in warning as Riley pressed him on, curiously.

“Go on! Now I wanna know!”

“No ya don’t.” She could almost swear she saw him blush under that mask.

“I can’t count the months on me fingers, I’ll tell you that.” Johnny lifted his hands playfully, and Simon glared at him, a silent threat ever present as his dark eyes squinted at him.

Riley roared with laughter, her dimples more noticeable than ever.

“Months? Those are rookie numbers. I haven’t gotten laid in four years.” She drunkenly blurted out, and Simon stiffened by her side, as Johnny choked on his drink.

“What? How’s that possible?” The Scot coughed as the young woman shrugged, amused by his reaction.

“I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people much.” She avoided his gaze shyly, downing the rest of her gin “Plus, I work a lot.”

“Ya’ two are a match made in heaven.” He pointed out, ignoring Simon’s scowl and her playful eye roll.

“Cheer up Simon Riley, yer best friend is back and ya have a lovely lady by your side.” The Scot taunted before downing the rest of his pint.

Riley Thomas halted, looking up at the broody man sitting by her side, eyes glassy and sleepy as her drunken mind tried to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Wait…Simon Riley? Your last name is Riley?” Simon sighed deeply before looking her over, grunting in agreement.

The young woman chuckled to herself, leaning her head playfully against his muscled arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s hilarious!” Simon stifled an amused smile as he pretended to dodge from her touch. “Do you realize…” She poked his chest with her pointer finger “Do you realize that if we ever got married I’d be called Riley Riley?”

“That’s exactly why.” Simon retorted, rolling his eyes for the millionth time since the beginning of the day, but he felt himself buzzing at her words, at the fact she had considered, even if just for a moment, even if just playfully…

For a moment, he found himself lost in her inebriated gaze. The droopy eyelids, the soft smile dotted by those damn dimples. The chipped tooth that always caught his attention, and the way she was leaning against his arm made something warm bubble in his stomach. She looked up at him so innocently, so curiously, that for a split second he almost forgot his best friend was right across the table.

“Get a room!” He taunted, almost breaking Simon’s usual stoic expression. “Save tha’ for later. Now we need shots!”

“You’re a sip away from death, mate. I’d call it a night.”

“But I haven’ even told her the Al Mazrah story!”

“And it’ll stay that way if ya want to live.” Simon threatened, and Riley perked up once again, eyes glimmering with humor.

“Tell me right now!”

“Imagine this, lass: scorching heat of the Middle East…”

“Soap.”

“A food poisoned Simon on a sniper recon mission, no toilets in sight-”

“I’ll smack ya so hard I’ll turn that mohawk into a fade.”

The young woman had tears rolling down her cheeks as she roared with laughter, picturing the situation so clearly she was out of breath.

“Away n’bile yer heid!” Johnny retorted at Simon’s threat.

“English, Mctavish.”

“Sorry L.T. Let me translate… “Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

***

It must have been four in the morning when Riley Thomas felt herself being carefully placed on a familiar couch, strong arms under her back and legs. She felt so dizzy she knew it would be over if she so much as lifted her head, opting to remain still as Simon’s comforting scent temporarily disappeared. She could hear him guide a stumbling, barely conscious Johnny into his bed, not trusting the intoxicated man to sleep properly on his couch.

When he finally returned, seemingly the only semi-sober one of the bunch, he once again reached down to carry her to her own flat in his arms, halting once he saw her open her sleepy eyes. Simon felt himself stiffen as she wrapped her arms around his neck clumsily, inhaling his neck deeply.

“You smell so good, Simon.” She slurred out, tone soft in his quiet, barely lit living room. He couldn’t move, unsure of how to react to the sudden affectionate touch, hands holding his weight on the couch.

“You need to sleep, love.” He muttered gently through his face mask, giving her shoulder blades a quick rub through her jacket and hoping she would free him from the awkward position.

“I’m fine.” She nuzzled further into the curve of his neck and he shivered, feeling the smell of her own perfume, mixed with alcohol and sweat.

“Riley…”

“Simon.” She let go of his neck, but forced him to sit down next to her, barely making out his face through the dim lighting and her blurred vision. “I…”

“Shhh. You’re sloshed.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“Let me get ya to your bed, yeah? Where are your keys?”

She had never heard him speak so softly, in such a caring, gentle way. Her heart was beating furiously, as deep, joyful warmth spread through her stomach when she looked at him. At his half covered face, dark eyes framed by blonde lashes that she found so endearing.

She silently moved closer, reaching over his lap and turning off the only source of light from a small table lamp. She heard him release a shuddering breath, his large hands gripping the couch for dear life. Riley placed a cautious hand on his shoulder in the dark, to guide herself into slowly straddling his muscled thighs, careful enough to sit closer to his knees, instead of his groin.

Simon Riley’s heart thudded so hard against his chest he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, his body frozen into place, nervously awaiting her next move.

Riley’s trembling hands reached up ever so slowly, fingertips trailing a curious path over his soft blonde locks, down to the crease on his forehead, the perfect arch of his eyebrows, all the way to his strong nose, where her finger locked in the black mask. Unmoving and barely visible, she was unsure of his reaction, as she slowly began pulling it down.

“Do you mind?” She whispered, so close their breaths mingled.

“Hm.” Was all he could mutter, but one of his hands gently gripped her hip, steadying her in his lap. His thumb circled the small patch of exposed skin on her waist, where the top almost met the jeans.

She continued her ministrations leisurely, giving him enough time to stop her if he wished. But he didn’t, and her finger pulled his mask all the way down to under his chin, where she felt the stubble. Riley could barely breathe, doing her best to contain her excitement as her cold fingers trailed his face in the dark.

She felt the contour of his lips, slightly chapped as her thumb parted them tentatively. The raise of a scar, that seemed to have been carved all the way to the jaw, where she rubbed slow, careful circles lovingly. She felt his trembling breath on her flushed skin, the sounds of her faux leather jacket as she moved about, the only noise in the room.

Riley placed a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling embarrassed as she felt the warmth that immediately soaked her underwear once her skin came in contact with his. The mixture of alcohol and desire in her blood seemed to burn, making her ache with longing as she kissed his nose, his forehead, and then his other cheek, until she was trailing his strong jaw, the stubble tickling her lips.

“Riley…” He muttered, their mouths so close she could almost drink in his words.

“Please.” She begged in a silent whisper, joining her forehead to his, hands cupping his face tenderly.

His other hand held an iron grip on the couch, not letting up.

“You’re drunk.” He whispered back, teetering on the edge of self-control.

“I need you.” She replied, her lips ghosting his in the dark, skin almost grazing. She began moving her hips lower towards his groin, but although Simon had held his breath at the confession, his heart hammering in his chest, he finally gripped both of her hips firmly, keeping her away from the raging boner she would have found.

“I can’t, love.” He murmured softly, hoping she would understand.

“Please Simon.” She clumsily tried to fight off his grip, eager to press her aching body to his. “I need you so bad.”

Simon bit his lip so hard he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding as he did his best to keep his fraying sanity through her tender pleas.

He knew he was done for if he felt the softness of her lips, her wet tongue and the grind of her hips against his rock-hard shaft.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

“I’m so wet.” She admitted, and he felt the crease of her frustrated frown against his own, words coated with need and shame. He sighed deeply, his bruising grip on her hips tempting him to just pull her into him. He could feel himself pulse in his briefs, so painfully hard.

“Four years is a long time.” He grunted softly.

“I know.” She practically whimpered.

“You’re very drunk, love. You can barely stand upright.”

“But-”

“Riley.” She stilled at his commanding tone. “I’m taking you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow once you’ve rested up, yeah?”

Her shoulders slouched in defeat, the rejection still stinging as she placed another kiss to his cheek before muttering:

“Okay.”

A/N: I'm back! And I managed to bring my work laptop home, which (hopefully) means quicker updates! :) Once again thank you to everyone reading and keep that feedback coming - seriously, it keeps me going. The slow burn is finally burning and the next chapters are gonna be spicy.

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

Text

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mom

✦Word Count: 5.2 k

✦Warnings: Ansty, Fluff, slight smut (Jake calls himself daddy once), pregnancy, deployment, sad Maty

✦A/n: I have tried to post this like 8 times, it better work. I'm sorry for the wait guys, I hope you like it! Lots of love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The low ache in your back had become a constant; leaning down to pick up the second batch of laundry, the six-month belly just out of the way. Rising back up, one arm carrying the laundry, the other caressing your more than noticeable bump.

You feel a sharp kick, pressing your palm back into the spot, you can feel Little Miss move, pressing farther into your hand. A laugh falls from your lips, she wasn’t even here yet and she was stubborn just like her father.

The pregnancy came as a surprise, though you weren’t trying to avoid pregnancy, it still was a shock when you found out. The four pregnancy tests you’d taken, after being nauseous every morning for a week, proved that your family was about to grow by one.

The shock of it all, couldn’t stop the nerves from kicking in.

Your pregnancy with Mathew hadn’t been easy. Your nausea lasting the whole 40 weeks, making it hard for you to maintain a healthy weight. You ended up getting weekly IVs from the hospital and being up on two different nausea medications.

In the first trimester, this time nausea hit you hard and at all times of the day, the bathroom had become a second home, and Jake could barely handle it. Constantly at your side, holding your hair or rubbing your back. Mathew had been ecstatic when he found out, though the now six-and-a-half-year-old, had a hard time seeing you so sick.

Even having a conversation with your belly, telling the baby that they needed to be nice to you.

That was before you found out that you were having a girl, and thankfully the nausea had calmed after your fourteen-week mark, making your days actually enjoyable.

You’d been able to find out the sex of your baby just before Jake deployed when you were twenty weeks, and you’d both been thankful he could be with you in person to hear.

He’d been overjoyed when you the doctor told you. The smile never left his face on the drive home. Telling you, now that you had one of each, the next one could be a surprise.

You’d smacked him and told him, you wanted to get through this one before even thinking about another. Jake had only given you a teasing smile and kissed your hand, resting it in his lap for the drive home.

That was a month ago now, and all three of you were missing him terribly. Right after you’d found out you were pregnant; Jake had taken to talking to your stomach nightly. You’d told him that the peanut was too small, but he hadn’t cared. Holding nightly conversations with them, ranging from stories about flying, to what had happened during his day.

You’re sure that Little Miss had gotten used to her daddy’s voice, because now without his nightly talks, she has taken to becoming very active during the night. Mathew was having quite the time with Jake being gone as well. The first week he had cried every night and though his tears had slowed, the month had been wearing on the little guy.

Thankfully school kept his mind busy during the day, and Lacey had promised to call if he got upset during the day. Summer vacation was just around the corner for Maty and though he loved second grade, he was so excited about the year ahead. He was going full-time on base and Auntie Lacey, Bob’s wife, would be his teacher for third grade.

You were thankful for the relationship the two of you had developed over the last 2 years, she’d become one of your closest friends and was always there to help with Mathew.

When she found out that you were expecting and that the boys were getting deployed, she took up a permeant residence in your home. Taking over pick up and drop off completely, saying that your house was on her way to school anyway.

Your house was in fact a good bit out of her way, but you weren’t about to argue with the woman. Bob might have been quiet and shy in public, but his sweet, loving teacher of a wife, was anything but.

Lacey, like her third graders, was an endless ball of energy. She was the most positive person you’d ever met and extremely organized. But when she decided that something was going to happen, then it was happening. Her stubbornness rivaled that of Jakes. A fact that had you cackling, when the two of them bickered.

Placing the laundry away, you head back into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on before you start on dinner. Music streams out of the speaker on the counter, a playlist that you’d made after Jake threw you into the world that is 90’s country, on a trip to Texas. You’d fallen in love with the music, on a night out and always listened to it when Jake was gone.

You hum along to the beat of Brooks and Dunn, swaying your hips along to the music, hand resting on your bump. Little Miss takes to rolling around, clearly enjoying the music.

“You like that one sweetpea?” The song changes and she rolls again. “Your daddy’s gonna be pleased with your taste in music.”

You grab the strawberries out of the fridge, singing along to the music. Your mind wandering, sure that Jake and your little girl would have the exact relationship stated in the song.

“When she was three years old on her daddy's knee, he said you can be anything you want to be. She's a wild one, runnin' free.—”

The ringing of your phone cuts off your singing, Jake’s ringtone cutting through, and has you hurrying to pick it up. He rarely got to call you, the carrier was continuously going in and out of service, making it hard to talk.

You pick up the phone, lowering the volume of the music.

“Baby?”

“Hi, darlin’.” The sound of Jake's voice has you crying, your hormones working against you. The gasp that leaves your lips, alerts Jake of your crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Your hand comes up, brushing the tears from your eyes, doing your best to stop them.

“It’s just my hormones Jakey.” You pause, trying to settle the quiver in your voice. “We just miss you.”

A sad laugh falls from your lips, wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear, you move to sit down. Both of your hands rubbing your swollen bump, calming yourself and Little Miss. She’d noticed you crying, when you were slightly gasping for breath, no doubt disturbing her.

“I know sweets, I’ll be home soon.”

You knew that he couldn’t give you a return date, the both of you silently hoping that it would be before your due date. While it was months away, this last month had gone by fast, and though you hadn’t told Jake, you were worried.

“How is everything? How are my babies?” His voice sounds tired, and you wonder how long it’s been since he’d slept properly.

He’d told you before, that sleeping on the carrier calmed him, and being able to do what he loved made the uncomfortable bed worth it. Though something had changed, shortly after Mathew had started calling Jake daddy, deployments started causing Jake more stress than joy.

He'd told you that he missed the both of you. Missed seeing you and Maty every day, but you could tell that there was more behind it. You hadn’t wanted to push him, but you worried and with you pregnant, the worrying had increased ten-fold.

You relay what had been going on in the last couple of days, and Jake silently listens. Humming occasionally, just happy to hear your voice and feel closer to you.

“She’s been moving around a lot more this last week and I’ve blown up like a balloon.” You’d loved that you could carry your angels, but without Jake here to love on you, your self-esteem had plummeted.

“I look like a damn whale Jake.” The topic causes another onset of tears to converge in your waterline. “And I can’t stop crying.”

“Oh baby, no you are so fucking gorgeous.”

“You can’t even see me, Jacob!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, and before you can apologize, Jake is laughing at you.

“Don’t need to see you, to know how gorgeous you look.” Pure love in his voice and has your tears drying up quickly.

“How did I get so lucky with you Mr. Seresin?” His laugh breaks through the phone, loud enough that it echoes in your quiet living room.

“I’m just that good Mrs. Seresin.”

Though you hadn’t tied the knot yet, the title became one used often. The engagement ring resting on your hand catches the afternoon sunlight and a soft smile graces your lips. “I love you.” The hand creasing your belly receives a sudden push and you watch as Little Miss turns, her outline faint through your tank top.

“I love you too darlin’.” You can hear the smile in his voice and decide to put Jake on speaker. Bringing the phone to your belly, you feel her move towards the sound as Jake tells you about his day.

“Darling, I think that someone is feeling left out of the conversation. I’ve got you resting on the belly and Little Miss is going crazy for her daddy.”

You hear the broken laugh crack through the phone and then you hear a soft sniffle.

“Hi baby girl, daddy misses you and your bubba so much.”

“Oh baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You hadn’t even thought about how telling Jake that the babies missed him, would make him feel. Though he was soft and sweet in front of you, in comparison to how he was with others, it was a rare sight to see Jake cry.

“No sweetheart, I just hate not being there. She’s never gonna be this little again, and Maty is going to third grade. I feel like I’m missing everything.” The shutter that echoes through the phone, has tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just never realized that it would hurt this much.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your own tears not wanting Jake to feel even worse, and eventually, you both calm down.

Jake talks to your belly; you sit listening and enjoying the sound of his voice. If you close your eyes, it almost feels like he’s back home with you. Though your conversation is cut short, when you hear Bradley over the phone. Muffled voices ring over the phone, grunting and you swear you hear someone yell ouch, before Bradley’s voice yells out your name.

“Hi B, how are you?” You can’t help the laugh that breaks from you when you hear, Bradley telling Jake that he has to share. That he needed to check on his little sister and Jake could get over it. That thought is followed by the sound of a smack and Bradley whining over the phone.

“He’s mean with he’s not with you, Y/n. Control your husband.”

“He’s not my husband yet B.” You’re laughing at their antics, not having laughed this much since they left.

“No, he’s yours Y/n. No givebacks, his receipt clearly states non-returnable.”

The phone once again is dropped, and then you hear a door slammed. You were happy that they had each other, and knowing that they were together lessened your anxiety. They might fight like siblings, but they’d developed an unbreakable bond over the years.

It’s Jake's voice that comes across the phone once again, “I’ve gotta go, baby.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment longer, the lightheartedness of Bradley showing up suddenly gone.

“I don’t know when I’ll get to call you again sweetheart.”

Your heart slightly cracks, and the reality of your current situation sets in. Jake was in the middle of the ocean and not just for drills, but for an actual mission that could end horribly.

“I know.” You hate the way your voice cracks, hate that you are inevitably making Jake feel worse.

“Given Mathew a kiss for me Sweets.”

You hum quietly, too afraid to speak knowing that your voice would break. You’re both waiting, making the call last as long as possible, but Jake eventually breaks the peaceful silence.

“I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you too, Jacob.” The tears from your waterline fall, and you don’t bother to stop the sniffle that leaves you.

“You’ve gotta hang up baby, or we’ll never get off.”

Your heads nodding, even though Jake can’t see it, hating that he always made you hang up. It’d become a thing when you’d first became friends and now it was natural.

“You come home to us Jacob Grant Seresin.”

Your finger hits the end button before Jake has the chance to reply. Slowly bringing the phone down to sit in your lap, you can’t stop the tears as they stream down your face. It was never easy being away from Jake, but right now, at this moment you couldn’t remember a time when your heart hurt worse.

Sobs rack through your body, your hands faintly shaking as you lay down on the couch. Clutching the decorative pillow to your chest with one hand, your other rubs comforting circles onto your swollen belly.

…

You hadn’t realized you’d fell asleep until you hear the front door opening. Your eyes aching, the tears you’d shed emotionally draining you, and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for the night. Though the padding sound of small feet, has you rubbing your eyes trying to hide how much you’d been crying.

“Mommy!”

Mathew rushes towards you, a smile on his face as he goes straight to your belly. Lacey’s figure follows behind him, and you give her a warm smile.

“How was school?” You ask the both of them, though Maty is too busy talking quietly to your stomach. Rubbing in the place where his sister had just kicked, and places a soft kiss on the spot, before continuing to tell her about his day.

“It was good, happy that it’s the weekend though. Plus, Bobby called me at lunch, so thank was nice.” The smile that graces her face as she mentions Robert, has you smiling at the girl. The sight of her quietly spinning the wedding band on her finger, makes you feel not so lonely.

“Jake called today too.”

The mention of his name has Mathew’s attention instantly, no longer interested in telling Little Miss about his day.

“Daddy called?”

His voice is so hopeful, and you feel horrible that he wasn’t home, causing him to miss the chance to talk to Jake. They had only been able to talk once while Jake had been gone, and you could tell that it upset the both of them. Their schedule never seemed to match up, or the boat was just out of service. The one call had been a happy coincidence, having kept Mathew home from school after being up all night.

Which had been a problem in itself.

Mathew’s nightmares had slowed down massively since you’d gotten together with Jake, he’d filled a void that Mathew had, and now with him gone, it was like the void had reappeared.

You’d given up the idea of Mathew sleeping in his room, after the first week and brought him into bed with you. The both of you slept better having the other close, and the nightmares had slowed, though not gone away.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” A sad smile graces your face when you see how Mathew’s face drops. “Daddy said to tell you that he loves you so much though, and that he will be home soon.”

Mathew's faces drops, tucking himself into your belly and gives you a soft nod. Your hand combs through his hair, comforting him as much as possible. The tears that you feel wetting your shirt, have you pulling him up into your lap.

You see Lacey give you a sad smile, as she points to the door and tells you to call her later. Your mouth a thank you, while rocking Mathew back and forth. His tears eventually slow and turn into hiccupping sounds. He pulls away from your chest, a tear-stained face and you almost start crying again.

You give him a reassuring smile, hand brushing through his hair, and plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Daddy will be home soon, I promise buddy.”

“He’s saving people, right momma?”

“Yeah baby.”

This time it’s you that’s pulling him into your chest, doing your best not to cry in front of him. Tucking your head down to rest on top of his head, rocking the both of you to stop the tears.

The three of you had went to bed early that night, watching Toy Story in bed, and having family cuddles. You wrapped in one of Jake’s shirts and boxers, while Mathew clung to the blue plane blanket from Jake. His steady breathing calms you and lulls you into your own deep sleep.

…

One Month Later

You had officially reached 7 months and Mathew was starting his first week of summer vacation. May had flown by and you couldn’t believe that summer had finally started. Though California was warm year-round, the rising heat had been hell. You couldn’t seem to get cool, and your swollen stomach was always adorned in a sun dress.

Jake was still deployed, though Penny had mentioned that there was a possibility that they were coming home soon. Apparently, Mav had slipped up while talking to her, and she couldn’t keep it from you. She’d sworn you to secretly, meaning you couldn’t tell Lacey or Mathew, though you wouldn’t want to tell Mathew just yet. You were careful what you mentioned about the deployment to Maty, he and Jake were able to talk a few times within the last month, but he was still sensitive to the topic of Jake coming home.

You had your 7-month checkup today and Lacey was going to be picking the pair of you up, to take you. Walking from your shared bedroom, you call out from Mathew, wanting to make sure that he was at least somewhat matching.

He’d taken to picking out his clothes, stating that he was a big boy now and in charge of taking care of the house. A thought Jake had put into his head during their last conversation. Now that he was a big boy, that meant he could pick out his own clothes.

Peaking into his bedroom, you see him pulling a navy shirt over his head, happily surprised that the shirt parried well with his khaki shorts.

“You ready bubba? Auntie Lacey will be here soon.”

The turn of his little body towards you, has a look of concern painting your face as you see the pout marring Mathew's own.

“I can’t find my glasses momma, the ones like daddy’s.” His tone was clearly distressed and missing the sunglasses that matched Jake's own pair.

“Did you look on the counter sweetheart, I saw them there last night.”

A small shake of the head is all he replies before his legs are carrying him to the kitchen. Following behind him, much slower, you hear an “aha!” ring out that causes you to laugh. Coming to rest behind him, you gently kiss his head, when a knock sounds from your door. You hear the door open, and Lacey’s voice sounds out.

“Hellooooo, anybody home.”

“In the kitchen Lace.” Her figure rounds the corner of the kitchen and Mathew is hugging her instantly.

“How is my favorite nephew?”

A giggle erupts from Mathew’s chest and Lacey gives him a tight squeeze. “I’m your only nephew Auntie.”

She gives him a glance, acting as though she’s offended. “That may be so Mr. Mathew, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite as well.”

Her hands drift to his waist, picking him up and then promptly tickling him. The both of them giggling, as you watch on with a fond smile. Lacey’s presence in your life, especially in the last two months, was a true gift and one that you could never truly repay. Though you knew that when she got pregnant, you would be at her side, just like she was for you.

Reaching for your purse, you check the time and see that its 12:20 and your appointment starts at 1 on the dot.

“Come on you two, we’ve got an appointment to get to.”

Lacey ushers you in front of her, still carrying Mathew out to her car, and buckling him into the booster seat that she’d bought for him.

“We get to go see sissy today, right momma.”

Looking back at Maty, the biggest smile rests on his face. You’d told him at the being of the week, you’d had an ultrasound and that he could come into the appointment and see his sister with you.

“Yes, sweetie.” You give him a smile, before buckling up, as Lacey pulls from your driveway.

The car ride is short and filled with music, enjoying the breeze of the day. The drive to the clinic doesn’t take long and before you know it, you’re making your way in, ten minutes before your appointment.

Going to the front desk you give them your name, while Mathew holds your hand silently observing. The buzzing of Lacey’s phone has her apologizing before she heads outside to answer the call. You think nothing of her excusing herself, thinking that she’s only left in consideration of the other patients.

Your name is called and though Lacey isn’t back inside yet, you and Mathew head back with the nurse. She takes your vitals and asks you to lay on the table, handing you a blanket to rest over your lap. You mention that Lacey had to step outside, and the nurse tells you that she will bring her back when she comes back into the office. She gives you and Mathew a smile before she leaves the room.

Doctor Jones is punctual as always and greets the both of you happily, asking you to raise your dress so that she can start. The ultrasound goes well, Doctor Jones answered each question that Mathew had and stated Little Miss is doing wonderful.

“She’s measuring just ahead of schedule, looking to be about 30 weeks, so 2 weeks ahead. We will keep an eye on it, but as of today, I think we can expect her around mid-August.” Her eyes leave yours to look back at Mathew, “Just before school starts buddy!”

His eyes light up in excitement, “Time for daddy to be home too!”

Doctor Jones looks back to you, both of your smiles faltering slightly.

“Yes, baby. Daddy’s got lots of time to get home.”

The doctor goes over a few things to watch out for, before sending you on your way. The sonogram image of Little Miss clutched in Mathew's hands excited to show Lacey. The nurse leads you back out into the main office, and Lacey is sitting waiting for the both of you. Her smile is massive and more than excited to see the image Mathew holds up in front of her face.

Your hand rests on your belly, and a few sharp kicks have you sucking in a breath, ready to get in the car to sit down for a bit.

“Are we ready to head out?” Lacey is rising to meet you, holding Maty’s hand to walk across the parking lot and the other resting on the small of your back. You give her a gracious smile, muttering a small yes.

The drive home is quick, your body is already tired from the day, and the small nap you had taken while driving is suddenly interrupted.

“Daddy!”

Your eyes shoot open, and there in your front yard are Jake and Robert waiting. Mathew is flying out of the car as soon as Lacey is parked, and you can’t stop the tears from falling as you look over at Lacey speechless.

“Did you know?”

“You think I would have left that appointment, if the phone call hadn’t been important.” The teasing smile she gives you, has you laughing through the tears. Giving her a hand a squeeze, a silent thank you, before opening the car door. The door stops before you can get it fully open, your eyes meeting a pair of black boots.

Following the uniform up, your eyes finally settle on Jake.

Your Jake, with Mathew resting on his hip. The onset of tears is never ending, as sobs uncontrollably fall from your lips.

Jake falls to his knees, setting Mathew on the ground and telling him to go see Uncle Bob, his hands reach out brushing the tears from your cheeks.

“Hi Sweets.”

Your figure moves for him, arms wrapping around his neck as you sob into his chest. He mutters sweet nothings into your hair, brushing his hand up and down your spine. The other one falls to rest on your belly.

“Your home? You’re really here?” Your voice sounds so small and Jake's heart sightly aches at your question.

“I’m home baby. Not leaving you again Sweets.”

You miss the promise in his voice, only hearing his confirmation that he was here, with you and your babies finally. Your tear-stained face pulls back from Jake's chest and your hands are pulling his face down to yours instantly.

Lips meeting, slotting perfectly together after 8 long weeks apart. The tears coating your cheeks are no longer yours alone, pulling back you see tears lining Jake’s eyes. The smile he gives you, has you tugging him back down to your lips. His lips separate from your own lips; to your cheeks and jawline, peppering your face with kisses. Then moves down to your swollen bump and places a gentle kiss upon it as well.

You look up and see Lacey’s tear-stained face, Robert cradling her in his arms. The both of them enjoying the moment, as a small body comes tumbling back into Jake. His face moves from your bump, and he grabs Mathew tickling him, laughter falling from all three of your lips.

“Daddy, we saw sissy today!”

The photo Mathew still hadn’t let go is shoved at Jake, a large smile breaking onto his face as he grasps the sonogram. His hand moves to brush through Maty’s hair, bringing the little boy back into his chest, as he stares at the picture. His eyes move from the image, to your bump, and back to the image.

Jake brushes a kiss against Mathew’s head, then goes to stand up. His hand reaching out for you.

“Coming on darlin’, let’s get you three inside.”

His arms wrap around your waist and for a moment you fear that this is all a dream, that soon you’ll wake up in Lacey’s car, utterly alone.

You feel the hand on your waist give you a squeeze, your eyes meeting Jake's. Your foreheads rest against each other before a quick kiss is exchanged and you’re heading into the house.

Robert and Lacey stayed for dinner that night, the five of you deciding to order in pizza instead of trying to cook. You and Lacey worked in tandem cleaning up the kitchen, as the guys took Mathew out back to play.

He’d been so patient during dinner, eating a slice of pizza, then begged Jake and Robert to play. The guys had informed you that Mav and Penny were having a BBQ tomorrow night, celebrating a successful mission and that everyone was required to come.

You called Penny just after dinner, asking what she needed you to bring tomorrow, though she adamantly said you weren’t supposed to bring anything. After going back and forth, your sister eventually caved and told you to let Mathew pick out a dessert from the store. You complied and let Jake know that the three of you would need to stop by the store tomorrow, before going over.

Jake had walked Bob and Lacey to the door, telling them thanks for coming over, as well as thanking Lacey profusely for helping you while he was gone. The woman just patted him on the back, with a shrug of her shoulders, and stated that’s what family does. Giving her a nod, and then a wave to them both, he headed back in to find you leaning over the kitchen counter.

Sneaking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to settle just under your bump. With a lift of his hands, a moan left your lips, and you were settling back into his body. Your head leaned back, resting on his shoulders as the tension in your lower back dissipated.

“So good.”

A hum leaves his lips in acknowledgment of you before his lips meet the side of your neck. He traces a line of hot open mouth kisses along your neck, landing on the spot between your collarbone and neck. Sucking softly, on a mission to mark you after months away.

The haze in your mind is overwhelming as you push back against Jake, the feeling of his hardened length pressing into your lower back. You’d missed him so much and now with his hands on you, you felt like you could combust.

“Jake, what about Mathew?” You didn’t want him to stop, but you’d rather get Maty to bed before he saw just how his sissy was made.

Jake places one final kiss on your neck, before gently lowering your bump again, the weight of it settling in your back.

“I’ll go put him to bed, missed our nighttime routine, and you go get ready for bed.” You give him a questioning glance, one eyebrow-raising.

“Bed?” Your tone is slightly whiny and causes Jake to laugh. Turning your body to face him, he gives you a final kiss that has your toes curling.

“Bed darlin’,” His hand creeping up the inside of your thigh, underneath the sun dress, fingers grazing your clothed cunt. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you Sweets.” His fingers tease you, slip under your panties to run along your slit. Your legs tremble, hand clinging to his wrist, afraid that he’s going to pull away.

Jake smirks at you, so wound-up for him and he’d just barely touched you. The swirl of his finger on your clit has your head dropping back. He loved that you were always so needy for him, but you’d become exceptionally horny while pregnant. The pressure of his fingers leaves your clit, and a whine falls from your chest. Though the sound abruptly turns into a moan, when he sinks the digits into your heat.

“Jakey, —”

“I know baby. Such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

His tone is condescending as he watches you push down into his hand. Though before you get anywhere, his fingers are gone and your eyes snap open. Watching as Jake licks your slick from the two fingers, pulling you in for a kiss that has you moaning. The tangy taste coating your tongue and making your arousal even more evident between your thighs.

The tap on your ass, has you pulling away. Your eyes blown out and filled with pure need, as you look at Jake.

“You’re not gonna be sleeping tonight, Sweets. Daddy has lots of time to make up for.”

#better man universe #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #gingy writes #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x y/n #hangman imagine #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin angst

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dxmxuse · 1 year

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A few things ive been doing recently that help manage my adhd

Not sure if this will help anyone but i've made a list of things ive been working really hard to do to help manage my adhd and general inability to be a functional adult:

Make reminder posters! Get on canva and create personalized posters to put around your room/house to help remind you to do daily things like take your meds, feed pets, take out trash, etc.

Keep a junk notebook! Anything you think of that cant do immediately write it down. If its important it'll help you remember it, if not it saves you from getting distracted or making impulsive decisions. (This is especially helpful if you tend to get distracted when studying!)

CLEAN AS YOU GO! Whether its taking a cup out of your room every time you leave or washing each dish immediately after use. If you can develop this habit it keeps your space so much cleaner!

Have two laundry bins: one for worn but not dirty things and one for dirty things. It limits what ends up on your floor!

Make use of bins. I have several around my apartment that I use for things that dont have a home. Once those bins are full, I go through them and discard or find a permanent home for them.

Don't study/work at home. Even if it means buying a $5 coffee just so you can sit in a spot and effectively work, its much better than getting so behind on tasks you get overwhelmed.

It takes some work to develop habits and im far from perfect with all of these, but if I can do these things even 3 days a week it makes a huge difference!

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metalhoops · 1 year

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Steddie Week Day 5:

Together/ Established Relationship / Hold the Line by Toto

Eddie would give everything for a lifetime of Sunday mornings with Steve. He’d never expected anything good in his life to last before Steve. The first year they’d spent together, he’d been waiting for it to end with bated breath. He’d wake up in a cold sweat and reach for the familiar warmth of Steve’s body as a sick animal searches for a cool, dry place to die.

He’d cross the distance between them, however great or small, and bury himself beneath Steve’s back, so he could feel the rise and fall of his breaths as something tangible. That way, if the boy left, he’d know.

Steve’s body was the grave dirt he wanted to be buried beneath. If ever he were to pick a final resting place, that’d be it. A year turned into two, and somewhere along the way, Eddie stopped waiting for things to go wrong.

Steve had his own nightly routine. There were habits that persisted well past the time Eddie had expected them to fade into obscurity. On the bad nights, he’d feel Steve jolt awake at his side with a shaky gasp. He’d roll over and press his hand to Eddie’s side, hoping to hold him together, as though the distant nightmare of seven years ago were still a freshly healing scab and not the faded, pink scar tissue Eddie knew it to be.

Eddie wasn’t a romantic. He’d grown up in a broken home where the word ‘love’ was only used to mean an apology. His mother and father would keep the street dogs barking until the morning birds sang with their screams. Then come sunrise, his father would take his mother’s face into his hands and say ‘I love you’, in the way Eddie knew meant ‘I’m sorry.’

Eddie and Steve weren’t used to having people in their corner worth losing. That made keeping each other all the more important. Eddie was reminded of how much he had to lose every Sunday morning when he woke up with Steve’s limbs flung haphazardly over his body. It was the one day they kept obligation free. No jobs. No laundry. No kids, who really weren’t kids anymore. Just the two of them.

For once, Eddie was the first one up. He hadn’t been able to sleep. He was too busy trying not to think. Instead, he traced the familiar landmarks of Steve’s skin. He walked the path of freckles and moles dotting their way up the other man’s arm and lingered on the tiny silver scar at his elbow. It was the one he’d gotten from falling off his bike when he was seven.

Eddie wasn’t a forever kind of guy, but Steve was. If you’d told Eddie back in high school, he’d be in a relationship for seven years, he’d say that was forever. Jesus, it’d gone quick. He wanted more forevers with Steve.

“Mornin’ already?” Steve spoke, peering bleary-eyed around the room, his voice gravel road rough.

“Same time every day,” Eddie confirmed, peering down at the man on his chest.

Age had changed them in ways Eddie only noticed in pictures. They were still young. He reminded himself, with more urgency than necessary. Eddie had more tattoos to cover up the scars he knew they’d both rather forget.

Then there was Steve. His trademark hair was longer than when they first started dating. Eddie liked to joke that he looked like Kurt Cobain if Kurt Cobain knew how to style his hair. He’d also learnt to sport barely-there stubble on the days he couldn’t be bothered to shave.

“You’re staring,” Steve remarked, hiding his face in the crook of Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie commented, and he meant it. He really goddamn meant it.

“Flattery doesn’t work with me, Munson,” Steve grumbled, moving to pull the covers up over their heads, hiding them from the morning. Eddie didn’t care. He had nowhere to be.

He dipped his head, placing a chased kiss on Steve’s lips, and watched as the man’s nose scrunched.

“Morning breath,” He groaned as he pulled back.

“You love it,” Eddie teased, trailing kisses down Steve’s jaw.

His lips lingered on the spot he knew made the man exhale sharply through his nose. It was right near another crooked scar Steve got on his twenty-second birthday. He’d been drunk and had fallen into the pool, clipping his jaw on the cement ledge. Eddie had the painful job of trying to extract Steve’s tooth from his lip as the boy cursed like a sailor and squirmed like a worm.

“I love you, there’s a difference,” Steve chuckled and pushed Eddie back, examining his face.

He traced the dark circles beneath Eddie’s eyes. He was long past the point of being self-conscious with Steve. The man had seen him in all manner of undress and unflattering angles. He chose to stay with him anyway. That’s what love was, wasn’t it? Choosing each other over and over again, every day- forever.

“You look like shit,” Steve spoke candidly.

“Oh honeybear, you wound me,” Eddie breathed, clutching his chest with all the overdramatised fervour his sleep-deprived body could muster.

“What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked, pulling his hand back.

“Quitting my job, getting the band back together, going on tour and dragging your ass across the country... Maybe getting a dog.” Steve hummed and traced the outline of the faded-blue demon tattoo on his chest.

“And that’s why you haven’t slept all week, right?” Steve repeated sceptically. Eddie was going to have to do this now, wasn’t he?

“Steve,” Eddie spoke, hating how his voice shook. His body was betraying him.

Steve’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed, painting his face with concern. He’d screwed this up already, hadn’t he?

“What’s wrong? I’m only ‘Steve’ when you’re pissed off, or it’s something serious,” the man observed.

Eddie didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say- alright, that was a lie. He’d tried to plan it. Hell, he’d tried to write a whole damn script, but it’d felt wrong. He’d thought when the moment came he’d know what to say. Turned out, he was wrong.

“Was it because I took your notebooks off the table? Because I told you it’s cool you use it like a desk, but we need someplace to eat so you’ve gotta put your shit away when you’re done with it,” Steve began.

It was an old, familiar argument he didn’t have time to get into that morning.

“It’s not about the table,” Eddie sighed and felt Steve shift.

He sat up and pulled the covers from their heads, letting the morning light in. This was a conversation to have in daylight.

“Are you okay?” Steve pushed, trepidation in his voice.

It was 1993 and even if they’d never sat down and talked about what was going on with the rest of their community, they’d both seen it first-hand. No. Eddie wasn’t going to let the morning be about that either.

“I’m okay, Stevie. Promise,” Eddie assured, wrapping his pinkie around Steve’s and placing a kiss to their intertwined fingers.

“You know, I think a lot of things we’ve gotta do are bullshit, right?” Eddie began, crossing his legs and pulling Steve into his lap. The man shot him a confused look but nodded.

“Nine-to-five? Bullshit. Conforming to society? Bullshit. Growing up-.”

“Let me guess, bullshit?” Steve breathed and Eddie snorted.

“Yeah. But you and me? I think we’re the one thing in this world that’s not bullshit.”

Steve gave him a look Eddie knew too well. It was an echo of his ‘King Steve’ days, only a little softer around the edges. The look told Eddie Steve thought he was talking shit, but he was trying to be polite and not bring it up.

“Right,” Steve hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m not finished. Hold your bitchy comments until the end, dude,” Eddie snorted.

“Up until you, I thought relationships were... I’m going to stop saying bullshit. I thought they were for other people. And I also thought- shit. Alright. I’m doing this, aren’t I...?” Eddie huffed and pushed Steve back from him, leaning over to rummage around in his bedside drawer. He was really doing this. No turning back now.

He pulled out one of his favourite rings. It was a little more understated than the others, but it belonged to his Uncle Wayne, so it was his favourite. He turned back to see Steve. The man had gone pale. Finally, the guy was catching on. Here Eddie was thinking he’d never be able to surprise Steve again with how well they knew one another.

“I know we can’t get married, Steve. But I know how much you want to and it surprised the hell out of me, but I want that too. I don’t need a shitty piece of paper to know what you mean to me. We could have a party, invite Wayne, Robin and the kids over,” Eddie was rambling, his hands trembling as he passed the ring to Steve.

The guy looked seconds from crying or laughing, frozen in a half grin, half grimace. God, Eddie hoped that was a good sign.

“You haven’t asked the question yet, Eds,” Steve breathed, his lip twitching. Oh, that was a smile. A wave of relief crashed over Eddie.

“I want to be with you, Steve, forever. Will you marry me?”

Steve surged forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and sending them both toppling backwards. Eddie could feel the man nod against his skin.

“I-,” Steve began, but paused when his voice sounded wet.

He sniffed and buried his face deeper into Eddie’s body. Steve hated anyone seeing him cry, even Eddie, especially Eddie. He waited, knowing the answer from the half-moon crescents Steve’s fingers were leaving in his skin.

Steve pulled back after a moment.

“Alright, on one condition,” He huffed, his voice still sounding rough.

“It’s always conditions with you,” Eddie teased, moving his free hand to Steve’s back, rubbing circles into his skin, trying to calm him down.

He knew how to put on a brave face, but Eddie understood marriage meant more to Steve than it did to him.

“Promise to clean your shit off the kitchen table and I’ll marry you,” Steve proposed. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

“How about this? I promise to clean up the table, if you promise to keep your crap on your side of the bathroom. Then we can get married.”

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, morning breath be damned.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

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gummydummy19 · 11 months

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Month four (August): Laundry day

Summary: You've been so caught up with work and stuff that you've gotten behind on your laundry....maybe you can borrow something from Sy's closet? just this once? What he doesn't know can't kill him, right?

Warnings: flashbacks, backstory, some smutty thoughts

'Shit!'

You tried jumping back but it was too late. Your bowl of pasta slipped out of your hands, bright red bolognese sauce splashed on your shirt before the entire thing smacked on the floor.

'Great...' You sighed, tugging off your pasta-covered shirt, leaving you in the sports bra you'd been wearing all week and a pair of semi-clean panties.

You were living like an absolute animal. The dishes were piling up, your room was a mess and the only thing in your fridge was leftover pasta, which was now splattered all over your kitchen floor. You grabbed some paper towel and scooped up as much as you could, before cleaning up the rest with a wet rag. You made your way to the bathroom to throw your shirt in the hamper, but when you got there you could hardly see the hamper anymore.

Okay, this had to end now. This was your first day off in weeks. Lord knows you'd been working overtime but honestly, you enjoyed your new job and you wanted to make a good impression. Part of you had hoped to just crawl into bed all day and watch some awful rom-com. Although that sounded good, you needed to do something about the mess that was in your apartment.

You started sorting through the laundry, taking off your underwear to add to the pile, but when you were finally ready to take your first load to the laundry room downstairs you realized you had nothing left to wear. Supposedly the summer heat combined with your busy schedule had finally taken its toll.

'You have got to be kidding me...'

You could hardly go downstairs naked. Your closet was completely empty aside from a couple beanies and some snow boots.

You walked into the hallway, trying to figure out a plan when Sy's bedroom door caught your eye.

'Hmm...'

What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

Your hand hesitated on the doorknob for a sec.

'Stop being such a fucking wuss...you'll wash his stuff when you're done and put it right back where you found it...he won't even know!'

You opened the door and immediately his scent hit your nose. It's like he was standing right in front of you. Christ did you...miss him?

You looked around his room. Everything was very....Sy.

His sheets were dark. There was a guitar standing in the right corner, leaning against the bedside table.

You walked over to his dresser. There wasn't much on it, aside from a couple framed pictures. One of them was of an elderly couple. The man looked like an older version of Sy, he had his arm swung around the woman. She had a beautiful, big smile. The more you focused on her eyes, the more you saw Sy in them.

On the other side of the dresser, there was another framed picture. It was Sy when he was younger and a guy who looked a little older than him. You noticed that same jaw again. Must be his brother.

Sy looked happy. His face was clean shaven and his hair was a little longer. He looked to be around 20. Probably before he enlisted.

You pulled open the first drawer. It was filled with neatly folded boxers shorts and some basic t-shirts.

Perfect.

You grabbed a pair of each and quickly shut the dresser again. You wanted to hurry out of the room as if Sy would be back any minute. He wouldn't, you knew that. He had two more months left. And then, he'd come back home.

Home. With you.

Before you left the room you noticed a hoodie hanging over a chair in the corner.

You knew that hoodie. Sy had been wearing it in the days before he left.

As soon as you picked it up, a smile crept up your face. You couldn't help but bury your face in the soft fabric, the scent of it invading your senses as you remembered Sy's last night in the apartment.

He had ordered take-out for you both from his favorite Chinese place around the corner. It was his treat, he insisted after you said you had never tried their noodles.

It was the first time he's had an actual conversation with you.

'So where are you from?' You asked, swallowing a mouth full of noodles, which were admittedly the best ones you'd ever tasted.

'Texas, you?'

'Europe.' You replied

'Really? You kinda sound Californian'

'I don't know if that's a compliment but thanks' You smiled, making him chuckle

'I like your shirt' He said with a grin, pointing to the shirt you had gotten from your best friend before you moved to the US. It said 'BARBIE IS A SLUT' in big pink letters.

'I like your accent' You replied

'Hmm,' he grumbled, smile still tugging at his lips, 'So what brings you to the land of the free, huh?'

'You say that as if you're not being sent away to go shoot people in like a week.'

Sy's smile dropped, and you immediately felt bad.

'Sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.' you apologized, 'Work. I'm here for work.'

'What kinda work you do?'

'I'm a writer. Well, a journalist actually but I focus mainly on writing. I got hired at The Times. I start on Monday.'

'Damn' he huffed

Silence took over the table and for a second you feared you had fucked up already.

'You miss home at all?' he broke the silence

'I miss my mom, but that's about it. Never really had much of a home, aside from her. We call a lot tho.'

'Hmm,' he grumbled again.

You were beginning to notice he did that a lot.

'What about you? Do you miss your home? Your family?'

'My parents own a farm back in Texas. My brother lives down the street with his wife and 3 kids. I try to visit on important days and stuff, but that life was never what I wanted.'

'Don't want kids?'

'I do, someday. Just not the way they want me to.'

'Hmm.'

It was your turn to do that this time.

'I was engaged once.' he spoke, 'We were high school sweethearts, she lived a town over. I asked her to marry me a week after graduation.'

'What happened?'

'4 months in I found out she was fucking some other guy. All I know is that he worked at the hardware store. I enlisted that same week.'

'Oh, Sy...I'm so sorry, I...I don't know what to say.'

'You're not the one who owes me an apology, sugar.' He smiled, but you could tell there was hurt underneath it, 'Have you ever been in love?'

'I've thought I was in love.' You replied, 'Looking back on it I think young and dumb would be a better way to put it.' He chuckled at that, and the sound made your heart soar a little.

You don't know how long the two of you had sat there, but by the time you went to bed, you were feeling a million things at once.

You couldn't help but feel a little sad.

That was probably just because of Sy's story. He seemed like a good guy, he deserved love and happiness. Getting your heart broken like that? No one deserves to feel that pain.

Yeah, that's why you were sad.

Not at all because Sy would be leaving in a couple days.

...

You decided to hold on to the hoodie for a little while and left the room. Quickly putting on the clothes you took before heading downstairs to put in the first load of laundry.

Wearing Sy's clothes felt oddly comforting. His boxers basically fit u like a pair of shorts and his shirt almost swallowed you whole. The most comforting part was the smell of his hoodie tho. You couldn't help but think of Sy. You hoped he was okay. It had been a while since his last letter.

You wondered how life was there. You had no clue how army tours worked. Six months sounds like a long time.

You can't even imagine.

Six months without a home. Six months without watching movies or going shopping. Six months without reading romance novels. Six months without....

Oh my god.

Does he...do they get...company...there?

For some reason, your stomach twisted at the thought of Sy with another woman.

Do they even have room for that there? I mean do they even have privacy? What if they wanna...

oh...oh

Your stomach did something entirely different at the thought of Sy doing that.

Suddenly you were very away you were wearing Sy's clothes. In fact, you were wearing nothing but his clothes.

No.

No no no no no.

You couldn't do this. You could not get wet in Sy's boxers.

That would be so wrong.

Bad. Very bad.

Very wrong and bad.

But why did the thought turn you on that much more?

At this point, you were no longer in control of your own brain. It was running wild.

Wild with very wrong, very bad thoughts.

You wondered if Sy had ever gotten hard in these boxers. If he ever touched himself in these. If they were ever covered in his cum...

A loud ring startled your clouded mind back to reality.

You grabbed your phone.

No caller ID.

'H-Hello?' you picked up the call, trying to calm down your racing heart.

'Hi there,'

'Sy?!'

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

A/N: Ugh I just love him, okay??

p.s: pretty please give me some feedback bc I've been feeling so shitty about my writing lately LOL I just feel like I have so much scenarios in my head and I wanna get em all out

taglist;

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@identity2212

@randomweirdoss

#a year in apartment 6b #henry cavill fanfiction #captain sy fanfiction #captain syverson #captain sy x reader

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doomsdaybby · 6 months

Text

chapter one: pre-soak. laundromat!steve au x fem!reader mini series. you can find the blurb here 🫶🏻

content/warnings: strangers to lovers, barely any plot (no twists or turns, just watch two cuties fall in love), no use of y/n, fluff, mutual pining, steve is such a sweetheart, soft!steve 🥹, steve being a lovesick puppy, reader is just a little mean, jealous!steve at points, ronance bc I love them, eventual smut (not this chapter), she/her pronouns and physical female descriptions used for reader character throughout.

word count: 2.9k

I do not proofread my work, so please be forgiving of any mistakes.

Suds N’ Sparks Laundromat. Spring 1989.

Steve Harrington works round the clock shifts for exactly four dollars an hour to make ends meet. From sunrise to sunset, his life was surrounded by flickering yellow lights (if you looked closely enough you could see the moths that had scuttled too close to the hot bulbs), emptied pockets of spilled quarters on countertops and the rhythmic mind-numbing rumble of washing machines that soon became white noise.

Steve had already run through exactly eight job positions in the last four years. Don’t ask him how, he seems to never make it stick. The conclusion drew to him a while back that he was the world’s biggest fuck up, and that’s the way it was supposed to be.

It wasn't all bad, he worked alone, the regulars were nice enough and the paycheck was on the surprisingly sunny side compared to Scoops Ahoy, Family Video, camp counseling, that one busboy position that lasted five minutes, and the paperboy, and… you get the point.

It was working well enough for him right now, covering the rent and bills for his and Robin’s shared apartment, and of course gas money, whilst saving him a little extra on the side for whatever his heart desired, and that was all he could ask for. Besides, there weren't many openings left in Hawkins for him to fall back on, almost every business manager the town had on offer had mindlessly sifted through Steve Harrington’s glistening -eye roll- resume since the fall of 1985 at one point or another.

He had to somehow make this one last longer than 8 months, his new year's resolution, or else Steve would surely have to pack up his shit and leave.

Though for right now, the laundromat put an undetermined stop in the infinite revolving door that was his employment track record, and it felt like a small sigh of relief that the customers actually seemed to like him. A lot.

Mrs Fletcher, who insisted on Steve calling her by her first name Helen (he never did), brought in exactly two baskets of laundry at precisely 5pm every Friday evening. Not a minute early, not a second late. Mrs Fletcher was a single woman in her mid to late 50’s, give or take, and was not resistant to the irresistible Harrington charm, despite Steve never uttering a single flirtatious syllable in her direction.

He was woefully made aware that she was single because she made an intentional point to mention it every. single. week. Divorced, husband left her in a bunch of debt yada yada blah blah. Whatever. You would think that he was joking, a tad on the dramatic side maybe, but Helen managed to slip it in there at one point or another during each conversation.

She actually lived on Maple Street, only a couple houses down from the Wheeler’s. Steve remembers her kind waves and cheery ‘Hello’s’ to him and Nancy during their highschool sweetheart days. But since word most certainly got around in Hawkins, once Jonathon Byers took his place linked hand in hand with his past burning flame, it wasn't difficult to put two and two together that the pair had split. So once Steve appeared at the closest local laundromat, Helen Fletcher was positively thrilled.

Steve was in the thick of his routinely one-sided chat with his admirer, elbows resting spread east and west on the counter and arms stretched out in front of him in closed palms, eyes beginning to glaze over since having swapped her one dollar note for four quarters almost twenty minutes ago. Though the shrill ting of the doorbell thankfully pulled him from the jumping record that were his strained, yet still polite, ‘uh huh’-s and ‘oh really’-s.

Robin stumbled through the door, a pull-string hamper hanging heavy by the crook of her elbow, Nancy linked snugly in the other. They both cheesed wide at Steve’s unfortunate current predicament, seemingly unaware of the disapproving grumbles and wary eyes of the few balding middle-aged men slouched on the wooden chairs opposite the rowdy dryers, newspapers held up to their brows.

Though they continued with grace, still very much knitted as one strutting hip to hip and sharing an all too knowing glance, one that only read trouble and hours of persistent teasing that Steve was bitterly well acquainted with. Robin slings the hamper onto the counter that sat at the very back wall with a leaded thud, requesting smaller change in favor of a one dollar bill outstretched in her hand, much like her new shoulder buddy, who is now non-discretely grumbling behind her teeth.

Robin notices, and turns to flash the older woman a pearly ear-to-ear grin, blinking her eyes as if to say ‘need something?’. Helen glowered, lips curled up in clear aggravation. Nancy disguises a poorly hidden grin behind a wipe of her mouth, and Robin’s off-putting aura worked its well-oiled charm as Mrs Fletcher went about her business. Seven days of rest, and Steve felt like he could breathe again. At least she took the hint?

“We did laundry two days ago” Steve looks disappointed, jaw falling somewhat slack.

“You’re so right. But, uhm, we had a problem” Robin’s lips downturn with a shred of guilt, albeit short lived, her left eye creasing under the lower lash in a semi-squint.

“Problem? What problem?”

Nancy’s cheeks are sucked in, rows of teeth biting the inside to stifle her giggling, accentuating her structured features. Though Steve couldn’t put his finger on what was so funny.

“We tried to make dinner. Dinner involved red wine. We drank some of it, it was good, and then we kindaspilledsaidredwineverywhere” She finished in a hurry at the conclusion, speaking incoherently from the corner of her mouth.

Now the ceaseless snickering made sense. They were not drunk by any means, but a little too merry and conversing an octave too high for the closing curtain of Steve’s shift. Ten hours of staring at the same four plant-lined poorly painted carolina blue walls was enough to make anyone go stir crazy. Though in the warmer months the breeze was admittedly very refreshing with the door wedged open, so that was a perk.

Steve tips out a hand to take the bag from Robin with a sigh, a deepening crease in his brow and not enough confidence in his chest to watch the two flounder and fidget with the washing machines.

“You’re not angry?” Nancy taunts, almost expectant, with rounded eyes and fingers now laced with Robin’s as they turn to follow Steve to the large island of cheap wood and steel legs that stood point blank in the middle of the room, the swirling barrels of damp and drying laundry surrounding it.

“Ask me again tomorrow” he responds with an exhausted huff, a hint of a scoff. Steve empties out the soiled linens onto the countertop, surveying each garment to assess the damage.

“Jesus, did you guys rob the liquor store?”

Surely they had used more than one, maybe even more than two bottles of wine for whatever they decided promoted them to culinary artists for the evening. More snickering, though they both prodded and knocked one another at the hip. If Steve rolled his eyes any harder they would spin out of his head.

So Steve guided Robin and Nancy to the chairs opposite where he was shoving clothing one by one into the drum of the washing machine, eyeing them warily like toddlers in a playpen, wishing that they would quieten down before the disgruntled muttering of the elderly man at the other end of their row of chairs transitioned into uncensored hate speech.

Steve resorts to mumbling to himself about how they were going to eventually get him in big trouble having to defend them from their own big mouths, and the potential consequences of said unfiltered big mouths, one day or another. He reaches into the bottom of the hamper to pull out a mauve coloured table cloth, that was now three quarters a giant violet stain.

Steve is too tired for a Friday evening and he wished that the last forty-five minutes of his shift would wrap up as swiftly as it was for his two hysterical friends to fuck up a brand new table cloth. He grasps the material edge to edge in his fists, obscuring his view as he begins to walk forwards, ignoring the familiar ting-ing of the small bell above the janky door, as Robin and Nancy exchanged grimaces and mocking chastising in voices that were supposed to resemble Steve’s scoldings.

Though Steve doesn’t quite make it to the washer, instead crashing chest first into your towering and, for lack thereof a better word, foreboding laundry basket, thus by default, you. Your walkman clatters to the black and white tiled floor, Fleetwood Mac cassette striking loose to slide under an adjacent tumble-dryer with a grainy swish. The headphones dislodge from the plug-in, now hanging lopsided from your ears as your ass smacks to the ground, a dull painful shockwave radiating up your tailbone.

“Fuck!” a curse exclaimed in unison, and Steve is already hauling himself up off the floor, “Watch where you’re fuc-” a helping hand in front of your face before you can even finish your sentence, teeth clacking shut in silence at the unexpected assistance.

“Could say the same to you” Steve replied, back twinging as he lugs you up off the floor, “Sorry, it’s been a long day and-” he looks at you properly then, and absentmindedly squeezes your hand in kindness. You watch him expectantly, dusting off your flared jeans with your free hand, wincing something awful as you cup your lower back.

“Shit, shit” He starts quickly, eyes growing partly wide with urgence, forgetting that you were about to rip him a new asshole. “Are you okay?” his brows pinch to mirror yours, gaze flicking in a hurry from the pained expression on your face to the palm nursing right above your tailbone. It was genuine, his concern, you can hear it in his buttery tone.

“No,” you respond in a way that delivered meaner than you intended, before saying a little kinder, “That really fucking hurt”. You release a breath of a laugh, barely there but it could still be heard whilst Steve steadies you, hands still firmly clasped together. He’s warm, maybe too warm, skin soft and his hands are much larger than your own.

“Hey, didn’t you work at that ice cream place a couple years ago? At the mall? Obviously before it burned down and everything” You ask, eyes curious and voice blanketed in familiarity. Steve blinks at you, blindsided by how the now setting sun reflects in your gentle glassy stare, and you realize that you’re still holding hands.

“You flirted with me once, desperation must be your thing” you continued with a small chuckle when he didn't answer, a jab at yourself rather than him, the previous question more rhetorical and an obvious nose-dive attempt of a dialogue starter.

You release him lightly, and Steve becomes aware a little late when you eye him warily, brows pulling together in an uneasy crease, slightly taken aback by his silence. The patch of stillness was awkward, though it gave you a moment to survey him.

“He’s not much of a ladies man anymore” Robin chimes in with a jump from her seat, the saving grace to the now painfully uncomfortable atmosphere. Steve runs a hand down his face, partially catching his lower lids. Please, God, if you’re listening, just fucking kill me, he thought to himself.

You hum, and Steve’s cheeks dust the rosiest shade of pink when you give him a once over, though you’re leaning a little away from him now. His blue green long sleeved is bunched up to make a three quarter length, though his left has slipped down to his wrist now. Two shiny metal buttons are undone, a sliver of a white undershirt peeking through at the collar. There’s a faded spot of spilt laundry detergent splashed right where his heart sits.

Robin is never going to let him forget this moment for the rest of his life.

Steve was a very handsome guy, you couldn’t deny that. You even thought he was pretty cute the few times he served you raspberry ripple ice cream with sprinkles on top. The sailor outfit was a nice touch, though he clearly never got much action. You were lucky enough to audience some of his failed pick-up lines back then. Poor thing, his ego must have been so battered and bruised.

Your mouth curls at the corner fondly, “Uh, thankyou, by the way. For helping me up”.

“I should have watched where I was fucking going” Steve says, finishing off your earlier snipped jab, eyebrows hitting his hairline and dusting his hands off on his jeans. He dips his face away, but you can see the rippling of smile lines that adorn his cheeks.

“And yeah, yeah I worked at Scoops. You from around here?” Desperate to change the subject, the tips of his ears were flaring up. The regular A/C now didn’t feel like enough, he was hot with embarrassment. You're beginning to pick up the dropped laundry now with Nancy and Robin’s help, after setting your lonely headphones and busted walkman onto the counter. Steve also resumed his previous task.

“I’m from Roanoke, you know, just outside Fort Wayne?” Steve nods, still focused on the wine-stained linens. You continue, “My Dad lives out here, so I've been back and forth, more so the last couple years since I left high school”. Steve makes a mental note, no wonder he can’t quite place you.

“When’d you graduate?” he asks, and Robin winces though she doesn’t really know why. Steve glances up from Nancy’s soft blouse in his hands, running the fabric through his fingertips as he watches you.

“‘82” your nose wrinkles, quickly darting a pair of red underwear into the machine next to Steve. He pretends that he didn’t notice. You were older, even if it was just a couple years. Steve liked that.

“Why move out to Hawkins?” Nancy invades with interest, though you welcome the extra input with grace. It had been a while since anyone had shown this much interest in you. Your lips twist faintly in contemplation, not wanting to overshare whilst seeking their prolonged attention for as long as you could have it. Greedy, really. But it felt nice, normal.

“Change of pace. I like it here” you answer her question with honesty, which was accepted for what it was. Though none of them really understood why you would like Hawkins, almost everyone in the small town wanted to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.

Steve Harrington stayed later that shift, the extent of his fatigue and burning desire to collapse in bed numbed by this new infatuation. Maybe the reminder of having the weekend off was enough to ice the burn. You shared enough but too much considering the three before you were strangers, though not even an hour with them and you felt like you had known them for years.

You spoke mostly with Robin and Nancy, Steve chiming in here and there. His gaze was either trained on you or his fidgeting fingers the entire time it took for your laundry to wash and dry. The girls were giggling, and he managed to get a good look at how your under-eyes crinkle when you smiled, the inattentive purse of your lips when you just sat and listened, specks of mascara dusting underneath your lashes where you had been clumsy.

This might become a problem, he thought.

“See you around, sparky” You wave once your now pristine laundry was folded into the basket a whole ninety minutes after your crash to the floor, a natural charm laced in the flash of a closed mouth smile, a cordial wave to your new friendly acquaintances. Steve felt the air settle once you left, he blinked, his heart had skipped a couple beats. You’d forgotten your tape, your walkman, and your headphones.

Steve raises a hand from the counter, fingers twiddling kindly in your direction. The upturn of his mouth is completely unfeigned, and it makes his stomach twist and his legs feel unsteady.

Robin and Steve turn to look at eachother, hands on his hips and a couple beads of sweat stippling his hairline. She’s smiling, an evil thing with no malice behind it. Nancy's lower jaw is sitting loose, her lips parted, watching Steve as if the stars are aligning before her very eyes.

“Robs,” he deadpans, a warning. “Please. Don’t say anything” he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck with clammy fingers.

Nancy and Robin crook their necks to peer at each other, Nancy’s bottom lip is firmly tucked into her top row of teeth, a grin spreading wide. Robin’s mouth is purely hanging open in amazement, and Steve braced himself for what was to come.

They both inhale and Steve screws his eyes closed with a steady inhale through the nose. Reels of kissing noises are thrown his way, the two women’s puckered lips and incessant snorting makes Steve want to crawl out of his skin. He can’t hear whatever raised-pitched fun they’re making of him, drowning it out as much as he is able whilst fishing the car keys from his pocket. Another perk of the job, considering the laundromat was twenty-four hours, he didn’t have to close.

“You guys are assholes” Steve remarks, but the glimmer of a smirk remains just the same.

thankyou for reading this if you made it to the end! 🫶🏻 pls reblog & comment if you like this! I haven’t written fully like this in a good while so i’m feeling pretty anxious. much love x

dividers by @inklore 🩷

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anon-sect · 6 months

Text

Story request for @michaeldj5

Paul was so busy with baseball practice and work that he had forgotten the last time he had done his laundry. Today was an important game he could not miss. He went in his drawer and saw he was completely out of knee-high baseball socks to wear. All of them were in his laundry bin. He pulled out a few and saw how dirty and dingy they were. No way he could wear them to the game. He didn't have time to go to the sports store to buy a new pair, but even then, he sometimes could not find the pair he needed. He saw himself in a bind. He needed to find a solution soon.

He saw his friend laying on the couch fast asleep. His friend Jay had been spending the week with him for some vacation time. He was supposed to fly back home on the next day. Paul then saw a solution. He quietly went and grabbed his TF Shrink Ray and came back to his living room. He hoped his friend would not mind being borrowed for the day, because he needed socks for the game. He set the settings on the device and fired. He watched Jay, who was still fast asleep, shrink down in size and reformed into a pair of knee-high baseball jock socks for his size 12.5 feet. He grabbed them off the couch and went to get ready for pregame practice.

Jay was suddenly awakened from his nap by a weird feeling. It was so unusual. He felt like something had wiggled itself inside his body and that his body was in two parts completely separated from each other. He could smell a slight odor, but it was so much around him or him around it. He then felt whatever it was wiggling. He then felt like he was tasting feet. The sudden force of being crushed then brought him to a new realization. He was a pair of socks. He saw he could not move a single muscle. He could hear Paul talking on the phone about getting ready for the days game and also about how a new pair of special socks were so comfortable on his feet. He didn't tell the guy on the phone why they were so special, but did tell him that a out of town friend lend them to him. He even heard Paul say he might have to keep this new pair of socks for a while.

Jay felt so degraded on how Paul was talking about him like he was just an object on his feet. He realized that he must have done that to him while he was sleeping. He mentally called out to his friend to turn him back. But he saw that Paul didn't hear a single thought coming from him.

Paul got off the phone with his friend. He really loved how comfortable his socks were. At first, he felt bad about what he did to his long-time friend, to turn him into footwear because he forgot to do laundry. He would turn him back after the game. But as he wore him, he saw a level of comfort that he couldn't get from normal socks. The thought of keeping his friend this way became more dominant in his mind. He decided he would think it over after the game. For now, Jay would have to endure his feet till then. He pushed the thought of his socks being a human being out of his mind so that he could focus on the game and pregame practice. He put on his cleats and walked out his door without a second thought about Jay and his situation.

Jay was bombarded with a smell that mentally made him gag. The odor from the cleats was so disgusting. He realized his current situation was going to get far worse than he ever expected. Not only did he have Paul's foot odor trapped inside him, but he was now surrounded by it. There was no escape and no chance of fresh air. He knew the sweat part would come next as his friend went to pregame practice.

As the day wore on, Paul's feet began to sweat. Jay saw his sock bodies soak up all the sweat, leaving Paul's feet dry. He didn't know how he was doing it, but he wanted it to stop. All of his senses were so heightened as socks. He was now tasting sweat and foot odor all at once. He mentally begged for all this to end immediately. He didn't realize how much torture socks go through on feet. He was starting to feel bad for his own socks he wore. But the part that angered him was that Paul was putting him through all this torture without a single care. He was struggling to maintain some sense of sanity through the experience.

Once the game was over, Paul's team won. He had played games previously, but this was by far his best one. His feet didn't hurt, nor were they soaked or wet. In fact, only his socks were wet. He never knew transformed socks could do this. He now knew what he wanted to do based on the results of today's experiment.

When Paul got home, he made the settings on his device and removed his socks. Truly, they soaked up all his sweat, leaving his feet dry.

Jay was so relieved to get fresh air and to be off of Paul's feet. He felt like the entire day would not come to an end. What he truly experienced at the mercy of Paul's feet could not be described in words. He was just glad it was finally over. He soon found himself being human again, but not exactly as he remembered from the night before. He looked up to see a giant size Paul smiling down at him.

"I am going to keep you here with me from now on. I want to wear you as my socks every day. You really supported my feet so well and kept them dry." Paul paused for a moment. "At your current size you can't escape and will be dependent upon me for survival. You are only five inches tall. My size 12.5 could easily crush you in one stomp." He added.

Jay didn't like where this situation was going. "You can't keep me like this. We are friends, and you do this to me. You won't get away with it. I demand you make me normal immediately." He demanded. He saw a giant foot coming towards him and stomp hard next to him. The floor shook, knocking him off his feet. A thought crossed his mind as he looked at the giant foot next to him. What if he was under that foot when he stomped the floor, he thought.

"I hope that demonstration gave you the realization you needed." Paul said. "You don't have a choice, Jay. Do submit to be my socks or should I demonstrate again, but don't miss the next time? What do you think?" He asked, waiting to see if his tiny friend's attitude changed.

Jay didn't want another demonstration. He stood up and kissed the giant foot several times. "I submit." He spoke defeatedly. Paul picked him up and placed him in a jar. "Good, you are going to be my favorite socks to wear forever. " He hears Paul tell him as he walks off. Jay just slumps down in the jar, hoping someone would rescue him one day while he would be at the mercy of his friend.

#foot domination #inanimate transformation #shrinkage #sock transformation

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