#drink stirrer
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hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap
I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:
tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)
also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!
fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.
Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.
When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.
Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.
Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.
(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)
He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.
Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.
Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.
Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.
“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”
Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.
"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.
"Yes sir."
“And do you know what happened to them?”
“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”
Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.
The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.
During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.
At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.
He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.
What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.
Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.
“You planned this?”
“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.
Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.
“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.
“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.
“Then yes.”
“Why?”
Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.
Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.
“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.
“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”
“Yes.”
“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.
He didn’t answer.
“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”
“Yes.”
Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.
He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.
Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.
“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.
“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.
Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.
He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.
“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”
Well, curiosity killed the cat…
“No, they don’t.”
…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.
“Do you plan on telling them?”
There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”
It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.
His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.
Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.
“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”
“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”
Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.
Oh, he thought to himself.
I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.
<><><><>
They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…
No, that’s not quite right.
Simon was lying on the daybed.
Johnny was lying on top of Simon.
His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.
Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?
It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.
His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.
I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…
Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.
Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.
(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)
At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.
The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.
Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.
He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.
“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.
“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”
Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.
“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.
He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.
It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.
“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.
Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.
He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”
He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.
He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.
Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.
Well, that’s just fucking unfair.
Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!
Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.
Neither moved.
It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.
He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.
Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.
“Thank you, Simon.”
A second of delay, and then the hand continued.
“You’re welcome, Johnny.”
Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—
A kiss, on his forehead.
He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.
When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.
There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.
He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.
He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.
The dog tags.
John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.
He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.
He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.
He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.
Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.
He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.
God.
His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.
I'm fucked, aren't I?
<><><><>
Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.
Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.
Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.
Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.
If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?
He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.
He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.
He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.
What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?
Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.
For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.
He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.
Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?
He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.
Why can't you just be normal?
Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.
He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.
He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.
The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.
Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.
He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.
He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.
It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.
There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.
Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed
Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.
Ghost: Disliked.
Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔
Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.
Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it
Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-
Ghost: About the tags, you
Ghost: I think you make me want to live
Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.
I'm in love, aren't I?
Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius
Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.
Soap (art streamer): :D
Took you long enough, dumbass.
<><><><>
Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.
“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.
She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.
“Nope!” she replied.
She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.
"Detergent."
She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.
"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.
Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.
“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.
“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.
“Did you tell him what it means?”
“...What does it mean?”
Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.
“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“200 then.”
“It doesn't even mean anything.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.
“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.
“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”
“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”
He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.
“What did you say? 100?”
“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”
“So you admit you tried to scam me?”
“Just take the 100 and g-”
She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.
“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”
She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.
Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.
She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”
He didn't shake her hand.
“Christ, both of you are awful.”
He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.
She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.
She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.
“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.
I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.
#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghoap#streamer au#streamer! soap#streamer!soap#streamer! au#ft. Old Man Price and Chronic Shit Stirrer Twin Sister (unnamed)#ghost never changes soaps contact name#my version of ghost in this au has convinced himself that he's nothing more than an incel/neckbeard#and that's why he is the way that he is#[I know my mess of 'family hcs' or whatever was derailed to shit but I still think ghost would call his twin detergent]#i’m scheduling this for when i’ll be asleep so goodnight i hope you all sleep well and drink plenty of water#my writing
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the requiem cafe drinks always look very gross and nothing more special than what youd get handed at your local side of the road coffee stand. the american themed cafe is a travesty
#they dont even have like little plastic stirrers with characters on them#and when its a rush like im sure it will be.....theyll look even worse#no like boba or a fun cup or anything its literally just. red character gets red drink.
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if anyone wants to write any Long Hair Problems(tm), here are some common complaints from me, someone who has had long hair most of my life.
have on more than one occasion risen from bed only to yank myself down because my elbow was on my hair
walked to the table for food while carrying something, leaned over to eat and started screaming because my hair was dropping into the soup
can and HAVE used my own hair as a scarf before.
it's not that long anymore but I have sat on my hair by accident before and leaning forward DOES yank it
I sleep with my hair loose and move it up over my pillow but bc it's so long and I don't want it to hang off the bed, I pull my hair back toward me on the pillow and sometimes I will turn around and startle myself because there is a mass of black right next to my face.
MUST tie up hair before doing anything. washing dishes? brushing teeth? cleaning toilet? lean forward a little bit and suddenly all your hair is falling right into the target direction you don't want it to go. and it will fall over your shoulders.
#why do I keep long hair if PROBLEMS?#because it's honestly easier for me to take care of than short hair#I've had boy cut hair a few times and I'm not kidding I had the Sasuke duck hair in the back#it's impossible it sticks up everywhere and if I brush it it'll stick up again#but with asian hair even if it's hip length I can towel dry it and not brush my hair for days#and it'll look slightly messy#it's just pinpoint straight and falls in one direction it's easy#also I use hair sticks so it takes me like 4-5 seconds to tie it all up#and if I don't have my hair sticks a chopstick or pen will do#I've used drink stirrers as well#and the biggest reason I keep long hair#I live for the DRAMA when I pull out my hair stick and my hair falls from a tight bun all the way down to my hips#(so I gave in and ordered both Shaoshi and Wenjing as hairsticks hfdksa merry christmas to me)
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Customised Acrylic Drink Stirrers: | Tweak'D Store
When it comes to enjoying a refreshing cocktail or a steaming cup of coffee, presentation is everything. And one way to make your drinks stand out is by using customised acrylic drink stirrers. These small but impactful accessories not only add a touch of elegance to your beverages but also serve as a unique promotional tool for businesses. In this blog, we will explore the world of customised acrylic drink stirrers, their benefits, and how they can take your drinks to the next level.
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#unique cocktail stirrers#acrylic drink stirrers#customised acrylic drink stirrers#personalised acrylic stirrers
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Tweak'd Store's Stylish Coasters and Acrylic Stirrers
Elevate Your Beverage Experience with Tweak'd Store's Stylish Coasters and Acrylic Stirrers
Introduction:
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Homemade Hot Chocolate Stirrers
Make your own hot chocolate stirrers topped with crushed candy canes or mini marshmallows using this quick and easy recipe. 30 plastic spoons, 1 package semisweet chocolate chips, 6 peppermint candy canes crushed, 1 package miniature marshmallows
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WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader
content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)
you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.”
you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer.
you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”
“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”
“‘gentleman,’” you snort.
kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”
“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”
he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”
“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office.
when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”
you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”
kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”
“yeah?”
“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”
“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”
you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”
“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”
“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”
“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”
“you know i always have time for you.”
kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together.
“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”
you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”
he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”
you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you.
it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.
nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask.
he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word.
he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”
he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.
what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks.
thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”
he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”
“what are you talking about?”
he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”
you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”
“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”
“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”
“really?”
you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”
“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”
“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”
kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”
“good to know you’re a protective husband.”
he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”
“don’t i know it.”
as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”
your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”
a year and a half later.
nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”
“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say.
“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”
you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”
nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”
“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”
you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”
he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”
nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”
“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”
#haikyuu x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes
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Incorrect Tmnt quotes
Mikey: What does 'take out' mean?
Donnie: Food.
Leo: Dating
Raph: Murder
Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.
Donnie: Favourite horror movie?
Mikey: It
Raph: Saw
Leo: Annabelle
Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics
Leo: Croissants: dropped
Raph: Road: works ahead
Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties
April: Shavacado: fre
Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead
Donnie:
Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.
Y/n: Change is inedible.
Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?
Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.
Mikey: Hey Donnie,
Donnie: Yes?
Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?
Donnie:
Donnie: Where’s Y/n?
Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone
Y/n: I’ll call
Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-
April: Hello?
Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!
Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!
Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.
Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?
Mikey: 47
Y/n: That's not even close.
Mikey: But it was fast.
Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?
Raph: Nope, absolutely not.
Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.
Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.
Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.
Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.
*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*
Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.
Everyone:
Leo: ...I did. I broke it.
Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?
Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.
Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.
Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?
Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.
Mikey: Suspicious.
Y/n: No, it's not!
Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.
April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?
April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!
Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.
Splinter: No! Who broke it!?
Everyone:
Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.
Donnie: rEALLY?!
*Everyone starts arguing*
Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.
Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.
Splinter:
Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.
'Can I copy the homework?'
Donnie: I can help you with it!
April: Yeah, sure.
Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.
Raph: lol nope.
Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!
Leo: *Read 5:55pm*
Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches
Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?
Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!
Leo: What?
April: We almost got kidnapped.
Leo: Oh, okay.
Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!
#donatello x reader#donnie x reader#leonardo x reader#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt x reader#tmnt x reader fluff#mikey tmnt#2012 tmnt x reader#platonic tmnt x reader#raphael tmnt#tmnt#tmnt 2012 x reader#tmnt donnie#tmnt donnie x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt mikey x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt x gn reader#tmnt x reader platonic#tmnt 2012#teenage mutant ninja turtles#turtle tots
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𝑆𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ) dir. emerald fennell / feel free to change pronouns and subjects as you see fit !
❛ i wasn’t in love with him. ❜
❛ i loved him. of course! it was impossible not to. ❜
❛ everyone loved you. everyone wanted to be around you. ❜
❛ i protected him. i was honest with him. ❜
❛ it's just you and me, mate. and the girl with agoraphobia, but she's in her room. ❜
❛ are you telling me you spent your summer reading the bible? ❜
❛ oh no no. not, uh, friend. more an admirer. from afar. ❜
❛ so you're picking apart the style my essay instead of the substance? ❜
❛ it's not what you argue but how. ❜
❛ fuck, that's kind. are you serious? ❜
❛ i don't smoke. ❜
❛ he’s been expelled from almost every school in england for sucking off the teachers. ❜
❛ there aren’t any pictures of me as a kid. ❜
❛ you look different. ❜
❛ harsh! that is so harsh! you’re such a snob! ❜
❛ only rich people can afford to be this filthy. ❜
❛ do you think he'll be jealous? ❜
❛ no, i'm not like you. this is all i have. ❜
❛ this feels a bit fucking stupid now to be honest. ❜
❛ honestly? i don't think i'll ever go home again. ❜
❛ just be yourself! they'll love you! ❜
❛ everybody just goes to ruin, i suppose. ❜
❛ but darling you're kind about everyone, you can't be trusted. ❜
❛ i have a complete and utter horror of ugliness. ❜
❛ because you're a terrible person? ❜
❛ daddy always said that i'd end up at the bottom of the thames. ❜
❛ fucking hell you gave me a fright. ❜
❛ i wanted to have a look at the moon. it's nearly full. do you know what that means? ❜
❛ i'm cold blooded. we're all cold blooded, haven't you noticed? ❜
❛ because you’re so fucking beautiful. ❜
❛ you're in your see-through nightdress underneath my window. ❜
❛ i could just eat you. ❜
❛ lucky for you i'm a vampire. ❜
❛ bring on the slutty fairies. ❜
❛ it's just fucking cringe, mate. ❜
❛ what a little shit-stirrer. ❜
❛ it’s just so disappointing. you're just another one of his toys. ❜
❛ alright, fuck this. i'm getting a drink. ❜
❛ are you going to behave from now on? ❜
❛ i mean, you’re a fucking liar… why would you lie? ❜
❛ ...i just wanted to be your friend. ❜
❛ you can’t ignore me forever. ❜
❛ can you fuck off and bother somebody else? ❜
❛ you really do notice everything don't you? ❜
❛ you can’t just throw me away. ❜
❛ i just gave you what you wanted. like everyone else does! ❜
❛ everyone puts on a show for you. so i’m sorry if my performance wasn’t good enough. ❜
❛ i just need you to understand how much i fucking love you. ❜
❛ i'm still the same person. ❜
❛ i don't know what you are. but i do know you make my fucking blood run cold. ❜
❛ it was the end of everything. ❜
❛ none of us wants your bloody american feelings! ❜
❛ your politeness is so grating. do you know that? ❜
❛ you're always skulking around. weaving your spider web. ❜
❛ i think you're a moth. quiet. harmless. drawn to shiny things. batting up against the window… just desperate to get in. ❜
❛ you've made your holes in everything. you'll eat us from the inside out. ❜
❛ you ate him right up. and you licked the fucking plate.❜
❛ have you been happy? ❜
❛ i loved you. by god, i loved you. but sometimes i... hated you.❜
#prompts#sentence memes#sentence starters#rp ask meme#rp meme#rp starter#inbox memes#inbox prompts#saltburn
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Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*
Alastor: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.
Everyone:
Charlie: ...I did. I broke it.
Alastor: No. No you didn't. Angel?
Angel: Don't look at me. Look at Vaggie.
Vaggie: What?! I didn't break it.
Angel: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?
Vaggie: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.
Angel: Suspicious.
Vaggie: No, it's not!
Sir Pentious: If it matters, probably not, but Cherri was the last one to use it.
Cherri: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Sir Pentious: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?
Cherri: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Edge Lord!
Charlie: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Al.
Alastor: No! Who broke it!?
Everyone:
Cherri: Alastor... Husk’s been awfully quiet.
Husk : rEALLY?!
*Everyone starts arguing*
Alastor, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.
Alastor: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and one of the Egg Boiz on a stick.
Alastor:
Alastor: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.
#hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#angel dust hazbin hotel#vaggie#sir pentious#cherri bomb#husk#husker hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel memes#hazbin hotel incorrect quotes
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 5.
Summary: Reader, Oliver, and the mortifying ordeal of being known. Plus clubbing, costume parties, and Oliver being a fucking tease.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: drinking/intoxication/drug use
A/N: 3148 words. now we're cooking with gas, folks! i might be too sleepy for a real author's note, but just know, as always, its unedited and i love you. have fun, please let me know what you think!
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
"Can I be bold for a minute?" On the roof of one of the dorm buildings, you and Oliver are waiting for Felix. It's twilight, the sky painted lavender by the setting sun and encroaching night, and everything feels a little dreamy.
"If anyone would appreciate boldness, Ollie, it's me," you tell him blithely around the cigarette you're trying to light. Still, he's quiet for this one moment, watching the way you cup your hand around the little flame to shield it from the wind.
"How did you and Farleigh ever get so close, considering how he treats you?"
You're pretty sure you know why he's asking you, considering what few interactions he'd witnessed between yourself and Farleigh, but it's still unexpected coming from him. For a moment, your gaze flicks to him, eyes narrowed, not quite sure what to make of the interaction. When your gaze meets his, he's looking at you with that intent, inquisitive look he got in moments like these, moments he seemed to fish for information without seeming like that was what he was doing. The silence and look that you level at him seem to throw him off guard, and immediately he drops his gaze to his feet, swinging off the edge of the building.
"That is bold," you finally settle on, watching Oliver fidget. His ankles cross, his shoulders slump; again he makes himself as small as possible. You deliberately make your tone lighter when you continue, "what's got you worried 'bout me an Farleigh?"
"I mean, all I'm saying is that he was being nasty to you, but now you're both kind of acting like he wasn't."
It's true; since his apology that Sunday morning Farleigh had been keeping his word about not being too bitter about Oliver to or even around you and Felix. You, in turn, made a special effort to spend time with him, pay him attention, made him feel like your priority on occasion. Both you and Farleigh were well aware of what you were doing, but he always enjoyed your company and attention, so it wasn't like he was going to complain.
"Farleigh and I understand each other."
"He slept with your girlfriend."
"India's not my girlfriend."
"He- he keeps calling you a dog."
That hit a nerve. You hadn't realised he was paying attention to that back at the pub. You swallow hard and look out at the horizon.
"And?" Raising the cigarette to your lips again, you don't look at him as you take a very long drag on it, "there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," you breathe out with the smoke.
"Doesn't seem like the way friends should talk about each other is all," Oliver says quietly, notes of apology in his voice; you can see him looking at you again out of the corner of your eye.
"Best friend, actually," you finally sigh, letting the tension drop from your shoulders and the moment. As you look at him over your shoulder, you give a faint smile in the face of his confusion, "we've known each other long enough that we can say pretty much anything we want to each other. Only problem is that Farleigh knows that pushing my buttons also pushes Fi's buttons, which is why he does it so often. He's a shit-stirrer, but you haven't known us long enough to know he doesn't really mean it," you tell him with surprising fondness in your voice.
"I'm sorry for prying," Oliver says earnestly, and you smile wider.
"I'm sorry for being so defensive; I realise how it must look from the outside."
Before anything else can be said, the door to the roof bursts open, and Felix greets you both with a hundred-watt smile and a packet of fish and chips in his hands. You descend on him like a seagull, swapping your cigarette for the hot food, tearing into the paper wrapping and settling by the wall at the edge of the roof near Oliver once more.
There's a beat where Felix is watching you and Oliver, his smile soft and fond and endeared, but there's something in his eyes that's been there since that lunched they'd shared at the pub -
"I shouldn't say -" there's a lot of things Felix shouldn't do that he does anyways. Considering his wealth, he could get away with a lack of self control, "I just genuinely didn't know, I mean I might have guessed- did you know?"
"Know what, Fi?" You're still in his bed, bleary-eyed and desperately wanting to go back to sleep when he'd come back from the pub buzzing instead of tired, as he'd predicted.
He'd spent the better part of the afternoon with his head on your chest, explaining the almost Dickensian tragedy that was Oliver's life. Sure you were listening, but you didn't have much to contribute other than faint noises of interest while your fingers carded through his hair.
There's something about the way Felix recounts all this information to you, the way he finds it salacious and heart-breaking all in one. You can hear in his voice that he'd captivated, that he's endeared by the struggle that has followed Oliver throughout his life. As much as you loved him, you'd watched time and again the way he'd fall for tragic tales and the people who'd recount them; Felix had a saviour complex, and it was the only thing the two of you had ever fought about.
Last year it had been Eddie, the worst of the bunch so far. Like Oliver but in the opposite direction; too much, too loud, too confident to hide his ugly secrets and desperation to be wanted. Eddie had been Icarus, taking for granted the wax wings Felix had given him, the good life, attention, a comrade who almost understood him. But he'd played with fire, played with Venetia too many times, and the wax wings melted. Not that you'd cared; you were the one who spotted them, you were the one that told Farleigh, you were the one who listened to Felix's furious rants every few days for the rest of that Summer. You'd never liked Eddie like Felix liked Eddie.
Oliver was different. You wondered if he was different enough.
Still, as much as you liked Oliver you could see it in Felix's eyes, hear it in his voice; he was already getting himself addicted to the idea of how much better he could make Oliver's life. But Felix had hated it the last time you'd pointed something like that out.
("Then why the fuck would I keep you around? Maybe it's because I don't pick my friends based on whether they're charity cases!")
So you keep your mouth shut. Maybe it's worth it for the way Felix smiles -
"I don't -" Oliver's fidgeting when Felix asks him to tag along to a costume party, "have anything to wear, really," he admits. Immediately Felix is offering to let him borrow something. There's a flicker that looks almost hungry in Oliver's eyes amid the gratefulness, and you wonder if he knows how many people would kill to get into Felix's pants. Still, he's humble, "you don't have to do that."
"I don't have to do anything," Felix shrugs with the easiest smile in the world. Then, in the next sentence, completely glossing over the act of kindness he looks at you, "tell me you aren't still expecting Farleigh to commit to that devil costume with you."
"He told me he'd put effort in this year -"
"He tells you that every year," Felix laughs, and you lean into Oliver's shoulder to explain.
"Me and Farleigh always organise to go to one costume party per year as an angel and a devil -"
"And every year," Felix rolls his eyes with a good-natured exasperation, "Farleigh wears some vulgar t-shirt and two party hats for horns, while Y/N puts weeks of effort in and wins best dressed every time-"
"Not every time," you protested, while Oliver looked faintly impressed, leaning back against you too.
"The only times you haven't won best dressed was if there was no competition to win," Felix points out, before looking past you to Oliver with an amused smile, "so I can't promise you a Y/N-level of costume, but it'll be more than two party hats."
"If you wanna give me two party hats, I'll wear 'em," Oliver says, hands coming up as if to placate the both of you. Instead, you grin wider, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
"We'll make you all pretty, Ollie, don't worry."
Unsurprisingly, on the night of the party, Farleigh showed up to 'get ready' at your dorm, which meant him lazing on your bed, drinking and sharing his coke with you while you put arguably too much effort into your makeup. He, of course, is wearing two party hats, and t-shirt that simply says 'EASY', and though you pretend to be annoyed for all of five minutes, he gives a shit eating grin as you chew him out.
"Fool you once, shame on me, sure; fool you six times, that's on you, Y/N."
You flipped him off with a grin.
"There they are!" India cheers from the sofas where your other friends are gathered when you arrive to the party. Farleigh, on your arm, makes a show of his entrance, "not you, Farleigh, obviously." India rolls her eyes, but thankfully Farleigh wasn't too put out. Instead, he swans towards the group to claim a seat.
"Give us a spin, angel," Annabel insists with a coy smile, and you oblige her to the whistles and cheers of the rest of your friends.
"You outdo yourself," Felix told you fondly as you dropped into a beanbag by the sofa he and Oliver had been occupying.
Felix is looking at you, that kind of dangerous look when he thinks you're especially hot and there's only a thirty percent chance that the two of you will even make it to a dark corner. For just a moment, however, your gaze flicks to Oliver, by his side, and he's watching Felix too, absolutely rapt by the way your best friend looks at you.
"Only in comparison to Farleigh," you shake your head, forcing yourself to be Felix's self restraint, especially so early in the night, "besides, look at you; you've certainly grown into this since I last saw you try it on," and you leaned forward as best you could, looking across the circle of friends to the pretty, redhead in the slinky nurse outfit, "how fucking good does Felix look, Annabel?" You ask pointedly, and you can see Felix give a restrained chuckle before turning his attention to his own not-girlfriend, who seemed glad for the chance to gush about him.
Sitting back, you chance a glance once more at Oliver, and somehow aren't surprised to see him looking back at you. All you do is smirk, well aware of what you were doing.
Felix's clothes are too big on Oliver. The costume, though you're not exactly sure what he's meant to be, kind of wears him instead of the other way around. Felix, of course, looks all kinds of gorgeous as a police officer, while Oliver looked rather like he's wearing his big brother's hand-me-downs. But he's rolls up the sleeves and always looks up at Felix with these blue, doe eyes shining with gratefulness, and no-one else cares enough to comment either way.
You wonder if anyone else has noticed, the way Oliver's personality changes with his focus. It's not in large ways, perhaps others think its like a trick of the light, but the way he looks at others, the way he behaves, it seems to vary from person to person. Tactile, distant, closed off, hesitant, open, honest, warm, skittish, never truly the same with each individual. It's like he watches, figures out what people want to hear, what they want from him, and does his best to give it to them. It's almost painfully familiar.
Oliver gives Felix what he wants in a way you know you never can; Oliver gives him someone to help, someone to feel like he's saving. As long as Felix is happy, you tell yourself, that is enough, and it's easy to like Oliver in your own way. The only problem you've found is that as much as you like Oliver, as intrigued as you are by him, you can't quite get a read on him, what he wants, what your place may be in his life. He's always watching, always searching for something, but you're never sure of what.
So you decide to show him love, show him appreciation the way you know best.
More and more you choose to stay by his side when you're all out, at the pub, at clubs, either of you are not with Felix, or if you're not otherwise occupied by someone requesting your attention, you'll be with Oliver.
Tonight, at the club, a girl from town had been occupying Felix's personal space for the better part of an hour, and by the time he has her against a wall down a dark corridor, Oliver's absconded from the dance floor to get another drink, but hasn't returned. You find him skulking against a wall, half drunk pint in his hand, gazing out through the crowd. When you join him, when you follow his gaze, you can see the silhouette of Felix and the girl, his hand up her shirt through the haze.
"It doesn't bother you?" Oliver asks, loud enough to be heard over the music, but not by anyone else.
"The girls don't bother me," an easy, languid smile spreads across your face, "the girls love me," you amend, smile turning a little smug as you watch Felix and the girl whose name you can't even been be bothered to recall.
"Felix's girls?* Ever-hesitant Oliver, even here and now, sounds carefully demure amongst his curiosity, "do you -?" He makes an awkward gesture, but you read his intentions and laugh dismissively.
"No, no... well," you pause for a moment, "occasionally I have my fun, I suppose, but not like that; girls who are into Felix aren't traditionally into me like that, no," you shake your head with an an missed smile, "but that's why they like me, I'm not a threat, see?"
Even through the haze and flashing lights, you can see Felix's hands on the girl; he's warm and rough and the way he holds always feels so fucking secure -
Looking away sharply, you're surprised by how intently Oliver's watching you. Its genuinely startling, and though he seems to understand this but doesn't look away. For just a moment your breathless, caught up in the night and the jealousy and want for your best friend that you usually have much more control over - your own words echo in your head; I'm not a threat, see? A smug lie, a joke at all those poor girl's expenses since you knew they were never going to last.
Oliver's gaze burns when you finally look him squarely in the eyes; he knows.
"I get the impression people assume a great many things about our Felix," he wets his lips, casting his gaze to darkened hallway, to where you had seen Felix with his mouth on the neck of his girl of the night, but you can't look away from him. Our Felix. "And about you."
"And you?" Your tongue darts out, wetting you lips as you draw Oliver's attention back to you, tone flirty. There's something exhilarating about this man that you can't help but want to tease out.
"Not much to assume," he gives a faint smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "I'm more the observant type than one whose observed."
"You make the assumptions."
"I make the assumptions," he actually smirks, a bit of that usual gentle hesitation that he approached the world with slipping for just a moment.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Do you have a lot of assumptions about Our Felix?" You tease his earlier wording, but once again his gaze drifts to your best friend, if he still is in the crowd. Them, quieter, almost as if you don't mean to you murmur, "or me?"
"Had."
"Had?"
"Had a lot of assumptions," there's a kind of mischief in his eyes as his tone takes on an air of nonchalance, "'bout him, 'bout you too." As he speaks, you step towards him, hand on his arm, moving steadily higher. He can feel it, you know he can, but all he does is smile wider, refusing to break your gaze.
"Like what, Oliver Quick?"
Leaning in, Oliver takes your face in his hands, bringing you close, sharing breath, lips inches from his.
"Like how they write Odysseys about your kind of loyalty," he mumbled, and you feel like his gaze alone could swallow you whole. There's a aching, yearning that you feel in this moment, when you crush your lips to his. It's quick and desperate, and he pulls back, "like how you show love with every fuckin' bit of that body of yours," this time he pulls you in and it's rougher, it's needy, he bites at your lip and you whimper against his mouth, press yourself against him, "like-" he kisses you quickly, "like- like-" but as you find yourself trailing rough kisses down his jaw, he seems to lose his train of thought.
"Yes?" You prompt with a laugh.
"Like how you're desperate to feel needed."
"Observant," you tell him softly, raising your head, arms still around him. In this moment, his expression is open, watching you, waiting for you to react, "more observant than anyone else."
"You wear it on your sleeve, sweetheart," he says bluntly, but something about being seen, about his unwavering honesty, that sets your heart beating, burning in your chest. Or perhaps it's that he called you sweetheart; it's rare that someone is so sweet to you.
"Then need me, want me."
"I do," this time when he kisses you, it's gentle, full of warmth and unexpected love, and the way he holds you close makes you feel so precious and desired at once, "but not like this, not now." And he's letting you go, despite the way your lips tingle and the damn butterflies in your stomach. You desperately want to cling to him, to ask him what the fuck he means, but he kisses you on the forehead and tells you to get back safe, wearing an almost smug, knowing smile, disappearing into the crowd. You can't even go after him, he's made you damn weak in the knees and all you can do is lean against the wall for support.
Felix and his girl have disappeared.
Your friends are still living it up on the dance floor, you're sure, but you have only one thought on your mind.
Oliver Quick is a fucking tease.
#felix catton x reader x oliver quick#saltburn x reader#felix catton x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton imagine#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#oliver quick x reader#head heart hand fic#oliver quick x you#oliver quick imagine#manic writer
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which makes you shine
eddie x reader, 1.6k
foreword: okay by clicking Keep Reading you agree to not perceive me at all. sacred oath!!! you promise?? title is from Which Will by Nick Drake <3 this one goes out to the bitches (gn) who can never take a goddamn compliment.
___
Eddie wasn’t sure exactly when you started rebuffing his compliments, only that you’ve been doing it with more insistence in the recent weeks.
He thought it was sweet, in the beginning, the way a passing joke of his about how hot you were could end in you blushing and rolling your eyes; or better yet, with a light shove to his chest that he’d use to his advantage, pulling you in by the wrists and smothering your face in kisses.
But lately you won’t even let him call you pretty. Lately, you’ve taken to cringing away from his soft-voiced praises- whining at him playfully to stop if you happen to be in public, outright ignoring him if it’s just the two of you at home.
It kills him. It really does. Not hyperbole. Every time Eddie gives you a compliment and it isn’t taken, a part of his soul dies.
It’s not as if you’ve forgotten how words of affection work- you’re more than comfortable calling Eddie all kinds of mushy things that make his heart sputter, his head in your hands, drinking in your love with a dreamy smile.
Maybe you need to learn how to bask…? Eddie’s not really one for complex psychology, but he’s gotta find a fix for this, and quick- this morning you were stretched out on the bed, sleep-warm cheek pressed to the pillow, and when he leaned over to kiss your forehead and whispered “Morning, beautiful,” your first action of the day was a frown.
Followed by a stretch, a yawn, and a question about going to the diner (which didn’t need to be asked, anyways- he always took you to Nell’s on Wednesdays; part deep-seated ritual, part his absolute lack of ability to say no to you.)
Eddie watches you now from across the diner booth, arms crossed in his leather jacket, tapping a finger mindlessly and arrhythmically against his bicep, mulling.
You’ve taken on the task of fixing up the two mugs of coffee, deftly peeling creamer lids and sugar packets apart, stirring both with the same stick, slip of tongue around the wooden stirrer to catch the drips. As if in a trance, Eddie watches as you wrap your hands around your own, sighing sweetly with contentment as the first taste of caffeine rushes in.
Eddie fights every base instinct that surfaces- looking gorgeous today, thanks for doin’ mine, pretty girl, you gonna come sit by me, sweet thing?- and instead takes his own mug in hand, rings clinking against the porcelain as he feigns casual and tests the waters.
“Nice bracelet. New one?”
“Oh- mhm.” Your attention shifts to the thin braided rope around your wrist, the trace of a smile around your eyes. “Max is really into friendship bracelets right now. She gave me green and blue, which I think is… good? Dunno. Lots of teen bracelet-making politics that I’m not aware of.”
Eddie chuckles, and your smile is swallowed up by the rim of your mug. A running mental checklist appears in his mind- so she’ll take the compliment if it’s of a thing. Interesting.
His plan was to start slow, maybe ease you in over the course of a few days, gradually picking up speed on the Compliments Agenda but he really can’t help himself. There’s morning sunlight spilling in from the window, and when you turn your head to look, it lights you up in a million beautiful ways and the words are gushing out before he can think to stop them- “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”
With a wince, you’re turning away from the window, light on your face and in your eyes dimming.
Eddie’s heart plummets. Falls straight to the bottom of his stomach. He says, carefully, aware of how thin the ice is- “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”
You blink, your expression neutral save for a slight pinch of confusion between the brows- “Do what?”
At first, Eddie thinks you’re fucking with him, ‘cuz how could someone as smart and self-aware as you have a blind spot this big; when he realizes your reaction is genuine, he tamps down the urge to spill his guts and show his hand all in one, instead opting for gentleness- “You realize every time I give you a compliment, you’re real goddamn loathe to take it?”
Another few slow blinks, and then your face falters, shame crawling up quick and sick like a wave- “No I don’t. Do I?”
Eddie laughs- just shy of exasperated- and slides his left hand palm-up towards you. “Sure do, sweetheart. S’like flirting with a very hot but very intimidating sorcerer and rolling nat ones on my charisma checks.”
You giggle, and though it’s muted with embarrassment Eddie counts it as a victory; your hand fits snug in his against the table, and he squeezes, wading out a little further into the testing waters now that the initial ice is broken- “Is it that I don’t give you good enough compliments? Hm? Need to up my game? ‘Cuz I’ll do it for you, babe- I’ll hit the books. Shakespeare and all that shit.”
This eye-roll of yours is steeped in fondness; Eddie swipes a thumb over the back of your hand, your eyes fixed on the point of contact as you say, softly- “No, it’s not you. It’s me. I just- sometimes it’s hard…”
The sentence sticks in your throat like a scratched record, and you shift in your seat, uncomfortable. Eddie can feel your overwhelming desire to pull away, to retreat, so he sets his coffee aside and adds another hand to the mix, feeling your pulse point jump beneath his thumbs. “What do you find hard about taking a compliment from me?”
There’s a soft sheen over your eyes, tears of frustration or sadness or maybe both as you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t- I don’t know, it’s like… some days it’s easy and it feels good. Other times it’s hard, like I can’t… like my brain won’t let me accept it.”
Around the coffee mug, your knuckles strain from tight grip, like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin and the only thing holding you back is Eddie’s hands. “Sorry. I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job explaining.”
“You’re doing a great job.” Eddie soothes his thumbs against your wrist, and you melt into the touch, just slightly, but enough for your shoulder to drop back into place. “So… it’s not that you don’t like my compliments, it’s just, sometimes, it’s harder for you to take them?”
You nod, voice devoid of any usual color as you whisper, “Sorry.”
“Hey-” he tugs at your hand, finally getting your eyes on his, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Thanks for telling me. Now that I know what the problem is, you’re lucky I got a cure.”
“A cure?” Incredulous but curious, your eyes stay on Eddie’s even as he leans back against the booth, dropping your hand to spread out his own in a jazzy flash.
“Yup. Eddie Munson’s Surefire Cure to the Compliment Blues in Six Steps. Now, normally-” here Eddie leans in, conspiratorial, casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder to the near-empty diner before saying in a low tone, “-I’d charge fifty bucks a step. My methods are very exclusive and in high demand, but lucky for you-ooo…” This last word at a higher, sing-song volume as Eddie straightens to his full height, sweeping a grand gesture through the air, “I’m running a special.”
Your nose crinkles in amusement. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You can have all six steps for the low low price of taking my scheduled compliments- once a day, at the time of my choosing, no takebacks or backtalk allowed.” Eddie’s elbows come back to the table with a thunk, eyebrows raised in your direction. “We got a deal?”
“I guess I shouldn’t pass up this great offer,” you intone, dryly, but with a hint of levity that has you shaking Eddie’s outstretched hand. “Okay. You got yourself a new student, Mr. Munson.”
“Please, Mr. Munson was my father- call me Dearest Professor.”
A genuine laugh from you has Eddie finding his heart again, pulling it up from his stomach to slam properly into his chest as he catches your eyes again- “Also, lucky for you, my offer includes the first step. You are so beautiful, and pretty, and smart, and I love-”
“Wait, wait,” you titter, nervous and breathless, casting your own looks around the diner- “We’re starting now?”
“Ah ah. No backtalk. That handshake was a sacred oath,” Eddie chides. “As I was saying- I love you. Your hair looks lovely like that. Sometimes I think about stabbing my eyes out like that Oedipus guy just to make sure your face is the last thing I’ll ever see-”
“Not sure Oedipus is the best role model for-”
“No backtalk,” Eddie says, sternly, with a finger point that settles you back into the booth. “Fine. If I was Orpheus I’d look back at you one million times just to see ya. Better analogy?”
The pull of your throat is rough as you fight to swallow down words, nodding silently instead, squirming a little in your seat but still leaps and bounds better than any aftermath of a compliment that Eddie’s witnessed in weeks.
“All right,” he sighs, ready to be done with pushing your comfort zone, wanting to take up the rhythm of your playfulness again something desperate. “Class is dismissed, for now. Good job.”
You glow under the praise- seemingly, a distinction between compliment and job well done, Eddie files that under his checklist- then ask, “So what’s step two?”
“Huh?”
“Of your… Complimenting Me Until Death course. Or whatever you called it.”
Eddie takes another sip of coffee, spinning the laminated Nell’s menu around on the formica tabletop- folks can say what they want about ol’ Eddie Munson, but DMing has given him a very special skillset of pulling things out of his ass and turning them into gold.
“Step two is ordering pancakes. Obviously. Get whatever you want, sweetheart.”
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CHANGE OF PLANS
Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader
Summary - When plans don't go as expected, Jackson refuses to go home empty handed.
Warnings - 18+, noncon, sex tape, anal, rough sex
Word count - 4k+
You couldn’t even drink the overpriced, heavily sweetened, high calorie dense coffee in your hand. All you could do was stir your drink with your stirrer, your eyes were red and mouth dry from that overnight flight. It felt like there was a bottomless pit in your stomach, growing continuously.
Jackson sat across from you, watching you like a prey. He was trying to deconstruct everything you were thinking. His eyes were dark and jaw clenched as he let his coffee go cold. Tapping his fingers on his thigh, his sight lowered to your cleavage, he felt his cock twitch.
The phone rang, instantly Jackson brought it to his ear and spoke, “hello?”
Your eyes shot up to him, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Shivers were running in all directions across your skin. Jackson’s expression showed how focused he was on the call, but he showed no emotion.
“Oh, lucky us. Contact me when you have more information” Jackson gritted his teeth. Hanging up the phone, Jackson slid it back into his jacket pocket. He stared off into the distance, watching the travelers come and go. “You lucky fucking bitch” Jackson snarled, his eyes snapped to you, your eyebrows furrowed and blood froze. “Keefe left the room early due to an emergency…” Jackson explained, his words trailing. “Luckily enough we were notified before we could make the hit” he added, his stare was intimidating, as if this was all your fault.
His hand started tapping on the flimsy table in a rhythm as he thought. “Change of plans unfortunately, if you want your dad to live, you gotta come with me” Jackson sighed, he was not going home empty handed. Jackson stood up and picked up his small luggage. You stared at him with wide eyes.
“But I did what you asked me!” You cried out, your voice went dry and your body began to shake. Looking down at you, he sighed and kneeled beside you.
“Yes, I know you were a good girl. And since you were such a good girl, I think you’d be more than happy to do one more thing for me” Jackson winked to you, holding your hands in his. It was difficult with how to react, you just wanted to go home, too exhausted to even consider what he wanted from you. The advantage of witnesses was on your side, he couldn’t force you out. Jackson picked up on this instantly, “remember your dad’s life is only one call away” he hissed, tapping his foot impatiently.
Blinking back the tears, you stood up and picked up your luggage. He held out his hand for you, reluctantly you took it. Following Jackson out of the crowded terminal, his hold was harsh as he was almost yanking your arm out of its socket. Arriving at the taxi stand, you got into one almost instantly.
Instead of you both sitting on either side of the back, Jackson decided to sit in the middle. “Where bouts you going?” The driver asked, having a zero care factor in his tone.
“To a motel” Jackson sighed, his hand resting on your knee.
“Which one?” The driver scoffed.
“Any” Jackson muttered and gestured his hand for the driver to hurry up, he was impatient.
You remained curled up against the door, looking out the window in hopes for any distractions, the Miami sun shined on your face yet you still felt so cold. Jackson pulled back out his phone and made a call. His words fell dead on your ears, your mind felt fuzzy. You were meant to be going home, but now he’s probably going to be holding you in captivity until he figures out his new game plan, thinking of a way to keep you quiet. His hand was tracing circles on your thigh, he hung up and looked down to you.
“You okay?” Jackson murmured. The driver would be oblivious to his true sinister nature. You could only act and nod your head, his smile was innocent to the blind eye. Pressing his lips to your temple, you had to resist your gag.
The driver dropped you off at the motel, it looked dirty and cheap, so there would definitely be a room. You followed Jackson into the reception room, he gestured to you to take a seat as he walked up to the receptionist. Within a couple of minutes, Jackson was fiddling with the room key and tilted his head towards the door for you to follow.
Trailing up the stairs behind him, your eyes darted around as he stuck the key into the lock. The door creaked open, Jackson waltzed inside and threw his bag onto the chair, bee lining straight to the bathroom. Creeping inside, you looked around the cheap room, to be fair, it didn’t look so bad. Just outdated and maybe a bit too dusty.
Jackson washed his face and stared in the mirror, his expression dark and cold as his fingers tapped on the countertop. Through the mirror, you were in sight, awkwardly standing in the corner of the room, looking down. Appearing back into the room, Jackson grinned to you as he laid on the bed, his elbows propped up his upper body.
“Come to me” his smug look sent shivers down your spine.
Hesitantly, you approached Jackson, your arms crossed over as you rubbed anxiously. Standing before him, your eye level was low, as Jackson stared you up and down continuously.
“Did I tell you how breathtaking I think you are?” Jackson asked, his mouth ajar open, ocean blue eyes fixated on you. You knew exactly where this was going. The last thing you wanted to do was engage in this conversation, but you didn’t want to know the consequences if you didn’t. But hey, he’s probably just a two pump chump like the rest of them and then your nightmare will be over.
“N-no” you shuddered.
“Come here then, let me tell you” Jackson purred, slightly flexing his hips forward towards you, you couldn’t hide your expression of shock when you saw the tent in his pants.
The ache told you in your body that you needed to throw up, but you had to swallow that thought as you did as he said. Sitting on the bed next to him, his lips pressed to the crook of your neck instantly. Shuddering, your arms locked over your chest as he hummed by you.
“Such a pretty girl” Jackson complimented you, his hand gripping onto your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. Should have worn pants, you swore to yourself. “What a good girl you have been for me” Jackson smiled, his tongue gently swirling over your earlobe. Without your consent, Jackson started unbuttoning your blouse. “Are you going to stay a good girl for me?” Jackson asked condescendingly as he forced your arms to your sides.
“Y-yes” you whimpered whilst he was kneading your tits, admiring your pretty little cream bra.
The fabric was pulled off of your arms. Unclasping the hooks, Jackson took off your bra and stared at your exposed chest in awe. “So fucking breathtaking, you were quite distracting, I won’t lie. I had to jerk off a couple of times watching you, my desires got the better of me!” Jackson moaned, his mouth now over your chest as his tongue began to swirl over your hardened nipple. “Wanted to sneak into your room and fuck you dirty so bad…” he mumbled, smelling in your scent. “Lie down” Jackson ordered, pushing you gently.
Obeying him, you lied on the bed and Jackson smiled down at you. Jackson hopped off the bed and went to his bag, he pulled out a tie a matching shade to his jacket and walked back over to you. “Hands above your head, love” Jackson winked, kneeling on the edge of the bed.
“Please” you whimpered,
“Do you trust me baby girl?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow up, following up with lifting you to the head of the bed.
No. But you would be an idiot to say that to him.
Reluctantly with a staggered breath, you raised your hands above your head. Jackson swiftly and tightly tied your hands through a loop in the bed frame. Giving it a test tug, you were helpless underneath him. The smirk was evil as he looked down to your exposed chest, his hand trailing over your hardened nipples.
Jackson sighed as he hopped back off the bed, heading back over to his belongings. Anxiously you watched his back, he pulled out an object and was fiddling with it.
“What are you doing?” You whined slightly, the anticipation was killing you, shamefully, you wanted him to just get to it.
When Jackson turned around, your stomach fell. Why the fuck does he have a camrecorder? One of those small ones that can fit into an inside jacket pocket, with a flip screen.
Jackson chuckled as he walked back over to the bed, placing the camcorder on the edge of the bed. “Insurance” he answered with a tsk as he took off his jacket.
“Please no! Please don’t do this!” You begged, the last thing you wanted was to have his assault on tape. When Jackson ignored your pleas, you tried to kick it off, hopefully break it but Jackson caught your foot and gave you a warning look.
“Oh baby girl, don’t worry. This is more so for personal pleasure. I won’t show a soul, unless you decide to be a brat and make any false claims to anyone about me… You’d hate to have this sent to everyone you know, ruining your reputation over some little lies about a friendly stranger sitting next to you, wouldn’t you?” Jackson shot you a deadly glare as he slid off your heels, his hands caressing over your shivering skin.
“Please!” You tried to beg, but you knew it was falling on deaf ears.
“Don’t make me fucking gag you” Jackson snarled as he pounced on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours” he whispered, his lips gently brushing over yours as you shivered at his touch. “I thought you trusted me” Jackson pouted, noticing how badly you were trying to break out of the restraint. “Be a bad girl and I’ll leave you on the edge. But be a good girl, and you can come as many times as you want. That’s a fair deal isn’t it?” Jackson asked smugly.
This was Jackson’s stress reliever, his payback, as if you were the emergency to get Keefe out of the hotel. Now because of this misconvenience Jackson will have to go back to the drawing board, and get a large sum cut from his paycheck for missing the deadline. He always knew the chances of it not going to plan, there were precautions put in place if this did indeed happen. It was just a bitch when it did indeed happen, it was like getting a shit review on Yelp. There would only be one more chance however, so if Jackson fucked that up then he is done for.
The pressure of his bulge pressed into your open stomach. You remained still underneath him, not wanting to create any friction between the two of you. Jackson pressed his lips to the side of your mouth, and then the other side, and then he kissed you fully. Fearfully, you opened your mouth for his tongue to slide in as he grips onto your breasts.
“If we met under more traditional circumstances, I would have asked you out on a date” Jackson admitted, his thumb rolling over his lower lip. The frightening thing is that you would have said yes under different circumstances. “Who knows, maybe after this I still might” Jackson shrugged his shoulders as he slipped down the bed to pull off your skirt and panties.
Jackson groaned at the sight of your clean cunt, you tried to press your thighs together but he harshly smacked your side.
“Don’t be a bad girl” he warned, pointing his index finger at you.
You sobbed as you forced yourself to spread your legs apart, not fully, but enough to be considered a good girl. Turning on the camcorder, Jackson bent down, his hand pushing your thigh to the side to get a clear view of your dripping cunt.
“Oh baby, is this all because of me?” Jackson whispered, his fingers stroking down your gushing entrance. “I knew you felt the same way as me” he said to himself, but you heard loud and clear.
Jackson slipped in his index finger, before you could react, a small moan slipped out of your lips. Forcing your mouth shut by biting onto your lower lip, Jackson sighed as he watched the footage record on the small screen. When a second digit went in, your teeth cut into the skin of your lip. Your moans were muffled, hips wiggling underneath him. Then, when a third digit slid in and hit your pressure point, you moaned out loudly, unable to hold it in anymore.
“There she is” Jackson smirked, pointing the recorder at your face. Hiding your face to the side in shame, Jackson continued to record you, his fingers viciously pumping in and out of you. Your mouth hung open as your moans rung through the room.
Butterflies in your stomach, hips rocking with the motions of his fingers and chest heaving, you desperately tried to think of anything else to forget about the sensations bolting up your skin. But everything was failing horribly. How could it be so wrong yet feel so fucking good?
“Do you need to orgasm already?” Jackson questioned, feeling your walls clench against his fingers. Your body shivered with disgust and pleasure, you did, you desperately did.
Jackson’s mouth hung open as he moved up the bed to get a close angle of your face. “Don’t look away” he warned, still pumping his fingers viciously inside of you. “I want to get your climax on camera” he explained. “Everyone should see how fucking good you feel right now” his tone was mumbling now.
Shortly, Jackson got what he wanted as your walls clenched around his fingers. You screamed out, all on camera as your eyes rolled back and body shook with pleasure. He made sure to get the perfect close up on your display of pure pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re something else” Jackson’s smile was psychotic.
As you were recovering from your post orgasmic state, your stomach felt full of anxiety. It was oblivious to you when Jackson unbuckled his belt and pulled out his large size. On his knees next to your head, he stroked himself, Jackson waited for you to notice him and when you finally did, you couldn’t help but to sob at the sight of his size.
Turning your head to the side, as if it would make this all stop, Jackson laid the head of his cock on your flustered cheek. You mewled as the firm feeling on your skin, Jackson still recording you laughed, “come on baby, don’t be mean” Jackson cooed, tapping his cock on your cheek now.
His tip slipped into your mouth as soon as you turned your head back. A low groan lingered out of his mouth as he gently started to thrust his cock deeper into your mouth, filling your mouth to the rim. The position of your arms started to ache, Jackson moved himself so he was straddling you, his twitching cock trapped into your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to gag, your arms thrashing around as you struggled to breathe. But Jackson just smiled as he continued to record you. The cries and gags sent vibrations up his length.
With your legs kicking around, your eyes were completely swelled up with tears, your mascara slowly running down your cheeks. He was going to choke you to death, with his cock. It was surprising how you didn’t have the natural reaction to bite down on his size. Jackson was mumbling words, clenching his jaw as the head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat steadily.
The taste of his semen was like pure salt, your face scrunched up as you groaned onto his cock. Jackson held his cock in your throat for a moment, just to make sure all of his white sticky goodness slid down your throat.
“Now darling! That’s a fucking mouth” Jackson praised as he pulled his cock out and moved back to the side of you. Moving the camera directly in front of your face, he recorded your beat and sweaty face.
“Get onto your knees” Jackson sighed, moving back to the end of the bed.
It was difficult to do, and you were confused with what exactly he meant by on your knees. But he guided you, twisting the mid of your body around so you were on your knees and the tie pulling up your upper body. It wasn’t a comfortable position, to say the least.
“You like anal?” Jackson asked, his free hand caressing your ass as he looked at your holes through the camera. You sobbed, your body automatically lunging forward to try to get away from him, but he wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you still as you cried. “Baby, baby, baby” Jackson cooled, his hand rubbing your stomach as his cock pressed against your core, whilst he tried to keep the camera still at a good angle. “It’s actually good! You’d be surprised with how hard you’ll come… We’ll be quick! I haven’t done anal in so long and business is fucking shit, but you already know that…” Jackson tried to calm you, attempting to put pity onto himself in the process, but you were still mewling like you had just witnessed a death in the family. Jackson leaned over your back and pressed his cheek to yours. “We’ll make a deal, if I come again before you, then I’ll take you home to your father” Jackson sighed, kissing your heated cheek to help calm you.
It was pointless, you were going to do anal whether you said yes or no. Shamefully, you nodded your head in which Jackson smiled and grabbed one of the pillows, gesturing for you to bite onto it. His thumb circled over your pristine hole before lining up his cock. Rubbing himself at your entrance, he reminded you to breathe.
“We’ll go nice and…” Jackson’s words stopped as he pressed his tip in, he breathed out, “slow”. Biting onto the pillow hard, you hissed at the pain, your hips and knees locking otherwise you would have fallen forward. He didn’t even have the decency to warm you up.
Jackson gradually deepened his thrusts, having no shame in moaning softly. “That’s my good girl, taking my big cock so fucking well!” Jackson praised, caressing your ass as you just tried to focus on breathing, you could feel yourself painfully clench around his size. “This is such a good fucking angle, I can’t wait to show you” Jackson chuckled, recording your backside.
As if you would ever want to watch that. The pillow fell from your mouth. “Please stop recording me” you pleaded, jaw shaking from the pain and embarrassment.
“Why baby?” Jackson pulled a face, still pumping his cock as quickly as your hole would allow him to.
“I don’t like this” you panted, wincing at the pain shooting up your body, your legs wobbling like jelly.
“Suppose I have enough footage…” Jackson breathed, putting the camera down onto the side of the bed. Little did you know, the camera was still recording.
You gasped out as his balls pressed against your pussy, it was painful to feel his cock twitch inside of you. He was about to orgasm again, if you just held out for a little longer you’d be able to get the fuck out of here. However, you didn’t realize how turned on you were, distracted by the pain you were. Your cunt was dripping onto the cheap sheets.
“Fuck, you really want me to come don’t you?” Jackson laughed, feeling your ass clench him for dear life. “I booked for the night, not the hour baby. We have plenty of time” he continued, purposely trying to tease you as he playfully smacked your ass. Surprisingly you yelped at the sensation, your cunt squeezing naturally. “Oh, she likes to be spanked” his words murmured as he spanked you again, a bit more harsh this time, another yelp escaped your lips.
Continuing to spank you, you were a moaning mess, shaking at the pain and pleasure combined as one. Despite your efforts not to, you came, hard. Jackson wasn’t lying about that, that’s for sure. “I win” Jackson laughed as your moans were music to his ears as you were swearing to yourself, beating yourself up that he had won. Quickly after, Jackson came into your ass, pulling himself out roughly mid orgasm to shoot his ropes of white stickiness all over your backside.
Jackson let your body drop onto the bed, sighing to himself as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Laying there, completely exhausted from coming twice so quickly (you’d always consider yourself lucky if a guy could make you orgasm) Jackson pulled his undershirt over his head and ensured the recorder was at a good angle. When that was done he crawled next to you.
“So… Do you like anal now?” Jackson grinned at you, you lowered your sight from his cruel joke, he rolled his eyes. “Come on baby, I need to know how fucking devine that cunt of yours feels” Jackson murmured, laying on his back and pulling you towards him.
You whined, too weak to even consider fucking him again, but you straddled him anyways, your abused ass pressing against the fabric of his pants, arms hung around both sides of his head. How can he have so much composure? Was he feeling any fatigue? You despised how much stamina this man had.
Jackson chortled at how easily he slipped inside of your sweet pussy, he thrusted his hips up and you gasped for air, your head falling onto his sweaty, pale chest. Your mouth pressed against his pec as you kept your eyes shut as you moaned continuously, there was no point in keeping your dignity now, Jackson had already broken you.
“I bet you didn’t know you could get this fucking wet. Your fucking welcome” Jackson spat by your ear, his hands gripping onto your sore ass, as he thrusted up straight to your cervix. He grunted out, burying his cock deep into your canal.
Jackson gripped onto your throat and forced you to look up to him. You choked out as Jackson’s stare was emotionless, despite his hips rocking in and out of you rapidly. He knew you were going to climax yet again, you were wrapping around him perfectly.
“I want you to look at me when you climax” Jackson said calmly, his expression dark.
Your next orgasm rolled over like a massive wave, you cried out, legs shaking like leaves in the wind as you were gasping for air, his hand still wrapped around your throat. Jackson smirked to you, refusing to slow down despite your obstructed pleas.
With a heavy grunt, Jackson lifted up his upper body as he forced his cock in as deep as possible, his balls pressed against your intimate skin as he came undone. His hold on your throat tightened, in a moment of panic you believed that he was going to strangle to death, you thrashed around, but it was pointless with your hands restrained and his free hand holding your waist close.
When you started seeing stars, Jackson let go of his grip and you collapsed onto his chest. Jackson sighed. Holding you close as he laid back down on the bed. Humming to himself, Jackson caressed your back as you struggled to find steady breath.
“Free for dinner next week?” Jackson smiled innocently.
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x fem!reader#jackson rippner#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner x reader#red eye 2005
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and if you let me;; jjk
pairing: non idol!coworker jungkook x reader
word count: 1.9k
rating: teens & up!
genre: romance & fluff, cheesy confession, jungkook is a nervous guy in luv, also is silly, dorky, sweet, etc. (all the adjectives!)
summary: it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.
notes: there's hardly any plot lmao it's just a hit of dopamine/feels i guess HAHAHAH :) i love him so much and my feelings are at an all-time high with the new gcf that came out!!
this is for nei (@melancholy-of-nadia)!!! luv u!!
© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.
Jungkook was annoyed. Very annoyed.
As you howled in laughter at Hoseok’s antics, Jeon Jungkook was in his little corner, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
It wasn’t that he was jealous. In fact, Jungkook was pretty confident and had somewhat normal self-esteem levels, but he felt like he was running out of time.
Running out of time for what, you ask? Confessing his love to you.
It was an open secret on the office floor that Jungkook had the biggest and loudest crush on you, making it real clear to all the guys in the office that you were the love of his life (on the clock, anyway). He liked people who were great at their jobs, and you were, to say the least, great at it. As your new boss and your guys’ boss fought for dominance to get you as an employee, it was clear that you were irreplaceable in the workplace, and that somehow made you even sexier to Jungkook.
At first, it was all a physical thing. You were a looker with brains and a dry humor that Jungkook appreciated in a workplace filled with kiss-assers. It was easy to flirt with you, and it seemed like you were 110% flirting back, which, a few months down the road, got Jungkook to freak out.
Surely, it was one thing to flirt with coworkers nonchalantly and another to deliberately be a boy loser about it. He was down bad at the 3-month mark and found himself counting the days when you would return to your cubicle, which conveniently was next to his.
Every day, he swung by your desk trying to be smooth, only to trip up somehow. Whether it be the intonation of his voice or him tripping over his own feet, he would kick himself silly mentally before lamenting to his best friend and work confidant, Kim Namjoon at the water cooler hours later.
“I swear I cannot walk around her!” Jungkook would sigh loudly, swirling his coffee stirrer as Namjoon chuckled, leaning against the counter before patting his coworker on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, dude. I’m sure she doesn’t even notice it like you do,” Namjoon would reassure him even though he knew you would eventually find out (you would of course, but unaware how deep Jungkook’s love for you was).
A year would swing by until you finally broke the news to the office that you would be leaving for another job with higher pay, and it felt like Jungkook’s world came crashing down. How could he continue working at this job if you weren’t next to him, giggling at his stupid jokes and his stupid short haircut that he specifically cut to make himself look even hotter for you? How could he possibly get through several rounds of meetings if you two weren’t playing tic-tac-toe on the memo pad the two of you would share? Or the times when Jungkook would go out of his way to the coffee shop to get your usual honey oatmilk latte from Urth Caffé? Or the time Jungkook would time his lunches so he could sit with you for the whole hour?
And so, Jungkook devised a plan to break the “news” that he was in love with you, hoping that you would feel the same way. He orchestrated the going away party first, going to a KBBQ spot with your closest coworkers before doing karaoke with drinks. Because how else was Jungkook going to relax around you?
Jungkook could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as you giggled at his innocent joke about Hoseok’s dance moves as your delicate head leaned against his wide shoulders. His stomach lurched forward as he coughed to cover his nervousness up, pouring yet another glass of soju for the two of you. You gladly took it, clinking the glass against his before taking a swig, and swallowing the alcoholic contents as you clung into Jungkook for the next hour.
Jungkook was elated of course, but he didn’t wanna give much away, closing his lips together as he thumped his fingers against the table, encouraging your former coworkers to drink more.
An hour passed and you were blasted, still hollering and hooting for the dancers, Hoseok and Jimin, to continue as karaoke night came at a fever pitch. At this point, you and Jungkook were inseparable, and he has made major moves to the level of your comfort: 1) putting his arm behind you and 2) crossing his legs so he could tap his feet against yours.
As you hummed quietly to yourself, you shivered at the cold air coming through the AC. Jungkook saw and immediately grabbed his leather jacket, putting it around you.
You thanked him, leaning against his chest as the two of you cuddled. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as he flushed red, again covering his flustered self with a cough.
“Are you getting sick?” you inquired, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. His eyes twinkled at this point as you cutely and drunkenly put your hand up to his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. It was going up all right, and Jungkook turned even redder than the tomatoes in the ramyeon in front of you two.
“Uh,” was all Jungkook could say, stuttering his way into a lame excuse. “The ramyeon is a bit too spicy that’s all, haha.”
He did his best to chuckle sexily as you sighed, frowning.
“Should I have asked for it to be mild?” you inquired, grabbing the menu from the table. “If I had known you didn’t like spice, I would’ve ordered it.”
“Oh no, i-it’s okay!” Jungkook hastily replied, putting the menu down. He was freaking out, and a few of the boys were starting to notice the two of you being rather cozy.
“Man, I have never seen Jungkook look so happy in my entire life,” Taehyung teased, snorting into his beer and pointing at the both of you.
Jungkook frowned, still beet red.
“W-what are you talking about?!” he fired back at Taehyung. All the second youngest in the office did was shrugged, smirking.
“Oh, now you’re playing stupid,” Taehyung drunkenly laughed, leaning against you as he whispered something in your ear.
Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in nervousness while Taehyung chuckled after saying his piece which made you giggle a bit.
“Yeah, he can be obtuse sometimes,” you replied, glancing back at Jungkook. He flushed again, his stomach in knots. Did you know? Were you playing with him?
As the night progressed, you began acting more and more wild, making Jungkook laugh uproariously at your behavior. Seeing you loose made him happy and glad that he planned the goodbye party in the first place. He clapped and cheered for you as you attempted badly to sing Whitney Houston’s “I’ll Always Love You”. Even if you were off-key, he still found it endearing that you even attempted.
Your unabashed confidence was shining through, and something ignited within Jungkook. It was then when he realized how much he liked you and seeing this side of you made him want you even more. The desire to be even closer than you two already were, and the desire to be intimate was growing inside Jungkook’s already big and kind heart, and he wanted to do something more.
It wasn’t too late when everyone began to go home, leaving the two of you alone. You had Uber’d your way to the noraebang so Jungkook offered naturally to take you home after sobering up.
As the two of you walked to the car, you instinctively but a bit impulsively wrapped your arm around his. His stomach lurched forward as his heart beat unbelievably fast, making him cough out of nervousness.
“You okay?” you asked worryingly, slurring a bit of your words. Jungkook was a bit concerned for you as he gripped your arm tighter around his bicep, leaning against you.
“I am,” he hummed lightly, opening his Mercedes GT door for you before guiding you in. “Are you okay though? You had a lot to drink.”
He strapped you in with the seatbelt as you smiled warmly. At this point, you two were really close to each other, feeling each other’s warm breaths as Jungkook’s big eyes stared into yours. He lamented quietly that you weren’t entirely there, wishing you were entirely sober so he could just kiss you right then and there. Your red warm lips were calling to him, and he wanted to kiss you so fucking bad, but only if you let him.
God, you’re so beautiful right now, he thought.
“What?” you laughed softly as he snapped out of it.
“N-nothing.”
Clearing his throat for the 1529458th time, he pulled away from your warmth and back into the winter air. Sliding his hands together to keep warm, he sprinted to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in before turning the engine on. The hot air swirled through the cabin as he turned the lights on and navigation took you home.
Not much was said during the ride to your house. Surely, he didn’t want to interrupt you slowly dozing off, mumbling to yourself as your hand laid on the center console. Jungkook’s hand was firmly on the shift gear but it achingly wanted to be there as well, holding your hand. He wanted to warm you up so badly, just like how he did it all night with you.
There must have been real chemistry between you two up until this point, Jungkook thought. There was no way all of this was platonic or you had been leading him on. All the flirty exchanges you two had for the past year started replaying in Jungkook’s mind like a broken video tape, replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.
He had to tell you. He had to confess.
-
As the car came to a stop and turned off, he went over to your side to open the door again. You woke up to the brisk cold air hitting your face as you were startled awake. Jungkook’s dark silhouette encapsulated you as you pulled out of the car, only to slip from the ice below and into Jungkook’s arms.
“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he caught you immediately into his embrace. His firm, yet warm body was pressed up against your own as you giggled drunkenly, trying to maintain your balance. “God, I’m just all over you tonight huh, Jeon?”
You could feel his heavy breaths on you as you looked up. He was already staring down at you with a soft smile, his cheeks pink.
You wondered if he was going to keep hiding it from you. You knew for quite some time that Jungkook liked you a bit too much, and even in your drunken state, you wanted to tell him it was okay to lean in for a kiss. You liked him too, and you wanted him to be yours.
Under the dim streetlight, he ever so slowly leaned in, closing the gap between you two. His eyes were pensive, thinking a bit too hard on this, but you had already made up your mind.
Kiss me, Jungkook.
“If you let me,” he whispered right before your lips touched his.
You pulled him in, kissing him. His eyes closed immediately as he took control, squeezing you tightly as you two softly kissed each other, keeping warm.
Snow was falling lightly on the both of you as your lips slowly made a grin when the two of you parted.
“Always, Jungkook.”
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fic#writing#mine#I WAS INSPIRED BY THE GCF LEAVE ME ALONE#short and sweet like jungkook's haircut in the gcf <3#oh i'm in love with the man so bad it's not even funny :/#i barely edited this so hfdklshg;hg#kissing jungkook in the snow o my god i'm so romantic
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*Everyone is staring at the broken radio*
Alastor: So. Who broke it.
Charlie: I did. I broke-
Alastor: No, no you didn't. Angel?
Angel: Don't look at me. Look at Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious: Wha- I didn't break it!
Angel: That's weird. How'd you even know it was broken ?
Sir Pentious:Because it’s sitting right in front of us and it’s broken!
Angel: Suspicious
Sir Pentious: No, it's not!
Vaggie: If it matters, probably not, but Niffty was the last one to use it
Niffty: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Vaggie:Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?
Niffty: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Vaggie
Charlie: Alright let’s not fight. I broke it, let me pay for it, Alastor
Alastor: No. Who broke it ?
Angel: Al. Husk's been awfully quiet
Husk: REALLY ?
*Later*
Alastor: It was me. I broke it. It wasn't broadcasting my carnage so I punched it
Alastor:. I predict ten minutes from now, they’ll be at each other’s throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.
Alastor:
Alastor: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here
#alastor the radio demon#hazbin alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#husk hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin angel dust#angel dust hazbin hotel#hazbin charlie#hazbin vaggie#vaggie hazbin hotel#vaggie#niffty hazbin hotel#niffty#sir pentious#hazbin hotel sir pentious
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