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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 10 months

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We had one of Steff's comedian friends staying with us on the weekend, lovely lad called Sam from Singapore. He had never been to Wales before, and he requested that we take him to a Welsh restaurant so he could try Welsh food

That's surprisingly difficult, actually. Like a lot of Welsh culture, our culinary traditions have not exactly been applauded over the years, so you don't really see them. But a lucky Google search revealed a brand new one has just opened in SA1 called the Welsh House, so great! Away we went.

Fuck me, they went all in.

It wasn't just the menu (though fuck me, what a menu - one of their 'for the table to share' options was little mini leek and cheddar Welsh cakes with salted butter and they were paralysingly good). It wasn't just that every alcohol was Welsh, even including the wine (surprisingly good btw, called 'Naturiol'.)

The table centerpieces were daffodils. All signs for the toilets were Welsh only. The walls had photos of Wales, modern and historical; the windows had the fleur de lis; the specials board (pork belly in Welsh cider and damson sauce with honey and wild garlic glazed carrots) had dragons on. I realise this is probably normal for country-themed restaurants, but I've never been to one for Wales before.

But the best bit, see, was the music

I clocked, when we walked in, that they were playing If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next by the Manic Street Preachers (you always clock the Manics). Ah, I thought. A Welsh song! In a Welsh restaurant! Ho ho ho.

As they seated us, it became What's New Pussycat. Ah! I thought. Another Welsh song! Fu fu fu.

Then they played Monster by the Automatic and I was like my god are they only playing Welsh music?? That's so cool! What an eclectic mix that's going to be. We should suggest to them they should look into Welsh language music too, really mix it up.

And then they played Anrheoli by Yws Gwynedd and lads, Steff and I lost our shit. We lost our fucking shit. Sam's sitting there, utterly bewildered. The staff are nervously edging away from us. We don't care. It's the first time I have ever heard a Welsh language song played outside of a Welsh language setting. We're so excited.

"They're playing Welsh music!!!" says Steff. "Holy shit!!!"

"Imagine if they played Sebona Fi!" I say, humorously.

"Nah," says Steff. "You can't in a restaurant. There'd be a riot, it's faerie music."

"...what?" says Sam

We explain the cultural phenomenon that is Sebona Fi. The song changes: Primadonna Girl, by Marina and the Diamonds.

"She's Welsh??" says Sam.

"She's from Abergavenny!" we beam.

"I don't know what that means," nods Sam, who is from Singapore.

Next: The Bartender and the Thief, by the Stereophonics. We're in high spirits. The extraordinarily Welsh wine arrives, as does the rarebit on sourdough starter. Sam, a gay man, delightedly orders the faggots and peas.

They play Ben Rhys by Gwilym Bowen Rhys, and we lose our shit again. Sam is now used to this, because comedians are adaptable. "They even have daffodils!" I say, misty eyed. "Is that relevant?" Sam asks, fascinated.

They play Hiraeth, by PLU. Hard to explain that one. Very hard to explain the effect it has when it's played in a restaurant, but Sam looks around the suddenly muted room and whispers "Are we in church?"

"It's about Hiraeth," whispers Steff. "So kind of."

Next: the Masses Against the Classes, by the Manics. Utter tonal whiplash. This playlist is not remotely restaurant appropriate. It's perfect.

"You'd think they'd pick like... a genre," Sam says dreamily. "We just went from church to the barricades."

The faggots arrive. "I forgot it would be a western sized portion," Sam says morosely, of what to me is a normal sized plate of food. He tries one, and brightens.

They play Sebona Fi.

The place erupts.

#I am going back there #going to try the rarebit next time #and the popcorn cockles #WALES!#closed for cleaning on mondays

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inverttheory · 10 months

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why are there so many albertans roaming around trad spaces . i mean, i know why, but like the only time i see other people from here online is when i'm hatereading trad blogs .

#[sees the AB flag as the header on some random racist's blog] ah lads not another one .

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bodhrancomedy · 4 months

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Guess who's on TV!

(Well, iPlayer until the 15th, that's when it airs on BBC One)

Hope Street episode 3.11, let's go!

First of all, I'd say they did me dirty with this picture, but my university ID was exponentially worse.

Onto the spoilers!

Our boy Matthew has arrived in Port Devine, looking a little concerned.

For good reason when he's suddenly confronted by this lad, Dara.

Ah, a fight which Matthew escapes by slipping out of his coat. (Pretty sure this is the take where we ripped it practically in two...)

Dara's questioned, he claims he's never met Matthew in his life. Hmm.

Police do some investigating (and some character stuff) before Dara makes his way to Matthew's mother (Louise)'s house to have a wee showdown.

They both in a gang and Matthew's stolen a gun. Dara needs to get it back...

Matthew's nay having it. "This is my way out. If they want the gun back, they have to let me go."

Another fight. The gun goes off! (Poor Pete and I were convinced after take one to put some padding on. My arm looks bulky because I'm strapped up with squishy stuff and allergic to plasters so it has to be in a sock)

Thank fuck no one was hurt. Dara gets the hell out of dodge -

Leaving Matthew to contemplate his mortality. And other people's, but mostly his own.

"Oh fuck, my bosses are gonna find me and murder me, oh shit. I'm far too young and pretty to die!"

Time for Matthew and Louise to follow Dara's example and get the fuck out of here.

The police are now on the Halbridges' trail, but they discover the phone tracking them and leave it in a field.

Meanwhile, Dara's been arrested for drug dealing. He refuses to talk, clearly nervous.

Ah, what's this on Dara's phone? So Matthew and Dara have been in a relationship for over a year now.

(The poor intimacy coordinator having to walk me through my just about second kiss in my entire life. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth... Pete is a very sweet person. Made it all funny.) ("Relax your hand, Bodh. Just relax it. Open - open your fingers, just let me position your hand.")

They're both working for the same gang. Matthew was given the gun to hold onto by their bosses' and freaked out, running away with the weapon. His plan was to trade his freedom for the gun, but Dara was sent to get it back for the Brazier Brothers, notorious drug runners and gang leaders.

These guys.

Unfortunately, now Dara's had to tell the Brazier Brothers that Matthew is refusing. They're going to kill Matthew and then Dara. Oh no.

But Dara has an idea where they might be hiding.

At the caravan there's a standoff between the police and Halbridges. But when the Braizer Brothers are arrested, they're convinced to come out.

(Side note, my favourite picture of me, ever.)

Oh no, the Halbridges are going to jail and Matthew's regretting his life choices.

Matthew walked off to his new life inside a jail cell.

The end.

(This is where Niall Wright accidently sublexed my shoulder. To be fair to the man, I'd never mentioned it and he took his finger sliding in-between bone like a champ)

Look, it's me!! I was on TV! Bit sad they cut pretty much all the uses of SSE (weren't allowed BSL because we still had to speak the lines), but I got to be queer and Deaf so that's pretty nice.

#deaf #queer #funny #actor #hope street #hope street bbc #long post #spoilers

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 25 days

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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 28] || [Chapter 30]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: they're very sick... poor babies

Chapter 29: Taking Turns

The next couple of days were rough.

Between:

Kyle unable to bend down or stand straight for too long before his hip protested;

John unable to stretch himself in any direction due to his lower back hurting;

Johnny limping from his knee and with an arm on a sling;

and Simon having… not quite the flu but something? and getting dizziness spells every time he moved…

You haven’t gotten any proper rest either and have been running back and forth trying to help care for all of them.

They try their best to help, really… But the amount of groans, winces, and strained voices you hear whenever Kyle tries to make you all food, John tries to bend down to help with laundry, Simon tries to sweep, or Johnny tries to do anything two-handed… It’s hard.

Your flat suddenly feels too small for them, for you.

Haven’t slept in your bed the whole weekend… But hey, at least you get to cuddle Simon all night every night. He’s like your own heater…

It comes to a head on Monday morning. You’ve gotta get to work… It hurts you to leave them like that, all alone, all day, in the state they’re in.

“So… there’s the spare key-” You handed the spare to John who had tried his best to be up with you for breakfast, leaning himself on the wall by the front door as you talk in hushed tones, Simon sleeping barely a couple feet away on the couch, actually getting rest.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine-”

“John…” You murmured as you looked up at him, your face showing nothing if not a deadpan inquiry. “You’re all dying.”

“We’re not dying. We were but we’re doing so much better after having you dote on us all weekend, darling.” He replied with a playful smile, which was cut through by a little wince that made his blue eyes press shut.

“Right.” You retorted and rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve gotten so much better, huh?” You taunted and shook your head.

“It’s fine… we’ve got… 3 or so functioning pairs of legs, 2 spines, 3 and a half pairs of arms and 3 working heads…” He trailed off, humourously listing the unaffected parts of their ailments.

“Ah yes… And somehow none of you are functional at all.” You teased again, smiling playfully, receiving a sigh and a conceding in the shape of an eye roll from him.

“Anyways,” You told him as you cupped his face. “You get back to bed… And try not to die, all of you. This flat isn’t mine, I don’t think you should die in here.” You added.

“Copy that.” John nodded with a chuckle which drew another wince from him. He kissed your forehead lightly then limped his way back to bed.

You had just gone on your lunch break when you shot the lads a message to check on their state:

you: how r u all doing? 👀

By the time you came back from lunch, you hadn’t gotten a reply to your text… And normally that wouldn’t worry you…

If it weren’t for the fact they’re bunked down in your flat because they’re all injured or sick.

You went back to work with your phone in your pocket, patiently waiting a text from them…

you: pls tell me ur alive

Even with that message, it still took another hour and a half for an answer to come.

You were about to jump ship and go home early by then, when Johnny answered you.

Johnny: souo you: what? Johnny: soup Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

The video you got was not one you expected.

Firstly, it was a very zoomed in 10 seconds of one of your metal pots with a heeping quantity of chicken noodle soup boiling in it.

Then, the camera panned over to display Kyle, John and Simon sprawled on the couch, head’s dangling back over the edge, snoring away.

“We made soup… bonnie.” Johnny said from behind the camera, his voice groggy and dragging, a consequence of the strong painkillers he had been taking for the last 3 days after his gunshot.

“Gonna have seconds… it’s so good…” He announced in a conspiratory tone and shushed the video before he finished the video.

How they managed to force themselves to stand up and stay awake long enough to cook a whole pot worth of soup, you have no idea.

But, hey, at least they were alive. And that eased your worries.

And so, you got back to work, finishing your work day.

Coming back to work, you were surprised to find the flat in a similar state as when you left, which was surprising considering you expected a mess of dishes and food left for you to clean.

The boys had also moved from the couch and to the bedroom, their snores and heavy breaths coming from down the hall, as well as the sound of the shower running.

You closed the door carefully behind yourself, took off your shoes and padded over to the kitchen with the little shopping bag worth of things you bought after work.

Just as you’re about to start putting things in the fridge and cupboards, a figure show up at the kitchen door, making you jump a bit and huff a breath of surprise.

Turning to look at him, eyes wide and startled, you come face-to-face with a glistening wet Kyle wrapped in your last clean towel. There you go, needing to do more laundry again.

“Hi, Kyle… Didn’t hear you come in.” You admitted with a smile as you looked at him.

“Hey, lovie… How was work?” He murmured as he approached you and kissed you softly on the forehead. He certainly seemed a bit more mobile than yesterday when you put him to bed.

“It was good… I see you boys made yourselves right at home, huh?” You gestured vaguely to the pot of soup on the back of the stove, lidded to keep for later.

“Yeah… John had the idea… Sent Soap to the shops to get the chicken and the carrot and all…” He trailed off as he nuzzled himself against you, an arm wrapped around your waist as he rubbed his nose against the crown of your head.

“I see… He was able to carry everything one handed?” You asked playfully, earning a chuckle from Kyle.

“Surprisingly yes…” He trailed off and smiled as he lowered his head to steal a soft peck from your lips.

“What about cooking? Who did that?” You asked playfully as you returned the kiss, then, slipped away from his arm wrapped around you. You resumed putting things away in the cupboards and fridge.

“We took turns…” Kyle admitted a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Every 10 minutes we’d switch spots with each other and sit on the couch…” He trailed off and chuckled.

“I see… I can imagine how that went… the four of you lot wobbling back and forth between the kitchen and the sofa… leaning your head on the cupboard because of the pain while you TRIED to shred chicken and stir the soup and all?” You joked.

“It was miserable… But the soup’s really good…” Kyle admitted.

“Yeah, bet it is… Johnny sent me a text about it…” You added with a chuckle. “Now how about you dry yourself up and get dressed before you catch something, hm?”

“Or you could warm me up instead…” Kyle quipped and winked at you.

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader

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cod-fishing · 5 months

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Thinking about Price being possessive over his boys. Not romantically or sexually (he likes to tell himself), but any time Soap starts chatting about some bear he met in a bar during leave, or Gaz mentions a girl who gave him her number, he can feel himself bristle. He tries to bury it, but it only gets worse after Las Almas, their bonds forged in far too much blood, and he struggles to bite down discouragement for any connection outside their little family.

When soap and ghost finally get together, he can’t figure out which of them he wants to throttle, but the sensation is intense nonetheless. Enough that he can’t stop himself from ordering them to his office and dressing them down so meticulously his old drill Sargent would be proud. They both look defiant. At perfect attention, military perfect in their stance, but fire in both of their eyes. It’s only when Soap, jaw clenched, demands if Price is going to transfer them that the Captain falters.

He sits heavy into his chair, and orders his boys at ease.

“I could never let go of either of you,” he finds himself gritting out through cigar smoke and choking emotions, far too unfiltered, “I just don’t want you boys to get hurt.”

He sees them soften, understanding. Not expecting a real answer, Price asks them their intentions with one another. He doesn’t want either of them to hurt the other, and while he knows they both have hearts of gold, they’ve got a lot of thorns as well. But they talk, and Soap is his usual genuine self and Ghost- Simon, really - is more honest and open than Price has seen him be ever, so…

He says okay. But keep me updated, he says. The good and the bad. They nod, and he assumes he’ll have to pry information out of them, and they move on.

Miraculously, they do keep him updated. Soap comes knocking one day, and Price asks about those reports he sent him off with and Soap says, aye, captain, got those for you, but ah…can I tell you something sweet Ghost did for me today? He’s bursting with joy when Price looks at him properly, and how can he say no to that?

Ghost, too, comes in one day, and asks to speak with the captain. Need some advice, sir. Johnny wants to take me home to his family for the holidays and I’m feeling real conflicted, he says. And they talk it out, fingers playing with the rims of their whiskey glasses. Price gets this feeling in his chest, likes he wants to reach out and trace his fingers somewhere else, but he ignores it.

It keeps happening that way, Price getting deeper and deeper in their relationship. He knows everything about the two together - almost everything. Ghost is on a solo mission one day and soap is moping, and so price pulls him into his office with the intention of getting him plastered and making him go to bed.

Instead, Johnny gets talkative. He should have known.

“God, Price, you wouldn’t believe the things he can do with his mouth. His fingers, too, lord knows where he learned it, but it’s like he took a fucking class on making me cum just from the teasing alone.”

“You’ve heard his voice captain, I mean no wonder I was creaming my pants to be with him so bad, and boy was I right. Downright evil how good it sounds during and early morning shag.”

And, even worse than all that, somehow…

“Well you know me, I like to be the best. So I told him we should start training my throat, so I can actually take his monster cock, the bastard. Did pass out the first time but we’ve been taking it slowly but surely ever since.”

And Price just…he should shut him up, but instead, he just takes it. Just lets the lad ramble about his love, like some lass back at home pinning for her deployed soldier. He hates it, he hates it, he tells himself. But he takes it for Johnny, and for Simon, and for the trust they have put in him.

And when he fists his cock in his quarters later that night, aching from being hard for so long, he can’t help but picture all those filthy things Soap told him.

Maybe, all this time, he was just jealous.

#cod mwii #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #ghoap #tf141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #codmw2 #mywriting #cod mw3 #cod mwiii #captain john price #priceghost #pricesoap #pricesoapghost

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ego-meliorem-esse · 7 months

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Stormy Eyes

The 7-year-old looking boy with boundless energy, stood atop the hill, looking down at the small church where a somber funeral was taking place. In his small hand, Alfred clutched a single flower, a blue daisy. The daisy, a simple tribute to his best friend, Davie. Alfred had returned from London with excitement, eager to share his discoveries and stories, only to discover the devastating news of Davie's passing. His young heart ached, and the weight of grief hung heavily upon him.

Throughout his short life, Alfred had always been a whirlwind of activity, his mind racing from one thought to another, his body in constant motion. His father, Arthur, had observed these tendencies with a watchful eye, understanding that his son's boundless enthusiasm often came with moments of restlessness and broken vases.

As Arthur approached his young son, he saw the boy's restless fidgeting, his hands twisting the flower stem, and his gaze darting in all directions. He knew with how much enthusiasm and excitement Alfred carried and took care of the flower on his long journey to Boston. So, having Alfred bend and break the stem was a certain cause for concern. He recognized his boys fidgeting and what it stood for. An understanding that had developed over years of being Alfred's father and mentor.

"Alfred," Arthur said sternly, yet without a hint of annoyance. His voice carrying the weight of centuries of history and responsibility. Arthur looked down from the hill to the quaint church where a crowd of silhouettes gathered, and with an almost inaudible "Ah." understood the weight of the situation. He looked down at his son, his eyes softened with concern. "I'm sorry lad."

Alfred's response was not in words but in frantic fidgeting. His young mind was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, rendering him staring down at the destroyed flower stem he seemed to cherish only a few hours before.

Seeing his son's distress, Arthur's concern deepened. He slowly kneeled down, reached out and gently held Alfred's face in his hands, physically anchoring the restless child and forcing their eyes to meet.

"Alfred," Arthur said firmly once again, his voice breaking through the chaos in Alfred's mind. "Focus, my son. You must."

Alfred's tear-filled eyes finally met his father's, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Arthur could see his son's eyes trying to suppress more tears from welling up. The effort was unsuccessful, because as soon as Alfred took a breath, all the supressed tears fell all at once. Through all that his boy didn't make a single sound.

Arthur's words continued, his voice carrying the weight of wistom obtained by blood and violence. "My boy, your life will be a lonely but fulfilling one. You will meet many people, nations, enemies and friends along the way. Each one will leave a mark on your heart, just as your friend here did." Arthur didn't dare look away at the funeral for the friend he just mentioned in fear of loosing Alfred to his own mind once again.

Arthur's voice almost quivered as he spoke of Alfred's lost friend. "Remember them, Alfred. Remember them all, and carry their memories with you. Your existence, my dear boy, is both a solitary journey and a shared one. You are not alone in this world of nations."

He paused, his grip on Alfred's face unwavering. "Your restless spirit is a part of who you are, Alfred, and it's a gift. Use it to carry the torch for those who have gone before us and for those who will come after. You have the strength within you to focus when it truly matters. Because, my son, when you do, miracles will happen."

He released his son and instead of going back to fidget with the plant, Alfred stood still and kept looking at his father.

As the funeral procession continued below, father and son remained standing on that grassy hill. Arthur's words seemed to echo back and forth in the young boys mind, his ocean eyes finally resembling calm waters. In that moment Arthur was reminded of stormy nights at sea and the calm morning that followed.

He was always good at sailing through the storm.

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #meli speaks #myart #my art #historical hetalia #i hate hate hate the anatomy here pls dont focus on that im begging #will i ever let these two live a non dramatic life #no.#my wriring #meli writes #hetalia fanfiction #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland

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xxshadowbabexx · 18 days

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LMAO don’t mind me spamming you 🫣

maybe something with possessive/perv daddy kink + price and somno with the object of his desires? i’m frothing

ily <3

Devoured

warnings: dubcon, but it turns to enthusiastic consent, f!reader, somnophilia, cunnilingus, possessiveness/pervy-ness, daddy kink, praise, body worship, language, edging, begging, p in v sex, breeding kink

Gross. Disgusting. Perverted. Not quite the words anyone would use to describe the Captain John Price, but then again, no one could say they knew him. Not really, at least.

Maybe he didn’t even know it himself.

He groaned, muffling it by biting his lip and gripping his cock at the sight of your sleeping body. So pure, so perfect. He couldn’t think of you as anything else, which is why he was here now.

The 141 went to the pub after getting back from another successful mission, and some sleaze had been giving you eyes all damn night. He even had the audacity to offer to pay for your drinks. He asked you out, too, and of course you said yes. Naturally, Price had to have a “friendly” talk with the lad, and convince the man that he was in fact not free tonight, and would not be taking you out.

You looked disappointed when you heard the news, but Price didn’t mind. He was just doing what was best for you. He always did what was best for you.

And what was better for you than him?

He smiled to himself at the thought, moving to cup your cheek with his free hand. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Going t’ treat ya so well, sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin before backing up.

He stoped groping his leaking cock, moving instead to peel the sheets off of your body.

Christ, you looked heavenly in your little pajama bottoms that just barely showed off the curve of your ass. He was starving for you.

Slowly, carefully he pulled your pajama bottoms off, reeling when he saw a lack of panties. Instead he was met with the sight of your glistening cunt. He couldn’t believe his luck, of all things you were already wet and he would get an instant taste of your sweetness the moment he swipes his tongue through your folds.

But the most important thing on his mind was whether it was him you were picturing in your wet dreams. It had to be, didn’t it?

He was confident in the fact, and used two of his prying fingers to spread your slick-soaked folds. He hesitated for a minute, memorizing the breathtaking scene in front of him before diving in. He moaned at your saccharine taste, hands coming up to wrap around your thighs so he could pull you down on his face.

You sat up at the sudden movement, eyes scanning the room for danger, only to freeze when you realize the perpetrator was between your thighs.

“Pr- ah fuck, Price?” you questioned, unsure. This had to be a fever dream. There was no way the man you had lusted after was here, devouring your cunt like the best damn meal.

He looked up at you, blue eyes piercing yours and you swear you could see your slick decorating his facial hair.

“Yeah, ‘t’s me, dove,” he mumbled, lips attaching to your clit and sucking hard.

“Oh god-“ you threw your head back, hands finding rest in his hair, pulling the thick locks tightly.

He hummed into your pussy, practically making out with it, and if this was how he ate you, you wondered how he’d kiss you.

You couldn’t help but grind down on his face, loving the feeling of his nose nuzzling your clit, tongue teasing your hole and mutton chops scratching at your lips and thighs. It was sensory overload in the best possible way.

John was eating cunt like he never was before, overtook with everything that was you. And you could feel it as that coil in your belly tightened, could feel his obsession seeping through with every movement.

“Da- fuck John, ‘m so close,” you whined out, back arching and eyes closing as you felt the thread within you pull taut.

A pathetic sob left your tongue when he pulled back, licking his lips as he sized you up.

“What did you say, doll?”

“I said I was fucking close!” you complained, eyes rolling and exasperated at his blatant obliviousness to your oncoming orgasm.

He chuckled, smiling up at you, “That’s not wha’ I meant. Were you gonna call me daddy?” he teased

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks before you even realized what he had said. Oh. Oh.

He laughed, loud and boisterous at your flustered expression. “It’s alright, love. You said you were close, right?” you nodded, “Well then, you ought to beg your daddy to let you cum, I think,” the corners of his eyes creased as he mocked, utterly enjoying himself.

“Please…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, leaning forward, “Please what, darlin’?”

“Please make me cum daddy,” you felt shameful saying it, but it worked. His strong hands were squeezing your hips and thighs the moment the final syllable left your mouth.

He latched back onto your pussy, sucking, licking, and nibbling every inch he was blessed to touch. He was slobbering and moaning into it, eating your pussy for his pleasure.

Lying down, you miss the way he ruts his hips into the mattress, coating your bed lining in his thick, salty precum that’s been oozing steadily since he got his first taste of you.

One hand lets go of your hip, moving to prod at your hole, which greedily sucks two of his fingers in. You revel in the much needed penetration after his long teasing.

You both moan at the feeling.

His long and thick fingers struck that sweet spot deep inside you, matching the rhythm of his hips driving into the mattress.

You bucked up into his hands, driving him deeper and deeper while coincidentally grinding your clit on his face.

It was all so much and in the best possible way, the coil inside you was burning, aching to be snapped. But you couldn’t snap it, not without asking at first.

“Please, fuck daddy, ‘m so close. Please let me cum- please, please,” you moaned, hips canting pathetically as you hurdled towards your release.

Price moaned, “Good fucking girl. Go on, cum for daddy,” he praised, and you felt yourself snap.

You moaned, loud and unholy as you came. Your eyes were squeezed shut and back arching as you shook around his fingers and tongue. You were chanting his name like a mantra, only slowing down when you finally returned to your body.

You panted, opening your eyes to see John smiling up at you and rubbing your thigh.

“Feeling alright, love?”

“Fucking fantastic,” you grinned.

He stood up, positioning his cock at your entrance, “Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you yet,”

He smiled down at you, condescendingly as he pushed his way inside in one long stoke. The stretch of his thick cock burned your insides and caused you to attempt to close your legs, only to be stopped by his body between yours.

“That’s it, lovie, big fucking stretch,” he whispered against your skin as he bottomed out.

“Feel so full,” you whined, eyes teary from the pleasure as he started to thrust in you.

“”O’ course you do. Fucking squeezing me so tight,” you groaned picking up the pace.

He leaned back as he thrusted deep into you, thick cock splitting you open. His hands kneaded the fat of your thighs before pushing them up to rest on his shoulders as he leaned forward to kiss your face.

“Fuck John-“ you moaned as the new angle hit you even deeper. You felt helpless, bended in half and completely at his mercy.

You were loving every second of it.

“Yeah? Feel good doll?” he rasped, pressing kisses all over your face.

“S’good daddy, s’ fucking good,”

John’s dick twitched inside you, “Gonna cum all over my cock, hm? Gonna let me breed this filthy pussy of yours aren’t you? Cause it’s just mine. Say it,”

You whined throwing your head back, and he took the chance to suck deep love marks into the column of your throat.

“Say it, dove,”

“It’s all yours daddy!”

He chucked, “What’s all mine?”

“My pus- ah- pussy, my fuck- body. Fuck, I’m all yours daddy I swear. Always yours,”

He grins, silencing your lips with his has his hand creeps downward to circle your clit. You shudder at the touch, oh so close to another orgasm.

You mewled into his mouth as he sucked your tongue. You were spasming around his cock as he flooded your senses.

He pulled back slightly, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips as he whispered, “Can feel you tightening ‘round me sweetheart. Go on and cum on daddy’s cock,”

And fuck did you. Your head was thrown back in an ungodly cry of his name as you shook around him. He kept circling your clit and thrusting into you oh so right it felt like all the stars aligned.

You swear you could see heaven.

“Tha’s it. Good. Fucking. Girl,” he accentuated each word with a powerful thrust, sending your head spinning as you fell deeper. You tried wiggling away, pushing at him with your hands as the overstimulation built up.

“‘T’s okay, lovie. Just a little more. I’m so fucking close. Gonna breed you real good, okay? Gonna make sure everyone knows what’s mine,” he growls, pushing himself as deep inside you as he can before shooting his hot load directly at your cervix.

You gasped out at the feeling of him flooding your womb, only grounded by his thumb stroking your cheek.

“It’s alright, doll. I’m here. I’m here an’ I’m not going anywhere,”

taglist

@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @ladyxtiger @whitetiger846

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john price #captain john price #captain price #price #captain john price x reader #captain price x you #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #tw: dubcon

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hopefulromances · 3 months

Note

Could you write something for Jamie about his gf surprising him at an away match? 🫶🏻

THank you for requesting!! Super cute!!

This had to go perfect. All the time planning with Keeley to get seperate flights, separate car, all this secrecy and planning to avoid Jamie finding out any detail of the surprise.

It was Richmond's first game against Man City for the season. Last time Jamie had played against Man City it had been one of the greatest games of his career. Not only creating a beautiful assist for Colin but also scoring a solo goal himself, on a bum ankle no less.

For the first time, his mum would be coming with his stepfather, now that his father was in rehab. You were the only one who couldn't come. Or so he thought. So you had told him repeatedly.

"It would just be nice 'n all," he murmured, resting his head on your chest.

"I know, I know," you agreed, running your hands through his hair. It had gotten so long, he could almost pull it back into a ponytail. "I'm really sorry, I tried to get off."

"I know you did," he sighed. He was wrapped around you like a koala, face shoved into your chest. "Just would be nice."

And it was going to be nice. There was no way you would be missing this game.

You found Keeley at Will Call, decked out in Richmond gear, ribbons woven into your hair, Jamie's name and number on your back.

"Ah! Look at you!" Keeley shrieked as she saw you. "He is going to flip!"

"Thank you so much for all your help, Keels," You grinned and pulled her into a hug. "You're the best friend either of us could ask for."

"Alright, let's get you up to the booth."

Seeing the game from the booth was incredible. The view was perfect and there was booze within 10 ft. But the best part of the whole day was seeing Jamie play.

You'd seen him play before but everytime it took your breath away. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. Ten passes towards the goal that no one else was aware of. And god he looked good while doing it.

It was a stellar game, a great match ending in a 3-2 tie with Jamie scoring a beautiful goal during injury time. You'd burst out of your seat and cheered, joining the Richmond fans in the crowd in chanting his name! Jamie Tartt doo doo do do du doo!

You were there waiting for him in the hallway. There standing, hands clasped together in excitement as the lads came off the field, high on their victory. But when he saw you, the whole world stopped.

He rounded the corner, chatting with his arm around Sam when he spotted you. He froze, forcing Sam to stop as he followed Jamie gaze. You waved at him, shyly. Then he broke into the brightest grin and he bounded to wards you.

You opened your arms and let him scoop you up, spinning in circles.

"Jamie!" You cried, giggling in his arms. "You absolute genius."

He set you down just in time to pull you into a deep kiss. He was disgusting. Sweaty and gross after playing for 90 minutes on the field but, god, did he taste good.

"Thank you for coming," He breathed out. "Can't believe you're here."

"Did you really think I would miss this?" You assured him, pressing your forehead to his. "Never."

Jamie kissed you again, peppering your face with his lips. You laughed again, trying to duck away from him but you couldn't get far.

"And you look- fucking- mint- babe," he continued, pausing between each word to press another kiss to your face.

"Oi, Tartt!" Isaac called from the locker room. "Come get changed so we can fucking celebrate!"

Jamie looked over his shoulder. "I'll be right there."

He turned back to you, brushing your hair out of your face, like he still couldn't believe you were there.

"You'll come right? You're not gonna leave?" He checked, trying not to show his insecurity."

"I'm not going anywhere," you reassured him, pulling him back for one last kiss. "Now go get change, you fucking stink."

You pushed him away from you, laughing as he stumbled dramatically.

"Yes, ma'am!" He saluted you before scurrying back to the locker room, being met with cheers from the team.

Oh, god, you were glad he was yours.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #anonymous #hopefulromances requests

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radiance1 · 6 months

Text

Mechanical eastern dragon.

Danny, ever since he was a wee little lad, about 5 or so. Really liked eastern dragons since he found out about them, so much so that he even tried to make his own little eastern dragons!

When Jack saw that, it seemed to strike something in him and suddenly Danny found himself having a more experienced hand aiding him in his crafts.

Jack started directing him towards something simpler than a dragon when he was first starting out, then over time gradually let him make certain parts of a dragon instead of all at once, then when they were all complete, they stuck them together and Danny? Well, he found out why his dad liked to build so much.

So, he started to build more and more little things, small yet complex that'll eventually come together to form his eastern dragon.

As he got older, and his parents became more and more focused on their portal project, he eventually decided that, hey, why doesn't he just make a giant version of his little crafts?

An actual dragon.

Of course, such a thing was no easy feat, so he started it just like his dad taught him too, little pieces over time that'll eventually come together to make what will essentially be his masterpiece.

However, he lacks the parts to do so.

Well, not exactly considering there's a lot of household things he could take apart for scrap, but his parents are already doing that, plus he wants way better materials that'll really shape this up to be his mastepiece.

So he took to instead drawing out how it'll look, and creating various minor pieces that'll go into powering it and stuff. He took some of the ectoplasmic batteries his parents' didn't have a use for anymore, and kinda just, fused them together?

Either way, he made a core that'll be the basis of power for his dragon when he completes! Of course, it'll have to go over multiple modifications over the years while he refines the design for his dragon, to make it able to hold more energy, more durable and far more powerful.

He won't lie, he was both extremely suspicious and immensely grateful when Sam gave him a diamond of all things to make a battery out of, because she obviously wanted something outta it. What did she want? Dibs on being one of the first too see his creation when its finished.

Very simple, plus she said her parents could buy another one anyways. Ah, the joys of being rich.

Then he heard from his parents about how their portal works, though he wasn't too interested since he was too busy building the skeleton of his dragon from the parts Sam gave him.

Tucker, who was dabbling in coding, decided that he was going to attempt to create a high level AI for Danny's project, which Danny was all for! Great materials provided by his friend, and then his other one wanted to make an AI specifically for his masterpiece?

Why would he ever say no?

Jazz has been acting pretty weird thought lately, he noticed a bit after the day he was made aware of how his parents' portal managed to work, how he still isn't sure, nor did he actually believe there was a realm of the dead but eh. He would admit, he wasn't terribly close with his sister, ever since he started up his master work, and became a fink, but he could tell something was different.

Really only because she seemed to be finally getting off his case about how much work he's putting into his dragon and less into taking care of himself properly, which she usually does by bossing him around. But he thinks she's just busy, and is too busy to even care at this point so it didn't really matter.

He was a bit blindsided by ghosts actually being real but easily accepted it to be honest. Like, he's been using stuff powered by ectoplasm that ghosts are supposedly made of, so it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, a ghost fighting against another ghost was new, different from what his parents had told him, but it was nice to have someone protecting the town other than his parents at the very least.

As he got closer and closer to finishing his masterpiece, and as Tucker himself almost finishing with the AI, his grades weren't receiving that much attention, he would admit. He would look back at them when he completed it, alright? But not now.

Then came a day where he was saved from a ghost attack by Amity Park's hero, and while he was extremely tired, he recognized that bossiness, snobbish attitude and smothering from anywhere. Did he expect his sister to be the ghostly town hero? No, no he did not.

Was he going to tell anyone? Not really, he cared, but he didn't care that much about to go around talking about it. Also, wasn't his place to spill his sister's secret really.

Also, she didn't know he knew, and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

Just as he was nearing his completion, only having just a few finishing touches before it was ready for the AI to be uploaded to it, a test popped that he apparently had to study for, with his sister already passing with flying colors (which just proves how much smarter she is than him, because she fights ghosts regularly, he doesn't, doing something much safer and what does he have to show for it?) and urging him to study. Which, with her attitude that got even worse, after becoming half-ghost and a hero, he just, couldn't take.

He's thankful that ghost came when they did, because he just couldn't stand her any longer than that. So he just popped over to Nasty Burger instead, removing himself far as he could from that fight, and of course, of course said fight had to end up there.

The universe just hates him, it seemed. On the plus side, he managed to snag the answer sheet to that C.A.T. test his sister was nagging him about, why would he study if he has this now? Besides, he has something more important to do anyways.

Then a while he's confronted by his sister's apparent alternate evil future self after he dropped his knowledge of her secret in attempts to stave off the conversation of him cheating, which, now that he thought of it, was probably better than finding out and subsequently being knocked out by his sister's alternate self.

Thankfully, when he next awoke, he found his project was perfectly untouched, and then had to leave to take the test. He'll figure out a way to deal with his sister's future self later. While later, he finished the test, and was finally glad to be able to add the last touches to his project.

Oh, right, his sister's evil self. He almost forgot about her if he was being honest. So, he took the Fenton Peeler, and was going to go find his sister before he had to be called to Nasty Burger by his parents and, well, his 'sister' was there, and his cheating was already revealed and decided it's literally whatever and shot her.

Weird that he was separated from everyone else, but it's whatever. Sure, the sauce was going to explode and kill everyone, but he believed in his sister to come and save the day, as she always did and will continue doing and he told his sister's evil self that, and was incredibly smug when it happened.

He watched the fight, cheering a bit from the sidelines because, well, c'mon. It's not everyday he watches his sister beat her future self the up, and he might not get this chance ever again so might as well enjoy it while he can.

Unfortunately, he never accounted for his sister being too weak after said fight to help their parents', Mr. Lancer, and his friends, and then he saw them explode.

Then his sister disappeared.

He, very obviously, did not take this well at all. So, after he got back home, feeling both like shit and nothing at all, he stared at the almost finished eastern dragon sitting to the side of his bedroom/workshop, the only component missing being the AI bead, and promptly broke down crying.

He didn't cry earlier, but he just, couldn't contain himself. His parents were dead, his teacher was dead, and his two only best friends were dead too, and his sister disappeared in front of him and he had no idea where she could be.

He then cried himself to sleep.

Then he woke up, took up the AI bead, and inserted it into the dragon sluggishly.

It's completion was a solemn affair, rather than the bright and happy thing he expected and wanted. No one was around to marvel at his genius, too see the end result of what he tried for years to achieve, and no sister that he could rub it in her face about either.

He had nothing. Nothing but the product created from the combined efforts from him and his friends.

So, what was he to do?

Modify it, of course!

He threw all his attention into it, installing weapons, fiddling around with the core (That he had to take out and put back in) and giving it a lot of ghost shields, and other Fenton tech.

And for what? He doesn't know, but this, giant thing, somehow capable of growing and shrinking to his choosing (he still doesn't know how, even though he made the thing), installed to the brim with Fenton tech, is his.

And he'll use it to find his goddamn sister. Sure, they didn't have the greatest relationship, and sure, she wasn't the best to get along with, but she was the only thing he had left, and whoever took her could pry her from his and his dragon's goddamn hands.

Also, who would he rub his genius in the face of, if he didn't find her?

So, he took off to the zone, got lost, fought a few ghosts with his dragon and Fenton tech, and then ended up in another dimension full of heroes and villains. Did he care about that?

Fuck no.

But apparently, being a 14-year-old and fighting people off with his mechanical dragon was not a normal thing. Sure, he may have overreacted by having said dragon through his aggressors, who were normal humans by the way, through multiple walls, but in his defense.

It was their fault for trying him when he wasn't in the best of moods.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #FINALLY DONE #Anyways #Jazz is completely unaware that the timeline where her parents Mr. Lancer and her brother's friends died still existed #So she's just living it up in the timeline Clockwork sent her too and avoided the explosion lol

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luviwon · 4 months

Text

박성훈 – alluring me

word count: 2k

It seemed to be a loud night in the usual quiet town. The rain drops were slipping down your window, worsening the view outside. You were not much of a rain person, rather you enjoyed sunny mornings so you can be that "girl" they call. Either way, it wasn't morning in first place, so why would you care?

Oh, maybe because you were supposed to leave your apartment room in the following 20 minutes, your friend almost pulling up to pick you up. Nightclub she said. Now, whether you were going to enjoy it or not, you'll have to see, but one thing is sure: you weren't going to let yourself get drunk and end up in a stranger's bed by next morning.

At least not this way.

You were good to go. Makeup on point, clothes suiting your perfectly, golden jewellery around your neck cause you were expensive. The only thing that was missing was some cash and a hot boyfriend to bring with you. But you can't have everything in the world. At worst, you could ask Lia to lend you some money until next paycheck, so you could enjoy a cheap mocktail.

Making sure to lock the front door, you walked to the parking spot, waiting for your friend to arrive as well. Fortunately, it didn't take her too long, as the dark blue Audi made its way in, stopping in front of you. "Hi babe!" Lia shouted, as the car window went down, revealing a tipsy blondie.

"Are you drunk driving again?" you chuckled and walked around the car, getting the door open and stepping in. "Me? Drunk? Y/N! What are you talking about?" said she, while not being able to hide a hiccup. The two of you just laughed, while Lia drove out of the parking spot, speeding up on the lonely road. There was barely anyone, and most probably, there won't be any interesting person at the club either. It wasn't the biggest town, for sure, so there was no reason in trying to aim highly.

Luckily, the club wasn't so far, which made everything just perfect. Less likely to be engaged in an accident, given Lia's condition. The blondie parked, horribly though, in front of the ordinary looking nightclub, and threw her keys somewhere in the back. "Just in case I feel like car sex later, it's better to leave the car unlocked"

"You are crazy" you said, jokingly pushing her shoudler. Lia chuckled, leaving the car and inhaling the fresh air outside, and you did the same. Not long until your nose will only inhale cigarette smoke, so you may as well take advantage of the situation. The two of you stepped in, looking around for someone familiar. Yet it seemed like there was no one you would know.

You made it to the bar, barely being able to hear each other. The music was deafening, much louder than you've expected. Lia seemed to enjoy, though. Judging by her facial expression, she was going to leave you immediately for that hottie she noticed walking around. Typical. Shouldn't you do the same though?

"Hey, Lia, do you think you can give me some cash until Wednesday? Just so I don't awkwardly beg someone to buy me a drink"

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry! I don't have anything on me. I'm counting on that sexy lad!" she said, pointing to a blonde guy, accompanied by another blonde person. Or was it the other she pointed at? They looked very similar, so no point in trying to guess. "Ah, thank you anyway" you smiled at her.

And just as thought, Lia slyly disappeared from the picture, seeing her next to the two guys, seductively touching their arms. She was so funny. But you couldn't deny, she was so good at this. Definitely better than you. You turned around to the barman, with doe eyes.

"What can I get you, young lady?"

"Anything on the house, please" you tried to make it less awkward by laughing away, elegantly, but it didn't seem to work. "I'm sorry, darling, drinks cost money. If you lack any, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't get you anything"

"Loser," you mumbled.

You walked away in annoyance, fixing your relatively short denim skirt. Maybe not the best cloth choice for a night out, but it was so cute! So was your sleeveless white top, revealing a hot cleavage, put in the light by the delicate necklace.

"You alone, pretty girl?" you heard a sensual voice from your left side, turning your head to witness maybe one of the most beautiful faces you've ever seen before.

The guy was wearing a black button up shirt, with the first 3 unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up. His messy dark hair and rosy lips looked so perfect in contrast with his white skin. He was sitting down on a white sofa, resting his back on the piece of furniture, with his legs slightly opened.

"Depends on who asks"

That sounded better in your head, but after you let it aloud, you felt so stupid.

"Mhm," he groaned, looking down and chuckling. "I see, pretty girl"

The dark-haired guy grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, on the spare seat next to him. He smelt so fucking good. He had this kind of screaming sweet scent mixed with some vanilla. Closer now, you could analyse his face so much better. His dark eyes were shining in the multicolour club lights, and his skin was so smooth, at least it looked like it. You didn't dare to touch it.

"What does the pretty girl like to drink?"

"A mocktail would be perfect for me"

He softly giggled at your answer, as his left hand grabbed your chin and turned you closer to him, making eye contact. There they were again, his blinding eyes. "We both know you will get drunk on me later, so what about you start getting yourself ready with a nice set of shots for an even nicer doll?"

You gulped, taken aback by the tension he created. He was so much for it. And the closer he got, the more you got high on his perfume. It was so addictive. Where the hell did he come from? A fairytale? He was much too perfect for this fucked up world.

"I guess that works too" you answered, pulling your skirt down while not breaking the eye contact.

He looked down, sensing your movement. "Don't worry princess, you are alright" his hand was now touching your bare calf, going up your leg at a slow pace, making his way to your outer thigh. His touch made you tremble, it felt so wrong but so good at the same time. Where was the promise you made before you left? Probably somewhere lost, as the guy's hand went up to invading your personal space way too much now.

"I don't thin-"

"You don't think what?" he interrupted you promptly, his fingers teasing gently against the lingerie material. "Let the thinking to me, dollface. You just be good." Using his index and middle fingers, he kept going in circular motions. Before you knew it, you were on his lap, being aroused by his skillful fingers.

Your faces were so close, but he didn't kiss you. He only stared at your perfect looking face, whilst his fingers slipped under your panties, playfully touching your clit. You bit your lower lip in response, holding your moan back. He noticed that, and came closer to your lips. "You wish I'd kiss you so you could moan into my mouth, don't you?"

You gulped again, feeling his hot breath on your dry lips. He seemed like such a good kisser, but why didn't he want to show it to you? Because he was a tease. And he wanted you to earn in. Or shall you just make the next step? You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until your lips touched together. Fuck, even for the first second, he tasted so good. What was this man made out of?

You could feel the smile that was born on his face at your action. With his spare hand, the dark-haired guy held your back close to him. His fingers were now exploring more of you, teasing your entrance that was already dripping wet. He was making you so needy, and that was more than obvious. He kissed you hard, devouring your mouth, he seemed so famished, desiring you so much. You felt overwhelmed, and when you expected it least, both of his fingers were sliding inside you, making you whine inside his mouth, just as he previously said.

"Good girl" he tried to say in between kissing, keeping on being so hungry for your taste. His fingers went in and out your pussy, causing you to moan again. The hand that was supposed to hold your back went up to your hair and pulled it down, making you face the ceiling as his lips went down your neck "Now moan aloud too, princess"

Not that anyone could have heard you, the deafening music and the smoke around could barely make out what's going on around. But the simple thought of you getting caught was arousing him. Reason why his fingers moved faster inside you, and deeper, making you bite your lips hard. In response, he bit a tiny part of your neck, and pulled your hair harder. His fingers curled inside you, touching continously your G-spot, finally making you let a loud moan out.

He was so proud.

"Good girl, come for me" he whispered, pushing your head back up and going back to making out with you, while his fingers went back to deep and precise motions. His tongue played with yours in a little battle that he won. All the odds were on his side. He had you coming for him, the dark-haired guy not giving you a break. He needed to stop, you really couldn't handle all that. It was too much for you.

It seemed that he almost read your mind, cause as soon as you thought that, he took his fingers out, cleaning them by your chest, covering it in your liquor. "Tight" he said, biting your lips one more time before backing up. That felt so fucking good. You were so out of breath, leaning on his chest. You thought you shouldn't do this, given that he is not your boyfriend. Isn't it normal to just leave when this finishes?

But he was so warm, and you were so stupid.

"You come here often, darling?" he asked, going back to being a gentleman.

He lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke on the opposite side of you. He offered you one, but you refused. Not quite your thing. But he looked so sexy smoking that shit. So fine. So perfect. And you wish he could have been yours.

"Not really. But if you do, I will have a change of heart"

He chuckled, taking another smoke from the cigarette. Putting your hair behind your ear, he grabbed your cheek with two fingers and acted just like an old lady seeing her nephews. "You are so cute"

You still couldn't move on from what just happened. And even though he stopped a while ago, you could still feel the pleasure your pussy was in. So fucking good.

"What's your name?" you asked, hopeful.

"Does that change a thing? You don't need these details"

"I need you, though" that made him smile.

He gave you a short kiss, a last one, and got up from the white-leathered sofa. "I'm sorry, pretty girl, but I'd need to have you gone if you knew my name." He fixed his button up shirt, and threw the cigarette in the ashtray. You felt so disappointed. How could you let him go so easily?

"How about next Saturday at the same time, in the same place?" you tried shooting your shot one last time.

He didn't say a word. However, he winked at you and then made his way out. That was all you needed. Now, sitting alone in the lonely club, you were so lost in your thoughts. Wow. Just wow. Lia finally made her way to you, way too drunk, and fell next to you. She didn't say a word, but let a sigh out.

"Can you drive home, Y/N?"

But you couldn't answer. You were only thinking about him. Anyway,

how long until next week?

[ Hi loves! I found myself in a really shit financial situation and I need to save to be able to cover my apartment deposit, which is a lot. If you could and would want to, it would mean the world to me if you'd help me out with that, every penny counts honestly. Doesn't matter if it's £1, £10, more or less, it's the thought. Thank you for reading this message! For payment information, please just text me. Also, as a gift, I will write special content for you.]

#enhypen hard #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts

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spider999sposts · 10 months

Text

you kept me like a secret—Miguel O'Hara

🕸synopsis: you are done being his little secret

🕸tags: fem!reader × Miguel O'Hara

🕸no warnings

🕸notes: posted this on ao3 and forgot to update here!

🕸part 2

It made your blood boil.

You couldn't take it anymore. It was fun at first. Hiding it from everyone. Concealing your underlying feelings to one another infront of the rest of the Spider-Society, yet if anyone looked closely, they notice your little slip ups. How you glanced at each other with fondness, how Miguel's hand somehow always ends up trailing across your waist, how your fingers brush against his everytime you are in a meeting, how on missions, you two always stick together, and how during break, you would be the only one making sure he's had his daily dose of empanadas.

But now it was ridiculous.

It's been a few months now, and he's been different. Treating you the same way he'd treat any regular member of the spider-society, even a little lesser than that. He was rough, harsh, unforgiving, you knew that about him, but despite his nature, he would always be a little gentler to you. That changed.

You just assumed it was because of the Miles Morales situation. When Miguel became fixated on something, he'd be that way, a perfectionist. It was a blessing and a curse.

But what made you realise that this is getting a little too secretive for your liking, was his birthday.

You stood with your drink in hand at the bar. You were the one who set this whole thing up for him, after all, parties were the only occasion where he would let loose (as well as in the privacy of his penthouse with you, but that was not the case now.)

You made sure you got his favourite flavour of cake, getting decorations that won't bother his sensitive red eyes, going even as far as hacking into his gizmo so no bothersome notifications would upset him that day. You were even dispatching other spider-people on anomaly and canon event missions, so he wouldn't have to worry about it all day. It was exhausting, planning a party while simultaneously keeping everything in order in the multiverse without any guide to how Miguel keeps it all together.

You thought he'd be happy you threw him a party, but ever since he'd walked in, he ignored you. He did not utter a word with you since his arrival, yet you could see him chuckling and smiling along side some other people.

"Hobie, do you have something stronger than this cranberry soda?" You turned to the bar, pushing your glass towards Hobie, who was bartending for the night. "F'course I do," He chuckled, "But you know Miguel's rules, lad doesn't want anyone getting drunk."

"Oh, Come on, I've seen you sneaking Lego Peter and Peter B. martinis and scotch, why can't you do that with me?—Wait, since when do you follow any rules anyway?" The punk chuckled, "I don't. You said it yourself, I've been sneaking drinks and everyone is a little tipsy. But they're drinking to let loose, that's not why you wanna drink though, eh?" His eyes glanced at Miguel, then at you. Hobie was the only one smart enough to notice anything, and he was also the only one who noticed the change in attitude between the two of you. You never really talked about it, but he always had this knowing look on his face.

You grumbled, and he just moved under the sink, pulling up a tall glass of..some unspecified liquid. "The fuck is that?"

"I present you to you, 'The Unnamed'. I don't believe in labels."

"Ah, but isn't calling it 'The Unnamed' a label in itself?"

Hobie's colours changed a couple of times, from red to blue to pink and then back to grey. You've irritated him. He rolled his eyes and then put some of this unspecified liquid into your glass, filling it halfway. "You've bested me, now drink up."

"Is this like regular alcohol or—" You asked, bringing the drink to your lips. It was queit sweet, and it had none of the sting that seeps into the throat when you drink alcohol.

Hobie interrupted, putting the bottle away."It is not alcohol, it is a special concoction of mine. It may or may not make you want to speak your mind." His eyes left your confused face and looked up, to the taller frame making his way towards the both of you. "Birthday lad, want me to get you anything?" He jumped off the counter, standing beside Miguel.

"Hm. A refill on the scotch would be nice."

"Too bad, help yourself, I don't take orders from anyone." He strutted away, and gave you a wink, as well as a small smile.

Miguel huffed, "Ese pedacito de mierda." He mumbled, grabbing a glass and a bottle from behind the counter. He still did not acknowledge your presence, so you decided to be the bigger person and just talk to him.

"He's funny though, his little antics are amusing." Miguel raised his brows at you, moving to sit beside you. That was good, you were hoping for any reaction.

"He's bothersome." He replied shortly, sipping his drink. When he spoke, he didn't look in your eyes, which is odd, Miguel loved gazing into your eyes. He always said it was the only way he could tell how you're feeling. "And yet you keep him around."

"I never said he lacked skill."

"I suppose you did..not." You took another sip of that weird drink he gave you. An odd sensation was tingling at the back of your head. Miguel took a glance at you, and his nose scrunched up in confusion. "What on god's green earth are you drinking?"

You held up the glass to him, chuckling. The liquid was a bit odd looking. Consistency like melted ice cream and the colour of silver. "The Unnamed."

"Pardon?"

"Its called 'The Unnamed', Miguel. It's Hobie's great invention. It's pretty good, once you ignore how it looks."

"Doesn't look very inviting." He added, and then suddenly it went queit between both of you, the only thing peircing through the thick silence was the loud music playing and the sounds of people laughing and chuckling.

You weren't sure if it was the drink, or the ever-growing, tamed anger in your chest, but you felt the urge to speak.

"I planned this party for you, you know."

His red pupils met yours.

"I made sure you had a nice day. No stress. Made sure LYLA didn't inform you of anything that could make you lose it—"

"What? The multiverse—"

"—and I dispatched teams to make sure everything goes smoothly. All while getting decorations and setting up the place."

He went dead queit. You did not like that.

"...and yet, you have not spoken a word to me all day." A laugh sounded out of you, but it seemed more like a huff. "Not even a thank you. No anything. It's like you don't even know me."

"I—"

You didn't let him continue.

"You did not even come and talk to me until now, and it was because you wanted a drink."

He slammed his glass on the counter, the glass cracked a bit. You slammed yours too, he was not the only one irritated here.

"What do you want me to say?" He rasped, his voice a little lower than a whisper. So far, no one has noticed your heated argument, but if this escalates further, you will have an audiance. "There are suspicions that we are a thing. I can't..We can't risk it." His tone was a little more gentle, but there was still this look in his eyes that you couldn't decipher. To most, Miguel was a book shut close, one that no body could peak into. With you, he was different.

Was different. You couldn't for the life of you figure out what he was thinking as of this moment.

"Miguel, you don't even ask me to spend time with you when everyone is gone or asleep." You replied, "And what if the spider-society found out? Is that so awful? You hand picked these people because you trust them. What's wrong with them knowing?—"

"You and I are not from the same universe. That could very well disrupt the canon—"

Unknown to both of you, you two have been leaning towards each other, your lips almost touched, but it was hard to focus on anything else when you were boiling.

"Do you think I'm naiive? If our love was a threat to the canon, you would've eliminated the possibilty of us happening anyway. You wouldn't have kissed me that day. You—"

"Oi, birthday boy, this one was specially hand–picked for you!"

Your necks snapped towards the direction of Hobie, who was standing behind the DJ booth with Gwen. A familiar song started playing, Miguel's favourite.

How ironic. Of course you only realise now why a song like Secreto de Amor is his favourite.

You both turned away from each other, but Miguel's features softened.

"You're the one who told them I like this one, I'm presuming." He hummed, sighing heavily. You only gave him a small 'mhm'. "Thank you."

You glanced at him, his fingers were circling the edges of his empty glass of scotch. "It..I'm enjoying my time." He added, giving you a faint smile.

Yet he did not acknowledge what you told him. But you found yourself sighing, that burning feeling subsided for a moment. You let yourself smile at him, extending one of your hands towards him.

Miguel just stared at it, a bit confused.

"Since its your favourite, we should dance. You haven't danced since you got here."

Puzzled, he kept staring at your hand. It took him a moment, then he shook his head.

"No."

Your brows furrowed.

"What?"

"I am not dancing with you."

You stared blankly at him.

"Why?"

"I can't."

"You can't dance?"

"I won't dance. Not with you. You know we can't."

That was it for you. You put your hand down, and picked up your belongings. You couldn't even look at his face. This was absurd. You weren't asking him for the world. You were only asking him to dance.

You moved quickly, you heard Hobie calling out for you, but you had already gone through the door and was heading to the elevator.

You heard heavy footsteps running after you, and a familiar red webbing wrapped around your wrist as you kept slamming the elevator button.

You looked up, and he was there, looking at you like he can't figure out what he has done wrong.

"You're being childish." He spoke, his voice echoing through the space. You couldn't believe him. "What?"

That's all it took him to say for you to burst.

"I am done being with you, Miguel." You said, not noticing the tears that welled up in your eyes until they were staining your cheeks. "I'm done being your little secret. I'm done being your midnight lover, and I'm done being with a man who is so horrified at the thought of us being together."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He pulled the web that was wrapped around your wrist, pulling you towards him, but you ripped it before you could collide with his chest.

The elevator dinged, and you got inside. Miguel rushed to follow you, but you were already closing the door.

"Wait—"

"I'm not coming back to your little club-house." You pulled a box from your bag, and threw it at him before the elevator's door could close.

"Happy fucking birthday, Miguel." was the last thing he heard before the elevator began descending.

Miguel looked at the box on the ground, and picked it up. When he opened it, he saw a silver ring, with engravings inside of it. There was a note as well.

'Consider this a promise, and an oath.

I will always love you, no matter what you do.'

The engraving inside of the ring were the date you first met, with the words 'I'd look for you in every multiverse.'

Seems like that was untrue now.

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