#because it's not fun to dig into things that frustrate me

[gffa]

I was wondering if you could share your thoughts and feelings on Felonys takes over the years overall? I know a lot of people see him as this grand savior of star wars without much more to it so I wanted to hear your take on how he handles the pre-established world he writes for and the dissonance with what George Lucas established/said before

Honestly, I think a lot of Felony's appeal is that he writes a very polished story and that's appealing to audiences (no shade, I'm part of that audience!) and that he has at least given some thought to what the Force means. There are a lot of takes he has that I agree with, I still quote what he says about the characters at times, but I think he has a big central problem and that's characterization drift-slash-the inability to let go. Well, two big central problems: He also can't write/finish a narrative arc to a satisfying conclusion. I have such a hard time getting into the Mandalorian storyline because it's been told in snippets for like 10+ years now and it's never really coherently come together, it still has huge gaps in it, it doesn't have a strong narrative central theme that he sticks to, but instead told through cameos and mini-arcs in separate shows. And when you examine a lot of his work, it often doesn't hold up to scrutiny because I'm not sure he has a solid thematic throughline that's driving him--like, some of the choices he made in season 7 of TCW are baffling--Ahsoka walks right by people who need her help, then says, "In my life, when someone needs help, I help them."??? When she wants the Jedi to help Mandalore instead of Coruscant, she says the Jedi aren't helping the people who really need them, despite that Coruscant is under attack and that's where Trace and Rafa are, the characters we just spent an entire arc on?? Ahsoka and Bo-Katan want the Republic to literally invade Mandalore, this is brought up in the arc itself, and then never mentioned again because it's inconvenient and the author doesn't want to deal with the established worldbuilding?? I also don't think he knows how to end a story, like I love Ahsoka as a character, but he very much does favor her and a lot of her appearances are starting to feel like she's only there because Filoni can't resist. She just never ends, there's no conclusion to her, what's even her character arc over the course of her life after the Jedi genocide? She's obviously dealing with trauma about it and now she's looking for Ezra to find him again, but what's the character arc on a personal level? Is she still dealing with letting go of Anakin, ~30 years after it happened? Did she not put that to rest in Rebels finally? @david-talks-sw has a great post about the differences between George Lucas and Dave Filoni here, illustrating that I do think Dave misses some really key points about characters that he has personal biases against. And, you know, I'm not getting after him for that, I disagree with him and I think he's wrong about a lot of stuff that Lucas directly established, but I also think a lot of people dismiss criticism of him because, oh, he worked with George and therefore he's an extension of George! No, he's a different writer with his own strengths and weaknesses, one I think who makes very popular (often for a reason) Star Wars, but I think misses the heart a lot of times. But I also often think of that he doesn't try to see himself as the grand lord of Star Wars, either, even he himself says:

He's not the ultimate authority on Star Wars, he's just as fallible as anyone else is, and always should be. I think he made Star Wars shows that a lot of people loved, he has a very polished style, and he has given thought to the characters he loves. He just also has biases and directly conflicts with George Lucas' established story and I think that's fair to point out. Maybe you like those better, I'm not trying to talk anyone out of that, but it's still fair game for me to point out that I think he's wrong about Star Wars just as often as he's right. (And that, as time goes on and The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett became more and more of a hot mess, I grew less charitable. This is a major overview, I don't want to get too into the weeds on this, I've gone over a lot it in past meta, and it would be exhausting to dig it all up again, but basically this is why I'm on the fence about Felony. He has a lot of weaknesses as a writer and I don't find I like his strengths more than I dislike his weaknesses sometimes.)

#dave filoni #lumi.txt #i realize you probably want more detail than this #but i cannot stress enough how unproductive that seems to me #because i would spend hours combing through my posts about his arcs #or commentary he's said #and be annoyed all over again #because it's not fun to dig into things that frustrate me #and i don't think i'm going to convince anyone to change their mind

[torchickentacos]

gonna punt ableists

#had the LEAST fun discussion with my stepdad about food allergies #like ok sorry that other people's accomodations are such a burden for you. sorry your coworker feels like not dying today. you poor baby #and he digs his fucking feet in and has no empathy over disabled issues. whcih like. not great to hear as a disabled person #i'm trying to fix how i deal with conflict but he's reinforcing the responses i'm trying to get rid of #i need to stop seeing everything as a bomb about to go off and i need to stop treating things like a threat i have to fight against #but everything around me is a bomb about to go off and a threat i need to fight against #and he's been such a good thing in my life but he's also just so frustrating to have to deal with #i love having a family that's big and cares about eachother #but it also means there's no way to make distance from one person without distancing from my entire life #pros: they're my everything. cons: they're my everything. #not that i even could if i wanted to BECAUSE I'M FUCKING DISABLED AND NEED ACCOMODATIONS AND HELP.

[snickerdoodlles]

one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

#fandom

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin’ happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader

[chastiefoul]

valentines gone wrong ft. childe, scara, and neuvilette

a/n: yes. you read that right valentines work on september!! this is just something random i wanna write one day when i'm lying down and ofc i can't wait until february next year (also how is it alr almost 2 months since i posted something???) tags: just fluff, light-read, and everything in-between, modern au (?) just don't think too much abt it hehe - summary: it's valentines and of course you have plans to give sweets to your lover. however because one thing and another, you had to entrust it to someone else in hope it will be handed safely to them. what happened when it didn't?

childe

you went home excited, anticipating his reaction to your handmade sweets, however what greets you at the door was a sulky childe, who avoided eye contact as if his life depended on it as he limits himself to a a sentence everytime you ask him something.

“something happened today, babe?” you asked him worriedly, the chocolate was the back of your mind seeing the state of your boyfriend in. “oh something definitely should have happened,” he quipped, his lower mouth sticking out slightly. “that sounds like a dig at me, did i forgot something?” you asked as you follow his gaze to what he thought must be the most interesting flower vase ever. he shrugged, refusing to give you more.

frustrated by his rejection to tell you what’s wrong, you held his face with both of your palm, turning his face to yours. although the move met no resistance, childe still refused to look at you in the eyes and only now his childish grumbles turned into such a sad expression.

“baby? please tell me what i did,” you were gentle with it, rubbing your thumb below his eyes. “...late.”

“what?”

“chocolate. where’s mine? i saw you gave your friends one so i don’t think im crazy to expect one too, especially as your boyfriend.” he pouted and you swore it looked so adorable and so out-of-character of him that you wanted to kiss him—wait.

“huh? but i did give you one!” you claimed, confusion rose inside you. “huh? but i didn’t get it...” childe’s face matched your expression. “well technically i gave it to scara to give it to you.. did he not... give it to you?”

“i wouldn’t be this insufferable if i got one, you know that, but no he didn’t say anything—and also really babe? scara? the guy who hates and made fun of me every chance he got?” he crossed his arm, raising an eyebrow, as he questioned your questionable decision-making. “hey give me a break, i was in a rush there thinking i couldn’t give you the chocolate in time. and he made me say please three times before he said he would consider doing it-oh i see how i was wrong there.” your line of ramble humbled you, the silence was loud.

“maybe he just put it in your bag or something?” you offered. “you really think he’s someone who’d do that?” he asked. “in desperate times i’d give even scara the benefit of the doubt,” you stated, opening childe’s bag. and there it was, put nicely at the very top, your chocolate for your lover.

you smiled, for all the shit-talk scara gave everyone on a daily basis you knew you could count on him. “see? i knew he’s actually a big softie for stuff like this.”

childe practically runs to your side. “my chocolate? aw babe so you really didn’t forget me!” he peppered kisses all over your face, then clasping the sweet to his chest like it’s a new-born baby. “of course i’d never. but maybe next year i’ll just give it directly to you.”

“yeah? please do, today’s event just wasn’t great for my heart.”

neuvilette

“welcome home, dear.” you greeted him cheerily as he just arrived home. it was quite late, and you had entrust the chocolate you were supposed to give to him at a reasonable hour so he could enjoy it instead of giving it to him at home.

he kissed your temple in return, a smile you’re still head over heels for on his lips. but it doesnt quite reach his eyes. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked carefully. “nothing is wrong,” he replied, somehow looking nervous. “yet it’s strange for you to be looking so fidgety. tell me?”

“well,” he paused a little, stroking your hair as he pondered the best way to approach the sentence he’s about to say. “i saw you today giving chocolates to navia and wriothesley.. i couldn’t talk to you because i was in a rush to deal with an urgent case,” he said, not looking at you on the eyes. “oh, did that bother you? it’s just they’re such good friends of mine and it’s only friendship cookies-“

“no, dear of course not. i know you’re a loving person who always appreciate those around you, it’s just..”

“just?”

neuvilette looked like he didn’t hear the rest of the words after that you did make some for the white-haired male. a smile bloomed on his face as he shook his head. “no problem i will ask them about it tomorrow. i’m just delighted you kept me in your thoughts.” a gentle expression was loyal on his features. “well of course neuvillete, you hardly ever leave my thoughts, don’t you know?” he chuckled. “i’m familiar with that you see, considering you never leave mine as well.”

the next sentence was almost audible as he spoke. “do i not get one..?” he asked ever so softly sounding a little sad, his calloused hand ran across your arm, tracing along your vein as it touched your fingers and you're sure there's something wrong in your head because all you could think about that second was how adorable the usual charismatic man was being. yet you held your smile.

“of course you do! did it not reach you? i asked the guard in front of your door because i afraid i’d bother you at work hours. sorry neuvilette, i promised i made some for you, and i was so proud of it too...”

scara

“no i’m not.” he said, with the worst frown you’ve seen on him for a while and that’s saying a lot.

“you’re definitely sulking,” you said. “shut up,” he grumbled. “hey i was supposed to be one who’s doing the sulking. we’re nearing the end of the day and you haven’t even mentioned about the chocolate i gave you today!” you retorted out of frustration but most of all confusion because you had no idea what made your lover fall into such a bad mood.

“what.”

“what?”

“say that again,” scara said, “that i gave you chocolate?” you asked. “no you didn’t, you liar!” he complained, his frown deepened if that’s even possible. “wait what? i swear i asked childe to give it to you earlier today! i was ambushed by customers today at the shop so i was scared i couldn’t give it to you on time so i asked him. did it not get to you?” you explained.

“i came home empty-handed didn’t i? also really, that dense fool?” his displeasure was obvious upon the new information you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “don’t look so disgusted, he’s not that bad.”

“sure, although you know what’s bad? that i don’t have my chocolates right now.” he crossed his arm, fuming almost looking like a child who got their toys taken. “alright enough of your pouting. we’ll interogate him later. for now, i seem to have leftover ingredients, i’ll make you a new one.” you approached him, combing through the back of his hair as you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. he replied by pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. “it better be good,” he mumbled.

at the end you didn’t even make it to 5 minutes before scara followed you to the kitchen, insisting that he made it together too because he was ‘watching over you so you don’t mess up’ but personally i think he just felt bad because you need to make a new one and wanted to help you any way he can. that’s something he’d never admit even if there’s a gun pointing at his head, though.

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin fluff #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #neuvilette x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff

[joshsbimbo]

stealing is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off

pairings: security guard! mike schmidt x shoplifter! reader

warnings: shoplifting, getting caught stealing, being in a cell, oral (m! receiving), forced stripping, mockery.

a/n: i thought mall jail was real when i was younger but it ISNT i hope this makes sense to y’all 💋

♡ the mall is filled with clothes, makeup, food, and toys. all of your favorite things in one place! it also had fun activities like massage chairs, smelling candles, and stealing!!

♡ you scanned the store, licking a cherry flavored dum dum, positioning your body so only you could see what you were doing. you snuck in a pair of earrings into your purse and a bracelet.

♡ you continued to the clothing racks, picking out multiple tops and hiding one within one. the sweet lady handed you a door sign with the number 3, not knowing you actually had 6. you entered the changing room and took off your baggy hoodie. taking off the tags before layering the tops on yourself, then putting your hoodie back on.

♡ you made sure to buy a necklace, sucking the candy as you happily made your way to the exit. it was a nice haul for one store, you were excited to go to another store before the alarm went off.

♡ “excuse me, ma’am. i’m going to have to check your receipt.” the security guard said. his tired eyes looking down at you, flickering his eyes to your purse and back to you. he held his hand out, furrowing his eyebrows.

♡ you exit the lollipop out of your mouth with a pop, “mhm, of course!” you place the receipt on his calloused, big hands as you make eye contact with him, smiling sweetly.

♡ he checked the receipt and opened your shopping bag with his other hand. his hand exited before digging into your purse abruptly, “what a shame that you forgot to close your purse.”

♡ you look at his name tag before looking up at him with pleading eyes, “mike, you can let this slide, right?”

♡ “depends, is this your first time?”

♡ “mhm, yes it is, sir..” you bit your lip.

♡ “what a fucking liar.” he gripped your arm tightly, leading you to mall’s cells.

♡ you wrapped your hands around his arm, trying to pull him off. “c’mon, please, mike?” batting your eyelashes as you look up at him, but he ignored you.

♡ the room was small with one cell, a telephone, and a desk. he kept his grip tight, throwing you into a cell. he locked it, taking the chair out from under the desk, facing it so he can watch you.

♡ “you really think these people are this stupid, huh?” he ran his hands through his brown curls, a frustrated sigh leaving his pretty lips.

♡ you were on the ground, crawled up in the corner. your ass ached from the throw, you knew it was going to bruise. you teared up as your lip quivered, “n-no..”

♡ “of course you do! shielding your hands from the cameras?” he takes out his walkie talkie. “you see this? every time they see you, the dumb slut, they tell us to keep a close eye on her.”

♡ “d-dumb slut..?” you questioned, tears rolling down your cheek.

♡ “look at the way you dress, how you act, the way you look-“ he paused, scanning your body. “that hoodie is new though.”

♡ he was right. the hoodie was new, something you would never be caught dead wearing.

♡ “take it off.”

♡ “wh- no!” you blurted out between sobs.

♡ “what’s wrong? not wearing a bra? that’s not a problem because everyone’s seen your tits, dumb slut.” he hissed through his teeth.

♡ “fuck yo-“

♡ “i’ll call the cops. is that what you want, hm?”

♡ “n-no! fine. i’ll do it!” you took off the hoodie, your mascara running down your cheeks as you looked at him.

♡ “was wondering where you put those tops..” he grins. “sensitive, slutty, and somewhat smart?” he chuckles, man spreading, his bulge showing through his slacks.

♡ even through your sobs, your face scrunches up in disgust. eyeing his huge- you mean, gross bulge.

♡ he smirks, “wanna help me? it’s the least you could, making me work extra hard just so you could look slutty..”

♡ “fuck no.” you say, covering yourself with your hoodie.

♡ he glides his hand on the telephone, “a simple 911 call..” he jokingly presses the phone against his ear, twirling the wire, mocking you by batting his eyelashes, “e-excuse me, sir!” he let out a breathy laugh, remembering your pleas. “this young lady h-has been… been stealing!” he forces the stuttering, pouting, and out right mocking you.

♡ “just let me go! please!”

♡ god, hearing you beg made his cock harder. he pressed on one of the buttons, “nine.”

♡ “stop!” you screamed, hurriedly taking off two of the tops, leaving you in a white tank top with no bra.

♡ “that’s the slut i know..” he scanned your body, your nipples hardened from the cold air, the perky buds in view, your tight shorts, making your thighs look extra plump, and the straps of your thong showing. the combination of your body, ruined makeup, red tongue from your treat made him need to palm his bulge through his pants.

♡ you shuddered at the sight, no no no… you felt your wetness leaking from your lips, onto your underwear. “t-this is illegal.. keeping me here t-to take advantage of me..” you warned him, but you fucking loved it.

♡ “strip searches are legal.” he spat out. “now strip.”

♡ you pouted as you unbuttoned your shorts.

♡ “turn around.” he ordered

♡ you turn around, bending down as you slid off your shorts. you could hear him groan at the sight of you, your pussy barely hidden from how soaked your thong was. you smile to yourself, pulling down your thong slowly. a string connecting your cunt to the fabric, the string getting longer the further you pull them down.

♡ when you meet his gaze again, his cock is out. twitching as his pre cum leaked down his beautiful pink tip to his unshaven base. “hmm, now your top.” he groans.

♡ you noticed the more you resisted, the more his cock ached. “please don’t make me.” you whimpered out as you tilted your head to the side, a chill running up your spine as you watched his cock leak even more.

♡ he pressed another button, “one.”

♡ you forced more tears down your cheek as you pulled off your top, your clothes lying beside you. he slid the keys to you, grinning as he watched you snatch it from the ground. you reach out from the bars and unlocked your cell, dropping on your knees in front of him.

♡ he runs his hand through your hair, gripping it as you lick from the base to the tip of his cock. he looks down at you, smirking, as you look up at him with your messy eyeliner and mascara running down. “poor baby, hadn’t had cock in hours. so desperate for a dribble of cum, hm?”

♡ “mhm..” drips oozes out of your pussy onto the tiles, you whine as you swirl your tongue around his cock. sending vibrations down his cock, swallowing the salty, sticky fluid. as you entered more of him inside, he forced the rest deep inside your throat.

♡ “your throat feels so nice, baby..” his head is pulled back, groaning at the sound of your gags, not daring to look at your messy face cause he knows he’ll cum at the sight. “bet you’re happy that you got caught, hm?”

♡ you slide him off your mouth with a pop for a moment, stroking him as you talk, “yes, yes… m’ so happy..” you immediately continue to deepthroat his cock, feeling it twitch as you hallow your cheeks.

♡ “i’ll call the cops if you don’t swallow every fucking drop.” he orders before cumming down your throat. his load was too big, dripping down his cock and your chin. “all. of. it.” he looks down at your fucked up face.

♡ “yes, sir..” swiping your finger to slide the excess cum into your mouth. looking into his hooded eyes with a sultry look before entering one of his sacks his mouth.

♡ despite just cumming in your mouth, his cock still hard. watching you as you suck his most sensitive place, his cock twitching, “of course you’re fucking experienced.”

♡ you giggle, “i would’ve drank it all regardless, mikey..”

♡ he grins, “you can keep your shit. next time i won’t be so nice, though.”

♡ “thank you, sir. :3”

thank u for reading and yes you said :3 out loud :33333

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x reader smut #josh futturman #josh hutcherson #josh futturman x reader #josh futterman x reader smut #lamb writes

[chokchokk]

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐�� : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

[jarofstyles]

Pleaaaaase do a little size kink blurb where he teases her about not being able to take it all miss jars

Ok because you asked so nicely 😚

Warnings- size kink, slight degrading, soft dom h, pet names, teasing etch

Patreon

——

“I dunno, pet.” His hand stroked over her side as she laid spread out for him, resting his cock over her tummy. “It’s a bit too big for you, don’t you think?” Rocking against her, she whimpered as her eyes went down to see the ruddy head of his cock leaking slightly over her skin, hard and obviously aching.

“I can take it- I can do it, I promise.” Her pleads were slightly pathetic but he knew what he was doing. Harry knew what it did to her when he spoke to her like this.

Harry was big, one of the biggest and thickest she had ever taken. It did take her a bit to adjust but she could do it. He caught on relatively quickly though, just how much she loved it when he teased her about it. Taunted her, made her squirm. He was so sweet in his words but the sparkle of slight evil behind his eyes let on that he enjoyed making her whine and whimper for it, wanting to make her beg.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He clicked his tongue, fisting his cock as he dragged it back down and tapped the tip against her clit. Hips jolted as she let out a keen, hands fisting the sheets as she watched his intent eyes look at their joining. She was drippy and wet, embarrassingly so as she felt it down to her ass, but Harry had been teasing her for a while now. “Such a tiny cunt. As much as I’d love t’stretch your holes out, I love you a bit too much… I don’t want my girl hurting.”

“It hurts now, I’m empty!” Stomping her foot on the mattress, the needy girl felt herself huff, eyes tearing up as she felt frustration boil over. “I need it, I need it inside of me now. Please don’t make me wait. I don’t care if it hurts, it’ll feel good.”

He cooed, bless him, smearing his cock through her folds as she threw her little tantrum. Getting her to this point was always fun in his eyes. “Y’need it that bad, sweet thing? Poor little angel baby is crying for cock.” His lips pursed in a pout, his free hand wiping away a tear. “Proper tantrum because your cock hungry little hole feels empty. Should’ve known, though. You like it when it hurts.”

“I do, I just need it. Please, give me it. I’ve been good, haven’t it? I’ve been so good and you’re being so mean.” Her babbled cries made him grin, letting her buck her hips up and rub herself against him, smearing her arousal all over his cock. Getting her brainless like this was his favorite thing to do.

“Okay, darling. Okay. I know you’re greedy. Cunt’s gone all sloppy and wet. Nasty little thing y’are.” He crooned, notching the tip over her entrance. “Let’s try just the tip first. I’ll give you a taste, and if you’re good and your hole can take it, maybe I’ll give you a few inches.” His hips slowly pressed in, letting the bulbous tip breach her. Popping in and making her breathing quicken, more tears falling down her cheeks. Sure, it hurt a little. It usually would with him- but it was what she needed.

“Thank you, thank you, I need it.” She rambled, hand lifting to his arm and nails digging into the skin as her stomach jumped with each breath.

“I know you do. My sweet little angel of a girl, I always forget how greedy you are for my prick until it’s in you.” Soothing strokes were given to her cheeks, the guise that he didn’t love making her a wreck playing well on his face. “Let it stretch you for a little bit, pet. Sit pretty and let yourself drip all over it before I ruin you even more.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #soft dom h #soft dom!harry #soft Dom harry styles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry fanfic #harry one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles au #harry styles oneshots #harry styles one shots #dom harry styles

[neteyamu]

Idk if ur taking requests but if u do neteyam x human!reader where the reader sleep in really weird positions and him just not understanding how it could be comfortable?

pairing — neteyam x human gn!reader

genre — fluff

warnings — not proofread we die like men💪, a mild seizure joke thing (pls tell me if theres anything else <3)

wc — 736

a/n — hey love!! i dont mind taking requests as of now so if you would like to send more pls do 🫶 but i cannot guarantee that i will be able to finish writing all of them quickly, especially since i have school :(

Neteyam instantly woke up as he felt a sudden jab to his stomach. He groaned in confusion as he looked around in the dark, trying to find whatever caused the disturbance. His eyes immediately drifted to your small frame laying beside him. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as he took in your position. Your right leg was stretched out and resting against his stomach, your left bent inwards but faced the other way. Your torso was leaning away from him though it turned to face him at a weird angle. And your arms were all over the place.

Neteyam was incredibly confused. How were you able to sleep peacefully like that? Was it not uncomfortable? He quietly shuffled back a bit and brought his hands towards you, gently straightening out your legs and placing you flat on your back. His hands then moved to your arms and brought them beside you. He made sure your exopack was secure before laying down again and wrapping his arms around you. Right before he fell asleep he made a mental note to himself to make fun of you in the morning for your weird sleeping position.

Neteyam grunted as he felt something poke him. Not again, he thought. Have you already started moving?! It can’t have been that long since he last fixed your posture. He decides to ignore it, maybe you’re just turning onto your side. Another poke. And then a push. Neteyam growls in frustration as he opens his eyes for the second time that night. As soon as he looks at you his eyes widen in shock. There is no way that is normal.

You are laid across the bed horizontally. your legs facing him as your head is hanging off the edge of the bed. Your right leg is folded underneath you and your left is digging into Neteyam’s abdomen. Half of your left arm is hanging off the bed beside your head and your right hand is calmly resting beside you.

Neteyam just stops and stares at you in disbelief. How is this even possible? How are you not in any pain? He can see the first rays of the sun starting to show and he gives up on trying to sleep. Neteyam sighs as he sits up and continues to stare at you. He crawls over to you and slowly pulls you back onto the bed, deciding to wake you up. He gently shakes you, but with you being so small compared to him it felt as if there was a mini earthquake happening and you jolted awake.

“‘Teyam! You almost gave me a heart attack!”, you said with your voice still groggy from sleep and your hand clutching your heart, your eyes squinting at him because of the light.

“I am really sorry yawne, but I had to ask you something”, he says with a slightly raspy voice.

You give Neteyam a nod, signalling him to go ahead.

“Are you possessed.” he asks with a straight face and you burst out laughing.

“What!?” you question in between your giggles.

“I think you should see my grandmother. Just in case.” Neteyam says so seriously you might actually piss yourself from laughing.

“Neteyam are you alright? Did you get enough sleep?”, you ask him as your giggles slowly come to a stop.

“No, in fact, I did not. You gave me nightmares. I do not know how anyone can sleep like that”, he says, shuddering as he remembered how you twisted and turned.

“Oh really? Like what”, you ask Neteyam, confusion overtaking your features.

“Like someone froze you mid seizure” he says as he gets up and stretches, walking over to grab his bow and arrows, slinging them across his back.

“Hey! That’s not very nice ‘Teyam”, you scowl at him and get out of bed as well.

“I am just being honest” he says, putting his hands up in defence.

“Anyways, I really have to go otherwise my dad will get mad, but I will see you later tonight.” Neteyam says, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on your head.

He leans down even lower and whispers into your ear.

“Maybe you should go see my grandmother while I am gone. Just to be sure you know?”

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him as he walks backwards out the tent, laughing and waving goodbye to you.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar #avatar 2009 #atwow #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam imagine #neteyam fluff #neteyam x human reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x human reader #neteyam drabble

[lovelyghst]

it should be criminal how könig switches so easily from edging his pretty girl to sobs and tears, to overstimulating her til she can’t think.

he'd be so tauntingly sweet with it, too, which is the worst part. you would even admit he knows you better than you know yourself, your own body, maturity and all. he knows your signs for how you're feeling, all of the tells that warn him you're close. how your chest begins to heave in short bursts, drawn out moans turning into small, consecutive, and absolutely desperate whines. smaller fingers digging into his scalp, trying your best to pull him back when he breaks contact but to no avail. he just finds it all to be so, so adorable.

he'll have you on your back, ensuring you're in your most comfortable state before even thinking of taking off your clothes. massaging your tense muscles, resting your head on a soft pillow before stripping you of his shirt you wore along with your shorts. sparing a moment to tease you over the fabric of your soaked, cotton panties, even tonguing its wetness before peeling them back to reveal your sweet, little pussy. he knows you're sensitive today when you wince at just the cold air alone, meaning this will be all the more fun for him.

“do you need a break?” he asks, which instantly zaps energy into you. a break is the very last thing you need when you’re so close.

“no—! no, please… wanna come, i- i need to come, please, könig...”

"awe, baby..." he deters his eyes for a moment to check his watch, tisking his tongue when he reads the little dial. "it has barely been forty minutes. don't tell me you've already had enough, now."

"just wanna come," you beg and plead. "promise, just once and then you can do whatever you want."

his large and rough hand languidly rubs up and down your thigh, a seeming attempt to soothe you that really only gets you more worked up, making you huff out in frustration. "but you've lasted far longer than this before. thought you wanted to be good for me today... what has you tapping out so early, sweetheart?"

"...'m not tapping out," you mutter in a contesting tone, with that stubborn attitude of yours that always makes him smile.

his lips pull tight, a corner going upward. "so you want to continue?"

you wipe beneath your eye with the back of your hand to catch a fallen and skin-tickling tear, reluctantly nodding your head with a faint hum. throwing your head back against the pillow defeatedly, sulking along the way. usually he prefers to see your face, but he knows how overwhelmed you can get during these moments.

he coos to you proudly nonetheless: “that’s my strong girl.”

it hurts, but it hurts so fucking nicely when he's the one controlling it. it aches so wonderfully when you know that what's to come afterwards will be far more than rewarding, even if it makes you sniffle and stain your face and the pillow beneath you with tears.

and finally, finally… he allows you to finish against his tongue. he tells you to come, promising that it’s not another mean trick, and your body listens decorously. ears ringing and vision going blurry as your orgasm hits you harder than ever - because that's his goal, each and every time, to see if he can drag it on a bit longer than the last.

nothing beats the white noise in your brain, buzzing in your teeth and stars in your eyes whilst he watches you come undone, blown out hearts in his own gaze. every bit of it is addicting; the high you get from the overstimulation, how he keeps you on your toes and never knowing if the next time he audaciously makes-out with your messy cunt will be the last. the way you squeeze your thighs and lock him in but simultaneously try to squirm away. his favorite part is when you do somehow manage to escape his hold just to turn around and instantly begin apologizing profusely, begging him for forgiveness and more because that brain-melting stimulation is just too good.

and it’s all just so cute to him. your anger towards him, your drunken dumbness that sparks when he first shoves his tongue in you; he doesn’t like to think of himself as a sadist, but christ, would he be lying if he said the image of you all edged and fucked-out with a mushy brain doesn’t leave him so utterly satisfied with himself.

#cod mw #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig smut

[yangsharperavery]

my carmy/sydney related thoughts on season 2

i think when digesting this show, it's done more easily when we see who carmy and sydney are as people and how they bring that beingness to their dynamic.

it's interesting to see the takes from people who are troubled by what they saw in this season in terms of their relationship.

i personally thought there was so much fascinating groundwork that was laid.

we knew when molly gordon was cast they were likely trying to introduce a love interest for carmy.

i was not shocked, i was not surprised. i literally expected it.

doesn't mean i wasn't rolling my eyes but i was well aware of what function she would play within the narrative.

but the writing is so sharp that there are a million subtle elements of carmy's character, and what we know about him up to this point, including what was illuminated by the christmas episode.

let's first talk about carmy's choices and behavior where it relates to claire vs sydney and the restaurant.

we know that carmy is awkward, isn't incredibly relationally experienced and has sacrificed everything for his career and specific level of skill.

he'd just been ruminating on expanding his experiences as expressed in the al-anon meeting.

we know this man is intensely grief-stricken and also that he's battling his own mental health.

we also know he's literally been bred from chaos and emotional tumult.

even him not going to his own brother's funeral makes so much sense after that christmas episode.

he couldn't stand to witness what that type of grief had done to his already deteriorating mother.

so he's trying to conceptualize fun.

notice he wasn't trying to conceptualize love or relationships or a partner.

it was literally presented and integrated as fun.

so he runs into this girl he used to a have a crush on and even then, he's not sold because he knows himself, he knows his priorities, his propensities toward self sabotage, etc so he gives her a wrong number.

yet she persists.

so to me, this may seem like a sign to him to give this a chance, do some exterior exploration of something outside of the kitchen and outside of his career and outside of his own neurosis.

so he's just going with the flow. trying to be "normal". not really knowing the content or context of anything. another reason why he wasn't even calling claire his girlfriend.

claire even brings up the fact that they'd hung out so much but didn't actually talk.

which is SPOT on because the audience only actually ever sees them talking about their careers or what they were like as kids/teenagers.

but you know who carmy DOES talk to? hmm, more on that later.

so claire is symbolic of this thing that was pleasant when he was younger, when he was less of this grown conglomerate of anxiety and disarray and sorrow. a part of him that's separate from all of his current worry and fixations and dysregulation.

him saying he loves her so much and that he thinks she's so great actually rings hollow because we, the audience, didn't actually get to see when and where that level of specific emotion or intensity occurred.

so off rip i don't believe him. i don't think about it in the context of if or when he and sydney explore anything, because it feels patently untrue to me.

and completely separate from sydney.

it's not earned. it's not rooted. it's not tacitly valid.

it's fine. it's a good time. it's some laughs and conversation and sex and a nice, normal person he has fond, nostalgic memories of.

and i think it's written that way on purpose!

so him professing this to other people feels like this way to continue digging a hole of his own distraction, his absence, his lack of attention to detail.

i completely understand the frustration that many feel about interpreting this like carmy was essentially choosing claire over sydney.

carmy was trying to have an unfamiliar and different experience and didn't have the depth perception, the self awareness and the internal regulation to recognize he was doing it to the detriment of something so deeply and irrevocably important to him.

as soon as sydney brought it up, he got defensive but then moments later recognized his errors and apologized.

she told him she didn't want to share his attention.

he told her she was absolutely correct and that she deserved his full focus.

what's fascinating about this part is they aren't even explicitly talking about the restaurant.

she says "me" and "i", he says "you".

uh. wow.

now even in the context of JUST the restaurant this is saying ALOT here.

him instantly apologizing and agreeing with her requests means a substantial amount.

carmy isn't an ass because he stood sydney up for the palate cleanser. or even because he went absent when he shouldn't have.

carmy is deeply troubled and wounded and suffering and he was grappling for something else to feel or do or think about besides what he's ALWAYS thought about and done and fixated on.

that's why he's unreliable, that's why he's haphazard and emotionally or energetically messy. he's coping.

that's why he knows he makes mistakes all the time. because he feels like he's a screwup in a lot of specific ways in his life so he's used to it.

he's not being malicious or cruel or even unkind to sydney.

and this isn't an excuse. it's a reason. it's what all the information we have about him up to this point is providing us.

and yes, his timing is godawful.

but he trusts this person so implicitly because he knows how talented and capable she is.

carmy does not know HOW to be a partner, of any kind. where would he have learned that? where would that have been modeled for him?

"this is what you wanted originally and i'm giving it to you."

so let's transpose the way carmy and claire are presented with how carmy and sydney are together.

he literally can't WAIT to hear what sydney has to say. about literally anything.

at any given time.

"say more please."

all he wants to do is listen to her talk. he wants to know everything about her. the personal stuff too, almost especially.

he listens to her so closely. in the first or second episode she loses her train of thought and he repeats everything she just said.

i don't even think it was restaurant related.

he brings up her mother not once, but twice.

he feels like he should have known that sydney lost her.

he wants to pour into and believe in her because he does. he already does.

he's ready to apologize to her because he knows what a mess he can be and often is.

he knows what his anger can do. he knows how he was conditioned and raised in the industry and he doesn't want that at all for her, least of all from him.

especially after she walked out last season.

he's hyperaware of it. he calms down instantly both times she does the sign for sorry that HE taught her.

he has this propulsion to NEED to know what's happening with her in the very moment something occurs.

he did it last season when she quit on the spot and he kept trying to talk to her when she was leaving.

he did it this season when she was frustrated and trying to say goodnight after carmy was actively telling everyone goodnight and to go home, yet he tried to talk to her when she was leaving.

"what?"

"i'm saying goodnight."

he was repeatedly ushering everyone out but because of the look on her face, carmy's like wait, "what's that about, what's happening?"

he can't stand it!

same with them outside last season when he brought her food and asked what was wrong.

if something is up with her, he reacts immediately.

if she's peeved, he wants to know why right away, he wants to know what to do to make it better, how to approach it, what to say, he goes out in search of that information in the moment it's happening.

sydney is his soft place.

he feels very anchored and tethered to her and i believe she feels the same with him.

sydney is his respite. his peace. the thought of her literally calms and stills him.

her being energetically seats him.

we saw it penetrate his seismic and consistent panic in real time.

that was clearly displayed for all of us to witness.

he doesn't want to be cruel or unkind or anything other than present and communicative with her.

i'd venture to say he actually doesn't want anything more than that, besides maybe the restaurant to succeed.

now sydney is in her "i have something to prove" era.

she is so driven and so determined but she's also a realist and is inundated and surrounded by all this proof that what she's doing may be foolhardy.

at the very least, it's incredibly risky. it's a jump.

and someone deeply ambitious and creative and tuned in and focused like sydney has such fear of failure.

because she knows what it often means for someone like her.

that's why she overextends herself so continuously.

she's often had to and she thinks it gets her closer to the opposite of failure.

she was not only aware of the gaps carmy's absence was leaving but also planning this tasting menu with a MILLION things on it because something was gonna be the star because it MUST.

and i think the carmy absence flares a bit of abandonment as well, like he's left her in a lurch.

she has feelings about that.

she finds out why he did, and TRIES not to have feelings about that.

that's confusing and she's already beyond stressed out so she tries to stuff it.

her success is so tied to her identity because she's worked so hard to get where she is and still feels like she's not where she wants to be.

so she wrestles with worthiness and worry and the financial climate of affability for restaurants. she's riddled with what if she can't hack it?

she has evidence of that being true in the past.

she has evidence of her past failures and those are what keep her up at night, not the infinite possibilities of her future successes.

and that's also why she picked carmy.

because she was always going to pick the best.

she was always going to follow the career and moves of the standout in the industry.

of the person that made the best meal she's ever had.

so if he's anal retentive or jumpy or doesn't call about changing the structural elements of their restaurant while it's happening, she deals with it because she picked him.

she chose him. and then he chose her.

(and then she lightweight chose him again when she came back)

so that's why when they're talking he so often checks in by looking her in the face, scanning her expression. he instantly picks up on something being off or wrong or him being "shitty".

or why when they're under a damn table, despite being peeved or annoyed with his disappearing acts, she lets out the most vulnerable, softest admissions about the perceived necessity of her contribution and future failure.

or why he responds with "i couldn't do it without you" so instantly, so rapidly, it's like it's etched in him. that's the quickest response he'd given to anything she said to him the entire season, she barely got the words fully out before he was verbally soothing her.

then he STAMPS this by saying "i wouldn't WANT to do this without you."

there was such an unexpectedly, viscerally aching quality to that exchange.

it's honestly searing.

i'm sorry are these wedding vows or are we talking about opening a damn restaurant?

or the way he says "you love taking care of people" to her when she talks about making sugar food.

that's also a stellar mirrored moment because i've seen a few people, i believe @eatandsleepwell is one, talk a lot about how that's one of carmy's main drivers and internal tenants.

they see so much of themselves in each other.

the buried parts, the unknown parts, the odd parts.

the parts they wanna work on. the parts they wanna exalt.

they are so similar. they are also quite different.

they have reflected one another in the narrative since s1 ep1.

they exist so flawlessly within the others interstices.

she wordlessly hands him pepto for his stomach.

he tells her he won't let her fail.

the pulsing undercurrent of sydney and carmy is pretty fucking palpable.

there's people on social media who weren't convinced or didn't ship them last season that have suddenly completely seen the vision.

whether the writers actually go there or not remains to be seen.

i don't necessarily trust that they will or won't to be honest because i know there are so many moving pieces and variables and factors.

ships get bypassed and messed up all the time.

i don't watch any shows for ship guarantees but i know how writer's rooms work.

i'd venture to bet that at least 1/3 of that room DOES have an interest in seeing something happen between carmy and sydney, (maybe even 1/2).

or at the very least the option to have it explored.

different people write different episodes, the showrunner/creator can scratch or add whatever.

scripts are TIRELESSLY edited and shortened.

yet there is alot that makes the final cut that points to the potent carmy and sydney marrow.

him giving her the captain reigns before they served for the first time, her saying 'let it rip'.

to me, sydney walked into that failing sandwich shop with a mission that day, they locked eyes and immediately fused.

something happened to the both of them in that moment and they largely don't even realize or can adequately reckon with its magnitude yet.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #the bear spoilers #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #tldr #this is literally a dissertation don't feel bad if you didn't read it all

[romanticintheory]

he’s drunk and confessing his love to you, but you’re not taking any of his shit.

kyle “gaz” garrick x reader

hurt/comfort, drinking, gn!reader written by an nb, hella inaccurate depiction of a drunk person

a/n: this is my first time writing for cod so please be kind </3 if you have any critiques just let me know (gently, preferably)

word count: 1.3k

--

“I’m in love with you.”

You were so focused on navigating him back to his room that you had almost missed his confession. About half an hour ago, Kyle had asked you to pick him up from the pub after he went out drinking with his friends. You asked why he didn’t want to take a cab and he so charmingly responded with, “Well, I wanted to see your pretty face, love.”

Now, he was leaning most of his weight on your shoulder as you tried your damned hardest to not let him run into any walls or hit his hips on any counters or tables. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and kicked his door open, helping Kyle settle down on his bed. 

“Is that so?” You countered jokingly, shaky hands helping peel off his coat. Maybe, just maybe, this was the setup to a terrible joke.

“Yeah,” he answered, looking up at you with a dreamy smile after placing his coat next to his nightstand. Slowly, the drunken soldier watched as the amused look in your eyes morphed into something hardened.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you, brows furrowing as you wordlessly crouched down to help him take off his shoes.

“Kyle, you’re drunk,” you reasoned, untying his laces and carefully slipping off his boots. “I told you not to have too many drinks and now listen to all the nonsense you’re saying.”

“You think I’m lying?” 

“I know you are.”

The more the topic lasted, so did your frustration. You had spent years of your life pining after Kyle Garrick. He was kind, always helped you out when he was able, always made time for you, always came to visit when he came back from missions, and never let you feel like you were less than nothing when he was around. He was perfect, and that was the exact problem. There was no world in which Kyle Garrick would fall for you.

“Why would you say that?” 

You could feel your heart constrict in your chest. It was almost as if he were making fun of you at this point, though you knew he would never be so cruel. Setting his boots to the side, you stood up from your spot in front of him and turned to leave. “Good night, Kyle.”

In an instant, he stood up to match you. “(Y/n), wait,” he said hurriedly, clumsily following you as you made a beeline for his front door, after you like a lost puppy following its owner.

Despite his intoxication, he was able to catch up to your brisk pace with an almost concerning ease and grasp your hand gently. You turned to look at him, his face now etched with concern. He felt like he sobered up instantly.

“It’s almost four in the morning. You should go to bed,” you reasoned with him, trying to find any way to avoid confronting his confession—if it even really was one.

“You know I wouldn’t joke with you about this, right? ‘S that what you think this is? That I’d do something like that to you?” He kept digging for an answer, pulling your wrist so that your whole body faced him. In the back of your mind, you become extremely conscious of the fact that his front door is only three feet away from you.

Kyle seemed to notice, too, because he took the opportunity to take your other wrist and slide both his hands up your arms to take a firm grasp at your shoulders. 

“No. That’s not what I think, I just—” you paused and exhaled through your nose, wishing he’d just let you go, but you know him. If he’s concerned about you, he won’t let you leave until he’s sure it’ll be okay. “Like I said, you’re drunk and you’re thinking things are true when they’re not. Now, will you please let me go home so both of us can get some rest?”

He laughs softly. Not in a mocking manner, but in a sad, empathetic way. 

“This isn’t some spur-of-the-moment revelation.” His hands come away from your shoulders and find themselves cupping your face. “Why do you think I want to be around you all the time?”

“Are friends not supposed to want to be around each other?”

He scoffs at the counter, a small smile creeping up on his face. 

“Fine. Why do you think I only look at you whenever you enter the room? Why do you think I’ve never once liked any of your past partners? Why, in all the time we’ve known each other, do you think I’ve never had a partner, myself? Ask Price. Actually, ask anyone who knows me. You are the only thing on my mind. It’s always you, and I thought I could stay in denial for a little while longer, but I can’t.” 

He takes a shaky breath and strokes your cheek gently with his right thumb.

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but don’t tell me I’m not in love with you when you are the only one I’d watch the world burn for.”

You would have been melted into a puddle at this point if you weren't offended at the insinuation that you didn’t return his feelings. Still, you were convinced none of it mattered.

“Kyle,” you say gently, raising your hands to rest on his. “You could do so much better. You and I both know that.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true. Letting you… love me would probably be one of the most selfish things I could do. I can’t let you do that,” you whispered, trying to pry his hands away from you. They wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll love you anyway.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“See? You’re proving my point.”

“And if I tell you I’m in love with you in the morning?”

“It won’t matter.”

“Tell me you don’t want me. Look at me in my eyes and say you aren’t in love with me, and I’ll leave you alone. Tell me you’d be unhappy being with me, or something about what you actually want because I know you’re too kind to take what you want from others. You take care of people. Even just now, you agreed to take me home even though you knew I could take cab. Every time I have to cancel plans, you just smile and say it's alright like it’s not disrespectful to y—”

“It’s not like you can control when you have to go to work,” you reminded him.

“That. That sweetness only you bring is exactly what I mean. It’s one of the things I love about you most and I wish you could see it in yourself like I see you. You’re always the one taking care of me. Let me take care of you, this time. Please.”

It wasn’t until his small please that you realized tears were starting to form in the corners of your eyes. At first, you tried to speak but you mouth wouldn’t open. The overwhelming feeling of his hands caressing your face and his pleading words swirling around in your head was sending you into a state of panic.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down, you said, “In the morning. When you’re sober.”

Kyle’s face lit up instantly, and the small smile lingering on his lips only grew. Finally taking his hands off your face, he slid his palms into yours and gently kissed your knuckles.

“When I’m sober,” he agreed.

“Goodnight, Kyle,” you sighed, secretly savoring the interaction.

“Goodnight, love.”

The sound of Kyle calling your cell phone was what happened to wake you up that next morning.

--

it's 3:30 am and i don't have the energy to proofread this, sorry </3 anyway, I was inspired to write this by @/groguspicklejar who indirectly introduced me to cod with her fanfics. i am now extremely down bad for these boys :') if you liked this you should send her love because she slays!! ok goodnight im so tired <3 i love u

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle garrick hurt/comfort #tf141 x reader #kyle garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gazgarrick fanfic #cod fanction #call of duty fanction #call of duty imagine #cod mw x reader #rarawrites

[lilac-5ky]

Hiya! Can you do one when y/n is bratting off to toji while grocery shopping at 3am(they're alone)🤩😍

A/N: Funnily enough I was sent this while grocery shopping myself. Also, I'm aware that another writer also did a request like this recently, but who am I to say no? However, I'll raise you this: Bratty!Reader dragging Toji to the store at 3am with the goal of having fun 'cause he's been neglecting her.

Tags: public sex gone wrong, unprotected sex, implied car sex, age gap (toji 30's, reader 20's), spanking, bratty reader, soft!dom toji, light degradation, daddy kink, piv, standing sex, name calling (slut, whore), nicknames (baby,sweetheart, kid, etc.), lowkey sugar daddy vibes from toji, talk of masturbation, our man being pussy drunk, theft!?!

Word Count: 3.9k

“Ya seriously gonna wear that?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrow quirks at the sight of you plopping down on the passenger’s seat, the sharp green eye it framed cautiously studying the naked parts of your body; dressing rather than undressing you whole.

“Already am! Why—‘s there something wrong with my clothes?” You bat your eyes sweetly.

This was all part of a bigger plan that was set in motion the second you interrupted his sleep and dragged him out of bed to rev up the car for your nightly excursion to the 24/7 grocery store. Your pink terry-cloth shorts and loose-fitting crop top that barely stretch over your thighs and belly button, respectively—those are your props for the final fact, and you, the star of the show.

“You’re wearing makeup.” Toji accuses as if that’s the root of all evil, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His nose scrunches up. “And perfume.”

“Really?” You feign ignorance with a candied smile. “Must’ve forgotten to take it off. Oopsie.”

“Forgot…sure.” His fingers are still in your hair when he nods, his hand sliding down your neck as he leans closer.

Toji isn’t an idiot. He sees it in the way your pink tongue darts outside your lips a bit too often, wearing off the two layers of gloss you’d carefully applied while he was waiting for you to fetch your precious coupons. He notices how your thighs rub together, your little pussy silently protesting for his neglecting it all night long. And when your cheek willingly tilts into the warmth of his large palm, he knows neither radishes nor toilet paper are what’s in your mind right now.

“My baby doin’ all this for my attention?” His thumb pads across your skin, swiping below you defined eyelash line. “Acting pouty cause I didn’t take care of her needs?”

You find it hard to resist when his other hand dives between your thighs, sidetracking from your own devious plot. He sounds earnest in his efforts, his lips curling into an an apologetic smile they sear on yours. You almost moan from that.

You can’t remember the last time he’d kissed you, even when that was a few days ago, at worst. What you do remember is the reason why you’re doing all this, and you refuse to return it. You let him pointlessly swirl his tongue in your mouth, failing to meet with your folded one.

“C’mon, princess, don’t go cold on me,” he mumbles. “Told ya work was shit today.” You said that the previous day, too. “Couldn’t even keep my eyes open to see how pretty you are. So damn pretty,” he takes his chances again, only this time you have no qualms about backing away toward the window.

His frustration gathers in his grip, his fingers digging crescent moons in the fat of your thighs. He glares, and you chuckle awkwardly before the situation can get out of hand.

“That’s not it! So what if this is the eight night in a row you come home beat after midnight and we haven’t… you know, in nearly two weeks? You think I’m counting? You think I don’t know how hard you work? That I don’t appreciate all the nice things your money’s gotten us?”

You plant a quick peck on his blossoming scowl. “Because I do. I really do, it’s just today’s the last day to cash these coupons out. Don’t want me going off on my own in the middle of the night, do you?”

He keeps quiet, the sole reason he allows himself to be manipulated by such cheap tricks being that up until fifteen minutes ago he was —unbeknownst to him— drooling on your pillow. That and to strip you off your clothes later on; a reason not too dissimilar from your own.

“Let’s go. I promise we’ll be snugglin’ in bed before you realize we were gone.”

“Are those stupid coupons worth that much to ya?” Toji asks.

No, they aren’t. You couldn’t care less about these stupid coupons if you tried, but staying home means spending another night burning your eyes at your phone’s screen by the snoring corpse on the left side of the bed. And you’d tried. You’d gone through every lingerie set in your possession, dabbed a generous amount of that falsely advertised Moroccan oil across your legs and rubbed your silky-smooth cunt all over his crotch like a bitch in heat, only to be turned down with another of his hoarse groans.

You’ve been patient with him. You are grateful that as tired as he was, he chose your bed to pass out on and not some random “coworker’s”. That the flawed man you’ve fallen head over heels for put up effort into straightening up for you. But relationships don’t run on gratitude alone. You miss him. His touch, his kiss, his fuck—even the green color swallowed past his permanently shut eyelids. If a silly idea is what it takes to have your boyfriend back, then you’ll gladly sit through a ten-minute drive of resentment.

“Yes, they are.” You smile, watching his hand relocate to the gear lever.

The clock points to 3:18 AM when Toji pulls over at the vacant parking lot that mirrors the state of the store; no one but a single employee to defend the fortress from the safety of his register. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, his head buried between the pages of the latest Shounen Jump. That’s not very professional of him, but what can you expect from someone who receives his paychecks for acting as a guard dog?

Toji grabs a cart from the stand and lazily pushes it into the first aisle, while you follow after the long-drawn gait of his sandals. You can’t help but pick on his slouch, both elbows balancing against the handlebar. His hair’s still ruffled from sleep, though it’s always kind of messy in a cute, boyish way. His shoulders seem twice as broad, prompting you to loop your arms around his slim waist and nuzzle your cheek against his back. You love how big he looks from this angle, yet not as big as he looks when he’s hunched over you with both your legs on both his shoulders—

“What’s your first coupon for?” He glances at you over his shoulder.

You sort the coupons in your hands, finding the one closest to the aisle you’re strolling.

“Soda. It’s right there,” you point out, and he takes a turn.

He parks the cart on the opposite end of the shelves while you take stock of the different cans and bottles, contemplating whether to start high or low. Your eyes fall on a six-pack bundle of grapefruit soda shoved deep into the highest shelf. You don’t love the flavor, but this will do.

You tiptoe to the shelves and stretch your arms as much as possible, your shirt lifting to reveal your bare back to him while your fingertips barely make contact with the edge of the plastic packaging. Your tits bounce as you jump up and down a few times before you graciously admit defeat.

“Toji? Would you mind getting that for me?” You ask pleadingly.

His jaw falls slack after a minute-long yawn, his eyes tracking your index finger to the bundle it points at. He cocks his head while sizing you up, a hint of a smirk twitching at his scar. He’s finally awake.

“Nah, you do it. Aren’t ya the one who preaches women’s equality and says there’s nothing men can do that women can’t?” Toji sneers. “Go on, kid. ‘m watching.”

A sigh leaves you as you turn around. “Feminism‘s got nothing to do with height.”

You throw yourself over the shelves again and hook a finger under the plastic net that binds the sodas together. The cans shimmy near the brink, and you are certain you will catch them when Toji’s hips suddenly snap against your ass. You yelp as the cans threaten to squash your head, a hand catching them with ease in mid-air while another hikes up your shirt and exposed underboob.

His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear as his lips attach to your lobe. “It’s got everything to do with you dressing like a whore, though, doesn’t it?”

You bite your lip into a straight line as you’re sandwiched between his body and the shelves, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. You almost whimper—almost give in to him too easily when he starts grinding onto you, the press of his groin becoming more prominent with every languid sway.

“Wanna get fucked like one?” Toji doesn’t mumble so much as groan in your ear. “Promise I’ll be quick; heh, might give ya some more coupons after.”

An automated message informing you of the special discount in the baking aisle allows you to slip away from his clutches, and you’re unable to keep your giggles to yourself. His fists pang against the shelf while he curses under his breath. The sight is pathetic, but not pathetic enough for you to call things even. You want him to suffer like you did.

“On second thought, I’m trying to cut down on soda.” You declare much to his audible dismay. “Let’s check the baking aisle next. We’re out of bread.”

Toji stalks behind you, assuming his previous bored stance while pushing the cart forward with his entire body. You hear him huff every now and then, but don’t pay any mind. At least he’ll be rewarded handsomely for his patience. Yours wasn’t.

You halt in front of the various loaves and pastries, overjoyed to see that the overpriced organic linseed bread you constantly made excuses to not buy is 50% down. This might be a good chance to try it out. You fling it in the cart and continue your search for baked goods on the lower shelves. Jam-filled donuts. You definitely don’t need those, but it’s the only purchase you can justify, considering you have no use for the baking supplies surrounding them.

You make sure his eyes are fixed on you and bend over, exaggerating the arch of your bum. You hum softly, unsuspecting of any danger, and rock your hips while supposedly inspecting the labels. Strawberry jam, cherry jam, apricot jam, and—there it is. Your hair falls over your face as you catch his feet stepping between your own. Soon, his presence is felt rather than sensed.

Toji’s palm spreads over your cheek, his fingers long enough to squeeze a good chunk of flesh between them. “You cunning little slut,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Y’think I don’t know what you’re trynna do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just checking the fillings; can’t read the letters while standing.” You lie through your teeth.

“Fillings, huh?” He repeats, and the word changes meaning on his tongue, gaining a lewd intonation. “Anyone can fill that sloppy cunt from this angle, sweetheart. That why you insist on doin’ groceries alone? Y’enjoy letting others see my pussy?”

You love how possessive he gets over your body. That’s another thing you’ve missed. You want him to say it again—to stake his claim over every inch of your body like he did before this hellish month began. You chose this store because you knew it would turn into a graveyard at this hour, but you honestly wouldn’t mind if it was packed with people either. You’d want to be filled by him all the same.

In a moment of weakness, you breathe out his name, and he slaps your ass so hard it reverberates across the aisles as an off-beat drum to the chirpy background music.

“Don’t ‘Toji’ me, girl. Y’know what to call me.”

“D-daddy,” you correct.

“There’s my baby,” Toji praises. “Taught her good manners, mhm?

Your cheeks assume a rosy shade. You’ve never used that name on him in public. It feels exhilarating—perhaps even more so than his fingers shoving the fabric of your shorts to the side and slipping right between your dripping folds.

He gasps. It’s a tiny sound that he thinks you missed, but it’s enough for you to gain confidence. Not many things are capable of shocking the Fushiguro Toji. His other hand joins in the action, rolling your shorts until they dig into your skin like a thong, and his suspicions are confirmed; you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Such a naughty girl,” Toji says, and his voice reaches deep within your pulsing core. You don’t think you can do this anymore. Correction: You don’t want to do this anymore.

His middle and ring fingers push into your hole a second time, and he slowly pumps them in and out, your clear essence coating his knuckles. Two fingers shouldn’t stretch you this good. You’re scared that in all these days, your pussy forgot the stretch of his cock.

“I oughta punish ya for acting up like a complete brat without my permission, but I’m feeling generous.” He says and you thank the gods, the universe, and whoever else is listening to your prayers for not letting you become the first woman in human history to experience blue balls.

“Tell me what ya dragged me here for, and don’t gimme any of that coupon bullcrap, or else you’ll be crawling outta here on all fours.”

Is that a promise or a threat?

His thumb finds your clit and you choke on a moan, the red jam squirting out of the donuts you grip. That’s plenty to answer his question.

“Now tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it for ya,” He rubs a full circle around the nub, the rest of his fingers plunging in so deep your knees go weak. “Got lots of options,” he reads the signs over your heads. “Canned; Deli; Snack; Dairy Aisle might be too cold for ya, hah, unless you’re into some temp play.”

His stalling makes you impatient. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right here, right now I’ll fucking implode.”

The older man chuckles lowly, finding your outburst positively endearing. He fixes your shorts back in place and instead grabs your hand, forcing you to follow him through the empty aisles on a walk that seemingly lasts for hours. He finally lets go when you make it to the Candy aisle, where thousands of colorful gummy bears can bear witness to your sinful act.

Toji flashes a wolfish smile as he corners you between two walls and the door leading to the store’s storage room. He points at the ceiling, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking for until he explains, “It’s a blind spot here. Only place without a working camera.”

He cups your cheek and brings your face to his, licking his lips.

“How do you know that?”

“Great minds think alike. Wanted to bring ya here myself some day. Didn’t think your prude ass would act out first. You’re full of surprises.” His tongue enters your mouth and presses flat against your own. Your fingers lace behind his neck, and his get a firm grip on your hips. He’s much harder than before.

“Speaking of your ass,” and they slide to seize both cheeks, “mind turning ‘round for me?”

His question isn’t a request so much as an order you must obey. “Good girl.” Toji praises you and cages your chest with one arm while the other searches for the zipper in his pants. He lets them ride low around his hips and pulls his cock out of its confinement, stroking it with his fist. You hear his breath grow sharper—or maybe it’s yours. You can’t tell over the sound of your heart; the excitement the same as if it were your first time with him.

Instead of tugging your shorts off, he yanks the fabric to one side and runs his reddened tip between your puffy folds. He hasn’t even pushed it in when you tilt your head to meet his hooded green eyes. “I’ve missed you.” His stare lifts, lustful and adoring as ever. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Toji. You’re always here, but never really here—you know?”

Toji cranes his neck to kiss you, you think, but in reality all he does is swallow the moan that comes out as he drills his cock in your hole. “Missed ya more, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes. He just has to win this too.

Once he bottoms out, he takes a moment to snare his arms appropriately around your body; one holding your shoulders semi-straight and the other spanning over your tummy to grab onto your tit, bulging muscles on both. There’s not much you can do with your hands in this position. You plant them over your mouth to drown out some of your sounds before they can pour out, though most end up slipping anyway as his cock begins to bully your insides.

You were right. It’d been so long that your pussy had reverted to its previous state. It’s more than you can take. More overwhelming and much more pleasurable than you remember.

“Got no idea how much I missed you,” Toji grunts, his voice falling out of tempo while his hips rut at a steady pace. “Got no idea how many times I jerked it to your pictures in the stall. How many—times, I beat my meat to that gorgeous face and spilled my load over your pretty lips.”

Tears well up in your eyes from how fast he’s pounding you; the imagery of his balls tensing up with all that cum he’d wasted fantasizing about you making your pussy sob for him, too.

“You got me running there so often, the guys talk shit behind my back, saying pussy got me whipped. They dunno how perfect this tight little hole is—fuck, baby.” He stutters, his teeth sinking into your neck. “Gonna cum if ya keep grippin’ me like that. So fucking tight cause ya gettin’ fucked in public?”

You whine out loud as he slows down, allowing for your hips to meet his thrusts half-way. Your head is drooping forward and your hand sneaks inside your shorts to play with your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves while his fat cock continuously brushes against your sweetest spot. You bite at your own palm to keep quiet. It’s always the way he runs his mouth that gets you going the most, clouding your inability to think straight.

“Should I just quit?” Toji asks between heavy pants. “Stay home and fuck every day like we used to?”

You nod furiously without anything of what he’s saying registering. Your legs are turned into jello and your mind into mush while his cock splits you open, and you know that if he retracts his arms you’ll collapse on the floor like a rag-doll.

“C’mon, speak up. No one’s gonna hear us, that nobody doesn’t have the guts to come check.” He rolls your stiffened nipple between his calloused fingers, a palm coming down to slap your ass. “Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

“Y-yes.” You rely on pure perseverance to keep your pitch low as you plant your palms on the wall for support. “Don’t wanna share your cock with anyone, T-Toji.”

His lips print a smile on your neck and another on your cheek. “Don’t you mean me, darling?”

You can’t find your voice to answer him, the coil in your guts continuously tensing up—promising the best climax of your goddamn life until it’s taken away by the rapid stomping of the short-stature employee.

“What are you two doing here?” The man asks, unable to fully take in the scene from the other end of the aisle.

Toji’s large frame covers both you and the point where your bodies connect, his hips still moving on their own in spite of his attention being elsewhere. You pull away half-heartedly and straighten the shorts over your body. He leaves to fix his own clothes, while he does all the talking.

“Huh, this place got no restroom?”

Toji scratches the back of his head, waiting for his zipper to be back up before turning to the man. You mentally cast a curse on the employee, wishing it follows his family down to at least three generations, while your walls still flutter over the absence of Toji’s cock, which by the way, is impossible to hide when it’s throbbing a dark stain in his pants.

To no one’s surprise, the employee doesn’t buy your boyfriend’s excuse and demands you leave before he calls the cops. Seeing as Toji’s had enough trouble with the law as is, you grab his hand and the two of you bolt outside, the linseed bread bidding you a sorrowful goodbye from the cart you abandoned.

You don’t stop running until Toji beeps the car doors open and you fall back into your seats, the first glance you share causing you both to burst into laughter. He leans in your direction and you tilt your head in his, lips stealing a quick kiss that’s soon replaced by a playful punch of his shoulder.

“I liked this grocery store!” You complain as if it’s his fault. “Won’t be able to set foot in here ever again.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea, kid.” He shrugs, twisting the key in the engine. His hand moves to the gear, but when he notices your pout persisting, he turns off the ignition.

“Couldn’t even cash out any of my coupons,” you say in a whiny tone.

“At least we got these.”

Your eyes widen as he reveals a small box of Konpeito candy, having not a single clue when and how he managed to get them. “You stole them?”

“Uh… let’s just say I wasn’t allowed to pay for them.” He answers with an innocent smile.

“Toji!” You yell as if stealing candy is any more severe than any of the multiple felonies he’s committed. It isn’t. “Gimme some.”

Toji holds the box out of reach, extending his arm over his headrest to the backseats. “Nah. You said it’s stolen goods, don’t wanna make my baby into an accomplice. You’re far too cute to have your own mugshot.”

His sweet-talking doesn’t stop you from pouncing at him again, your hands attacking each side of his head while he insists to wiggle them away from you. The second-hand vehicle tips back and forth at your attempts, and eventually honks are fired as you climb on his lap, the fight resulting in another make-out session that reaffirms all of his statements as he tears your clothes off your body and pulls his dick out.

He missed you too.

“I’ll give ya some, but… you gonna let me choose where we do our shopping next.”

A/N: I'm happy this was my first request, had fun writing this!

#Toji x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji headcanons #jjk toji #toji scenarios #toji smut #toji fic #toji x you #toji x self insert #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[sugar-coat-it]

HEY!! Your smut is insane!! could i request something like matty and reader mutual masturbation telling eachother what to do?? 😋🤘🏻

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP YOU GOT IT BABE 

I thought it would be fun if they’re low-key bickering throughout it while still telling each other what to do, but it ends with them just being desperate to watch the other cum, totally forgetting the silly argument 

Uhhh yeah this started as a blurb and got pretty long, so, hope you like it anon!

—--------------------------------------------

“Mm- no, you don’t get to touch me, not after what you pulled,” you murmur, pushing Matty back onto the pillows and off of your frame. 

Every fiber of you is screaming to just let your pride go and just allow him to keep running his hands over your body, pressing searing kisses to your neck and jawline. You’re well aware that the fires he sets under your skin can only be fully put out by him, but you’re also stubborn… at least for now. Matty just tuts, rolling his eyes at you and gazing off to the side, clearly fuming at the idea of his actions having consequences. Before you’d gotten back home, you’d been out at a pub where he’d been a complete and total prick to a guy at the bar whom he was convinced was trying to sleep with you. Death stares, possessive fingers digging into your waist, the whole ordeal. The whole car ride home had been tense, Matty’s jaw clenched with bitterness as he kept one commanding hand on your leg, his cold rings pressing into the plush skin of your thigh as he drove. His eyes were intensely trained on the road the whole time, deafening silence between you. Although he was being ridiculous, it sure did get you hot and bothered to see him so passionately envious. He obviously felt the same impulse to some degree, because the moment the door shut behind you, he was crushing his lips to yours, licking into your mouth ravenously as he pulled you flush against his body. The two of you had stumbled into the bedroom, messily shedding jackets to the floor as your eager hands roamed. 

“Seriously? Are you still on about the wanker from the pub?” he scoffs, unfastening his tie with deft fingers, working quickly until it’s hanging loose around his neck. 

“Yeah, I am! You were so rude to him when he was just being nice!” you exclaim, reaching for the zipper on your dress, trying to relieve some of the heat simmering beneath the fabric. 

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say. He told you you were… fucking, what did he say? “mothering, cunt slaying”?” 

“He was gay, you asshole!” you snort, your dress now a heap on the floor along with Matty’s button-down shirt.

“How was I supposed to know that? I don’t even have a clue as to what that fuckin’ means!” “Matthew, you’re so out of touch.”

His lip twitches with annoyance, but that doesn’t stop him from staring right at your tits, his hand tensing with the urge to reach out and greedily touch and grab what he believes is rightfully his. Just as hypocritical, you feel heat surge deep inside you as you glance down at the thick protrusion in his dark slacks, drinking in the sight of him leaning back against the pillows with his inked chest bared to you for your viewing pleasure. You’re both at an impasse, too proud to “lose” by reaching out for the other, which leaves only one option to relieve yourselves of your frustrations. 

“Well if I apparently can’t touch you, I’m not gonna sit here like an idiot with a hard-on,” he murmurs, cocking his head at you with a hint of sass. 

“What, are you gonna go have a wank in the bathroom, then?” you gape with disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Nope. Why should I? It’s my bed too,” he replies simply, reaching for his belt and undoing it, watching as you start practically salivating at the way his hands flex around the buckle.

The belt lands on the floor with a clank, but instead of taking off his trousers, he slides his hand down his chest slowly, sensually, taking his time as if you’re not even there. He trails his fingers down his stomach, his pace is entirely unhurried as he reaches for the crotch of his pants. Matty feels over his erection with the palm of his hand first, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tilts his head back against the pillow, gritting his teeth at the way he’s teasing himself. You can’t help the way you softly gasp when he suddenly grabs himself through the fabric, keeping a firm hold on his cock with a grunt, the veins in his hand bulging salaciously. Matty loosens his grip now, tracing the outline of his erection with two fingers, lingering on the tip just enough to make his hips jump forward with need. He has one hand casually behind his head while the other skillfully undoes the button and zipper of his pants, and only now does he crack one eye open just enough to watch the way you’re squirming, your face burning at the shameless display he’s putting on for you. You straighten up when you feel him looking at you, your face screwing up into a frustrated pout, not wanting him to know how whipped he’s got you. He just chuckles lowly, mirth crinkling at the corners of his eyes while he’s lifting his hips to pull his pants down, knowing all too well what he’s doing to you from the way your thighs clench.

Indignance strikes in you like lightning as you realize that he shouldn’t be the only one enjoying himself. He’s the one who was being an ass tonight after all; you should be making him remember the power you undeniably hold over him too. You begin to mirror him, letting out an exaggerated sigh as you slide your hands up your sides and grope your breasts through the cups of your bra, staring back at him with lustfully lidded eyes. He couldn’t be more pleased, a sleazy smirk tugging at his lips as he stares right back, testing your restraint further and further as the room gets hotter.

“Mhm, that’s it, keep touching your tits love, you’re great wank material,” Matty winks, his hand now snaking under the elastic band of his briefs as he starts stroking himself with a sigh.

You huff, sending him an annoyed look at him treating you like his personal porno, but you’re even more frustrated that his hand is hidden beneath the cover of his underwear. You can only see the outline of his cock as beads of precum soak into the dark fabric, his wrist languidly moving up and down his shaft as his hips shift back and forth slightly.

“What is it? You wanna see?” he coos before letting out a deep moan just to really put the nail in the coffin.

You’d like to call him arrogant, a prick maybe, especially because of the boastful, pride-ridden look on his face as he lazily jerks himself off. But instead what comes out is:

“Yeah…” 

It’s against your better judgment, but you can’t say you really regret a thing when he pushes the elastic past his weeping erection, letting you get a full view of the way he’s slowly circling his thumb around the tip of his cock as he just smiles that stupid, charming smile. It’s enough motivation to eradicate your inhibitions as you spread your legs out atop the sheets, hooking your finger into your ruined panties and sliding them to the side. Matty is starting to lose his cool now, his movements getting a little quicker, his eyes widening just a bit as you keep one hand cupping your breast while the other ventures between your thighs. He lets out a choked groan at the sight of you taking your fingers and spreading yourself open for him to watch, collecting the honey that’s gathered at your sopping hole and dragging it up to your clit. You moan breathily, biting your lip as you begin circling two fingers around the swollen bundle of nerves, the slight sense of relief making your head swim.

“You can go faster than that, can’t you?” you tempt, having had enough of his little lax pleasure session. 

Matty’s lips press into a thin line as you attempt to order him around, muttering something under his breath. Yet, he still obliges, his hand moving a little swifter as he drags his fist up all the way from the base to the head, twisting his wrist the way you usually do it. A prideful smile twitches at the corners of your mouth before you can stop it while you’re drawing tight circles around your clit the way Matty knows you like it. However, nothing could ever compare to the way his calloused fingers rub at you until you’re seeing stars, not even your own hand. 

“Want you to take your bra off,” Matty commands in return, his breathing getting heavier as his chest heaves, he’s trying not to buck up into his hand and appear too eager. 

You move as quickly as possible, not wanting to be left aching for too long as you move to unclasp your bra, needing both hands. The moment your bra is sliding down your shoulders, your hand slithers back between your legs, rubbing little figure eights on your clit to make your toes curl and your head tilt back, your hair spilling down your shoulders.

“You could have been the one touching my tits if you hadn’t been so mean,” you pout spitefully, grabbing a handful of one of your breasts with your free hand.

“Do you even know how to make yourself cum anymore? I’ve spoiled you too much haven’t I?” Matty snaps back, completely ignoring your little comment despite how badly he’d love to lick and suck at your perfect breasts right now.

He’s fisting his cock a little harder as he watches you pleasure yourself, knowing damn well he would be doing a better job, which only makes him further ticked off. You gasp as you pinch your nipple between two fingers the way he does, sending a harsh pang of need straight to your core. Meanwhile, Matty makes a frustrated grunting noise as he tries to recreate the way your lovely hands slicked with his precum would grasp and pump him time and time again. The both of you are ironically unable to get off unless you mimic the way the other’s hands work.

“Have you ever heard that jealousy is a disease?” you mention sarcastically between little gasps for breath, your cunt fluttering around nothing. 

“That’s nice, princess. Two fingers inside, now.” 

Wordlessly, you follow his instructions, whimpering as you coat your fingers with your arousal before sinking them inside your needy hole. Matty’s eyes are trained on the space between your thighs, his jaw going slack as he watches your digits disappear inside you and then reappear even more drenched. His strokes are getting jerkier, he’s cursing under his breath as he tries to resist delving between your legs and taking care of you himself. His chocolatey curls bounce with his movements, a thin sheen of sweat glistening across his chest and his forehead. 

“Don’t like being punished for wanting to keep what’s mine, y’know. Stick your tongue out,” he grunts, giving himself a particularly hard squeeze. 

“So possessive,” you purr, obliging his little fantasy because you know exactly what he wants to see. 

A cheeky glint in your eyes, you let your tongue slip past your lips as you pant, relishing in the way Matty’s cock twitches sharply in his fist as he stares at you, unable to help the way he whines when a drop of saliva drips from your pliant tongue onto your tits. You know how absolutely depraved you must look, fingering yourself while moaning with your tongue hanging out of your mouth. The things you do for love (and good sex). 

“Shit, that’s a lovely view, ain’t it? S’better when you’re not talking too. C’mon, don’t slow down,” he prattles, his voice smooth and dark like tinted glass.

“Only if you fuck your fist for me properly,” you interject, feeling just as worthy of making sensual demands. 

Matty scoffs like he’s above doing something so vulgar, but the moment he sees that you’re in fact slowing your movements down, he’s snapping his hips up into his fist, groaning far too loudly as he clenches his hand around his shaft. Sufficiently pleased, you go back to sticking your tongue out like his obedient little sweetheart while you continue to pump your fingers in and out of yourself. Matty’s eyes roll back with fluttering lashes as he thrusts upwards over and over, his abs tensing with the effort of keeping up his relentless pace. You feel yourself shudder the moment the whites of his eyes disappear and he’s gazing at you again, the eye contact makes warmth rush over your skin in a familiar, pleasant wave. God, the obscene symphony of sounds from your separate pleasure sessions would be enough to make anyone blush. You’re both starting to forget why you’re playing this little game in the first place, heads hazy with raw desire.

“Getting close…” you murmur, the challenging tone of your voice fading into a softer sort of desire, like you can’t help but appreciate the absolute treat of your gorgeous boyfriend before you. 

Matty’s gaze softens in return, his eyebrows sloping with a pining sort of look instead of being furrowed with intensity, his curls are sticking to his forehead, damp with his sweat. His breaths are coming in short gasps, moans freely spilling from his lips as his eyes wildly flick from your longing expression to your breasts, to your diligent fingers. Every little sound you make only encourages him to go harder, to fuck faster, the bed creaking louder as the headboard repeatedly meets the wall behind it. 

“Ohh, I know, I know, me too. Shit, you’re so good, love. So perfect for me with that pretty pink cunt of yours spread open, fuck,” he rambles, his words tapering off into a whimper. 

His filthy words have your cheeks burning, heat prickling at them as you sigh out, your hips rocking into your own hand as you feel the tension gathering deep inside. It feels like it’s all getting ready to snap at any moment, and Matty can see it plastered all over your face. He knows you well enough to know the way your eyes widen when you’re going to climax, he’d made it his personal mission to learn all your tells. The whole pub incident might as well have never happened with how intent you both are to watch the other fall to pieces, eagerly relying on the other’s pleasure to get off.

“Please, please, Matty, wanna cum with you,” you whisper, your voice quivering much like your legs. 

“Shit, yeah? Go ahead love, gonna watch you make a mess, okay? I’m right here,” he breathes, restraining himself to only look into your eyes as you start to lose yourself. 

You’re falling weightlessly beyond the edges of pleasure, but you force yourself to stay upright enough to gaze back at Matty while your orgasm begins to crash over you in waves, your walls clenching and fluttering around your fingers while your lips part with a silent cry. Matty’s not far behind you, especially not with the scene before him of his perfect girl falling apart just for him. Hot spurts of cum cascade over his fist and his stomach, adorning his tattooed skin with pearly ropes as he moans garbled praises of your name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck,” he groans, his hips pistoning up into his closed fist with sloppy, blissed-out thrusts, not once breaking the shiver-inducing eye contact. 

Your chest is still heaving, you’ve barely even started coming down from your high before you’re lunging for Matty, and he’s reaching out just as fast, his hands finding your waist like they’ve made their home there. You let your full body weight lean into him as you kiss him longingly like it’s been years since you’ve felt their touch. Neither of you seems to mind the way his cum is spreading all over your stomach and your tits between your flushed bodies, you’re too busy clutching at each other and locking lips like overzealous teen lovers. 

“Didn’t feel as good as when you do it, Matty,” you croon against his mouth, your hands adoringly sliding into his hair. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he pants, his thumbs tenderly rubbing little circles against your hip bones, “please, can I give you proper treatment now? Wanna make up for it, I was bein’ an arse, m’sorry.”

You just nod, looking up at him like he’d hung each individual star in your own personal sky as his warm breath fans over your lips. The glint in Matty’s eyes at your agreement tells you that he’s going to be spending quite some time worshipping you tonight, lovingly taking you apart with his hands until you’ve had enough. All is well in the world.

#TEEHEE #this was a fun one #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #anon asks #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfiction

[d6volution]

Reader who is just as much of a jackass as Jax is. Both of you are competing for the “best prank” on the rest of the circus members. However, one day Jax decides to ask Caine for a “massager” claiming you complained about muscle aches. Jax gives it as a gift, the reader not knowing the outfit contains the toy. He wants you to wear on the next adventure and hopes to push your buttons. Whether the reader gets revenge is up to you.

i think i get it! hopefully this is okay 🫶🏽

tags: make shift vibrator, fingering, outdoors, cursing cause i didn't feel like censoring it.

more below the cut. | minors dni.

"You're kiddin' ... there's no way Zooble would sleep through that." Jax grinned, at you .. a hand on his hip as you both walked through the halls at a moderate pace.

"Mhm, wait til you see them." Was all you said, clearly confident of your own doings.

Like clockwork, Zooble appeared, "What are you two assholes staring at?" Zooble squinted.

Jax couldn't help it, a thunderous roar of laughter erupted from his mouth and held his stomach. Pointing at Zooble with the opposite hand.

"What the hell is so funny?" Zooble didn't notice , they were so used to switching and swapping parts on their body that they failed to notice the comically bouncing googly eye on their face, replacing their usual left eye.

"N—Nothing, Zoobs. You look great.." You giggled and yanked Jax away before he gave away the joke before it had its time to play out.

You guys rounded the corner, "That puts me ahead three points, bunny boy." You said smugly.

"What? No way." He rolled his eyes, and the laughing fit quickly wore off.

"What do you mean, no way? Those were the rules !" You huffed, and relished in your frustration.

"The rules, of my game, dollface."

"Should've known you'd cheat.."

"Look, how about this, next adventure we go on. Double the points. Whoever comes out on top wins. Simple." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Hmp. Fine, you've got a deal." You were planning to get the one up on him. Even if it meant humiliating the other members in the process. There was nothing else to do in this digital world, so why not have some fun at the expense of others?

You two parted ways for the night, and unbeknownst to you Jax had a devious plan already cooked up.

"Hey, Caine."

The ringmaster was cleaning up the mess from the last adventure, "Oh , hello there Jax! What can I do for you?" His voice boomed like usual.

"You know, y/n said they've been havin' some trouble with... uh, back aches. real bad back aches. Needs, I dunno.. a massager or something. Got anything like that?" He gestured.

"Hmm.. I suppose I can cook something up!" He pretened to dig in his pocket, his arm disappearing all the way down to the forearm until he pulled out a make shift massager that had multiple vibrating parts.

Jax's grins grew wide, it was almost creepy how narrow his eyes got. "Thanks , Caine. You're the best." He caught the massager such Caine tossed to him. Jax waved and quickly went to his room. He spent the entire night carefully crafting an outfit for you, though right in the crotch the vibrator was hidden inside the cloth. The things you could make happen here we almost comical. But, Jax took whatever advantage he could get. No matter how ridiculous.

Now lastly. The remote. He'd be able to control whenever the "massager" turned on and off , plus fluctuate its intensity.

The next morning came in a flash, maybe because he was up throughout the night.. no matter. It's not like they get tired anyways.

He showed up at your door, outfit in hand. He knocked until you opened it.

"Jeez, Jax first thing in the morning and— ..... whats that..?" You pointed at the clothes folded in his hands, it was a one piece outfit but it cut off to make shorts at the bottom.

"For you, dummy." He teased and shoved it into your arms.

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm wearing this Jax." You scoffed and held it up in front of you. It wasn't too provocative..  you just didnt trust him.

"C'mon doll, don't be a loser. Just wear it,— wear it and successfully pull one prank on a member and the winning title is all yours." He spiced up the deal, grinning at you.

You knew there had to be a catch, but if he thought you weren't going to take advantage of this he'd be wrong. "Fine. I'll win, and when I do. You have to anything I say for the entire day."

"Deal." He responded a little too quickly and you shut the door in his face. His smile remained and he hummed to himself as he went looking for the others while you changed.

It was odd how well this outfit fit you, snug but not too tight.. just when did he get your measurements..? Ugh, whatever. It was a little uncomfortable in certain areas , but what were you expecting? Jax to be some master tailor?

"I can't believe I'm doing this.." You muttered before exiting your room, meeting up with the rest of the lot just in time. Caine was explaining the ins and outs of todays adventure. Something about fishing at the digital lake. You weren't paying attention, trying to figure out a quick prank to pull on an unsuspecting member so you could get out of this outfit.

BUZZZZ.

You jumped and yelped, covering your mouth as you felt something vibrating against your clit. Your cheeks went red and you tried to keep still as a few eyes darted to you, but only for a moment. 'What the, fuck?' You thought, and immediately looked at Jax. Unfortunately he wasn't even looking at you.

"Alright, now go on my little superstars! Good luck!" Caine ended his speech and disappeared in puff of smoke.

You all exited the tent and headed towards the lake.. just then you fell another buzz and stumbled to a stop, Kinger and Gangle walked past you with concerning looks... followed by Jax. You walked with him , cheeks still red.

"Jax. I'm taking this stupid outfit off."

"Fine, you'll lose immediately though.. don't say I didn't warn ya." He said and seemed completely unbothered, clearly aware of how competitive you can be.

"Th.. That's not fair and you know it." You growled under your breath.

"Lighten up doll, maybe this is just what you need. A little fun and pleasure." He shrugged before the buzzing started again, and you let a whine slip past your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

"Whoops.. hand slipped."

"You're going down you, little pervert."

You felt like steam was going to erupt from your ears. You pushed past him, flustered and frustrated. He just chuckled as you stormed off. Clearly pleased with himself.

The buzzing stopped and you breathed , you had to come up with something.. maybe you'd hook Gangle's fishing line to one of her ribbons so when she tries to cast it, it'll go all wrong and make her unravel.

The plan was nearly perfect .. except everytime you tried to distract gangle Jax pressed that damn button and the vibrator buzzed against your thobbing clit.

Every time you tried to initiate your plans , it was always interrupted. The buzzing didn't even stay on long enough for you to reach your climax so you were constantly being edged.. you had to take a break, you could feel your lewd jucies running down your inner thighs..

"I'm going to kill him.." You said, but the words left your mouth pathetically. You leaned against a tree, far from the others.. maybe if you came then you could .. function at least.

"Oh, wondered where you ran off to. Havin' some trouble there doll?"

"N.. No, Jax you'd better not—"

BUZZZZZ.

You almost crumpled to your knees but Jax was right in front of you, holding you against the tree. "Poor thing, can't even stand. How ya gonna win like this, huh?"

Your eyes were glassy, legs shaking. "Y.. You asshole.." Your legs were trembling and you could feel Jax's hand sliding up your torso.

"How about this, give up and I'll let ya cum dollface. No strings attached." He stared at your helpless form. Eyes clearly foggy with lust.

"N.. No way, hhck..!" The buzzing got more intense and you finally collapsed to the floor.

".. O..Okay , please..! please let me cum, Jax.." You whined, your cunt puffy and throbbing with need.

"Heh, that's what I thought.. good game, y/n." He croutched down in front of you. His body pretty much blocking yours fron any eyes that could possibly end up seeing you two.. he pushed aside the shorts and your panties and plunged two fingers inside of you without a second thought.

You yelped and instinctively scooted back but the tree kept you in place.

"Shh.. someone might hear ya, babe. Just cum on my fingers real quick yeah?" He whispered into your ear and your cunt convulsed around his fingers at the thought. You grabbed his arm but he didn't stop, still hammering his fingers in your squelching cunt.

"Fuck... you're so wet." He muttered and stared at your cunt as it swallowed up his fingers.

"Jax!" You yelped and your body jolted as you came on his fingers, panting a little.

"Ya good , doll?" He asked, slowly removing his fingers from your dripping snatch.

You nodded and helped you adjust your clothes, before assisting you to your feet. "How about you go get changed.. I'll make up an excuse if the others say something." He said in a more gentle voice now, his eyes were still wild with lust but he figured now may not be the time.

"R..  Right .. thanks, Jax." You still felt numb down there, your legs still a bit shaky.

"Oh, you still lost by the way. Heh."

Of course you did.

#the amazing digital circus #ask #minors dni #jax tadc #jax x reader

[bagopucks]

C. Caufield - Linear Progress

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Cole Caufield x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning(s): anxiety, mention of depressive episode, sad!cole

These upcoming fics are all things from my notes app from last season, doctored and given a finish so I could post! Some of these are so long it’d be a shame to just delete.

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His smile barely reached his eyes. His laughter was distant and distracted. Cole, so used to keeping good posture to feel like he measured up to those around him, stood about as poorly as a pregnant mother. His gloved hands clasped in front of himself as he shifted his weight from skate to skate.

I couldn’t take pictures of him like that. People would never notice the vulnerable state he was in, but I did. He looked so nervous. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but on the ice. And I knew that’s exactly what was going through his mind, because he’d pulled all the stops that morning trying to get me to call off for him. He’d tried saying he didn’t feel good, then he tried saying he just wanted to lay in bed. Then he tried faking a headache, and he tried tricking me into thinking he had gone back to bed. By the time I got him into the car, Cole’s attitude had done a complete switch. All of a sudden it was like work was the best place on earth. We had parted ways to do our separate things, but when I came down to the ice with my camera, I could sense Cole’s discomfort from a mile away.

“You wanna hit something other than the glass, Coley?” I watched Cole through the lens of my camera. Watched the way he brushed off the chirp with a quiet chuckle and a nod. He just wanted to stay home. I should have let him. Practice was only an hour, but it certainly felt longer. Between everybody’s endless digs on the blonde, and the occasional glances in Cole’s direction from coaches, I could see his facade cracking and fading.

I didn’t capture near as many photos as I would have liked, but my boss would just have to use what the other photographers got. Surely we’d have more than enough. I tucked my camera back into its bag by the time practice ended, watching the boys leave the ice, and eventually walking toward the visitors tunnel. I stopped short though, when I heard a puck slam off the glass. I turned back to the ice, my heart sinking in my chest at the frustration on Cole’s face.

“Fucking empty net.” His voice carried through the empty arena.

This had nothing to do with the empty net in the present. It had to do with the empty net he missed one week prior. That seemed to have started his scoring drought.

“Fuck.” He spat out. My brow furrowed as he skated toward the bench, my body tensing in anticipation as he raised his stick, clearly ready to slam it off the top of the bench wall until it broke. Before he could even bring the stick down, his entire body relaxed. He found reason within his anger. Or maybe he had simply given up. I watched Cole throw the stick aside in the bench instead, saying, ‘fuck it,’ before he stomped down the tunnel toward the locker room.

He had just returned from an injury. Adjusting was normal. Relearning some things was normal. But Cole wasn’t patient with himself. He never was. I carried my camera down the separate hall, half tempted to retrieve Cole’s stick, but ultimately deciding against it. He’d be embarrassed if he knew I’d watched him lash out like that. He hated when people saw any side of him that wasn’t the usual giggly and fun side.

I stole away to my office to finish a few things before I received a message from him, trying to speed up the process of downloading photos to my computer as Cole’s face popped up on my phone screen. I quickly answered the call.

“Hey, babe-“

“I wanna go home.” So much for pleasantries, but I hadn’t expected them in the first place.

“Give me maybe.. fifteen minutes, okay?” Silence followed my request for time.

“Please.” I heard his voice echo, my brow furrowing as I glanced toward my phone.

“Are you in the bathroom?”

“I just wanna go home.” I could have sworn I heard Cole’s voice quiver.

“You can come sit in my office while you wait.”

“I’m okay.” I wanted to pinch my nose. To grab him by the shoulders and shake the stubbornness out of him.

“Why don’t you go wait in the car then?” I bit my lip as I looked back at my computer.

“‘Kay. But.. just fifteen minutes, right?”

My eyes lit up when the photos finally loaded onto the computer.

“Less than fifteen.” I answered, “I’ll be fast.”

I tried to stay true to my word, but when my boss stopped me in the hall, I knew it would be far longer than fifteen minutes. A half an hour longer to be exact. When I got out of her office, I ran as quickly as I could through the building to get to the parking lot. I felt horrible when I noticed Cole’s head lift. Our car the only one left in the players lot.

I tossed my camera in the back and climbed into the passenger seat without so much as a word. I wasn’t in trouble, but I knew Cole wasn’t thrilled.

“You said fifteen minutes.” Cole hadn’t wasted much time getting the car started and pulling out of the lot.

“I’m sorry. My boss stopped me, and- god you know how she is.”

“Talks for hours, yeah.” Cole tried to muster a chuckle. He looked so apathetic. So careless. But not in a freeing or jovial way. He simply looked drained and tired.

“What do you wanna do when we get home?” I asked, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. Christmas was just around the corner. Snow covered sidewalks and streets, and Christmas decor was up everywhere.

“I just wanna lay down.” Cole shook his head. I turned my attention to him.

“You could use a hair cut.”

“Not today.”

“Might feel good.” Laying around and doing nothing in the midst of a funk never helped anybody. As easy as it was to laze around, it usually only made one’s mental health worse.

“You can lay with me.” He was stuck on this idea. Too bad I was stuck on my own as well.

“I’ll lay with you if you let me cut your hair.”

Cole didn’t reply. He bit his lip and ignored the proposal. “I have stuff to do today anyway.” I shrugged. I wanted to be there, but if Cole didn’t let me in, there wasn’t much I could do. So if he insisted on laying around all day, I’d busy myself with cleaning, straightening up the few decorations we had yet to put out, working on Christmas cards. Anything to busy myself while he stayed miserable.

“‘Mkay.”

It was the end of our conversation until we got back to our apartment. I carried my things inside behind Cole, who kicked his shoes off and headed straight for our bedroom. I had to stop myself from following after him. Instead, I dropped my camera bag on the love seat and wandered into the dining room to grab my laptop,

He’d come around eventually. It was what I kept telling myself as I turned on some Christmas music and put the few finishing touches on our customized Christmas cards. I sang along quietly, and set my laptop aside when I finished the cards. I saved the design to show to Cole when he felt better, and shot up from the couch to make a glass of hot chocolate.

I ended up making two, and against my better judgement, I carried one down the hall for my lover.

“Cole?” I toed our bedroom door open, spotting his still body curled up under a mess of blankets. His back was turned to the door, but I could tell he had the comforter pulled over half of his face. I sighed, resting the mug on his nightstand before I placed a hand on his arm.

“Made you some hot chocolate.” I whispered, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. I didn’t know if Cole was awake or not, but the affection was needed nonetheless. I tiptoed out of our room and pulled the door shut behind myself, only to return to my own world of lonely Christmas preparation.

I spent close to two hours putting up the last of the decorations and cleaning. I saved the tiny statues of Hermey and Rudolph for the tv mantle, where they always went, but Cole loved being the one to put them up. I stared down at the statues on the coffee table, placing my hands on my hips as I’ll Be Home For Christmas came on from my laptop on the couch. The cozy atmosphere was almost perfect. I just wished Cole didn’t feel so horrible. He deserved to enjoy his holidays. Not worry them away.

I glanced back toward the hall, hearing an ear splitting shatter as if on cue.

“Cole?” I shouted, panic seizing my chest as I took off through the hallway, making a sharp turn to push our bedroom door open. Cole was out of bed, wearing nothing but boxers, holding an arm out toward the door.

“It’s fine! I’m fine! I got it!” I looked toward the floor to see the mug I’d set on his dresser in pieces. I grimaced. His favorite mug. Hot chocolate ran across the floor, and I was quick to jog into the bathroom to grab a towel.

“Here.” When I returned, I tossed the towel on the floor, covering the small puddle of liquid. “I’ll go grab something to wipe the floor down.. you start picking up glass.” I left the bedroom, going to rummage through the kitchen for my floor cleaner. When I found it, I grabbed a few paper towels as well, returning in record time.

Cole was knelt on the floor, the towel from the bathroom pushed aside as he collected glass from the floor. I noticed the sporadic and heavy rise and fall of his back, the way his chest heaved. His hair covered his eyes, and despite not being able to see his face, I knew he was upset.

“Coley.” I made my way over and knelt next to him.

“I’m almost done.” Cole’s voice quivered. I set the items in my hands down, gently resting my hand on his cheek, turning his head to face me. Cole’s eyes were wet with tears, his cheeks flushed and stained by the tracks of tears that had already fallen.

“Oh, Cole.” I kissed his forehead, shaken by the sob that escaped his lips as he set the collected glass down atop a paper towel. I sat down on the floor and pulled him in. He’d been kneeling before, but he barely thought twice about it when his body fell into my own, back pressed into my chest while I held onto him tightly.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out through broken cries, but I merely shook my head and rubbed his side with one of my hands.

“It’s okay.. everything is gonna be okay.” Cole didn’t have days like these often. Where everything bubbled over and became too much to bear. He was good at keeping himself in check. In fact, he was usually the one taking care of me on days like these. But I never missed an opportunity to assure him I was there in moments when he felt he couldn’t function. When the dark cloud looming over was simply too much to bear. I rested my chin on Cole’s shoulder, pressing occasional kisses to his body to help distract and ease his mind.

“Cole,” I whispered as he started to calm down. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and slowly turned to look at me. “Let’s fix this mess, okay? Then we can relax.” He seemed reluctant to get up, and I knew he’d sit there all day if I didn’t take initiative. “C’mon.” I directed his attention back to the glass, helping him retrieve the last few pieces before he got up to throw them away. I made quick work of cleaning the floor, wiping down any sticky spots before I had stood up to put the towel in the hamper, and throw the paper towels away. When Cole returned, he stood in the doorway, hugging himself for warmth, or maybe still out of discomfort. I turned to look at him, flashing a sad smile.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to..” as if I didn’t know that. As if he hadn’t already apologized. I crossed the floor to meet him in the doorway, wrapping my arms around his body. I gently rubbed his back, taking note of the tight muscles.

“It was an accident. It’s okay.” I whispered, “you wanna talk about what’s been going on?” I looked up at him, earning a quiet ‘no,’ in response.

“Cole, you were just crying. It might help some.” I tucked a lock of his long blonde hair behind his ear, then trailed my hand down his face, following his jaw.

“I just wanna lay back down.”

There it was. That constant avoidance.

“At least lay with me on the couch. All the decorations in the living room are set out.” I rubbed the small of his back, earning a careful nod. “I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt first. It’s a little cold.” I moved my arms around to his stomach, nodding and pressing a kiss to his shoulder before I slipped out of the bedroom.

There was no promise that Cole wouldn’t lay back down in our bed, but I had to trust him a little.

When I got back into the living room, I shut the lights out and plugged the Christmas tree in. I grabbed one of our Christmas blankets and laid it out on the couch, waiting for him as I placed a throw pillow at one end. I laid down and pushed the blanket aside so I could pull it over us later. I grabbed the tv remote and started sifting through channels, smiling at Cole when he finally came through the hall. He still didn’t have pants on, but his sweatshirt sleeves were pulled over his hands, and he had the plastic end of one of the strings in his mouth. As cozy as he could get. I parted my legs for him to lay down between them, and he did with little to no hesitation. Cole’s back rested against my chest, his head finding a home near my shoulder. I wrapped my legs around his own and swiftly covered up with the blanket.

“You finished decorating without me?” I heard him sniff quietly, still recovering from the crying fit he had minutes ago.

“It had to get done.” I rested a hand on his head, gently combing my fingers through his hair. “I left Rudolph for you.” I gestured toward the coffee table with my free hand.

“Are we still visiting my family over Christmas?”

“Absolutely, Cole.” I smiled. “You’ve been looking forward to that since November.” When the silence settled between us, I moved my free hand to rest atop one of his own. I dragged my thumb across his knuckles, traced the lines in his hand, flipped it over to massage his palm.

“I just want it to be over.. ya know?” Cole’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What do you want to be over?” I matched his volume, continuing to rub his hand and play with his hair. One little change might throw him off.

“I just wanna be good again.” He sighed, turning his head against my shoulder to look up at the ceiling.

“At hockey?”

“Yeah. I can’t even hit the net.” Cole closed his eyes, trying to hide his frustrations.

“Give it time, Cole. It’s all a part of recovery. It’s not a linear thing.” I whispered. “And we’re gonna go visit your family in a week. You should be focused on that. I know you wanna be back on the ice, but if you rush you could hurt yourself.”

“What if they don’t resign me?” My movement halted. I lifted my head from the pillow to peek down at him.

“Why would they do that?”

“Because I can’t play.”

“Cole.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re gonna recover. You’ll get back to playing hockey. Your skill hasn’t just gone away.” I could understand his concerns to a degree, but I knew these worries were all in his head. “If they decide to ship you off it’s because they’re morons. It’ll have nothing to do with your recovery. Injuries happen, and you can’t control them.” His silence was deafening. Sometimes I hated how hard Cole thought about things.

“I really like it in Montreal.”

“Cole.” A tension accompanied my tone. One that made his eyes fall toward the opposite end of the couch. “You can’t trap yourself in this endless cycle of negative thoughts.” I began to play with his hair once again. “What if they do want you? What if you recover so well that they decide to sign you for more years? What if you get a better contract than the last? What if this injury turns you into a superstar?” Cole shifted against me, clearly displeasured by the combative tactic I was using.

“Okay?”

“Cole. Anything can happen. Good or bad. You can’t control it.. so let’s just not think about it. It’s tearing you apart.”

“Because it’s my future! Don’t you get it?” Cole sat up, careful not to hurt me. I was quick to sit up as well, folding my legs criss-crossed on the couch as I watched his head fall into his hands. His once calm breathing began to pick up once again.

“The future isn’t going to sneak up on you Cole! The future is a second from now. A day, three days. It’s a fucking week or a month. It’s not going to come and assault you in an alleyway one day. You’re thinking too much. The physician, physical therapist, your coaches, they’re all working with you. They’re all making sure you get back on the ice. And they’ve been telling you that you’re recovering well. You’re doing great! Why don’t you see that?” I was impatient as I waited for an answer. Waited for Cole to look at me, or show some sign of understanding.

“I don’t know.” His voice quivered again. His chest heaved with a deep and quiet cry. He desperately needed that week off. He needed that week with his family. With his mother and his dog. Olive was the best at cheering Cole up.

I slid across the couch, draping one of my arms over his back as Cole cried quietly.

“It’s okay to be worried,” I whispered, resting my other hand on his thigh. “But you can’t let it consume you. You have to talk to people.” I didn’t know how we got there, but I knew it was because of his own stubborn behaviors. If he simply would have spoken to me before, we could have worked this out. And even despite knowing that, I couldn’t be mad. I couldn’t blame Cole for whatever reason he chose not to communicate, because I knew he didn’t do it to spite me or hurt me for not understanding. “You can’t let yourself get here, Cole. This constant state of panic won’t help anything.” I pressed a kiss to his head. “Things are going to turn out okay, but you need to allow yourself to see that. Please… let me help you see that.” I felt his body lean into my own, and I wrapped my arms around him once again. “There’s nothing to worry about.” I whispered, “take it one day at a time.”

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#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #cole caufield blurb #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #cole caufield #ella’s inbox #ella’s updates #ella’s asks