#i dunno how i managed to write this just now but i did and : )
Text
Noisy little mess
Hi sweetie ⁓
Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).
I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.
Have a good chocolaty day ⁓
DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).
..................................................
Fourth part here:
..................................................
«Why the hell you've let her-»
«MacTavish»
Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.
«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»
«Then explain yourself, Cap.»
«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»
«She's no insubordinate»
«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»
«How come?»
«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»
«Laswell?? Ye serious?»
Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.
«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»
«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»
«The mission had to be done anyway»
«We could have waited for a better plan»
He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.
«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»
«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»
«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»
Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.
One in particular.
You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.
You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.
«…I've thought…i could be helpful»
«You're a brave kid, but that was-»
«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known»
You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»
«Then why?»
«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»
«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»
You nod.
«Then why a girl?»
You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.
Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.
A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.
Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.
Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.
«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.
And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are.
He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:
«W-who required me?»
«I do»
Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible- neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.
Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»
«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.
Your eyes lower again.
«…causing trouble-»
«Just that?»
You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.
«Take off your shirt»
Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself.
«…sir?»
Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.
«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.
Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket.
Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.
«'K. If that's so…»
The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.
You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style.
He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.
«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.
You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.
«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»
«Humans» he talks over immediately.
You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women»
«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»
«There was no other way to-»
«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.
«Are you proud?»
The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.
Then you nodd.
«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.
«Yes, I am»
You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.
It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.
«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»
«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»
«I've already told ya: you don't know me»
«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»
«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»
«I know me»
«It seems not»
Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»
«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.
«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»
«It was just a nerve»
«Judicially irrelevant»
«Shut your bloody mouth»
«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»
«Yes»
You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm.
«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»
Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:
«I've just done my duty-»
«You threw away your life»
«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»
And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»
«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»
He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.
As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»
You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.
«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»
You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.
«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.
His conclusion wastes no time to come:
«You're a submissive»
It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.
«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»
You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.
And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand.
The disappointment is palpable.
«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»
That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.
But you don't want him to be right.
«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.
His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»
«Mission was completed»
«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»
«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»
It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.
He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.
«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty»
The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…
You bite him.
You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.
On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.
On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.
You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.
Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.
The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.
Price gets in without invitation.
«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»
Ghost doesn't lift his sight.
«I've talked with doc-»
«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»
Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»
«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»
«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»
«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»
«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»
«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»
«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»
Silence.
Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted:
«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»
Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:
«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»
Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»
«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»
«For fuck's sake Price-»
«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»
Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).
Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.
And Price has a bad s-.,ensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.
«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.
John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.
..................................................
#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod fanfic#fanfiction#writers on tumblr#ghost x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#writing dialogues is so funny#Price is basically becoming more and more the pscyhologist of the team#Task Force 141 is a close team of gossiper#don't know if ou've already noticed but i don't know shit about miitary life#it will be something more spicy sooner or later#for now just hints about sub/dom relationship
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHEN THE SUN RISES - SAE ITOSHI
synopsis: You have doubts about your relationship. Sae provides reassurance.
contents: early established relationship, gn!reader, fluff, reader is a tad insecure, mentions of other couples and pda, talks about all things mushy with love
word count: 1.1K
a/n: waaahh cant believe i didn't post anything for my husband on his birthday im so terrible - this is something short and sweet ;-; i haven't posted anything in a bit bc I've been so tired lately LOL
You have doubts.
Doubts about your work performance, test scores, your friendships, and sometimes the future — you know, the less important things.
Your least favorite doubts are the ones about you and Sae.
He’s not a bad boyfriend by any means. You’ve been dating each other for a while now, just shy of six months, and it’s been going well. Like any other college couple, you spend your free time together either marathoning a shitty reality TV show, studying, or eating at the local diners near campus once in a while for a ‘fancy’ burger and pizza date night (which Sae hates, by the way, but he goes because there’s nothing better around). You don’t blame him for these doubts because it’s just the way he is. You’ve always known this, along with everyone else around you.
“Itoshi Sae? Yeah, he’s pretty cold and blunt.” They’d say in a hushed whisper.
Another would agree, followed by an exaggerated shiver. “I heard even professors are scared of him.”
They’re annoying rumors and passing comments you've gotten somewhat used to. So you don’t blame the gossipers at your school either. Who you do blame are all the couples you would see, whether it’d be at school, at the grocery store, and sometimes even your own parents. Seeing things like holding hands, hugging, and even kissing each other goodbye sets something weird off in your chest.
And, well, you’ve known Sae for a while. You know that maybe he isn’t the type to be comfortable with these things, especially in public. And maybe you’re not going to guilt trip him into doing things that are out of his ordinary. But here’s the problem.
You do want to experience all of it.
“Sae?”
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
Your question throws him off just a tiny bit. He fumbles slightly with his flow of writing before catching himself and throws you a questioning look from across the table.
It’s the midterm season so every floor at the university’s library is packed. All but the top floor, which is mainly reserved for graduate students, who are rarely even on-site. So you two manage to snag a booth in the corner by the bathrooms and water fountain. You’ve been studying for about two hours straight and the thought of going over the rules of the Krebs cycle again haunts you so you let your doubts take over. Hence, why you blurted out the question that’s been burning on your mind for the past week.
“I do, why do you ask?” He doesn’t sound bothered by it, so you take that as a good sign.
But how do you go about asking him to show that? Maybe asking upfront would be too demanding right now. You decide to dance around the subject a little more.
There’s a moment in silence, your eyebrows creased in deep thought before you finally speak, voice clumsy and almost rough sounding. “When did you realize you liked me?”
He answers without missing a beat, eyes never leaving his notebook. “Dunno.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.
“Huh?”
“What?” Sae breaks his focus and stares at you, as if you were the one who had said something weird. “You asked and I answered.”
“You have to explain with that sorta question, you know?”
In just the tiniest of motions, Sae frowns. He’s holding his breath for a few seconds in preparation and his eyes soften. “I’m not sure when I fell in love with you.”
Woah—wait love? This is also not what you were expecting out of this conversation either. Is it too late to go back to studying now?
Sae picks up the worried look on your face and manages a soft chuckle. “You know when the sun rises?”
You’re patting your face with your hands now, hoping to eliminate the burn on your cheeks. The sweat forming in your palms doesn’t help at all. And, frankly, you’re confused by his question. “Um, between six and seven?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughs again and you’re not sure if that was the answer he was looking for. “But it always rises, right?”
“Right,” you say slowly, still confused by what he’s trying to get at.
“I’m not sure when I fell in love but whenever the sun rises, it reminds me of you,” Sae explains with a leveled expression, ignoring the little surprised squeaks from your direction. “It’s been like that for a while now and brings me comfort whenever I do wake up early to see it rising.”
“Did you get that line from a K-drama or something?”
He rolls his eyes and fake scoffs. “Thought you wanted an explanation?”
“Well,” you bite back a giggle and continue, “you never struck me as a metaphor type of guy.”
“And you never struck me as the jealous type.”
You grow hotter because wow guess you haven’t been that great at hiding away your feelings—or maybe your boyfriend is just that good at being perceptive as he is being a top honor student. “Was it that obvious?”
“When you’re looking at other couples and grumbling right after then yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” Sae’s tone doesn’t carry any ounce of tease and he gives you a fond look. It makes you feel slightly guilty and embarrassed.
You shrink deeper into the booth, holding your textbook up to your face. “Sorry…”
The seat next to you dips and a familiar pair of hands gently snatches the book away from you, revealing Sae’s rare soft expression again.
“Don’t be,” He reaches over to ruffle your hair before moving his laptop and notebook over to your side. “Plus, you shouldn’t worry that much, I’ll always be with you.”
A pause and then you decide to blurt out your other burning question because things are already out in the open at this point. “Would it be alright if we start doing more couple-ly things together?”
“Mhm,” he’s about to dive back into studying but stops, humming in thought. “What should we do more?”
“Well, aside from me,” Sae deadpans and you straighten your posture. “Sorry, sorry, what I meant to say is I guess more PDA? Holding hands would be a good start.”
“Okay,” He says quietly and drops his pen, carefully interlacing his fingers with yours.
Sae’s hands are warm, maybe even sweaty if you’re not mistaken. You look up and oh — his cheeks have the tiniest amount of red on them. Probably no different from the resurgence of warmth you’re currently feeling too.
“Better?” Sae asks and squeezes your hand.
“Yeah, better.” You squeeze back.
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock imagines#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#doobea writing#sae itoshi x reader#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#sae itoshi#blue lock fluff#blue lock x gn reader
902 notes
·
View notes
Text
battle scars
monkey d luffy x afab!reader | fluff + smut | ~900 words
warnings: suggestive themes + smut throughout !!
a/n: okay, many people were involved in the birth of this fic !! so this was inspired by the art below...first @usoppsstar because she sent me the art that inspired this, + of course @luffysprincess because she made the beautiful art that inspired this !! also i wrote this whole thing in 20 min on the toilet hehe
ps. i've got permission from this genius artist to repost her art + write about it 😁
18+ MDNI
you winced at the soreness in between your thighs as you tried to sit up, blinking in the morning sunlight. you look over toward luffy’s side of the bed and notice he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and moaning quietly. he has his back completely turned toward the sunlight, almost shying away from it.
he was always a baby in the mornings.
you giggle and sit up, ignoring the small twinges of pain from deep within your core and draping yourself over your lover boy’s shoulders.
“mornin’, sugar.” he says sweetly, his voice a bit deeper than usual due to misuse while he slept. he takes one of your wrists in his hands and turns it over to place a kiss to the inside of it. he's sleepy–he's always even more affectionate than usual when he's sleepy.
“not a good morning?” you tease, running your hand down his back and breathing in his scent. you immediately withdraw your hand when he hisses in pain. “what's wrong?”
“i dunno, my back, like…it felt…it stung when ya did that!” luffy doesn't shy away from your touch, but he stretches his neck to see his back.
you both see them at the same time, the small scratches adorning his back like bloody, crusty constellations.
you gasp in complete horror while luffy gasps in utter excitement.
“woah! are these from last night? did you do this?” luffy jumps up and runs to the thin body length mirror usopp had fashioned for you in the captain’s quarters. he stands facing away from the mirror and twists his body, butt naked, in the most unnatural way only a man made of rubber could.
he starts to grin wildly and lets a few chuckles escape his lips. you, extremely embarrassed and horrified, hide your face in your palms. you couldn't believe you'd made luffy bleed.
how the hell did you manage to scratch hard enough to tear rubber skin?
you can remember, and you've been reminded by your soreness this morning, how good you'd been fucked last night. how luffy's cock had kissed and bullied your cervix for multiple rounds. how luffy’s stamina had always surprised you but something had come over him last night and he needed to feel all of you, multiple times, till he'd passed out.
“luffy, i’m–” you're about to apologize but are interrupted by luffy’s loud and boisterous laughter.
“they're like battle scars! awesome!” luffy is overjoyed and his eyes are squeezed shut to make room for the large grin that spreads across his face. he stares at the small scratches along his scapulae, his traps, his lats, and further down his back for just a little while longer before he bounds over to the bed and pounces on you. there's a smug grin on his face. “guess i made ya feel that good last night, hmm?”
you blush and move to cover your cheeks with your hands but luffy is much quicker than you and grabs your hands, pinning them above your head. you had nowhere to hide from his amusement.
“why are you so embarrassed?” luffy asks gently, using his hand not occupied by your wrists to trace his thumb over your warm cheeks. he's still smiling, but it's softer now, desperately wanting for you to talk to him and not feel guilty.
“i didn't mean to hurt you…” you say slowly, looking away from luffy’s stare. he takes your chin in his thumb and index and pulls your face to him, pressing a warm and gentle kiss to your lips.
“ya didn't hurt me!” luffy says once he's pulled away from you, he's smiling. you feel a bit better at seeing luffy's honest joy, knowing that you couldn't possibly physically hurt the newest emperor of the sea with mere scratches. you sigh and smile back at him.
“okay! i'm glad then.” you crane your neck to press your lips to his once more. “and yes, you fucked me really good last night, captain.”
you catch a mischievous glint flash in luffy’s eyes and watch as he moves his hand in between your legs and separates them by spreading his fingers wide. he tightens his grip on your wrists and uses his other hand to hook each of your legs around his hips. he presses himself into the apex of your thighs and you can feel how he's already straining and raring to go.
“yeah?” luffy breathes as he skims his teeth and tongue over the side of your neck, leaving a trail of saliva down to your chest. “let's go at it again then.”
luffy starts to rock his hips back and forth, rubbing his erection against the inside of your thigh. you press your thighs together, providing something tight and warm for luffy to drag his cock through. he lets out a small whine and hunches over you, littering your chest with butterfly kisses and small patches of his drool.
“breakfast!” luffy’s ears perk up at sanji’s voice, his lips hands and dick abruptly abandoning your body.
“meet me back in here after breakfast, ‘kay?” luffy says, pressing a kiss to your temple and grinning before he jumps up off of the bed and over to where his clothes from last night lay on the floor.
you huff, feeling the whiplash from how he'd just been fucking your thighs then how he'd suddenly left you completely cold and bare. you watch him tug his shorts up his hips and grab his straw hat from the ring beside the door.
“put on a shirt!” you yell after him.
“nope! i'm showing off my battle scars!” luffy whoops as he rushes out of the captain's quarters toward the kitchen, licking his lips in anticipation for both breakfast and the activities that will follow.
taglist: @kingofthe-egirls | @ohmaswife | @bowsa-jr | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup | those already tagged in the a/n !!
#one piece#monkey d luffy#luffy#monkey d luffy x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d luffy smut#luffy smut
928 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii how are u todayyyy could I request y/n coming home finding osamu crying??… i dunno I just want to see y/n comfort him etc etc love ur writing btw byeee🫶🫶🫶
I changed this slightly mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻
-
“You know what I could go for right now?”
Osamu’s had a hard day. Between guests telling him off about food they didn’t enjoy and the line that had been wrapped around the building all day, it’s a miracle he’s even still awake and cognizant enough to talk to you. His anxiety has been building for the past four days in a catch up of bills, coupled with a fight with Atsumu over something small that’s now been blown up to where the blonde told him not to come to his wedding. An empty threat, maybe, but it doesn’t help the mountain of things against your man right now.
He’s having a hard time accepting Atsumu’s threat.
You’ve been an escape, yes. But this is far more than he’s ever been thrown in such a short amount of time.
You raise your head from his chest with a soft hum, “what, baby?”
He looks up at the ceiling with a small smile, “just some nice, hot fries from McDonalds and a coke. It just sounds so good right now.”
You smile and plant a kiss to his jawline, “after the week you’ve had, I’ll get you anything you want, Osamu.”
“Yeah?” He chuckles. “How ‘bout a kiss?”
“Well that’s a definite,” you snicker, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, your hand coming up to gently caress the sharpness of his jawline. He mewls happily, and you pull back with a playful bite of his lip. "I'll get you nuggets too if you do the dishes."
"I mean, how could I say no to that?"
You laugh some more before planting one more kiss to him and getting up and off the bed, tugging on a pair of sweats and hoodie to combat the chilled night sky. He follows you out of the room and settles at the sink, watching you fondly as you grab your keys and blow him a kiss.
“Drive safe,” he reminds you as you close the door.
You barely make it five feet to the car before you groan, forgetting to ask him if he wants sauce or anything else after his hard day.
You spin on your heel and make your way back inside, “stink, do you want sauce-“
There’s a sob that stops your question dead, and a pained pout crosses you. Osamu stands at the sink, hands gripping the edge so tight, his knuckles lighten from the force. One of his them comes up to cover his mouth and muffle himself as you come back in, his shoulders trembling as he desperately tries to pull himself together.
“What?”
You clear your throat, “do you want sauce, baby…? With your fries and nuggets?”
“B-barbecue,” he whimpers, hand immediately coming up to scrub his eyes. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
You let him have a moment of silence before stalking into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder that shakes under you. "I know," you whisper, your thumb stroking his side lovingly. “I know, Osamu.”
"Why would he say that?" He sobs, shaking his head in his hands. "What did I even do?"
You don’t say anything, letting him cry it out and letting his shoulders heave and wail. You press a kiss to his bicep, squeezing him closer to you while he continues to cry in his hands, sniffling and trying desperately to catch his breath.
“I don’t deserve this,” he manages, fingers pressing into his eyes. His breathing starts to hyperventilate, and you pat his back softly.
"You need to focus on breathing, Osamu."
At your reminder, he sniffles and twists his body to wind himself around you, only for a particularly loud wail slips through his mouth, and his knees buckle under him. You guide him to sit on the floor and into your arms, which cradle his pounding skull. "I have to go to this wedding," he explains. "He's my brother, h-he's my best friend."
"I know, baby, I know..."
The dam breaks and out comes every worry and despair plaguing his mind, flowing in incoherent babbles and wheezy cries that stain your hoodie in hot tears. You screw your eyes shut to keep your own tears at bay as he fists the fabric of your pullover and squeezes you impossibly closer.
"I'm so tired," he chokes, his breath coming out short and forced.
"I know, Osamu,” you assure. “I wish I could take it away from you, I do…”
But you can’t. All you can do, all you can offer him, is all the love in your soul, all the patience and tenderness he deserves that the world hasn’t been giving him lately.
And in a few minutes, you’ll ask him if he’s still hungry, or if he wants to call Atsumu to figure this out. If he’ll want to close the restaurant tomorrow, or if he wants to just go back to bed and let the harmful thoughts be stilled.
But for now, you let him cry, wailing into your skin while he trembles in your grasp.
It’s the least you could do.
#osamu miya#osamu miya angst#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x gn!reader#osamu miya x reader angst#osamu miya imagine#osamu miya haikyuu#miya osamu#miya osamu angst#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x gn!reader#miya osamu x reader angst#miya osamu imagine#miya osamu haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x gn!reader#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x yn#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#hurt to comfort#hurt/comfort#angst to comfort
345 notes
·
View notes
Note
ooh, I saw the other anon offering their soul up for a request. I will make a sacrificial offering to the writing gods for you. if maybe you could write a Bruce Wayne Drabble with a handsize difference?- I dunno recently compared hands with a guy with hands almost two finger joints larger than mine so🥴
hey nonnie how does it feel to be living my dream
anyway
Not necessarily Shop Girl and Bruce
Warnings:...Idk, none? Yearning? Pining? And me pretending to know anything about gunshot residue because I did limited googling don't @ me
"What are you doing back there?"
"Nothing," You insisted, doing your best to ignore the feeling of Bruce turning to look at you. You just continued your inspection of one of Bruce's discarded gloves, turning it over in your hands before you hesitantly slid your hand into it. You watched the glove slide down, brows raising as you wiggled your fingers in the roomy interior.
"What is it?" Bruce chuckled.
"There's a lot of space in here."
"Is there?"
"How do you grip anything properly?"
"Here," Bruce reached out, sliding the glove off of your hand and casting it aside. Before you could argue, he took hold of your hand, raising it and pressing your hands together. Your stomach flipped at the heat and weight of his palm, taking in the sight of his fingers spreading above yours. You kept your gaze on your hands, unable to look at Bruce as heat crept up your neck and spread to your face.
"...Oh," You managed lamely after a moment.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Yep."
"Good." Bruce pulled his hand back from yours, only to reach up and gently chuck you under the chin with his knuckles. "And leave my gloves alone. You don't need any GSR transfer."
"Any what?"
"Gunshot residue. It's harmless and the transfer rate is pretty low, but god forbid the cops take you in and test your hands, it could spell trouble," He turned away taking up the glove. You folded your arms around yourself, fingers wiggling as you watched him bring the glove back to the rest of his suit.
"...That something you deal with a lot?" You hedged softly.
"Sometimes." He glanced back toward you, brows furrowing a little. "...I'm fine."
"I know," You nodded. It was too quick—you could see Bruce beginning to turn toward you a bit more, an argument ready on his tongue. But you didn't want to argue—not about this, and not right now.
"I'm going to go make some coffee," You insisted. "You want any?"
"...I'll take a cup, sure."
"Okay."
You'd only managed to take a step when Bruce caught hold of your hand, and you didn't have a chance to face him fully before you felt the warm press of his lips against your knuckles. You gave his hand a hesitant squeeze before he let go, and you strode out of the room as quickly as possible, trying to ignore your pounding heart and tingling knuckles.
#Bruce Wayne x Reader#Bruce Wayne x You#Bruce Wayne/Reader#Bruce Wayne/You#Bruce Wayne fic#Bruce Wayne imagine#asks#replies#anon#requests
180 notes
·
View notes
Text
Redemption Pt.2 | Lucifer x Reader
I'm kind of having a hard time getting motivation to write if anyone has any Luci prompts they wanna drop in my asks 👀
But for now, here's some more angsty fluffy slow burn Luci for y'all
(Check out Redemption Pt.1!)
○○○
It's been an.. awkward... few weeks. You kissed Lucifer. You kissed the king of Hell, who you've known for almost 2 decades, your boss and best friend. If that information didn't overwhelm your brain enough, he's managed to make you doubt Redemption. Still undecided, you began to fear the outcome of just disappearing without getting to make a decision. Without saying goodbye.
Even with your mental disaray, Business went on as usual. You did your routine paperwork and helped out with anything Charlie needed. Lucifer wasn't asking much of you these days. You assumed the best of him. Maybe he was just too busy. Or maybe he was avoiding you. You shook the frightful thought out of your head only to suddenly be hit with the memory of Lucifer looking so lovely with your lipgloss all over his face and neck. Damned man has taken over your entire brain.
Charlie would often ask you to help with touring, partnering in exercises, or helping new residents set up. You didn't really consider how much free time you'd have without seeing Lucifer as much as you usually do. Some days, you did at least walk by him in passing. You would smile at him, maybe say good morning or hello, and he would do the same. Like strangers. His smile was always sweet in the past, but these had a sense of disparity behind them. You couldn't confide in your dearest friend, and your paranoia got the better of when considering going to others. But you needed another opinion.
"Well, shit! Good for you toots! That all tracks, Luci's clearly a bottom." Angel laid on his stomach, kicking his long legs in the air like some gossiping teen. You just needed some advice on redemption, but you ended up spilling out the entire interaction. You sat at his vanity, your arms crossed over your chest. "Angel, please. What do you think about redemption? You've been here longer than anyone, don't you.. worry..? About never seeing anyone here again?" Angel looked down for a moment before swinging his legs around and sitting at the edge of his bed. He pat the spot next to him, and you quickly took a seat by his side. He gripped the edge of his bed and hunched over his torso, propping himself up by his elbows with his upper set of limbs. "Actually? I'm terrified. I've been here for 70s years, kid. This is basically all I know now. I had a family, a buncha siblings, and a whole backstory n shit, but.." He spoke softly, his voice cracking at the mention of his biological family." I barely think of 'em. Even with Val up my ass, I think of this as my home now. Charlie and Vaggie, even Alastor - and.. Husk." He swooned, without even realizing, at his own words." I think you gotta want redemption, babes. Maybe that's why i'm still here. I dunno." He placed a hand on your shoulder and sent a sympathetic smile. The tender care you hadn't received in so long was too much. You sniffled a bit and let your head fall onto his shoulder. "I don't know what to do, Angel... " He rubbed your arm that had traveled around your shoulders as you attempted to slow your shakey brrath.
Lucifer did what he always did when he was stressed. He created. Frustration seemed to be a common inspiration for his.. hobby. He filled his office to the brim with ducks, each with a fun little feature that he came up with spur of the moment. Without acknowledging it, he did leave your desk clear. Like he was waiting for you to suddenly appear there, all neat and tidy. A glimmer of relief in the pool of chaos his life had become. This went on for days.
He was rarely a participant at the bar, alcohol was just another reminder of the wrecklessness that could occur with free will. But fuck, he needed a drink. Making sure it was far too late, to avoid any unexpected interactions, he went down to the lobby. Still looking dishoveled and exhuasted, he prayed that no one would be down there, to see the king of hell looking to get sloshed at 3 in the morning.
To his luck, it was empty. The lights were almost all off, but the lobby was still filled with the red glow of Pentagram city just down the hill. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lucifer steps behind the bar, struggling to read any labels without a set light. That didn't stop him one bit,, randomly taking a bottle and drinking whatever was inside. It didn't taste good, but his head finally seemed to forget your face for a moment. He'll realize how horrifying that felt in the morning.
Looking for another drink that didnt burn his throat, he continued to sort through the drinks without any clear light source. Letting out a frustrated scoff, he flung a handful of golden flames behind him, attempting to light a display of candles that sat at the bar counter for decor.
"Fuck - !"
The sudden voice that came from behind made him drop whatever drink he had in his hand. It shattered, the sound echoing through the cleanliness of the new lobby. He turned his body around way too fast, only managing to focus on your face after a few dizzying moments. You hold onto the top of your arm, a clean burn swiped right across your skin. His eyes were darting across the room, seeing only half of the candles lit, your sudden appearance and newly burned flesh, and a small flame forming on the top of the couch across the room.
Despite his dizzying mind, he snapped his fingers, planning to at least stop the couch from burning the whole place down. In this attempt, he managed to sinch all three flames, the room suddenly being plunged into a darkness that you both had to adjust to. Lucifer's overwhelmed senses made him stumble, clutching onto the edge of the counter and holding his spinning head in his hand. Everything he's felt for the past few weeks and the guilt of causing you any harm finally hit him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck - I'm sorry, i'm sorry..!" He wailed out, almost at the brink of tears. He gasped for air, his chest heavong. He could barely feel your hand brush across his back and start to rub it soothingly. He hitched his breath, doing his best to calm himself from this little attack. You had rounded the bar, your back leaning against the counter. standing at his side, you ran your fingers lightly across his back, starting to trace along his tense muscles. It was the smallest affection, yet he shuttered before feeling his unbalanced body relax, then began to sway in your direction.
"I'm okay, Lucifer..! I-I barely felt it! You're freaking yourself out, just try and - " his body finally hit yours after a stumble, his shoulder falling into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. You shifted your postion to brace him from behind, his back now flush against your chest as you leaned both of your weight onto the counter.
You did your best to keep a clear mind, but seeing your beloved friend in this state did nothing but make you panic. Your friend.. that's what he'll always be at the end of this. Your friend who you've known since you died, who took you in without ever considering you'd grow this close. Your friend, who's created an incredibly difficult decision for you to make.
"Sweetheart, I'm s-sorry! I never meant to scare you off! I-I'm so scared to lose you - I can't imagine my days without you, love, I need you -" you shushed him, needing to cool your absolutely heated face at his words, but also to keep anyone else from seeing this display. You ushered him to the front of the building and out the front doors.
Despite it being Hell, there was a light breeze that hit the both of you with a relief. Lucifer stumbled onto the nearest wall, finally releasing his face to adjust his eyes to the sudden change of setting.
Blinking slowly, he took in your appearance much longer than anticipated. You wore a comfortable baby blue slip that loosley hung over your figure. He surely wouldve taken the time appreciate your figure if you didnt have a a blanket bunched around your entirety. He did his best to not look disapointed, but failed miserably. You couldnt help but smile at his poor display of affection.
You took a hold onto Lucifer's clammy hands, making him turn redder than he was before from embarrassment. He took a moment to meet your eyes, something he hadnt done in days at this point.
"Come with me?" You spoke so neutrally, a clear tone that seemed to calm his thoughts. He simply nodded, allowing you to lead his staggering body around to the side of the building. It was a bit of a hike, but the brisk air and the movement seemed to settle Lucifer's high. That being said, he still kept his arm around your shoulders for balance.
Upon arrival, the sight was enough to startle him, a small walkthrough garden sprouting from the side of the building. It was lush with Hell's native fiolage, flowers and vines with dangerous looking thorns and teeth growing from them. The purples and reds growing from the fenced off border and the small iron table and bench that sat in the center just underneath an arch with flowers intermingled, it all looked so innocent.
"Wh-hhow.. what is this?" He managed to ask, looking over at you as you continued to lead him through the garden. "I'm actually not sure. I don't remember seeing it in any blueprints when we redid the hotel, but i went for a walk and saw it here. Someone else must've put it together." You weren't sure if he was able to process that information, but you led him to sit on the bench with a thud. His body fell limp, hitting his head on the back of the frame with a ting.
You simply sat beside him for a moment in a bliss silence. It was comforting, despite all the previously chaos the two of you just went through.
"I should be scoldering you, sir. You haven't been drunk in years and last time you did - "
"Lillith. It was after she left, I know.." you only meant to call out how poorly he handled his liquor in the past, but it made your heart ache hearing him make that connection.
You let out an awkward agreement and continued to sit in silence for another moment longer. Lucifer finally let his head fall onto your shoulder and a sigh of relief escaped his lips, as you felt the heat coming off of his body.
"How'd you find this place? It's nice." He said softly, his voice raspy and wavering." I've been using it to escape.. to think." You said in an equally soft tone, unsure of his mental state at this point. You discovered this little hidden gem while desperately looking for air, struggling through one of your own panic attacks. Once you saw it the first time, it almost became a nightly routine. The walk to it was always clear from other demons, and passing Lucifer's giant pentagram in front of the hotel gave you a sense of comfort and protection. You felt him shift slightly, he pulled the blanket away from your arm and held it up lightly to inspect the burn that you had nearly forgotten about. His hands flinched for a moment, letting out a quiet hiss. He could've simply snapped his fingers or waited for your demonic body to heal itself, but instead he lightly ran his thumb across the entirety of the wound. As he pressed into your arm, you noticed the burn mark simply disapear behind his hands. You let out a satisified hum. It was always so interesting to see him use his powers, you rarely got to see him in action.
"I think - to be redeemed, you have to accept it. To be absolutely sure it's what you want. That's what angel thinks, at least." You wanted to ask why he was out of his room at three in the morning, getting drunk and why he was avoiding you for days. But you knew why.
"I still don't really know, Lucifer. I don't know what I want.. but I need you right now. I can't lose you because of t-this.." You admitted, your voice cracking slightly at your own words.
You fretted this conversation. You worried about how he would react to any answer that wasn't I'm staying with you forever! Forget redemption!
As your breath began to pick up, you watched lucifer stand, his back facing you for a moment. It made your heart drop, rushing to the conclusion that he'd leave you there alone. To your surpise, he makes a smooth motion of turning to sit in front of you on the ground, holding gently onto your calf that he pulled from the blanket. You jumped at the small touch. Turning beat red, your mind inappropriately jumped to conclusions.
"U-Uhm - Lucifer.." you called out his name as if you had any idea what to say in this moment, with him at your knees holding you so tenderly.
"You've done so much for me, love." He planted a small kiss right below your knee. "I promise I'll do anything in my power to keep you happy and safe while you're in Hell." He paused in between words, to move his small kisses up your leg." No matter how long that will be."
He's much bolder with drinks, you thought. That aside, you couldn't help but feel small tears well up in your eyes, a combination of relief and embarrasment washing over you. "Really..?" You asked so quietly, it was as if you were still worried about the answer.
He nodded with a sleepy smile, resting his head on your knee. In need of any type of comfort, you carefuly reached for his head, brushing your fingers through his dishoveled locks. He shut his eyes, letting out a sweet purr at every touch. What a strange effect he had on you. Your heart was racing, yet its mever felt lighter. Your mind, still full of dreaded thoughts, only occupied his relaxed expression in this moment. Your face was red with embarrassment of this treatment, but you were ready to beg him to keep touching you this way.
You placed your finger under Lucifer's chin and guided him upwards, making him stretch to his knees and place both his hands on either side of you. You hesitated in front of his lips for a moment. His breath was so steady, and feeling the pulse through his throat, his heart seemed to beat much slower than yours in this moment. You gulped, more nervous than before, before meeting his lips with yours. Your kiss was tender, yet it hinted at a longing for something more. He decided to take the lead, compared to last time, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks and wipe any of the wet streaks that had stained your skin previously.
Tilting his head to invite himself into your mouth, your breath hitched at the energy he seemed to eminate. He stands for a moment, then places a knee beside you, moving his hands to either side of you and caging you in by holding onto the back of the bench. This upper hand that he suddenly had made you squirm a bit, letting out a nervous yelp into his lips. You felt his smile at the sound of your voice, making you turn impossibly red. After pulling away for air that you didnt realize you needed until then, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a sweet hum.
As he went back in for more, the breath that hit your lips reaked of alcohol. That was enough to snap you back into reality. As he reached down, you planted your hands firmly on his chest, a serious intent, even with your eyes being glazed over as much as they were. "Come to bed with me, Luci. Just to sleep, alright? It's been a long night." You said softly, running your hands up and down his curves despite your intentions of not taking advantage of him any more than you've already done. You felt his skin crawl, his breath finally speeding a bit, a more nervous side of him that you were used to coming out. Maybe it was the idea of sleeping beside you, or him overthinking the invitation. Or maybe the newfound nickname was just too much for his drunken mind to handle. He quickly nods, making you pull the blanket back up around your shoulders and lead Lucifer back inside.
○○○
You take him into his bedroom, which you've rarily seen since you moved to the hotel. It wasnt as large and regal as the one in his previous residency, but it still was much grander compared to yours. His colour scheme matched the rest if the hotel, rich reds and purples. Most of the room was filled with the bed that sat on a slightly elevated platform and hit the cieling with a canopy that adorned silky drapes. A bed truly fit for a king, was unmade and unkept. Blankets were thrown about and the pillows were scattered in various places. The room was slightly cluttered, a few stray ducks that you recognized from his office making their way into his room like muddy footprints.
Lucifer stumbled his way into his room, immediately pulling his shirt off over his head, letting out a groan and letting his body cool down as he started to remove his boots. You couldn't help but stare, no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. You turned your body to the side, covering your eyes with the side of your hand. You manuevered your way around him and plopped onto the edge of the bed. You nearly sunk in with how plush the blanketing and mattress was. Still keeping your head lowered to avoid peeking, you curled up into your own blanket.
Feeling the mattress barely shift, you quicklly looked up to see Lucifer crawling his way towards the head of the bed. He barely changed, just managing to throw on a more casual pair of pants that you recognized seeing on the floor when you first walked in. His still bare chest left you abolutely flustered. His porcelain skin had shifted to a pink hue where he had gotten too cold. He immediately pulled his large blankets over his body and relaxed to the point where you assumed he had fallen asleep immediately. You listened to his steady breath for a moment, a comfortable silence in your mind, then rose to your feet, ready to shuffle out of the room.
"Noo, come back - " he groaned. It wasnt intimate or distressed, he sounded like a damned child. You rolled your eyes, unconciously smiling and crawling a comfortable distance from him on the other side of the bed, an easy task considering the size of it. You thought it best to keep your hands to yourself, so you curled up into the blankets with a comfortable wiggle to situate yourself.
Lucifer slightly opened his half lidded eyes, seeing you coccooned in his blankets, nuzzling your head into his pillows. He would pray for this to be the last and first thing he saw everyday. He closed the distance, pulling you into his chest and intertwining your legs in an attempt to be closer. His skin was incredibly soft, smooth and still warm to the touch under your cold hands that snaked around his waist. You felt him nuzzling your head, taking in a deep breath and resting his chin atop it. How was he so calm right now? This is a completely different side of Lucifer that you've yet to see. And certainly werent expecting to see any time soon.
This is fine. You'll wait until he's in a deeper sleep and leave before anyone else wakes up! Easy peasy. You just wanted him to get to bed after all.
○○○
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#lucifer hazbin#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel smut#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction#lucifer fluff#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin fluff
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
i had a worm wiggle it's way into my head when 'work song' came on on my way home today.
pairing: steddie | word count: 2,949 | rated: T
cw: major character death (no gore, nothing descriptive, though it's stated that Eddie was sick and getting weaker, then implied that he dies.)
Eddie Munson’s mother was a witch.
He didn’t know this until he was stricken with the same sickness that took her from him years and years before, but he knows now.
He knows from the small chest he found buried deep in his and his Uncle’s attic one day after learning of his ailment, and the handful of months he should expect to have left, from the local doctor.
The chest was brimming with scrolls, tomes, candles, stones, herbs, vials, even a small pewter cauldron.
“I shoulda known,” was all Wayne had said, heeding Eddie’s beckoning call that hazy afternoon.
Eddie sorted through everything he had found; spending hours every day flipping through each book and journal, deciphering his mother’s handwriting and the spells she had inscribed onto the pages.
He even started to try a few; his mother’s ‘powers’, per sae, had come from the earth around her, writing in the largest, most disheveled of the journals that all she had needed to do was to listen to Mother Earth herself, listen to what she had to tell her.
So, Eddie practiced.
Small things at first, like seamlessly re-attaching the snipped off head of a daisy back to it’s stem, snipping it off again only to regrow an identical one in it’s place. Even starting a broken branch of the pine outside the Munson home on it’s way to a new green version of what was lost.
Eddie counted himself very lucky that Wayne was not one to believe the church’s nearly unhinged ramblings about witchcraft being the work of the Devil, and let Eddie practice a couple of the other simpler things on him.
“Jus’ don’t go thinkin’ I’mma let you chop my head off, boy.”
Wayne’s body aching from following their ox around all day with the plow? “Here, drink this, it should help.” It did.
Couple of Wayne’s fingers get snapped under the same ox’s hoof? A little harder, but he managed; the digits sore and achy that night, but good as new come morning.
“There a hair spell in that book, Ed?” Wayne joked one morning over breakfast, a good three quarters of the way through the six months the doctor gave Eddie, and a couple after finding Maggie Munson’s secret.
“Hmmmm….I dunno Uncle Wayne,” Eddie flips through his journal absently, “I think a Get Your Hair Back spell is too close to a love charm to work right. You could end up with hair all over your body and not just on that beautiful, shiny, head o’yours.”
“Love spells are touchy,” Maggie’s journal had said, “There are a rumored few that work, but only for the truest forms. I’ve tried some simple potions and charms…Al still left..and if they didn’t work…” the rest was easily filled in.
“Oh yeah? Then how's about a Cure What Ails Ya spell? Got one’a those in that there book?”
“Why? You feeling sick, Wayne?” Eddie half-jokes, trying to veer away from having this conversation with Wayne again.
Wayne’s quiet as Eddie focuses intently on the book infront of him, trying, and failing, to scoop up a bite of egg onto his fork without looking away.
“Ed,” his uncle starts, soft and pleading once again, “Is there really nothin’ that can help ya?”
Eddie huffs, dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it and the journal away from him. Definitely something a younger boy would do, not the nearly 25 he is now. “Why don’t you give them a look, huh? ‘Cause I already have.”
“Ed–”
He snaps his head up to glare at the older man. “What is it Wayne? What?” Eddie snatches the journal back up off the table without looking. “I’ve looked okay? Through Mom’s and through every damn book in that attic. And there was nothing. Nothing! You think she would’ve left if there was?” He stands sharply, knocking the small faded blue table away as he does. “Would’ve left m—”
His free hand wraps around his middle, nausea and the spins taking him for a ride a the sudden movement.
“Hey, Hey, sit back down son.” Wayne stands as well, coaxing him back into his chair.
The nausea spells have become more frequent, the dizziness even more so, as the months have worn on, so Wayne ties up Eddie’s hair (growing thinner by the day), walks the short few steps to the pitcher of water he’d pulled from the well that morning, and pours some into a bowl, grabbing a clean(-ish) rag on his way back.
Wayne smoothes the cool damp rag over Eddie’s face and neck, slowly and deliberately until the nauseous feeling passes.
“‘M sorry, Uncle Wayne, I know you’re just worried.”
“It’s alrigh’ boy, I shouldn’t’a pushed.”
“I’m still doing better than most,” Eddie says, voice tilting up at the end, “I think it’s ‘cause of the magic.”
“Thoughtcha said there wasn’t no cure in that book.” Wayne states, moving to empty the bowl.
“There’s not,” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxes back into his chair. “Doc thinks Ms. Wilson had the same as me and Ma, and you saw how quick it took her.”
“Mrs. Wilson was nearly 70, Ed.”
“Then how about that boy Carver? He was my age, and Doc gave him six when he came down with it too, was gone in two.”
Wayne shrugs, “The devil wanted him back sooner.”
Eddie barks out a laugh, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his Uncle’s ‘desperately-trying-to-hide-his-smile’ smile.
Wayne jokes, but Eddie’s been contemplating this for a while now. When he had hit his second month, he was about the same as he was, steadily growing weaker, as what was expected, but nothing like how Ms. Wilson and Jason had looked in theirs.
Hell, Jason had worked on the docks with Eddie since they were boys; both fit and lean, healthy young men with the musculature to show for their work.
That was when he’d found his mom’s books, and ever since, his health had slowed to a crawl.
“I think using mom’s magic is helping me.”
Wayne is quiet, cleaning their plates from the table and dumbing the leftover eggs out the window to the pigs.
“I think it’s your magic now, Eds.”
—---
And so it went.
Eddie’s given six months turned into a year, his magic growing from healing fingerbones, to mending their ox’s broken femur with ease.
His year didn’t come without worsening symptoms though, and his previously well filled out overalls hung loose around him, his calves barely filling out the tops of his boots tied all the way tight.
Wayne always kept the faith, so to speak, not a religious man by nature, but Eddie could hear him sometimes in the early morning and late night praying to “Whoever’s got their ears on up there,” to keep Eddie safe, to keep him in their sights when the time came.
Eddie had been doing work of his own, too. Writing down anything new he found out while sitting with the Earth, listening, watching….
Mother told him through the whispers of the trees, the soft humming of the grass, that he’d know when it was time.
And that time was within the next few days.
He felt it in his bones, he felt it in the air when Wayne passed him his birthday gift (a flaky scone with the biggest chunks of chocolate in town, an amazing treat he got once a year) on the morning of his 25th year, he felt it in the very ground he walked on…
He was ready, though he did harbor one regret. One thing he knew he missed out on.
He’d never fallen in love.
Over his last year, Eddie would sit with Mother; amongst the trees, lain back in the field of grass on the hill behind their house, and tell her about them.
The ‘they’ that he’d likely never meet, the they that would love him for nothing but his love in return.
Nothing was ever specific, only the vaguest feelings he’d get about them, about the way they’d love, the humor they’d possess, the love for Eddie’s stories they’d have.
And every time he’d speak of them, Eddie’d leave with something that he didn’t realize he had picked up until he was nearly back home.
A chain of daisies Wayne had plucked from atop his head when he sat down for dinner, a scrap of dark blue fabric he’d found walking through town, a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, the tiny sun bleached skull of a bat.
And he’d write. Over and over, never quite getting it right, but there was something he knew he needed to get out of his very being before he left for good. Something that felt like a promise.
–
The morning came, and Eddie awoke to a silent house.
Wayne out on the fields already, most likely out helping the folks on either side of them with whatever they needed doing, with only the hens’ clucks and pigs’ snorts keeping him company with the calls from the birds in the trees.
Eddie got up, slow as slow could be, got himself into his clothes, shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to their small blue table, tore out a blank page of his mother’s notebook and wrote.
Pouring all of what remained within him, Eddie thought of the Earth, of his mom, of Uncle Wayne, and them. His unknown love.
-x-X-x-
Steve Harrington’s mother was not a witch.
But for the last few years, he’s had a suspicion that his Grandmother is.
Everyone says that their food tastes so good because “It’s made with love!”, but with Mama Harrington, it was real. The love and intent she imbued into her meals was there. And she could cure any ailment.
She would always go on and on about the importance of food, each recipe’s ingredients’ healing powers, and of the recipes and their stories that had been passed down through the years from her mother, and her mother’s mother, all the way to now, where they ended up in a cookbook that’d gone untouched since it was given to Steve’s mother in the late 60’s.
“A gift! Unused for so many years, Steven!”
“I know, Mama,” he nods again, dropping some green something into the pot of sauce bubbling on the stove. “Almost 25 years.”
“Aye! You have catching up to do.” she says, shaking a thick wooden spoon at him.
“Me?” he scoffs, “I don’t know the first thing about cooking, Mama!” Baking? He’d hold his own. Cooking? If his grandmother wasn’t there to help him of on the phone to guide him through a recipe? Kitchen would go up in flames.
“Bah! Watch closely, dear.” she says, shuffling to the pot that stands nearly as tall as her where it’s perched on the stovetop. “It is always your intent behind what you are cooking. You can make anything be anything as long as the intent is there.”
“Even eggs?”
She nods, her nearly fully white bun flopping back and forth on top of her head. “Even just eggs.”
“So if I want a carbonara to help get my friend a passing grade?” he asks, incredulous, but immediately thinking of Robin, who’s coming up on her finals in a couple months (for her doctorate! A PhD! Can you believe that!).
“The intent! Put it into the eggs, into the pasta, I don’t care! But make it for That!”
She throws a concerningly large handful of pepper into the pot on the stove, and gives it a stir.
“Now, this is my Mama’s recipe, and it will help your Pa’s back.”
“How so?”
“Because I told it to,” she growls, glaring at the pot and raising her spoon as if she was going to smack some sense into it.
“Alright, Mama,” Steve chuckles, “What do you need me to do?”
He spends the next hour helping his grandma roll out some of her premade dough for some fettuccine looking noodles, grabbing a wrapped up blob “from the top shelf, Steven. That’s the stuff I made for you.”.
He rolls, folds, and cuts it as he’s told, then goes to pick Robin up from campus while she finishes everything.
“It won’t take long now, dear, and you shouldn’t either.” Mama scolds, waving her spoon around once again.
“Got it, Mama, be back soon.” He slips on his shoes, looks in on his grandpa in the living room as he passes, grinning at the loud snores he hears from the direction of Pa’s recliner, and slips out the front door to his car.
In no time, he’s picked up Robin, stopped for a movie from Blockbuster, and is home to the smell of fresh bread.
“We’re home Mama!”
“I’m just setting the table, grab your Pa!”
“Come on Pa, Mama’s got some pasta for you.” Steve says, coaxing his grandfather out of the chair and into his slippers.
“Ah, perfect, my back’s been real achy lately.”
“That’s ‘cause you sleep in the recliner, Mr. Harrington.”
“How many times do we gotta tell you, Robin? Just call us Ma and Pa.”
Robin plops down in her designated spot across from Ma, “Hey, you should get used to it now; Once I finally get up the nerve to Chrissy out, she’ll come over here all “Mr. Harrington” this and “Mrs. Harrington” that.
“And how’s that coming, Bobs?” Steve asks her, sitting down beside his grandma and immediately passing the plate of bread across the table to Robin’s waiting hands.
She starts going off at a million miles a minute about her longest standing crush, while Steve shares a look with his grandma, both smirking conspiratorially as Robin takes a bite of the bread.
That’d been Steve’s suggestion, a bread imbued with luck.
It wasn’t a “Love Spell”, Mama said there was none in existence that were worth the pain. But the minimal luck that she had sown before into countless baked goods (especially near February), have had a surprisingly great track record.
With everyone but Steve.
She couldn’t quite figure out what it was that kept him from getting the benefits too, every time she had tried, they had tried, it was an astounding failure.
First with Tommy Hagan, the carrot cake cookies Steve had presented him with as a special birthday treat back in middle school ended with two missing front teeth and a broken arm.
Then again without even thinking about it, he’d added some luck and hope to homemade chicken pot pies he’d whipped up when he and Nancy were on the rocks.
It had somewhat worked with Billy Hargrove, but that one hadn’t even been intentional, and he shudders to think about it to this day.
“I don’t know my dearest, maybe it is because you are already tied to someone else?” She had said after her tried and true pot pie recipe failed.
“But it didn’t even work with the one I was already with!” he yelled, sighing deep and pinching the tears away from the bridge of his nose. “She jumped right into Byers’ arms.”
Mama had just given him a pitying look, which was worse, honestly.
Now, he stays far away from any of Mama’s lucky foods, especially with the weird twisting feeling he had gotten the few times he’d tried over the years after leaving Hawkins.
He and Robin came up to Indy for Robin to go to U of I, a year after she graduated, and when Steve was fired from the job that had been paying the majority of their apartment's rent when he was spotted kissing his then boyfriend by his manager….they came to live with Steve’s grandparents, taking to them both with open arms and hearts.
He comes back to the present when his third bite of pasta clears away the last of his headache.
Steve shoots his grandma a knowing look, which she ignores with a sip of wine.
–
They’re nearly finished with dinner when it happens.
Steve’s listening intently to a story Pa is telling them, something he’s sure he’s hears a dozen times before, when he absentmidedly picks up, then takes a bite of the bread Ma made for Robin.
It’s more than he’s ever felt before.
In the past, whenever Steve’s tried to gain some luck in love, he’s been inundated with flashes, feelings, words, a warmth in his bones that he’s wanted to hold onto forever.
The feelings grew stronger the older he got, and now, Steve finds himself sitting on a rolling grassy hill.
It’s not a flash of a vision like before, he’s sitting in the tall soft grass, and his hands are already making a chain of daisies. Nearly done, in fact.
He finishes it off, turns it around in his hands, then when he goes to put it on…
He’s back at the table with his family, the slice of bread in his hand, and Pa still telling his story.
Steve jumps up, startling the other three, and beelines it to the kitchen, flinging open drawers, searching for just a damn scrap of paper.
Mama follows him, “Steve, the bread?”
“I was on a hill, chaining daisies, and now I have to get these words out.” He probably doesn't make a lick of sense, but he doesn’t want to lose them.
Suddenly, a pad of paper and pen are passed into his line of sight. He snatches them up, and starts scribbling down as much as he can.
He and Mama stare down at the words on the page.
“Mama, what is this?”
She is silent for a handful of breaths.
“This is why the luck never worked.”
now with a part 2!
also: i don’t know the first thing about being a witch or anything of the sort, nor do i know anything but the basics about cooking; hope im not way way off on anything!!! this is all in fun 😅
#eddie is living in a non-specified olden times#and steve is post-canon about to turn 25 so it's 1992 for him and robin#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#witch!eddie#witch!steve#work song#hozier#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#stranger things#st#wayne munson#robin buckley#noelle writes#it is nearly 11 pm and this looks good but i will probably find problems with it in the morning#if you see typos no you don't
315 notes
·
View notes
Text
Previous // Next
Hey Mat,
Long time no see, or write, or anything really.. feel free to rip this letter to shreds if you feel like it, I wouldn’t blame you. I didn’t exactly plan on dipping like that and I’m sure you’re probably pissed, or were but if you somehow manage to get through this stupid thing, then thanks…
I’m doing better, thankfully.. sorted my shit out, like you said, as much as I think I can anyway… I’ve been clean for a while now, bar a few mishaps but I guess I should know by now that fucking up is just a part of myself that I can’t really change. I always liked that about you guys though, how you never judged me for it, I’ve found some pretty neat people here too, for the most part. I kinda cut my parents off too, but I dunno if I feel bad about that or not yet, guess I’m still figuring it out. I might give em another chance but half of me expects nothing to change, so I dunno…
I kinda miss the Bay n’ stuff sometimes too y’know? Maybe not the rain though.. but I think I got so used to leaving things behind I didn’t really think it’d be any different this time around, maybe I was wrong. I’m doing okay, I guess.. but there’s a piece of me that feels like maybe I left a part of myself behind too. That sounds a bit dramatic huh? I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this…
I suppose I’ve kinda been letting myself think about the past recently, someone got into my head about using it to move ahead instead of running from it and like, the elephant in the room n’ all that? I’m grateful you talked some sense into me before I did something I might’ve regretted not that I would have I didn’t mean to put you in that position though and I’m sorry if you thought maybe it was your fault that I left, cos it wasn’t.
So uh can’t believe I just wrote uh out but I just wanted to apologise for leaving the way I did, without saying anything, and I hope none of you hate me for it and I hope you’re doing okay, no, better than okay! I really hope you worked things out with the whole Pixie thing too, I still think that was amazing, what you did I think it’d be neat if you had a relationship with her. Sometimes I wonder if I helped at all hopefully she’s doing good, either way though cos whatever you decided was for the best, no doubt.
This letter is a rambling mess, I know.. but hopefully it’s better than nothing you can burn it if you want Can you tell I flunked lang/lit? I skipped write a letter day too I guess, my bad hah.. never was any good with words, written or spoken, but I’m sure you remember that.
Anyway, say hi to everyone for me if you want, but you don’t have to - especially Oscar & Courtney, they don’t know how much they helped me.. and lil Robin, but I bet he’s not so little anymore. I shouldn’t have waited so long but uh.. better late than never?
Okay peace..
T x
ps. I almost didn’t post this but someone practically dragged me to the post box and now I’m nervous at the thought of you reading it.. which I’ll bet you find pretty funny, which is why I told you I guess
pps. I don’t expect you to write back so dw about it if you don’t
TEXT MSSG:
Pick you up at 12? x
Can’t make it…
Why not?
I’m sick
I already bought tickets!
Do you want me to come over, nurse you back to health? ;)
I’m good, take someone else x
Fiiine, get some rest sweet cheeks xx
#ts4#sims 4#simblr#ts4 story#sims story#forever in between#fib#matilda douglas#tristen burks#he's here in spirit ok? ok#everybody say ough#so nice to hear from triss but we wanna see his lovely faaaace#so does tilda.. but don't tell her i told you that#she's too busy pining to come out with u now mr mystery man#😭
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
Since you’re open to writing for szoboszlai could you maybe right an angsty one where you’re fwb and find out you’re pregnant and when you tell him he freaks out at first and leaves for some alone time to think but eventually comes around
Lovely request! 😊
Dominik Szoboszlai x Reader - Positive
Enjoy!
"Pregnant?" Dominik frowned. "How can you be pregnant?"
You rolled your yes. "I don't know Dom, maybe we had somthing called sex?"
Dominik did not find your sarcasm amusing. He was neither amused that you showed up at his doorstep just as he was about to leave for training.
"How could this be possible?" He sighed, his body slumping down against the doorframe. It was a bit rude of him not to invite you in to his apartment.
"We didn't use protection the last time we...you know," You said awkwardly. "And I missed my period a few days ago. I went to get tested, and the results came back positive."
Dominik was silent for a moment, processing the information. You were having a baby together? It seemed like a distant possibility, but there was no denying the truth. But as reality set in, Dominik's expression turned from shock to panic. Perhaps he wasn't ready to be a father! Like you he was only twenty-three years old, a flourishing career ahead of him. Would he let a sloppy one night stand ruin that? Most people would argue that he had alot more to lose than you, a social media manager for the ever so addictive Red Bull energy drink.
"Y/N." Dominik shut the door behind him, adjusting the gym bag that hung over his shoulder. "I need some time to think. This is all too much for me right now."
You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched Dominik struggling to process the news. You knew this was a lot to take in, but you had hoped that he would be more supportive considering that you were both in the same boat. And It wasn't like you were complete strangers. You and Dominik had history, stretching back to when you were both based in Germany, Dominik playing for RB Leipzig and you doing jobs for their social media.
"I'll call you later okay?" He looked scared and overwhelmed, a desire to jump ship and flee.
"Okay," you said softly, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Take all the time you need." You nodded. But even as you spoke those words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Had you made a mistake by telling Dominik? Should you have given him more space? Were you truly ready to be a single mother? So many questions raced through your mind, leaving you feeling lost and uncertain about the future.
"I can't believe him." Your friend Sasha said.
It's where you were staying for the six months that Red Bull wanted you to do jobs for them in England. This whole situation was really her fault. If Sasha hadn't suggested that the two of you attend a sponsors event that her company was hosting, you would have never run into Dominik again and the two of you would never have hooked up. And it wasn't once that the two of you had spent night and day together. In fact, your relationship had gotten way past late night bootycalls. Perhaps that's why you were so suprised how off put he had been at the thought of knocking you up. Despite the life growing inside of you, life had to go on. You still had a job to do.
"Y/N, there is a call for you."
After spending and antire week in bed Sahsa woke you up one morning with your cellphone in her hand.
"Is it Dominik?"
"No. I think it's your boss."
"Oh."
How foolish of you to think that Dominik would ever call. The only word you had heard from him since you told him of your unexpected pregnancy was a text, saying:
"Need more time. Talk to you later."
"What did he want?" Sasha said, seeing you finally getting up and out of bed.
"There is a job in London that they want me to do."
You tied your hair in a gentle ponytail, marching towards the bathroom.
"What's in London?" Sasha asked.
"I dunno, some charity event at a youth center that Red Bull is funding."
"Oh...can I come?"
"Do you like kids?"
She snorted. "No."
You smiled. "Then perhaps you should sit this one out."
As you arrived at the youth center, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. Red Bull frequently arranged a "Meet your Hero Day." Where the children of the youth center would be suprised by athletes artists and other inspirational personalities.
"Who is it, who's coming?" You asked one of the youth counselor, since you had no idea yourself.
"It will be the best Hero Day yet." The counselor said. He seemed equally as giddy and excited as the children. "Red Bull went all out this year. They got two Liverpool players coming."
"Which ones?" You asked, but in terror.
"Trent Alexander- Arnold and Dominik Szoboszlai."
"No." You groaned.
"Yes." The counselor grinned. He was obviously a big fan.
The children were already gathered in the hall, eagerly waiting for the arrival of their special guests. You did you job, setting up your camera and snapping away photos, capturing the energy and enthusiasm of the young ones. Soon Dominik and his teammate arrived, dressed in their signature football jerseys and a big smile on their faces. The children went wild, screaming and cheering as they walked into the room. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as you watched Dominik interact with the kids - he was so natural and effortless around them, while you felt like a bit of an outsider. As the day progressed however, your presence became known.
"Y/N, w...what are you doing here?" Dominik asked as you had walked up to him with your camera.
"My job." You said.
"I didn't know..."
"It was last minute." You shrugged, snapping another picture of Dominik and a kid that refused to let go of his leg.
"I've been meaning to call." He said.
"Sure you have."
You moved on to snap more photos of Dominik's teammate, who was very photogenic.
"Can you maybe do something with the ball, a trick?" You directed.
"Like this?"
Trent gave the ball a tap, sending it up into the air and catching it with his knee then foot as it came back down. He did so with ease, the children gawking impressed.
"Thanks. I think I got it." You smiled.
Scrolling through your camera you noted how many good images there were. The children all looked so happy. You found yourself getting more and more comfortable with the children. You played games with them, listened to their stories, and even joined in on some of their dance moves. It was then that you realized something - you wanted a child of your own. You glanced over at Dominik, who was currently juggling a ball with one of the kids. He wasn't sure if he was ready for fatherhood, and maybe that was his right. But what you did with your body, that was your right. But as you continued to watch Dominik interact with the children, you saw the way he lit up their faces with his presence, and the way they looked up to him with such admiration. Deep down you knew that he would be an amazing father, which made the decision you wanted to make even more difficult.
"I'm giving the child up for adoption"
As the day came to a close, you took Dominik aside and told him what you wanted. His eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why would you do that?"
You tooka deep breath, calming yourself down. "I know I might be a bit old school but abortion isn't an option for me."
Dominik searched your face then nodded agreeingly. "Me neither."
"And I...what?" You frowned.
"I don't want you to have an abortion. " He said.
You were lost for words and for a split second you contemplated punching him in the face. "Dominik." You sighed. "You've given me the cold shoulders for days, making me question ever fucking choice I've ever made in this life. You made me feel so shitty about myself these past few days and now all of the sudden you want me to have your baby?"
"I know and I'm sorry." He said. "But Y/N you must understand, growing up my parents had nothing. They struggled to take care of me and at the same time did everything for me to succeed in life. I made a promise to them and myself that my children would never have to go through what me and my family did. That when I grew up I'd be able to give them everything that they need. I really want to be with you Y/N, but I promise you I'll struggle trying to be a dad now.
"Well I'll struggle even more being a single mother, don't you think?"
You could see it in his eyes, the genius angst. But you were in this together, why was it so difficult for him to understand that?
He shook his head. "I won't leave you. I'll be there for the both of you. Everything you need, money, a house..."
"Dominik." You sighed. "I don't want your money. I want you. I need you."
His expression withered, looking a bit defeated. "But I'm not good enough..."
"You're good enough to me." You placed a hand on your flat stomach. "You're good enough for us."
Somthing changed in his expression, a newfound light. "I am?"
You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "Yes, you're everything we need, just the way you are."
He stepped forward his arms collecting you in his embrace. You sighed in relief.
"I'm gonna be a dad." He pulled you back, now a smile on his face.
"Yes, yes you are and I'm gonna be a mom."
You gasped as Dominik bent down, kissing your lips. Forgetting your surroundings, a group of children spotted you and giggled unremosrfully. Dominik turned to look at them than back at you. He returned your smile, knowing that this is what you wanted. You were both positive.
#fanfiction#football imagine#footballer imagine#footballer x reader#football angst#dominik szoboszlai#dominik szoboszlai x reader#trent alexander arnold#liverpool fc
258 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your writing! Can I request a Jamie tartt x reader where the reader is a famous actor or musician and it’s like the team meeting them or the media finding out? Thank you!!
I loved this! Thanks for requesting!
you know, you’ll always know me
“Jamie Tartt has been spotted around Manchester with lead singer and songwriter from band Room 17,” Isaac reads aloud. He snaps the paper shut and looks at Jamie. “Oi, when did you have time to go to Manchester?”
Jamie shrugs. “I dunno, mate, two nights ago?”
There’s a clamor of disbelief from the team throughout the locker room.
Colin’s voice cuts through the din. “Mate, that’s a four-hour drive. You drove eight hours to hookup with a famous singer?”
Jamie grins. “No.”
Isaac: “Elaborate.”
Jamie replies, “Nope,” popping the “p” sound at the end.
The boys chorus, “Aye, c’mon man, what the fuck,” right as Ted and Beard walk in.
“What’s all the hubbub?” Ted asks. “Usually that level of resignation is reserved for one of my many, specially-tailored puns.”
“Jamie hooked up with someone famous,” Sam answers.
Beard looks at Jamie. “Saw the papers. You’re way out of her league.”
Jamie puts his hands up. “That’s not what she said Tuesday night.”
“So you did hook up with her!”
“Look-” Jamie replies, “she said I ain’t allowed to talk about it in the locker room and I ain’t allowed to tell just anybody. She likes things private and I don’t blame her because you lot are a load of animals.”
Ted makes a mock offended face while Beard shrugs like yeah, that’s true.
Will looks up, thoughtful expression on his face. “Jamie, she said no locker room talk?”
Jamie says, “Yeah, why?”
“I mean, we could just, I dunno, go… somewhere else?”
“Will, you fucking genius,” Colin says, and Isaac gets up to go shake Will’s hand while saying, “Everyone, boot room, now!”
Less than a minute later, everyone is crowded into the boot room. Including Trent, Rebecca, and Higgins, who are never ones to miss a good story. Roy is the only one not present, with a short “fuck off!” at Ted’s extended invitation.
They’re all huddled around Jamie, whispering quietly amongst themselves until Isaac holds up a hand.
“Alright! Jamie’s going to tell us how he managed to pull the lead singer from Room 17, and then he’s going to apologize to,” Isaac checks a note on his phone and reads, “Dani, Sam, Richard, and Jan Maas because he knew they had a crush on her, and then to Colin because that’s his favorite band and you didn’t say shit to him.”
“Eh? That ain’t fair! We all had equal opportunity, I’m just the only one who took it,” Jamie replies indignantly.
There’s a “WHAT,” in unison from at least half the team followed by more clamoring.
“Oi, oi!” Jamie says. “Pipe down, and I’ll tell ya.
It was when we went to that club last month. I was gettin’ drinks for me and Dani, and there was this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar, scribbling somethin’ on a napkin. I was gonna introduce meself, but right as I went to say hey, she stood up and knocked both drinks out of me hand. One got on me and the other got on her napkin and I said ‘sorry about your napkin,’ and she said ‘nah it’s shit anyway. Sorry about your shirt,’ so I said, ‘it looks better on the floor.’ Guess she liked that, ‘cause that’s where it ended up.”
“That was a month ago, Jamie,” Sam interjects. “How did you end up in the papers this morning?”
Jamie grins and sticks out his tongue. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Isaac smacks the back of his head and Jamie yelps. “Ok, ok, I’ll tell ya!”
The team crowds closer. Rebecca is farther in the back, and she’s seemed strangely uninterested this whole time, typing on her phone.
“So. Turns out, she’s fit and funny, and she starts telling me she writes her own songs. And she say it ain’t a big deal, just something she does for fun, and I say I play football and it is a big deal, but she already knew who I was. Anyway, didn’t figure out who she was till after I asked her on a proper date, and I guess she thought that was cute or some shit. We’ve been sneakin around ever since.” Here Jamie smiles angelically. “I am cute or some shit.”
Ted, Beard, and Trent nod in assent and just before the team can bombard Jamie with questions, his phone dings then rings. Rebecca finally looks up from her phone in the back as Jamie checks his.
You’re calling him, so he makes a pipe down motion and answers.
“Hello Jamie Tartt,” you say. “What are you doing right now?”
“Hey babe!” he replies, team saying silent oohs and making kissy faces. “Not much, just with the lads. Did you see the papers?”
You laugh. “Yes, I saw the papers. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it got out, and I know I’m a little late to the party, but you can tell the team now.”
You can hear Jamie’s smile through the phone as he says, “Thanks babe. Y’know they’re like my family.”
Even though he can’t see you, you nod. “I do know. That’s why I’m not upset that you’re in the boot room right now and have already told them everything.”
Jamie is stunned into silence as the team whispers, “what did she say, what did she say?”
“You can put me on speaker,” you say.
Jamie does and then asks, “How the fuck did you know where I was and what I was doing? Are you psychic?”
Jamie looks up around the room and Rebecca of all people catches his eye and winks as you say, “Oh, well, Rebecca Welton and I have been close for ages. She started texted me the moment she heard you were going to the boot room. She’s known about you and me since the first night.”
The room erupts into “WHATs,” and “Holy shits,” while Jamie goes to speak again.
“Babe,” he tries, but you can’t hear him above the noise. He pushes his way through the throng and out the boot room, Rebecca patting him on the shoulder as he goes past her.
“Babe,” he says again, “you sure you ain’t mad?”
Now he can hear your smile through the phone. “Yes, I’m absolutely positive. You could have told them sooner. And I think it’s funny that you went to the boot room to talk about it. Rebecca says it smells worse than shit.”
Jamie sighs. “Good. Good, yeah. I’m glad.”
“Actually,” you continue, “this got me out of my writing slump. I’ve been writing like crazy every time you leave. Got half an album in the works already.”
“Fuckin mental.” Jamie shakes his head. He’s great at football, sure, but your musical talent is something else.
“Jamie?” you ask hesitantly. “I- you know I- I mean-”
He cuts you off mid sentence with, “I love you.”
You’re holding your phone with both hands now. “How did you know what I was going to say?”
Jamie shrugs, then remembers you can’t see it. “Just your voice, I guess. Didn’t want you to feel awkward about it. Know we haven’t said it yet, but I do. And now that it’s out, maybe you can come down to Richmond for a proper football game, meet the lads.“
“I’d like that,” you smile. “Oh shit- my food’s burning. I’ve gotta go. I love you!”
“Love you too,” he replies. He hands up, slides his phone back into his pocket, and turns to see the entire Richmond team crowded around the boot room door, faces pressed to the glass. Jamie rolls his eyes, flips them off, and walks away, laughing. You’re going to love them.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
557 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆｡˚୨ 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃' 𝒱𝒾𝒹𝑒𝑜 𝒢𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 ୧˚｡⋆
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1039
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ You spend a quiet moment showing Abby your Animal Crossing island; a testament to your love for Sanrio characters and your favorite girl.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ on my old sideblog, my sweet Saia requested that I write something with Abby involving Animal Crossing. buuuut, since I've deleted that blog, I thought I'd repost it here! I've made some little edits so it's a bit longer than before; but here it is in all its glory again! this one is entirely dedicated to you, @abbysdolly; thank you for being so lovely and so supportive, dear. I hope you enjoy this again!! alsoooo, divider credits go to @cafekitsune!!
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ minor swearing, absolute tooth rotting fluff, nothing else I can think of!
"Fuckin' video games..." Abby spoke under her breath as she fiddled with the controls of her switch. She'd only had it for a few days (thanks to some gentle persuasion from you) but she was already moments away from giving up on it completely.
"What's wrong?" you leaned over from your spot on the couch. Her character now stood blankly in front of her starter tent. You rested your chin on her shoulder, breathing in the pine scent that felt like home to you by now as you tried to see what the problem was.
"There was a scorpion and he just–"
Realizing her plight, you giggled, "Stung you?"
Abby set the console down and reclined back on the couch, taking a deep breath. "How did you get so good at this in the first place?"
"I dunno," you hummed. "You just gotta work on it."
Of course. As much as Abby fancied herself an expert at all things, part of her was alright with taking the loss on this one; especially knowing how happy you got when you finally got to best her at something. You could have this one.
Abby rolled her eyes and continued, "Ah, it's whatever. Show me what you've got on your island, babe."
Your eyes lit up and a smile bloomed across your face. Letting out a chuckle of her own, Abby swore she'd never get sick of that expression. You picked your own console back up and snuggled closer into her side.
Immediately your fingers flew, maneuvering your character around the screen. Abby smirked, catching a glimpse of the pink bunny that decorated the skin of your console. She never had a single clue how she managed to land a delicate thing like you. It always made her a little afraid of breaking you; something she didn’t worry about with most. She was abrasive and proud of it. But not with you. Never with you. She hooked a strong arm around your frame and pulled you closer.
"The first thing I have to show you..." you trailed off as your character disappeared inside of a pastel pink house. The main room of your house was thoroughly decorated with polka dot wallpaper and white wood floors. Pastel couches and a white coffee table with a decorative cake and tea set on top constituted your home’s living room. Underneath it all, a fluffy looking rug tied the whole soft atmosphere. Except…it didn’t look like any old carpet. It was a picture of some sort of cartoon character tucked inside a bright blue teacup.
Abby squinted. "Who's on the rug?"
You looked up at her, "I've told you about the characters, Bee. Guess."
Noticing the long ears on the character, she spitballed, "Isn't that the bunny? MyMelody?"
"Nooo..." you whined and tapped the decal on your switch. "That's MyMelody. The rug is Cinnamoroll. And he's a puppy, not a bunny."
Abby scoffed, "Well, sounds like I've gotta do more studying."
"Yeah," you replied matter of factly with a glint of pride in your eye, "you really do."
As soon as you showed her around your house, you then graduated to running around your island. You'd sunk hundreds of hours into the game and it showed, considering every nook was themed and immaculately adorned with various trees, bushes, and flowers. She couldn’t help but be a little jealous. It wasn’t fair that these little virtual creatures could live in a paradise, entirely hand crafted by you. That sounded like a dream to her.
"So, this is Toby," you introduced her to a yellow rabbit with big eyes and teal hair. "He's part of the Sanrio set of characters. I'm trying to collect them all."
"Now, that is a bunny. It has to be. Geez, how many bunnies does this brand have?" she grumbled.
You giggled again, "Yes, he's a bunny. But he's based off of Keroppi," you added with a pointed glance in her direction, obviously expecting her to fill in the blank.
Now this is one Abby knew. She blurted out, "The frog!"
"Good job, Bee," you smiled proudly.
"Eh, it's no big deal," she brushed you off with a teasing look that told you she was playing her humility up. She had to preserve some respectability.
Then she watched as your character ran over to a secluded piece of land that looked over the ocean. The sun was setting over your island paradise as your character plopped down on an iron bench. Cut off from the rest of the island by a thick layer of trees, this area was quiet. The normally upbeat music subsided so you and her could clearly hear the wind blowing and the waves crashing. It was strangely kind of…calming.
"This spot is nice," Abby mumbled.
"I made it for us,” you replied quietly.
"For us?"
Your gaze was especially sentimental when you answered, "Yeah! So when you finally visit my island, we'll have a place to sit and watch the ocean."
Abby blinked vacantly. "You know...we can totally do that now too...in real life?"
You chewed on your lip as you watched the screen. "I mean, yeah. Of course. But I want to sit with you and watch the sunset virtually too."
Abby was quiet, thinking about all the hours you put into this endeavor. How patient you had been, sharing all of the things you loved with her. God…how had she been lucky enough to find you again?
Finally, she spoke, "Ya know...maybe I won't quit the game just yet. At least not until I get to sit on the bench with you...virtually..."
"You're such a goober," you smiled, laid your head back on her chest, and hopped off the bench in game so you could keep showing her around.
Her emotions weren’t showing up too visibly on her face. But she was undoubtedly and thoroughly impressed. For one, she was amazed at your eye for design and the way you coordinated everything without making it look too uptight and proper. Your island felt comfortable, just like how you made her feel. And more than anything, she was happy that it was a kind of comfort you always wanted her to be involved with.
#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou#abby the last of us#the last of us#the last of us part 2
295 notes
·
View notes
Text
jealousy, jealousy | erling haaland
featuring; erling haaland x fem!reader
in which; a jealous erling has his way with you after watching you and jack get a little too close for his liking.
requests; open! I love writing little things like this so please feel free to send me any requests/prompts.
“it’s my birthday, you have to do a shot with me!” jack exclaimed, pushing the shot of vodka towards you across the table.
“ugh, not vodka though, jack!” you replied, scrunching your nose up at the glass infront of you.
“c’mon, it’s just one shot.” jack looked up at you with puppy dog eyes and you couldn’t resist, sighing and picking up the shot.
you had became close with jack over the past few months through his friendship with your boyfriend, erling. you had only been officially together for a little over 2 weeks, but jack had been on the scene since your very first meeting with erling.
jack moved to stand next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he encouraged you to drink the shot.
you reluctantly cheersed to jack and knocked it back, sticking your tongue out at the sensation that was left once you swallowed the liquid.
across the room, you noticed erling had stopped his conversation with one of jack’s friends and his eyes were practically burning through you.
you moved away from jack’s grasp and put the shot glass down onto the table.
“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jack asked and you rolled your eyes at him playfully.
you felt a hand back at your waist, looking down you saw it was much larger than jack’s and the grip was much tighter. erling.
“can I steal my girl from you?” erling asked jack, voice dark and accent thick.
“sure, she’s had a birthday shot with me, she’s free to go now.” jack replied and erling gave him a quick smile before grabbing your hand and leading you away.
“babe, are you okay?” you asked but erling continued his stride with you in tow.
“don’t call me babe.” he replied as the two of you exited the club.
“what’s going on?” you asked, scanning his face for any hint of a clue.
“we’re going home.” he replied, no emotion to his voice or face.
“why the urgency?” you asked as you both climbed into the car.
he ignored your question and started driving, eyes fixated on the road ahead of him and jaw clenched shut.
you had no idea what his problem was. he was absolutely fine before going into the club, telling you how beautiful you looked in your short black strapless dress.
you figured if he was going to be petty, so would you.
upon entering his home, you ignored him and headed straight upstairs to his bathroom to get ready for bed.
you were about to take your makeup off when your phone buzzed so you took it out to see what the notification was.
right on queue, erling appeared at the door.
“that jack on the phone?”
you furrowed your brows. “jack? no, why would jack be messaging me?”
he shook his head and you thought back to the evening’s events. was erling being jealous?
“I dunno, you seemed to love his touch when you were flirting with him earlier.” he scoffed.
your eyes widened. “oh my god, is that what this is about?!”
he rolled his eyes.
“because I did a shot with your best friend at his birthday?!” you exclaimed.
“no, it’s about you loving his hands all over you.”
“erling you’re being ridiculous now. it’s not my fault if jack is handsy.”
“it’s your fault for loving it.” he said and you huffed in disbelief.
he walked towards you, pushing you back so you were right up against the counter top next to the sink.
you were taken by surprise when his hand went up your dress, running over your silky knickers.
“jack wouldn’t be able to make you come like i do.”
you were at a loss for words as his hand stroked you through your underwear.
“erling…”
“what, baby?” he asked, moving his hands underneath your knickers and touching your wetness.
“did jack get you wet?” he asked softly, eyes staring at yours.
“n-no.” you managed to stammer out.
erling smirked before slowly entering two fingers into you.
“who made you this wet then?” he asked.
you gulped.
“you.”
he smirked again.
“what was that, I didn’t quite hear you.”
he picked up a faster pace with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. you gasped at the sensation.
“you, erling. you.” you repeated, desperate for him to continue.
much to your displeasure he removed his fingers and turned you around so you were still pushed up against the counter but now facing the mirror.
you watched in the mirror as he stood behind you, attaching his lips to your shoulder. he left a gentle kiss there before working his way up to your neck where he became more rough, softly biting and licking each spot as he travelled up to your ear.
“looks like you need reminding who you belong to.”
you whimpered at his words, you were so turned on.
he reached down and unzipped your dress, pulling it down your body and throwing it to the other side of the room.
he quickly stripped of his own clothes, taking his length into his hand and stroking up and down whilst not taking his eyes off you in the mirror.
“i’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
all you could do was let out another pathetic whimper at his words.
he pulled your underwear off your body and you stepped out of them.
“now, be a good girl and bend over so I can fuck you.”
you did exactly as you were told, his words making you even more desperate than you already were.
erling gripped onto your hips and entered you hard and fast, making you moan out in shock.
this was unlike him. he was usually a sweet and gentle lover, concerned his size could hurt you. it was a completely different size to him you hadn’t seen before, and you loved it.
he picked up his pace, each thrust hitting your sweet spot as his grip on your hips stayed tight.
erling removed one of his hands to pull your hair back, holding it in place with his fist as his pace showed no signs of slowing down.
“look at you as I fuck you, baby.” he ordered, pulling your hair back and making you look at the mirror as he continued to ram into you.
“does that feel good?”
“yes erling, oh my god.” you moaned out in pleasure.
“only I can make you feel this way.” he spoke possesively, his thrusts getting even more hard and fast as he pictured you with jack earlier on that evening.
“only me.” he repeated.
you moaned his name as you could feel your high approaching, each thrust now making you see stars.
he brought his lips to your ear.
“are you going to be a good girl and moan my name when you come around my big cock?”
his words were too much for you and you moaned his name as you clenched around him and let the feeling overcome you. as soon as he felt your walls tighten around him he let you of your hair and groaned expletives as he came in you.
you both took a few moments to catch your breath and erling pulled out of you.
“I don’t think you’re going to flirt with my friends again.” he spoke, that cheeky smirk back on his face.
#erling haaland#erling haaland blurb#erling haaland fanfic#erling haaland imagine#erling haaland one shot#erling haaland smut#erling haaland x reader#football smut#haaland#man city#erling haaland x y/n#erling haaland x you#erling haaland x fem!reader#football imagine#footballer smut#man city blurb#man city fanfiction
663 notes
·
View notes
Text
Isagi’s Interlude
“I wish I wasn’t famous/ I wish I was still in school/ So that I could have you in my dorm room/ I would put it on you crazy” - Cece’s Interlude, Drake
✿ tags: minors dni, 18+ content, pro!Isagi, fem!reader (called good girl, wears a skirt, has cleavage, etc.), established relationship, mention of an age difference (reader is older than Isagi, both are in their 20s), consensual audio recording, role play (university students), switch!Isagi, switch!reader, oral (male receiving), humping, unprotected sex, mentions of virginity but neither is a virgin, purity kink, corruption kink (?), one mention of a spoiler, tbh i think this is pwp but idk
✿ wc: 3.5k
✿ a/n: the time has come that i officially am no longer catfishing as a writing blog🥳 please clap. also, this is my first time writing smut so please be kind<3
“Do you think we’d still date if we knew each other when we were in school?”
Your question is a random but welcomed conversation as you both work to reset your shared kitchen after dinner, you wash as he dries. In the seconds between the next clean dish, he pauses to consider his answer, before choosing to reach for low-hanging fruit.
“Do you mean high school? If so then...I hope not,” he finally answers. He can’t help but laugh as you fling the excess water and soap from your fingers onto him in indignation.
“No, I didn’t mean fucking high school. And quit making me seem like a fucking cradle robber, asshole.” You’ve been together long enough that the four-year age difference between the two of you is little more than a fun fact and a harmless joke at times. He can sense your annoyance is mostly for show but he chooses not to push any further.
“Ok, ok. I’m sorry,” he manages to get out between chuckles, fending himself from the assault of suds. Again he pauses to really think about what could’ve been. What would he have studied? Would he manage to get into a university with a good team? How would you manage to cross paths? He realizes it’s hard to consider anything when he doesn’t know much about your own school experience outside of the anecdotal stories you’ve told him.
“Tell me what you were like in school first.”
You resume washing the dishes, multitasking as you answer him.
“Um…pretty lame honestly. I wrote for the school’s newspaper. I wasn’t super active on campus but that made me get out there more than I would’ve on my own. But I did go to some parties.”
He lets your answer sink in.
“Yeah, I think we would’ve still got along. You don’t sound like you were much different from now so I don’t see why not.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your lips turn slightly up, pleased with his answer. Cute.
“Do you ever think about your life if things turned out differently? Like if Blue Lock never happened?”
He can’t say he has. Blue Lock changed his life on its head completely, it’s hard to imagine things working out any differently. Tada and the others he went to school with were freshly graduated, at least according to their social media updates, so he supposes he would be too. Yet still, it’s hard to think about something so different than today.
“I dunno. I can’t really picture it. Actually, I don’t even want to. If I didn’t go to Blue Lock then who knows if I’d ever get the chance to play the soccer I want to. I’d probably never get to play professionally either.” He lets his train of thought wander, eventually realizing that without playing professionally, who knows if he’d ever cross paths with you. He buries the thought before it can even fully form and upset himself in the process.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” you conclude as you hand him the final dish. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Can you just finish up here by sweeping?”
He nods in the affirmative, which you thank with a kiss that just misses his lips before leaving in the direction of the bedroom. Left with only his thoughts he can’t help but think a bit more about what could’ve been.
Obviously, he’d continue playing soccer as long as possible. Sure his high school team wasn’t amazing, but maybe through tryouts he’d end up at a decent enough school. And he’s always liked art class. Maybe he would’ve tried to pursue a fine arts degree? Or physical therapy to help athletes just in case soccer really didn’t pan out. But what then? For someone who’s built an entire soccer career around the ability to visualize a scenario, he really can’t help but to draw a blank.
Distracted by being in his own head, finishing around the kitchen takes longer than usual. When he finally manages to make his way to your shared room, he just manages to hear the sink’s water turn off, a sign that you’re at the tail end of your nightly routine.
He turns down the bed, first removing the many throw pillows you insist are necessary (a mild point of contention in his opinion. After all, what good is a pillow you’re not even allowed to lay on?) and then making himself comfortable using the “sleeping pillows” to prop himself up against the headboard, occupying himself by scrolling on the phone while he waits for you to make your way to bed. Despite it being the off-season he’s scheduled to meet with a trainer to maintain his conditioning so an early night is in order.
The click of the bathroom door opening draws his eyes but more importantly, what you’ve decided to wear to bed has his full attention.
“Baby, you look-” he starts before you cut him off.
“Is this still a good time for the interview?”
“Interview?”
He’s never been so confused in his life. And even worse, he can’t even dedicate half of his mind to start to comprehend what you’re playing at when he’s busy eyeing you from head to toe. The only thing on his mind is the oversized replica of his Bastard München jersey you’ve tied at your waist and the shortest skirt he’s ever seen. If he were to turn you around he’s sure that it’d cover absolutely nothing he’s sure a skirt is meant to. But even more captivating is the pair of thigh highs that indent into your skin the same way his fingers do when he-
“Yes? The post-game interview. I was hoping to get a quote for the paper from the player that scored the winning goal.”
“Uhh…” Is the most intelligent answer he can muster as he watches you climb onto the bed with a pad of paper and pen in hand. The size of the jersey only frames your cleavage as it gapes open thanks to gravity. Eventually, you make yourself comfortable, legs tucked under you and pen poised to take notes of his response.
“Is it ok if I record this,” you ask, sliding your phone on the nightstand, voice recorder rolling once he manages a stiff nod of his head. You continue. “So what were you thinking in that last play? It was pretty amazing if I say so myself.”
“Winning goal?” He should feel embarrassed by the way he can’t pull his eyes from your legs but the slither of skin between where your skirt ends and the socks begin is calling his name. It’s like he’s in high school again the way he can feel the blood rush from his head. Only your groan of annoyance gives him the strength to meet your eyes again.
“Babe, it’s called role play,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe in some ways, it is.
“Right. Role play.” A beat passes. “What exactly are the roles we’re playing?”
The look you give him makes his cock twitch in his pants.
“Obviously, you’re the star of our university’s soccer team and I am the reporter assigned to cover the season. You just scored the championship goal. Aaaand scene,” you drop your pen and paper to clap for extra effect and then grab both again, poised and ready for his answer.
Truthfully, he can hardly keep up with your antics but that’s never stopped him from trying. He’s had enough practice managing eccentric personalities from the cast of characters Blue Lock managed to put together so this is nothing but a cakewalk. The fact he’s in love with you only makes your idiosyncrasies endearing.
“Right.” He clears his throat, buying time. “I try to keep a cool head and focus on the field whenever I’m playing. A championship game doesn’t change that.”
You scratch something down on the notepad before continuing.
“And how do you feel now that you’ve won?”
“It’s a big achievement to win the championship for the school, and even more so to be the one to finish the game. I just hope to do even better next year.”
This time you jot away a bit longer, leaving his attention to wander back to your outfit. He reaches out a hand to appreciate the getup, running his hand up your knee to just under the hem of your skirt.
“Mr. Isagi you seem pretty distracted. Are you sure this is still a good time?”
“Call me Yoichi”. He doesn’t move his hand away when he answers.
Again you put down your props, seemingly for good as they rest next to your phone.
“I suppose this is probably too boring of a celebration for a star player like yourself. I should probably let you go back to the team for a proper congratulations. I’m sure you have quite the fan club waiting for you.”
“I doubt it. I’ve never been that popular.”
With that, you scoot closer, letting your legs fall open so that he can get the slightest glimpse between your legs if your skirt were to ride up even the slightest centimeter.
“That sounds doubtful. Who wouldn’t want a chance with Isagi Yoichi? Ace of the soccer team. Handsome and nice to boot.”
Despite complimenting his personality, your attention is focused on his physique, eyes roaming across his body appreciatively. He doesn’t fail to notice that you linger a second longer where the sheets have started to tent.
“Do you think it’d be ok if I properly congratulated you,” you ask, resting a hand on the sheet, ready to pull it away at a moment’s notice. You both have a healthy sex life, both well accustomed to initiating, but it’s rare for you to be so forward. He might pass out if you wait any longer to touch him.
“Congratulations? What did you have in mind?” Is all he can get out, forcing you to get straight to the point.
“Let me suck your cock. As a congratulations on a job well done.” Your hand cups his length through both the layers of the sheet, his joggers, and underwear, but he swears he could still cum with the slightest amount of friction he’s so wound up.
“Yeah. Yes. Please.” He’s near breathless, he wants you so badly.
Not a second is wasted before you have him bare from the waist down. He completes the look by pulling his shirt over his head, throwing the offending article wherever it chooses to land. All the while, you shimmy yourself down between his legs. Sure he’s the one fully naked but the eroticism of the sight before him already has him on the brink of cumming.
His name emblazoned between your shoulder blades is something he still has yet to learn to be normal about, but more than that, he finds that he was right about your skirt not covering an inch of your backside. However, what he wasn’t expecting was for it to perfectly frame the curve of your ass since you’ve apparently decided to forego underwear.
“Fuck me,” he gets out in only a puff of air.
“In due time, Mr. Yoichi,” is all you offer before kissing the mushroom tip, smearing the precum that’s collected on your lips, and then swallowing all that will comfortably fit in your mouth. It takes all the strength he can muster to not instinctively buck into you but he can’t hide the deep groan that comes out involuntarily as he meets the entrance of your throat.
“Fuck. You’re so good at this. Always so good,” he offers as he bundles your hair into his fist, slowly guiding you up and down his length. The praise leads you to moan around him, getting him even closer to the brink of cumming.
To get a better view he props himself up on one shaky arm, massaging all that he can reach, as you use your other hand to fondle his balls. Mere minutes pass before he starts to feel the familiar pit of pleasure begin to grow in his belly and it takes all his willpower to pull you off of him before he cums from the added stimulation. It’s next to a miracle that he manages to hold off even after he’s pulled you off once he sees the thick strings of saliva that still connect the two of you.
“I wasn’t done yet,” you have the audacity to pout.
“I didn’t want to cum yet,” he answers. Even to his own ears, he sounds debauched.
While still catching his breath he pulls you close, encouraging you to straddle him. You do and let out quiet moans as you rut your bare pussy against his length. Despite being so close to cumming before, he’s happy to let you do as you please. When your legs eventually tire, he switches to using both hands on your waist to manhandle you the way he knows you like.
“Tell me how you feel, sweetheart.” He can’t get enough of your sounds, no matter how small. To see how much of a mess you’re making he flips the front of your skirt, his tip coming in and out of view as he rocks you back and forth.
“So good, Yoichi. Your hands feel so good.”
He knows it’s not enough to get you off, that you need more. Eventually, he stops, pulling you down so that your chests meet. If you really want to role play, he figures he should get into the role he’s been assigned.
“Is there more to my award,” he asks, hands roaming under the jersey and under your skirt. There’s nowhere his hands don’t explore while he waits for your answer.
“W-what more do you want?”
He moves his right hand so that it’s between your bodies, spreading your pussy lips so that he can fully appreciate the wetness that’s accumulated. He uses his full palm to rub your clit while he answers.
“You said you’d fuck me in due time, yeah? Or were you all talk?”
“Um…about that.” Your eyes are fluttering, struggling to stay open and focus on his words. He feels like he’s on top of the world seeing how he can ruin you. “I have to t-tell you something.”
“I’m listening baby.” His voice is muffled as he leaves kisses across your neck and cheeks. Anywhere he can reach while you still use him to get off.
“I’ve never done this before.” Your eyes meet.
The proverbial record scratches and again he’s confused.
“What do you mean, you’ve never done this before?” Sure you both have busy schedules but there’s no way this is new to either of you. As a matter of fact, it couldn’t be more than a week since he had you in this exact position-
“I was a virgin when I got to college,” you whisper directly in his ear.
Again you have the upper hand as it feels like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice. The feeling only lasts a second though before it feels like every nerve lights up once he connects that this is still a part of the scene you’ve conjured. Oh.
The idea of you as a virgin has never crossed his mind once until this very moment. Given the age you were when you met, he had no reason to give it consideration. It’s not like he was even a virgin when you met. He makes a mental note to do some soul-searching later to find out why he’s rock hard and nearly brought back to the brink of cumming at the mere idea.
“Do…do you want to keep going?”
You laugh. A full out belly laugh.
“Yoichi, you're so cute. Only you would still be so considerate even in a fantasy.”
If all the blood in his body wasn’t occupied he’d probably blush at your teasing.
“I fucking love you,” you emphasize with a kiss. “Yes, I want to continue.”
Not another word is needed before he’s fully plunged back into the world you’ve created. No, he's never thought about you as a virgin but now that the seed has been planted he’s going to absolutely ruin you.
Within a breath, he’s switched your positions, now with you on your back and him pulling your legs onto his lap as he sits above you.
“Tell me if anything is too much, ok?” He preambles before he sucks both his ring and middle fingers, slowly pushing in one finger, then the other when he deems you ready.
Now that you’re fully on display for him he can’t help but stare. Again, the skirt hides absolutely nothing but he does push the jersey so that your tits are on display for him as well. Seeing you dressed but so exposed has his head swimming.
“You’re so pretty. Prettiest thing I’ve seen on campus.” If he’s going to play along, then he might as well go all out.
He bends at the waist to take in one tit, using his tongue to lick at and bite your nipple, before turning his attention to the other all the while he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers into you.
“Yoichi, please. I need you,” you whine.
He takes pity on you and moves from your chest and back up to your lips, kissing you deeply. God, he’s so in love with you.
“I’m sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you were good and ready. I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
“I promise I’m ready.”
“Ok, ok. I hear you. But can you do me a favor and clean my fingers for me?”
As soon as his request hits his ears your mouth falls open in a way that can only be described as obedient. He lets you suck at both his fingers until he removes them himself, the way your tongue slips between them turning him on all the more.
“So good for me. I really am a lucky guy, huh?” He watches you preen under his praise as he reaches next to your head for an extra pillow, lifting your hips to situate it underneath you.
“Ok, if you need me to stop just tell me, ok? For any reason.” You nod your head yes.
“Need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Yoichi. I promise.”
“That’s my good girl.”
He locks his hand in yours before he finally presses into you, both of you moaning as he works his hips into you. It’s a fantasy, sure, but he’s as mindful as he can be to be slow and let you get accustomed to him, even if it’s far from your first times, or even 48 hours since he last fucked you.
He’s captivated by the way your mouth falls open as he fucks into you. It’s familiar but entrances him every time. When you give the go ahead he increases his pace, working at that spot he knows gets you there the fastest.
“More, need more,” and he knows exactly what you need, licking his thumb before rubbing against your clit in tight circles. It’s only through time and experience that he knows exactly how to work your body, confirmed by the way you babble his name as if it’s the only word you know.
“You’re taking me so well. Feel so good, so tight. Can feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum for me?”
“Yeah. Gonna cum for you. So fucking close.” You’re wrecked.
“I know, baby. Tell me what you need.”
“Kiss me.”
Your wish is his command, him meeting your waiting mouth. It’s barely a kiss as you can hardly meet his mouth between your moans but he swallows them all dutifully. It’s when your back arches and you fall near silent beside one final cry of his name does he know that you’re cumming. He pulls away to watch you fall apart.
“That’s my girl. So beautiful. Let it out for me.” The vice around his cock makes it difficult to fuck you through your orgasm but he powers through. Only once you relax does he rut into you a few more times before he loses himself, filling you as deeply as he can manage.
It’s silent once he collapses next to you, both catching your breath. When he catches his breath before you he departs with a peck to your lips before he leaves for the bathroom, returning with a damp rag.
“If that’s what I missed out on then I wouldn’t have minded going to school,” he breaks the reverie, cleaning between your legs before his cum has a chance to cool and become uncomfortable.
“Well, I’m glad everything worked out the way it did. Now I can have you all to myself,” you smile at him. He thinks his heart might burst.
“Yeah…that’s true too. Maybe everything worked out the way it did so that we could meet each other?”
“God, you're so sappy. Gross.” You both know you don’t mean it.
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” He once again bends at the waist to meet your lips. Gross or not he’s glad things aligned to this very moment.
You meet him halfway, sitting up on one arm to brush away his damp bangs. When you pull away you meet his gaze.
“I really, really do fucking love you, Yoichi”.
Yeah, he’s sure he’d meet you in every universe.
#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi smut#isagi yoichi smut#blue lock x reader#bluelock x reader#blue lock smut#bluelock smut#i’m going to walk away from this site for 48 hours out of shame#(me lying)
549 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Name: Monkey Crab
Debut: Splatoon 2
Today we are talking about a Splatoon character beloved by all. More popular than the Squid Sisters! More respected than Off the Hook! It’s Monkey Crab! The world-famous Monkey Crab!
Now if you didn’t notice from us using a plushie as the header image, Monkey Crab is not real. Sorry. And I don’t just mean in the sense that most Splatoon characters aren’t real! He’s not real in the world of Splatoon! He’s what we call a cartoon guy, in the business. An in-universe fictional character!
Monkey Crab first shows up in the stage MakoMart, which is a supermarket, and the devs had to make a bunch of fake food packaging for it! There is a lot of fun stuff like Off the Hook flavored cereal, but our star here got three different types of cereal all for himself! I think this stuff is super cool, since the world of Splatoon is already so cartoony, what would their cartoons look like? Monkey Crab gives a glimpse into that world, and what a world it is!
So Monkey Crab is a cereal mascot! Case closed! He is like a Toucan Sam or a Tony the Tiger, or a Buzz the Honey Nut Cheerios! But a fake cereal guy is not bound by the rules of our world, because...
A few months later, Monkey Crab returned to us... in the Amusement Park stage, Wahoo World! Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a lot of cereal mascots in amusement parks, in our world. I mean, maybe sometimes they collaborate? But this means either A. Monkey Crab was a cereal mascot who achieved incredible widespread success, or B. Monkey Crab was not originally a cereal mascot, he just happened to have a cereal tie-in. I choose to believe A, because it’s funnier!
Look, here he is in Inkopolis Square, eating Cereal! It’s SO his thing! So if mammals don’t exist in Splatoon, what kind of Milk do they eat with their cereal? Monkey Crab says Don’t Worry About It! :)
Keep in mind we didn’t even have a name for this guy until a Japanese exclusive magazine, where he was revealed to be called Sarukani! Sarukani means monkey crab. It definitely is a crab, and his face sort of is monkey-ish! (Though, monkeys are extinct, right?) Thanks to the power of Japanese Google, I managed to find a picture, with his official art and everything! So I did my best to translate it, even though other people probably have before:
He greets you with an 100% smile, the most popular cereal mascot at MakoMart! His smile is so wonderful, he's been showing up lately on commercials on the giant monitor in Inkopolis Square. (He's so popular that he's even being used on skateboard designs!)
So yeah! That pretty much confirms he’s a cereal character first and formost! And his smile! It’s the secret to his success, and you have to admit it’s a pretty great smile. What about the skateboards? Uh... we’ll get to that!
Now there’s actually a Japanese folktale about a monkey and a crab, which I am reading about on Wikipedia just now. It’s about a monkey who murders a crab with persimmons. And so much more! But none of that is important right now. The point is it’s usually known as Sarukani Gassen, or Monkey-Crab Battle, which might be where the name Monkey Crab comes from? Maybe? I dunno? It’s the sort of thing I’d expect from Splatoon, but I’m not sure how it relates to cereal!
Of course, I’m only really writing this post because of Splatoon 3, which introduced customizable lockers, and lots of Random Junk to customize those lockers with! And it just so happens a lot of that junk features Monkey Crab! I have a dedicated Monkey Crab shelf in my locker, and you should too!
There’s the monkey-crab cushion from the top of this post, but how about a monkey-crab mug! Would you drink hot beverages from this? Would you drink cold beverages from this? Look at that face. He is so happy to be providing a container for liquids.
And the aforementioned monkey-crab skateboard! Of course cereal mascots are no strangers to skateboarding in real life. Do you think Monkey Crab has a radical commerical encouraging Inklings to eat a balanced breakfast and do Extreme Sports? Because I hope so!
All three cereal boxes are available to purchase too! It’s interesting how they get progressively more expensive. Is coconut cereal rarer? Is someone scalping cereal? That they sell in the supermarket?
Are you in need of a laugh? Monkey Crab is sure to make you giggle and chuckle and chortle with his comedy comic! I’m laughing out loud just looking at this cover! I’m crying with laughter! I just love Monkey Crab so much!
But of course, this has all been a lead-up to the peak of Monkey Crab’s career, my personal favorite item in his collection...
Monkey Crab in Silly Land!
Isn’t it wonderful? Just the title alone inspires such joyous whimsy! A whole Silly Land, for you to explore with your best friend Monkey Crab! Not only is it great they gave this cereal mascot an entire Switch game, but this officially makes Monkey Crab an in-universe scrimblo! Congratulations, Monkey Crab! If anyone deserves it, it’s you!
That’s all for today fellow Monkey Crab enthusiasts, but keep an eye out for our next cool post, where we write about Mister Shrug and Missus Shrug, and their spicy secrets! We’ll finally get to the bottom of... hm? Hm. I’m being told that I’m not allowed to write a post on Mister and Missus Shrug. Sorry everyone.
#splatoon#not mario#monkey crab#monkey crab in silly land#mod f boy#monkey crab is not hiphenated in the silly land title#but it IS hipehnated everywhere else#sorry. no hiphen i dont wanna go back and change it.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 6)
Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader
4.9k words
Warnings: Language, mean & jealous Roy (in a good way), evil ex-boyfriend, rough sex, Roy feeling angsty, fingering, some cum play, hickies, Roy being kind of a dom
@agentstarkid brain rot, brain rot, brain rot
A/N: Y'all this has to be THE horniest writing I have ever done 😭
Series Masterlist
“Hey Roy, you going to Belgium?”
Roy furrowed his brows at Isaac as the captain, Jamie, and Sam all looked at him expectantly “Belgium?” he repeated.
Sam nodded. “For the race,” he added, as if Roy should know exactly what he was talking about.
The manager’s deepening frown told the boys that he did not.
Jamie sighed impatiently. “Your girlfriend, Grandad. We’re going to go watch her. She was telling us all about it in Leeds, and then when she was in Richmond, she gave Keeley the tickets and stuff to give Isaac. You’re going, aren’t ya?”
Belgium. Roy’s stomach sank a little as the guys began chattering about their plans, how excited they were to watch the race, the parties they’d been promised. He knew you had another race coming up, but you hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him. Of course, if you’d asked, he’d have gone. The Greyhounds had a bye that weekend, meaning he was completely free to go, to root for you, to share another bottle of scotch in some extravagant hotel suite. It would make sense for you to ask him to go; after all, he was clearly interested in racing, and, more importantly, he was clearly more interested in you. He’d tried not to read too much into the lack of invitation; but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a simple hey, come meet me in Belgium during one of the many texts you’d sent him.
And now, hearing that you’d explicitly excited his team… well fuck.
“Come with us, Roy,” Isaac insisted.
He cleared his throat, desperately trying to play it off. “Dunno. Probably got Phoebe, need to catch up on shit at home-”
Another sigh from Jamie. “Come on, Coach. Just admit you want to see your girlfriend and fuckin’ come with us!”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Roy hadn’t meant for it to come off as a harsh growl, but that’s definitely what came out of his mouth. “Once again, we barely fucking know each other.”
The smirk on Jamie’s face was nothing short of punchable. “Then why d’you text her all the damn time?”
“Do not,” Roy lied.
Of all the players, Sam was one of the last Roy would’ve expected to tease him. “You’re blushing, Roy.”
He rolled his eyes, dying to get out of this conversation. “If I agree to come,” he mumbled. “Will you all shut the fuck up?
The three players looked at each other before breaking into a trio of mischievous grins.
Finally, Isaac opened his mouth. “No promises.”
~
Roy Kent looked good.
Who were you kidding? Roy Kent always looked good. Your mouth was practically watering as you watched him chat with the Greyhounds he stood with in the garage, rolling his eyes at something one of them said.
So, you hadn’t actually invited Roy to come to your race, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d be there. After all, when you’d sent Keeley the tickets for the boys, you’d included an extra one, encouraging Isaac to invite “whoever”. Knowing Jamie had been teasing Roy about you, you knew exactly who they’d be bringing.
Watching his eyes dart around, obviously looking for you, you couldn’t resist the urge to go over and say hi. The two of you had fallen asleep on the phone a couple more times since that phone call, there’d been lots of texts sent back and forth, and Roy was even figuring out how to send selfies. And now he was here, in Belgium, surprising you. Tearing down that wall you’d built around your heart, brick by brick.
Feeling a bit like a teenage girl approaching the most popular boy in school, you turned around, so Roy wouldn’t see the way you tightened the knot of your half-down racing suit and lifted your shirt a smidge to give that little peek of skin. After giving your hair a quick touch, you turned around, ready to put on that confident smirk and go say-
“Hey there.”
Your face completely fell at the sight of that horribly gorgeous smile. “Ian,” you murmured, taking a step back, away from your ex-boyfriend, who you were sure hadn’t been in a paddock in about a year, let alone less than a foot away from you like he was now. “What’re you doing here?”
His smile widened, planting a knot in your stomach. “Here to see you, of course.”
“Oh.” Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, where you could see Roy beginning to turn his head a bit more obviously, growing anxious to see you already. “Well, thanks.”
Thankfully, one of your engineers, familiar with the panicked look that Ian Novak’s beautiful face often inspired, hustled over with some excuse to get you away from the model. As you let yourself be led away, you turned your gaze, finally locking eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his perfect mouth ticked upwards as he offered a small nod in greeting, eyebrows raised playfully. Normally, the sight would have you pressing your thighs together and thinking of all the sinful things you wanted to do with him. Instead, you looked away from those brown eyes as quickly as you could.
Fuck. Roy Kent could hurt you, couldn’t he? If Ian Novak, devilish man he was, could manage to make you feel adored and comfortable enough that the heartbreak he gifted you was the most devastating pain you could imagine, what was Roy Kent, with his soft brown eyes and half smiles and hands that both excited and cherished you, capable of? How shattered would you be if he decided he was done with you?
Maybe you didn’t want to find out.
~
For the millionth time that weekend, Roy wondered what he’d done wrong. All he’d received from you was a quick hello when the guys insisted on going to say hey to you. No flirting. No bedroom eyes. No electric touches. And definitely no teasing implications about ending up in bed together.
Not exactly what he’d expected.
He kept trying to catch your eye when the two of you were in the same room, but you kept looking away every time he succeeded. This wasn’t the behavior of someone excited to see him, and especially not the behavior of someone looking forward to sleeping with him.
As he lost track of his beers and contemplated leaving the party being held to celebrate your win, he saw Jamie perk up, his eyes flickering between Roy and somewhere behind him. Before Jamie could give him a warning, Roy turned around.
It was like someone’d punched him and knocked the fucking wind out of him. There you were, stunning in a Ferrari-red dress and matching lipstick, looking up at some disgustingly pretty man, who gazed at you like, well, like how Roy looked at you. He turned back to Jamie, immediately hating the pitiful look on the striker’s face.
“That’s her ex-boyfriend,” Jamie murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. “Model.”
“The one that fucking cheated on her?”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “For ‘barely know each other’ you sure know a good bit about her, Roy. Maybe-”
Roy scowled. “Keeley talks too much,” he mumbled before taking a long swig of his beer. He looked over his shoulder again; that man’s hand was on your lower back, where Roy’s hand should have been. “Looks like a prick,” he huffed.
“Oh, he definitely is,” Jamie agreed. “And that’s me saying that. Not sure why she’d give him the time of day.” He punched Roy’s arm playfully. “Especially with Roy Kent in the room.”
After rolling his eyes at Jamie’s compliment, Roy nodded towards the door that led to the hallway connecting the venue to the rest of the hotel. “Going to get some air,” he muttered, ignoring the protests of his players.
Because he was so busy skulking off, Roy missed watching you with your ex.
“What are you doing?” you hissed, shoving Ian’s hand off of your waist. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up, remember?”
His lopsided smile was too familiar. “Just congratulating you on a job well done. You were great today, babe.”
Babe. When Roy Kent called you that, it’d made your heart- and something else- flutter. But when Ian Novak called you that, it made your blood run cold. You reached out and pushed him further away.
“I’m not your babe.”
Slipping away from the embrace he tried, you briskly left the party venue, eyes stinging as you made your way to the deserted hallway. Who cared if you’d won and were the guest of honor? All you wanted was to get up to your room, get out of this dress, put on-
Roy’s eyes locked onto yours. He was in that same hallway, leaning against a wall and looking like the dictionary definition of melancholy. His stupid old heart nearly stopped at the sight of you, then twisted when he saw all the hurt your eyes carried. He pushed himself up off the wall as you got closer, your hands fidgeting; he wasn’t used to seeing you so… gloomy.
“’s wrong with you?” he muttered once you were standing in front of him. “Boyfriend problems?”
Your frown deepened. “Boyfriend…?” It dawned on you. “Oh, fuck. Ian.”
Roy nodded, his eyes practically made of steel. “Yeah. Ian,” he spat. “What, you get sick of him already?” He knew he sounded jealous and resentful, two things he wasn’t sure he had the right to be. But he didn’t care; not when he’d come all this way just to see you with some other prick.
“Listen,” you sighed. “Roy-”
He shook his head, not caring if you saw the hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. It’s fine. I fucking get it.” He gulped. “He’s a model. His knees probably fucking work. Probably even knows how to smile.” He cleared his throat. “Stupid, coming to fucking Belgium,” he mumbled. “You didn’t even fucking want me here.”
“I did,” you yelped, probably quicker and louder than you should have. “I mean, I do. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Funny way of showing it,” he grunted, not letting you see the way your words had his heart hammering. No, Roy was still pissed. “Ignoring me all fucking weekend.”
You nodded, face aflame. “Yeah. No, that’s true.” You took a tentative step towards Roy. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really glad,” you insisted as you pressed your body to his, eyebrows raised meaningfully.
“Yeah. Well.” He averted his gaze, knowing that the familiar look in your eye would have him dropping this little resentment.
“Roy,” you cooed, letting your hands wander up his chest, not caring if someone walked by and saw you embracing the brooding manager. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
Oof. Apparently that was not the thing to say based on the fiery look in his eye. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you, especially when he reached up to grab your jaw.
“Jealous?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m jealous?”
You gulped. Actually fucking gulped. And that little movement had Roy’s scowl replaced with the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. His grip was firm; not painful, but definitely strong. For the number of times you’d hooked up, you’d never seen his eyes so dark, filled with a mixture of irritation and lust. It had you rubbing your thighs together, not caring if Roy noticed.
And Roy definitely noticed.
His eyes flickered over your shoulder for a brief moment before settling on your parted lips.
“Let’s go.”
Keeping his grip on your jaw, he pushed you backwards, opening a door behind you and guiding you into a deserted women’s bathroom. He quickly locked the door and moved a vanity chair under the handle, clearly planning on being in here for a while. Once privacy was secured, his eyes were on you again.
“Jealous,” he repeated, a scoff now. “Fucking jealous.”
He walked you back until your ass hit the row of sinks, the cold stone penetrating through your tight dress. His hands found the spot on your upper thigh where dress met bare skin, his fingers dipping just under the soft material to grip your flesh roughly, tugging the hem of your dress up around your hips.
Instinctively, you threw your head back at his touch, feeling electricity follow his fingertips as they brushed over your skin. Roy’s hand immediately was on your jaw again, tugging you to face him.
“Watch,” he demanded in a low voice.
With a whimper that was more from arousal than anything else, you obeyed. You watched as he brought his hands over your hips and slowly rolled down your panties, letting them drop in a little pool of lace around your ankles. He placed one hand on your hip with a bruising grip as the other hand came to your already drenched pussy. When one finger traced your slit, you had to use all your concentration to keep yourself from throwing your head back in pleasure.
“So fucking wet,” Roy groaned, adding another finger as he slowly caressed your soaking lips. “Who’s that for? Your pretty boy ex?”
Not caring about looking desperate, you frantically shook your head. “You, Roy,” you murmured, your voice breathy. “All for you.” You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss, to assure him with your mouth that he was all you wanted, but he shook his head.
“Thought I told you to watch.”
No man had ever spoken to you this way. Most guys tried so hard to be smooth, or romantic, or cool. No one had ever been so possessive, so jealous. No one had ever stared at you with such an intensity. And no man had ever turned you on so fucking much.
Obediently, you tilted your head back down to watch as Roy slipped those two fingers inside you, setting a rough, mean pace that already had you gripping the sinks so hard your knuckles turned white. His thumb began stroking harsh circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.
“You better keep fucking watching,” he grumbled before his mouth attached to your neck, kissing with more tongue than lip, leaving a slobbery path over your skin.
Even with his eyes off of your face, you did as you were told. You watched those two firm fingers pump in and out of you, curling upwards in that way Roy did that had you squirming in your now wobbling high heels. The only thing keeping you upright was this sink and Roy’s harsh grip.
Roy grunted when he hit a particularly deep spot and felt you clench around his fingers. “You really hurt my fucking feelings,” he growled against your neck, giving a soft bite to the sensitive skin. “Ignoring me while you paraded around in that little fucking racing suit. Looking like a fucking goddess.” His thumb pressed down on your clit, provoking a sharp whine from you. “Like my fucking Empress.”
“Yours, Roy,” you groaned as your hips stuttered against his hand, your climax rapidly approaching. “All fucking yours.”
And you meant it. You really fucking meant it.
“Damn right you’re mine,” he grunted, adding a third finger to your sopping cunt. “And I want to feel you come just for me.”
Apparently, his wish was your command.
Something deep within you snapped, and you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, so tight that his third finger slipped out. But he kept fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, finally moving his mouth to yours to swallow your lewd moans as you soaked his fingers with your release.
“Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against your mouth as your vision went blurry; the only thing you could focus on was the trembling pleasure Roy gave you. “His fingers ever make you come like this?”
Your orgasm rendered your speechless, so all you could do was give a little shake of your head, desperate not to lose the feeling of Roy’s lips against yours. His pumps slowed as you came down from your high; you let go of the sink and gripped his arms, needing some help with standing.
But Roy didn’t want you to stand.
“Turn around,” he growled, pulling his soaked fingers out of you. “Unless you’re fucking done with me? Hmm? Got what you wanted from me, yeah? Ready to go back to your little party and ignore me some more?”
You bit your lip as your eyes travelled down to the extremely noticeable bulge in his pants. When you looked back at his face, it was dark with desire.
“Need you,” you managed to croak out.
That was good enough for him. Not caring if he got your juices on your dress, he grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing you down over the sink. Instinctively, you spread your legs, listening for the delicious sound of his zipper coming undone. Your entire body vibrated with pleasure as you felt his tip, already dripping with precum, press against your soaked core.
Roy brought his hand- the one soaked from your orgasm- to your face. “Open,” he demanded. When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside. “Don’t want anyone else hearing your pretty fucking sounds. Those are just for me, aren’t they?”
You nodded, moaning around his gorgeous fingers as you tasted your pleasure on him. Fuck, no wonder he was addicted to making you come, some dirty part of you thought. You were delicious.
Satisfied with the view before him, Roy slowly buried himself inside your soaked cunt with ease, his eyes staring into yours through the mirror with that same mix of lust and possessiveness.
“There she is,” he sighed as he set a harsh pace, his free hand on your back to keep you bent over for him. “My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”
A muffled “Mmm hmm” around his fingers was all you could manage as you bucked your hips back against him, drooling at the feeling of his hot skin against your bare ass. His cock felt perfect inside you, twitching and throbbing against your already spasming walls.
Eyes still on yours in the mirror, he lowered his mouth to your bare upper back and began leaving rough kisses all over your skin, sloppy and reckless, until those kisses became bites. Roy started sucking at the soft skin as he thrust into your slowly bruising sex over and over again, moaning against your back. When you clenched around him particularly tight, his tongue left a slow, deliberate trail across your skin, sending shivers down the spine he still had his hand on.
He groaned and gave a particularly stuttering jerk into you. “Should I mark you up?” he teased. “Show everyone who you belong to?” Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. “Well, if you insist.” Rolling his hips harder, deeper, Roy returned to your back, sucking hard enough to make you whimper against the pads of his fingers. But the way you rocked into him assured him you liked it.
“Fucking look at you,” he moaned, giving you a bit of that hip action that had you seeing stars. “You ever been fucked like this, gorgeous girl? Bent over in a fucking bathroom, fingers in your mouth?” He brought his lips to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Bet no pretty boy’s ever done this.” He started sucking on the spot behind your ear, that perfect little spot that had you mewling as you spasmed against him.
He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock. The sensation had him twitching inside you, desperate to paint your walls.
“You look so fucking perfect,” he muttered as he returned his mouth to your slowly purpling back, adding more beautiful little dark spots wherever he could reach. “My dirty Empress.” He licked over a bite mark he’d left, one he hoped you’d have for days. “You want to come for me, gorgeous?”
Your desperate nod had him groaning. He’d never seen anyone look so fucking desperate, needy, hungry for him. After being ignored by you all weekend, to have you bent over in a public bathroom, panties on the floor, mouth full of his fingers, all of it was driving him mad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he knew he needed to let you come first.
He needed to remind you about how he could make you feel.
He removed his fingers from your mouth, drooling a bit when he heard the little whine that escaped your now empty mouth. The hand on your hip came up to your beautiful neck, urging you to stand up with your back to his heaving chest.
When you wobbled, he tightened his grip, just enough to hold you steady. “I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.”
Roy brought those fingers- now sodden from both your cunt and mouth- to your pulsing clit, rubbing firm circles over the bundle of nerves.
“Roy,” you whimpered, gripping his arms with your trembling hands. “Please.”
He smiled, a real smile for the first time all weekend, as his cock continued to bruise your cunt. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “My Empress remembered her manners.” He pumped his cock as deep as he could, over and over, desperate to hit that one perfect little spot that would- “Oh, there she is.”
He watched with lewd pride as you fell apart in front of him, mouth open in a silent scream. Your whole body was drenched in sweat as you trembled, your knees buckling beneath you; the only thing keeping you upright was Roy. As your body quivered with pleasure, you slouched back over the sink, wondering vaguely how you were going to walk in the morning, let alone in the next few minutes.
“Such a good girl,” Roy cooed, his voice thick with a beautiful mix of mocking and adoration. “Now tell me what else you want.”
“Your cum,” was your automatic answer as your fingers traced over the cool faucet. “Please,” you begged, probably for the first time in your life. “Please fucking come for me.”
Roy’s devilish smile widened, setting your whole body on fire. “If my Empress insists.”
Whit his hands back on your hips, his thrusts became sloppy, no longer about making you feel good- although, the overstimulation did have your eyes rolling back. He gave a few harsh, bruising drives before you felt him fill you up with that delicious release; fuck, how you wished you could taste it. Pump after pump until you could feel it begin to leak down your thighs. You shivered when you felt Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips.
“Taste.”
He didn’t need to order you; you would have automatically stuck out your tongue to get a taste of that tangy stickiness that now coated your throbbing pussy.
The room was filled with ragged breathing as he finally pulled out of you, still keeping a firm grip on you to keep you from falling.
Finally, you smirked at him through the mirror- or at least, as much of a smirk as you could manage.
“Fuck,” you gasped, brushing your wild hair out of your face. “I’m really supposed to go back to the party like this?”
Roy’s dark chuckle had your heart racing. “Party?” he scoffed. “Oh no, baby. I’m not fucking done with you.”
Taglist:@hotdoglamp@daydreamgoddess14@klaine-92@gibby31@anonurs@taytaylala12@unholyhuntress@thatonedogwithablog@seacactusplant@e-mmygrey@jane-dough @zara-aliza08 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @deliriousfangirl61 @katdahlali
#roy kent shut up and drive#roy kent x f1! reader#he's here he's there he's every fucking where#roy kent#roy kent x reader#roy kent fic#roy kent fanfic#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent smut#ted lasso fic#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction
174 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨ Cruel Summer ✨
pairing: Solo Sikoa x reader, Jey Uso x reader (briefly)
AN: Literally making this for myself, so if I do ever end up publishing - enjoy I guess? 🤪
w/c: 1198
⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity(if you squint), jealous Jey, toxic behaviour, bad/embarrassing writing ⚠️
doesn’t follow a specific timeline however it is more recent, total divas making a return.
✨ I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard - he looks up grinning like the devil ✨
• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
“I dunno Trin, the thought of being recorded for 12 hours of the day, like, I enjoy my privacy”.
“Think about it as an opportunity, having the fans see a different side of you. Showing them how hard you work your ass off.”
Trinity is my best friend, she helped me out so much when I joined the WWE 6 years ago. She and her husband Jon took me into their family and helped me adapt into the crazy world of being a WWE superstar.
“Just think about it is all I’m saying. It’ll be fun” trin says nudging me.
Ever since I moved here, we have had a weekly tradition of Wednesday Girls Night, its just snacks, Chinese takeout, and movies, it’s just time for us to catch up and wind down from the gruelling travel schedule.
Right on queue at exactly 11:30pm Jon walks in the door.
“Times up ladies” he says, which is swiftly followed by two pillows being thrown at his head.
“Come on uce, you know better than to interrupt gIrLs NiGhT”
The couch beside me dipped and once again I felt the heat from the body of Josh Fatu, my one weakness. His hand falls to his side and creeps closer to me caressing the side of my bare thigh. You see what people don’t know is Josh and I have an ‘agreement’ - no feelings, just sex and friendship, and it was going great until it wasn’t, feeling were caught, specifically by me and I’m stuck between a rock and hard place as I’m falling hard for him, but I cant let this agreement end because I would rather have him this way than not have him at all.
“Spoke with Joe today, Hunter is bringing him up to the main roster, can’t wait to have my other younger brother fighting by my side”. A third pillow is thrown at Jon from the direction of Josh.
“We are twins, and you are only older by 8 minutes”.
Never a dull moment where the Fatu boys are concerned.
• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
First day of filming (TD Interview Segment)
Okay, so lets start with a basic intro okay? Ready, go!
The room falls silent the light shines bright on me, I have at least 6 pair of eyes on me, goading me into starting. Gosh why did I sign up to do this!!!
Hi there, my names yn, I am currently on the Smackdown roster and I am the current WWE Women’s Champion.
I’ve been with the WWE for 6 years now and I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for my adoptive sister Trinity, she took me under her wing and I’ve been there ever since. As you guys know – and if you didn't know, the accent should be a huge giveaway, I’m originally from the United Kingdom, I came to the states with a dream in hand and no one there to help me through this bumpy ride. I can never repay her or Jon for the way they have accepted and welcomed me into their little dynamic. Although, travelling the world with Jon and Josh is hard work, they boys are chaotic, I don't know how Trin managed to do it herself for so long!
• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
Friday Night Smackdown, Atlanta Georgia, 8 weeks before Survivor Series
Walking into the arena for Smackdown I get a message from Hunter asking to meet him in his office. A mixture of anxiety and curiosity fill in the pit of my stomach. In his office I’m met with the familiar faces of Jon, Josh, and Joseph, smiling I look over to Hunter who invites me to sit.
“I got your message, what’s up?
“We have been toying with the idea of a cross brand rivalry - for Survivor Series. Now that Joe has come up to the main roster, we think the Usos and Solo v The Judgement Day would pique interest from the WWE universe.”
“So why am I here?”
“Demi is the Women’s World Champion and part of Judgment Day; it would only seem right that she faces the Women’s Champion”.
Without hesitation I accept. Hunter debriefs us on how it’s going to play out over the next few weeks. We will have to be on both RAW and Smackdown over the next few weeks, so looks like it will be me and the brothers travelling together since Trin is exclusive to Smackdown!
Gorilla, few hours later (TD segment)
Tonight, I have a singles match, however Demi has to interfere and cost me the match – thus starting our road to Survivor Series.
I see Hunter in his usual place over at the screens with his headset on talking to Randy Orton, Randy spots me and immediately comes over to me.
“There’s my favourite girl.”
“I wouldn’t let your wife hear you say that Randy”.
Randy Orton, he is exactly how you would imagine him to be, a cocky little shit, flirtatious as hell, a menace but he has a heart of gold. Many nights we would hit the gym together and training with him before his injury really improved my in-ring ability. He is another one I would call my family away from family.
A familiar scent fills my nostrils, Josh. He stands next to me wrapping his arm around me pulling me closer, as if to stake his claim in me.
“I’ve been looking for you, come on let’s go”.
I smile apologetically at Randy, he just waves me off laughing, as much as I say people don’t know anything about me and Josh, it’s not to say there isn’t rumours flying around, people have their own take on it, and that’s okay, we just laugh it off.
Trin and Jon (TD Interview segment)
“You see yn and josh think they are so slick hiding their little late-night rendezvous” says Jon
Trin sighing, “I just wish they would bang their heads together and realise they are meant to be. Think of the double dates we could finally have Jon.”
Jon’s laugh fills the small interview room, “yeah it would be sweet, and yn is already like family, it would be an easy transition.”
Away from the cameras
“What were you talking to Randy about?” Josh quizzes
“Nothing, you came in and ushered me away before I could say anything.”
“Good, I don’t like it when you get attention from other guys, just me, okay?”
“I think you’ll find Josh that I can speak to who I like”. I say frustrated with his behaviour.
You see as much as I love Josh, this, this right here the way he wants to have his cake and eat it too drives me insane. I so much as look at another guy and he is right there to remind me I’m his, yet he can look at and speak to as many girls and I can’t say shit.
“I’ve got a match to get to, I’ll see you later J.”
“Goodluck out there baby girl, not that you need it.” Before he can come any closer to me, I slip out the room and let my frustrated sigh out. How much longer am I going to keep torturing myself.
• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
#solo sikoa smut#solo sikoa#solo sikoa x reader#solo silos x yn#solo sikoa x you#jey uso x reader#jey uso#wwe fanfiction#wwe#fan fiction#jey uso smut#wweedit#the usos#total divas#solo sikoa fan fiction#jey uso fan fiction#Fatu#josh Fatu#Joseph Fatu#wwe x reader
211 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
plantpretender
sun is welcome
adam-phoenix
Adam Phoenix
gabryelc
➛ 🄶.abryell˖꫶ ᪳᪇.
celestaire
celestial being
youryanderex
Your Yanderex