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just-jordie-things · 6 months

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kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game. Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going. It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own?

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them. Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day. Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate. Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to. (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain. They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time. They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games. Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?”

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear. His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to. It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends. He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype. (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye. She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more. “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said. It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game. He didn’t need to know that part. “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard. (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking. Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring. Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen. (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again. Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action. However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen. The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them. It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes. Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts. This was like a dream come true. The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval. He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n). Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n). His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?”

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko. It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face. And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens. The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in. Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone. He scowled back at her. She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands. He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention. He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors. She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field. “You wanna go after him? Be my guest”

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters. “What even happened?”

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off. “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?”

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea. A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off. Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves. It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next.

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands. Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively. Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks. “You’re totally not pouting right now. C’mon just fess up. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting. My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats. “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?”

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically. (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!”

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor. (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her. “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested. “You’re mad about a kiss?”

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear. Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing. Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up. And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-”

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?”

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away. (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality. “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-”

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was. He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular. He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what. It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?”

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight. The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of. Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back. “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-”

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly. She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades. She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face. “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked”

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically. “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!”

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested. “I know there’s not any cameras… but…”

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head. He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his. Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away. She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating. She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes. It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead. He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose. “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?”

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats. As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru brainrpt #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru friends to lovers

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enhafilthandfiction · 2 months

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ok hear me out (yall have a bet) imagine mutual masturbation with jake, but the one that cums first has to give the other a head.. regardless of the winner j@ke ends up eating you out

Dumb Games - Jake Sim

A/N : Hello everybodyy I. am. back. (after being dead for like 345 months). Anyways, just wanted to say that I missed you all sm! <3 I hope you are all doing well and ready to enjoy reading this fic! Anon tysm this is such a good idea oml esp with bff!Jake 🤭

Pairing : Bff!Roomie!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kinda pervy and desperate Jake, mutual masturbation, oral (f.rec), dirty talk (bc cmon it's Jake), panty smelling (sry), some fingering and I think that's it :))

Word Count : 1,268 Words

Masterlist

It was a normal day for you, laying in bed, reading, scrolling through Pinterest, studying, until-

"Y/n? What is thisss?" your roommate's tone which echoed through the corridor told you he was up to some mischief. You lift your head up curiously as he stumbles into your room, your expression quickly changing when you notice what he's holding. "Jake!" you yelp, rolling out of bed to chase after him.

"I didn't know you owned a pink dildo" he lets out amazed, looking back at your tired figure which was still running after him. He giggles and escapes to the living room, settling on the couch as you follow.

"Oh and it vibrates too!" he exclaims in awe.

"Yeah, now give it back" you breathe, trying to catch your breath.

"Nah, come get it" he lifts his arms up and you scurry to get your personal object back, climbing on his sitting figure as you reach for it, but his arms were too damn long.

"Jake, please, just give it back" you sigh, giving up. You don't even realise you're pretty much straddling him in the position you're at until you feel his other hand on your arm.

"How about we make a deal?" he asks, a playful smirk on his face. "last person to make themselves cum wins"

You deadpan at him "Are you kidding?" you ask in a simple tone.

"Nope, and the loser has to finish the other off" he adds, looking at you hopefully. "Plus I'll give you this back so you can use it in the meantime" he shakes the pink object in his hands, flicking his brows up and down.

You've always kinda liked Jake, he was funny and unserious and just your type. But he was also the person you pretty much grew up with. You were scared to lose such a friendship so you never actually made a move. This was your chance.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance "Fine. You're gonna be the one cumming too quick anyways. We'll see how good you can give head." you shrug, giving him a pretty smile "Now give me my damn dildo back"

He laughs and places the plastic dick in your waiting hand, before looking up at you, smoothing his hands down your sides. You looked so pretty like this on him, he couldn't wait to see you pleasuring yourself.

You get off him too soon, finding your place at the other end of the big couch, spreading your legs as you snake a hands between them. "Fuck" he curses under his breath, his already-hardened cock twitching in his uncomfortable pants.

He also leans back on the opposite end of the couch, quickly untying the stings of his sweats and sliding them down impatiently along with his briefs. His cock springs out, the angry red tip already leaking precum.

You bite your lips at the sight of him, wondering how he'd feel inside you. One thing's for sure; that pink plastic dick wasn't half as good.

You get comfortable, rubbing your clit through you shorts. "Show me that pussy" he instructs, slowly stroking his shaft. You blush red, smiling at his impatience. Nevertheless, you lift your hips up and slide the shorts down along with your panties which you knew were soaked.

Jake didn't hesitate to grab the black material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. You roll your eyes and sigh at his pervy behaviour. "Jakeee" you whine "That's dirty"

He doesn't seem to care, groaning at your smell and at the sight of you. "Fuck you're glistening" he points out, licking his lips as he speeds up his pace a little. #

You spread your juice around, circling your hole, closing your eyes at the tingling sensation. His lips almost start to draw blood at the way he's biting them, his hand going up and down his cock quicker.

He can't help the way his eyes are fixated on you, watching your expressions and your fingers touching yourself. He knows he's gonna lose the second you put a finger inside yourself, squeezing his base to calm himself down.

You open your eyes to stare at his, as if in a challenging manner, the sounds of your gushing juices fills the room, his curious eyes looking at where you finger yourself.

"Close Jakey?" you ask in a breathy voice which goes straight to his dick.

He breathes in "N-no" he lets out, his shaky voice betraying him. He can't help himself though. You want him to lose, adding another finger to your tight hole and moaning out loud.

He's done for when you purposely moan out his name, sending him into a frenzy, his eyes roll to the back of his head and before he knows it, his hands are drenched in cum.

You sigh at him "I didn't even get to use my dildo" you faux pout when he slowly opens his eyes, recovering from his orgasm.

"You won't need it" he mutters, getting off the couch and making his way to you. He grabs your thighs and positions you so that you're sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn't waste a second to sink down on his knees, spreading your legs as he takes you in.

"So fucking hot" he whispers under his breath. He's been waiting to taste you for so long. Smelling your panties just made him more impatient. You nod at him when he looks up at you from between your legs and he dives in.

He flattens his tongue and licks up your folds in one go, immediately humming at your taste. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your hole before slightly prodding it in just to tease you. His licks his way up you clit, kitten-licking the little nub sending tingles up your spine.

"Fuck Jake" you breathe out, subconsciously grasping his hair between your fingers. You push his head deeper into you, encouraging him to suck at your clit. He hums at the little tugs on his hair, the pleasurable sting going to his dick.

He licks back to you hole, his nose bumping against your clit, making you whine out. You can't help but close your thighs around his head, engulfing him into you. He brings his hands up to your thighs, keeping them open before he brings one hand to your hole.

You feel like you're going to explode with his finger prodding at your hole and his tongue on your clit, the stimulation becoming too much. "Fuck, fuck r-right there" you moan out, pulling at his hair to ground yourself.

The way he hums against your folds doesn't help, your hips twitching at the feeling. He starts finger fucking you at a quicker pace, his mouth still working on your clit. All it takes is one last suck on your sensitive clit before your squeezing around his finger and tipping your head back in pleasure.

He eagerly licks up your essence before you push his head away due to overstimulation. You catch your breath as he sits up and settles on the couch next to you.

"Hate to admit it but that was one of your best ideas, Sim" you chuckle out, still in a haze.

"I never come up with bad ideas dumbass" he replies, also chilling back into the couch, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"We should play this dumb game again sometime" you suggest, trying to place a hint.

"Damn you liked it that much didn't you?" he asked giggling

"It's always nice seeing you lose your own game"

Hi again, thankyou for reading to the end :D I hope you enjoyed it !! Have a good day/night and remember that ily! <333

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bluesidez · 30 days

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GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #plus size reader #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o’hara x chubby reader #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel x fem!reader

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ave661 · 5 months

Note

Hiiiiiii 👋😙

With all the lovely dad!Ghost renders you graced us with, can i ask if you have any headcanons for them? Can never get enough of Ghost having a family he never got to have as a kid. I just wanna hug him frfr okay I'm done babbling 😭🫶🫶🤍

Helloooo! ♥ Ok, so this is interesting ask! Some of my renders are random, but some have a story

Simon forgot to take off his balaclava. Child saw it on him and by the time he realized, it was already too late. He expected baby to cry, be afraid of him and not recognize their dad, but when they didn't and even got interested, he got emotional. Maybe he realized that Ghost wasn't just a soldier and even he became a father - not just Simon.

He wanted to introduce his baby to "Ghost". Wants little one not to be afraid of him and to know what their father does for a living

I imagine him as a dad who likes to chill with his kid in living room. Maybe he turns something on TV and waits for them to fall asleep, and when they do, he closes his eyes for a moment and eventually they both end up snoring

Riley's first introduction to his baby. Simon was afraid of dog's reaction, but baby wanted to give Riley a toy. They definitely liked each other and became friends.

These are either before or after mission - last hug or a warm hello. Maybe his partner wanted to surprise him and came to the base with their baby to welcome him?

Now some of my random dad!Ghost canons! >.<

10000000000% girl dad

he certainly never planned to have children, due to his own traumas and dangerous job, so having them was by an accident for sure.

feeling first kick, seeing a baby bump or ultrasound made something "click" in him

once he becomes a father, he is overprotective and wants to provide child with a safe and calm environment, which he never had

delicate and distant at the beginning. He doesn't think he deserves a family, and if he does have one, he's afraid of losing it.

he is action and giving type of person. A new swing in the garden? Installed in a few hours. Repair a broken toy or paint walls in new color? Done. Take baby to the doctor? You can count on him at any time. This is his love language.

grumpy type with a dad humor. Always has a lame joke up his sleeve

at the same time, as the child grows up, he also learns what it means to show love for them as a father. So only with time he starts to feel comfortable hugging his baby, playing with them, etc.

once he gets it, oh boy, he throws this kid all over the place while playing. Yes, he is the type of father who throws his child on the mattress and pretends to play WWE

have you seen this photo of Chris Hemsworth where he holds his kid by leg on a beach? Yes, this is Simon

or wraps them up like a burrito in a blanket and watch them struggle with smile on his face. The best way to tire them out, so it's a win for everyone if they fall asleep faster!

but he also likes to watch cartoons with them and cuddle (falls asleep after a few minutes)

he does THIS a lot

his kid/s definitely color his tattoos. And no, he doesn't wash them off. He's very proud of them. Definitely shows them to Soap.

seeing blood during a mission in his life was nothing compared to changing baby's diaper. Avoids it like the plague.

definitely did a fake tea party once. Little plastic chair broke under his weight.

has a lot of vids and pics on his phone of every possible situation of what his child is doing - sleeps, eats, talks, plays, smiles.... Once in a while shows them to 141

but he definitely likes photos where baby is sleeping the most. Because then he sees their calm expression and it gives him a sense of peace and fulfillment

#simon ghost riley #dad!ghost #dw I still have a few ideas for dad!ghost renders up my sleeve :*

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reallyromealone · 5 months

Note

hello !! can i request aizawa with baby reader who just started teething ?? was thinking aizawa is letting him hangout with class 1a and reader keeps trying to bite every :•3 hope you have a good day/night !!

God I love dadzawa

Fuck yessss

(name) was not having a good time and frankly either was Aizawa, the little babe was growing in his teeth and it was painful to say the least, the man always carried soothing teething rings and frankly looked more exhausted than usual.

"Mr. Aizawa" Momo stood before the exhausted teacher as (name) chewed on a cool we cloth tearily "what?"Aizawa grumbled and the students held a nice sleeping bag, a sleep mask and some teas "we made this for you, we are also using the baby care training you taught us and are going to watch (name)"

"That's no--"

"Sir, you said it yourself that it's ok to rely on fellow heroes and we have our licences, please let us help"

"Ow! (Name), we do not bite people!" Jirou said to the boy who looked frustrated "I know, it sucks but you can't go biting people"

So (name) went about biting everything else, tables couches, books and even a pencil case.

"(Name)! Come on man!"

The day was spent keeping him from chewing and biting everything for some relief as Tsu, Iida and Ochaco came back from grabbing a few groceries "why didn't you use his teething rings as a distraction ribbit?" She said as if it were obvious, walking to the freezer and pulling out a plastic ring and handing it to the boy who immediately put in his mouth, the cold soothing his tiny gums.

"See?"

No wonder Mr. Aizawa was so tired.

#male reader #x male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #1a x male reader #baby reader #baby male reader #fluff

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flowercrowngods · 6 months

Text

yearning hours (hidden track)

🤍 also on ao3

The city is quiet tonight, dormant long before midnight; weary at its very core, just allowing November’s cold to settle without much of a fight.

Steve should be asleep, too, but he doesn’t want to break the spell he’s under, doesn’t want the heaviness of his eyelids to become something deeper, something stronger, something that will bring an end to this feeling that’s come over him.

Sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he just breathes. A steady in and out that‘s been effortless for a few hours now.

The breathes in the gentle dimness of his bedside lamp, inhales the sound of electro pop playing from beside him, playing from another lifetime altogether. He exhales the present, lets go of the thoughts of sleep, of leaving this moment, of moving anytime soon.

I saw your eyes. And you made me smile.

It’s been forever since he listened to this tape. So long, in fact, that he didn’t even know he still had it. Lifetimes passed since last he heard these songs, the synthesisers and guitars, the beat of his heart in tune with the drum of the snare.

Four years. It’s a lifetime. Everything’s a lifetime when the world ends, and ends, and ends. Everything’s a lifetime if you leave parts of yourself behind, unreachable for yourself, but far from untouchable for others.

Everything’s a lifetime if you live in Hawkins, Indiana.

And though it took a while, I was falling in love.

The song washes over him the same way it did four years ago, and yet it settles inside his chest, his gut, his lungs in a way it never did before. It fills him with each inhale, as if daring him to forget again. As if daring him to try.

There are three tapes spread out on the bed beside him, just within reach of his hand that’s hovering over the rewind button of his little radio that’s seen better days but still hasn’t ripped a tape in months.

Once the song begins to fade, he presses the button, the dim light now accompanied by the familiar clicking and whirring and the thoughts of seven, eight, nine, ten, as Steve is counting the seconds before he has to press play again to listen to Space Age Love Song again.

He exhales a drawn-out breath as, with another definitive click, the song starts over. Gentle snares fill his room. And Steve breathes.

I saw your eyes.

And he smiles.

And you made me smile.

Because somehow.

For a little while

He’s thinking about Eddie.

I was falling in love.

And for a moment, while he breathes and stares and listens, that’s okay. For a moment, for the duration of this song, for the lifetimes it survived and the ones yet to come, that’s okay. The waves of the music carry him through time and space, carry him to a world where it’s safe. Where the safest thing to do about your heart’s desires is not lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

The phone rings. It’s midnight and the phone rings. Steve is floating, anchored and weighed down by his skin and bones, breathing himself back into reality, because the phone rings.

He looks up and reaches for the landline phone on his bedside table, the movement sluggish to his heavy limbs.

The words take a while to form, but he’s aware that the other person can hear the music playing, they’ll know he’s here, they’ll know he listens. They’ll know, hopefully, that he’ll talk soon. He just… He just needs a second.

But then it’s only silence that meets him, and Steve frowns. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask, he can hear a breathy little, “Oh. Shit.”

And he blinks. Swallows. Leans up on one arm to fight the floating.

“Eddie?”

“Uhh. Hi, Stevie.”

There’s a tremor to Eddie’s voice that Steve can make out even through the music he’s reaching out to turn down the volume now. Alarm shoots through him, accompanied by protectiveness and the readiness to take ok the world. For Eddie. Again.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Too fast. Too breathy. Too frantic, and Steve can hear the clinking of his rings against the plastic of Wayne’s landline phone. He can see Eddie wrapping the cord around his fingers, can picture him chewing on it, too. “I just— uh, I… I cleaned my room? Rearranged it, too. I really like how… Look, ignore this, okay? I realised that this was kinda dumb the moment you picked up the phone.”

Steve leans back again, his head hitting the pillow as he lets Eddie’s voice wash over him. He sounds nice against the low music still coming from beside Steve. Eddie always sounds nice. Steve kinda wants to listen to him forever most days.

“What’s dumb, Ed?”

A snort, and Steve wants to feel that breath tingling his cheek, or neck, or throat. He wants to touch that smile of self-deprecation he knows spreads Eddie’s lips now, and wants to turn it into something more genuine. More vulnerable. More his.

“Calling you at midnight and telling you that i cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, helpless against the gentleness of his voice as he says it.

“Yeah. That.”

He smiles, his eyes finding their spot on the ceiling again as he reaches for the radio again, pressing rewind, because his heart is a fluttery little thing tonight, and he wants to bask in it for a moment. Wants to be allowed to pretend.

Something old washing into something new. The feeling fits well with the others, a tenderness inside his chest where Eddie lives, surrounded now by the song, wave after wave, and with the memory and possibility and chance of different lifetimes, different phone calls, different Steves.

“I don’t think that’s dumb, Ed,” he says after a while. “I like it when you tell me things, midnight or not.“

“I… That’s cool.” Silence. But an Eddie kind of silence that it’s always only a prelude. Always. For bigger things the longer it is. And Steve’s counted all the way to seven before Eddie, quietly, secretly, says, “I like telling you things. Midnight or not.”

The smile that splits Steve’s face is almost one that needs to be hidden in the pillows, with the way the world sees it as a challenge when he smiles. But he doesn’t hide it. Midnight smiles don’t need hiding.

“So tell me about your room.”

Another silence, only five beats this time, but it leaves Steve yearning for Eddie to fill it nonetheless.

“Do…“ One, two, three, four, f— “Do you wanna come over and see?”

And now it’s Steve who’s silent. Steve whose heart is beating so loud he forgets to count the seconds, forgets to fill the silence, forgets just for a while that he’s still only pretending, he’s still only longing, not reaching.

And still, still still, he asks, “Right now?”

Eddie’s answer is no more than a breath. “Yeah?”

“Okay.”

Okay. He wants to stay in bed longer, wants to cradle the phone to his ear and listen to Eddie. To his breathy little voice, like he knows about midnight smiles, and even more about midnight whispers.

He’s still floating in the car, having grabbed one of the tapes from his bed, letting the more synthetic snares and guitars fill the air he breathes that’s beginning to smell vaguely of leather and tobacco and soil and Eddie.

The more you live, the more you love. Or so they say.

It settles in his arms the same way the car’s gentle thrumming does; this certainty. The longing. The love.

He’s not even sure when it happened, only that he can’t get rid of it now. Doesn’t want to get rid of it, most days. Not yet. He’ll spend the rest of his life letting it go, but he wants to keep it for a while yet.

Especially with Eddie calling him at midnight just… Just to tell him something that makes him happy. Obviously, obviously makes him happy. So happy he wants to tell Steve about it. Like Steve is worthy of that, like he is the obvious choice.

It makes him giddy. Makes him float. Makes him turn up the volume, letting it almost ruin the moment, fragile as it is — but only almost.

He makes it to the trailer park in no time, finding Eddie already outside. Waiting for him.

No amount of inhaling and exhaling is enough to save Steve now, not with Eddie approaching his car before he even comes to a stop. Not with Eddie reaching out to open his door, looking at him, face painted in the light and shadow of the little overhead light of the Beemer.

“Hi,” Eddie says. “I cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, an echo of earlier, the same smile on his lips, but Eddie doesn’t smile. Eddie just nods, frantic.

“That, yeah. But… I cleaned my room. And you’re here. Because I told you. Because I cleaned my room.”

Steve blinks, loosening his seatbelt and slowly, so as not to spook Eddie, he gets out of the car. Comes to a stop in front of Eddie, the door still open behind him.

“Eddie, what—“

“You’re here,” Eddie says again. “You like it when I tell you things.”

Steve nods, the cold November air not enough to save him; he still inhales Eddie, still exhales a longing so deep his lungs feel like they’ll never fill again.

“And you like telling me things,” he says, because Eddie’s gone silent, his wide eyes still frantic, and Steve wants to help.

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats again, like it has a meaning that Steve’s not catching.

He nods, then, heart and mind racing alike. “Because you asked.”

But Eddie shakes his head, still rooted to the spot, still keeping his eyes on Steve like he’s afraid he might disappear if he so much as blinks. Steve wouldn’t think of it. Will stay as long as Eddie wants to look at him.

“Because you want to. Because you like it. Because… Because I cleaned my room. And the first thing I wanted to do was tell you. And you listened. And you told me it’s not dumb, because you like it when I tell you things, and— Steve. Steve.”

He can’t look at those wide eyes anymore, not when he’s been found out, not when the heaviness is returning, weighing on his limbs and his heart, telling him to panic and to run and—

“Steve.” A whisper. A hand on his cheek. Not to tip his head up. Just to rest there. Just to stay. “I wanna tell you things all the time. The stupidest, littlest things. I wanna tell you because you’ll listen and because you’ll— you’ll make me feel like… Like this. Because you’re here! You’re here when all I did was clean my room. At midnight. Way past midnight, actually. I’m… I… God, I just.” An exhale, and it sounds a lot like Steve’s. “I love you.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting Eddie’s again. Searching for the lie, searching for the dream, searching for one of those lifetimes that aren’t meant for him. But he finds none. He finds sincerity; scared, vulnerable sincerity, like Eddie is a little bit insane with it.

Like he’s faring no better than Steve.

“You… You do?” Eddie nods, frantic again, the hand falling from Steve’s cheek so he can pick and bite at his nails. Unthinkingly, Steve reaches for his hands to hold them in his own. “I— I’m…”

“It’s okay, you don’t— uh, you don’t have to say anything. Really. Please don’t, actually, I’m just… You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you—“

“Ed,” Steve whispers. “Eddie.” They sallow in unison, the air charged between them but clearing in Steve’s vision now, carrying him no longer like someone floating along the tides yearning.

He’s not floating, he’s not lifetimes away. He’s here. He’s here.

“Can I… Can I try something? Can I kiss you? Please?” he adds in a whisper.

And it is with that same whisper, with that same shared breath, that Eddie says, “Please.”

The kiss is chaste, but it’s enough. Enough to survive the night, enough to be not the beginning and not the end, but something comfortably settled in the in-between.

When they break apart, Steve doesn’t let Eddie go far as he pulls him into his arms rather immediately. Just to hold him there. To let his mind catch up. To bask.

And it’s only after a while of breathing each other in, their hands roaming over the other boy’s back in ways more gentle than they were ever allowed to before, that Eddie breaks the silence.

“I really do wanna show you my room, though, that wasn’t a ruse.” He mumbles the words against the side of Steve’s throat, and Steve — still unsure of his footing — laughs and brushes a careful kiss against Eddie’s temple that leaves him with goosebumps.

“Ready when you are,” he says, though it’s almost a sigh. An exhale. Exhaling Eddie, and inhaling his warm smile and the smell of his hair. Steve leans in for another kiss to Eddie’s forehead, lingering this time.

In and out. It’s all Eddie.

Ring-clad fingers find their ways in between his own, and then Eddie tugs him — gently, like he’s afraid Steve will break if he moves too quickly; or maybe it’s Eddie’s who’ll break — toward the trailer.

Inside it’s warm, the lights are low, and the only thing illuminating Eddie’s room down the hall is a black string of warm white lights wandering along his walls and in between photos and pictures and drawings and posters that litter his wall.

And in the middle of it all, there’s Eddie. Smiling at him, giddy and gentle and genuine and so, so pretty. And Steve knows, then. Eddie’s room has never looked better.

(the songs are space age love song, and the more you live, the more you love by a flock of seagulls)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dio words #this is an attempt to get my floaty back #though i must admit this thing took a different turn after each paragraph and maybe it shows? idk you tell me #it’s way past 3am i gotta stop with these but goddammit i couldn’t stop sorry #actually it’s almost 4 isn’t this great? :D i did this to myself and now it’s too late for even the americans to see it isn’t it? :p

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indiscriminate-idiocy · 3 months

Text

my favorite genre of Gundams and Gunpla is just when they let the designer go buckwild. Like the FA-78 Full Armor from Gundam Thunderbolt.

look at this dickhead. he doesn't need four shields. he probably doesn't even need two shields. and look at all those decals! fucking impossible to apply, most of them weren't even in the anime because fuck animating all that.

if that doesn't tickle your fancy, what about Full Armor Unicorn from Gundam Unicorn?

look at this fucking shithead. he has like a bajillion weapons. giant thrusters on the back that need their own little stand. this is the Real Grade so it's a bit more "realistic" but it's still fucking bullshit. absolute bullshit.

those are some recent Katoki designs (Katoki is the designer known for being batshit insane with his designs) but look at this design from the nineties. Ladies and Gentlemen, i give you Gundam Heavyarms.

fucking. bullshit. his chest and his shoulders open up to reveal a gazillion guns? ok. and he has another gun strapped to his arm? it's stupid, but it's not the stupidest thing so far.

THIS IS

ITS THE SAME SUIT BUT THEY STRAPPED THREE MORE GUNS ON IT AND HAJIME FUCKING KATOKI MADE IT

I KID YOU NOT WHEN I SAY THAT THIS GLORIOUS BASTARD HAS FILLED EVERY WAKING SECOND OF MY LIFE

I TELL MY MOM "hey mama, i just got a new gundam!"

AND SHE ASKS ME IF KATOKI MADE IT BECAUSE HE HAS INFECTED MY PERSONAL LIFE hes a fucking bullshit stupid man with too much time on his hands and i simultaneously hope he stops designing gundams for my sanity's sake and also i hope that he lives for a thousand more years and draws a ton of cool robots so i can build little plastic modesl of them.

#gundam #rant #gunpla #hajime katoki #gundam thunderbolt

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callsign-venus · 28 days

Text

For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap

a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x

It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.

Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.

You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.

Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.

“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.

“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“What texts?”

“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.

“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”

“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.

Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.

He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”

“Of course.”

“Works good enough for me.”

He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.

“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”

You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.

“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”

You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.

The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.

“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”

You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.

“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”

He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”

“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”

“Noted.” You heard him swallow.

You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”

“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.

“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”

“You went to the wedding, I remember.”

You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.

As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.

“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.

“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”

Bradley snorted. “Was it?”

“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”

An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.

Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.

The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?

As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”

His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?

Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.

Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.

“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.

Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”

“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.

“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”

You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”

“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.

“Well, how long have we been dating?”

That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”

“It’s already weird.” He laughed.

“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”

“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”

“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”

“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”

You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”

“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.

Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.

“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”

You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.

“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”

“The ones that are really into PDA?”

“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”

You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.

“And there’s this move.”

As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.

You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.

“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”

You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.

The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?

He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.

The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.

You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.

The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.

From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.

You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.

He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.

“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”

“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”

Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”

Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”

“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”

Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.

The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.

The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.

You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”

You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.

When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.

“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”

You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.

He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”

You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.

He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.

Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.

You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.

“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.

“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.

Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.

You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.

“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.

“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”

“Ok.”

You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.

You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”

“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”

“Is that what your ideal man would do?”

Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.

“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”

“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”

Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”

“So first goal: be believable.”

He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”

“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”

“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.

Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.

You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Ready, babe.”

Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.

The knot in your stomach tightened like a noose.

Taglist:

*let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!*

@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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anticapitalistclown · 2 months

Note

Clownie can I request lookism boys helping their s/o on their period. Like their s/o is having heavy flow and keeps ruining pants and underwear (samuel, gun, Jake, and any other characters you would like the add) tysm 😊

omg sure!

Samuel, Gun and Jake helping reader on their period, scenarios

Samuel

You were feeling terrible, your legs were numb, your head was giving you a stabbing pain, your ovaries were absolutely killing you and on top of that, you had the heaviest flow, all of that made you feel like you could die.

With all your efforts, you walked through your apartment in order to throw your stained pants inside the washing machine. A stabbing pain made you crouch down on the floor, just in time for your boyfriend to come in.

Samuel was fast, and he caught you with his arm, you grabbed at him and gave him an apologetic look "today I'm not feeling really well to go out, got my period, sorry" you never knew when or how your emotionally unavailable boyfriend would surprise you "I know" Samuel gave you a plastic bag, inside there were different chocolates and candies also a lot of sanitary products "I don't really know which ones you use, so I bought the ones with best reviews".

Your eyes became teary, you couldn't hide your emotions "Samueel" you sobbed "I love you a lot" Samuel sighted and smiled "what would be of you without me?" and there it was, his lil shit side of him, even though this time you couldn't deny that this detail was actually so helpful "thank you a lot" he denied "it's nothing".

You threw your pants into the washing machine, Samuel giving you some advice about how to remove blood stains, and then you both cuddled on the sofa, watching some TV and you enjoying your candies, maybe this man is the chosen one?

Gun

You are one of the few lucky ones that can visit his place, you are dating after all, and even though you both barely have been dating two months, the previous friendship and connection made him trust completely in you. So when Gun asked you to come over his place, you always appreciated that trust and went, even if your period is killing you inside.

You were talking to him while he was making dinner, in a moment a stabbing pain made you crouch down, your wince of pain alerted him, Gun rushed next to you helping you to stand up he was confused until he saw your hands traveling on your lower stomach, knowing the source of your pain made him feel more relieved "do you need some painkillers?" you nodded "sorry" you tried your best to not ruin your date, yet your body was betraying you, Gun rushed to the shelf where he keeps the medicine "if you don't mind I'll go to the bathroom" Gun nodded "sure".

You went to the bathroom, yet your period gave you another obstruction to make your date go well, you looked frustrated at your stained pants and underwear "shit" Gun knocked on the door "are you alright? I have a glass of water and the meds" he opened the door, but you stopped him "wait, things got messy" Gun sighted and opened the door, you forgot your boyfriend is stronger.

Gun arched an eyebrow, "this little stain is the mess?" you nodded to him with a pout, your cheeks red from the embarrassment. Gun gave you the glass of water and the painkiller "give me your clothes, I'll wash them, and I'll give you something from my closet" you gave him your clothes "if you're uncomfortable I can clean it myself" too late, Gun already took your clothes "do I look like some blood will gross me out?" you lowered your head "get in the shower I'll join you in a few minutes" you lifted your head your eyes sparkling, making him smile, Gun gave a peck to your forehead "I love you" you mumbled, he kissed your lips "get comfortable, I'm your boyfriend, ok?"

Jake

Jake's love language is acts of service, knowing that a little detail can just make your life easier, make you happy, motivates him to keep caring for you. So when you texted him, "I'm on my period :(" it just took minutes for him to appear at your place with all the supplies you needed: chocolates, painkillers, sanitary products...

You welcomed him with a big hug, his arms lifting you and taking you to the living room, I love yous falling from both your mouths "I love you, I love you a lot" Jake laughed and hugged you tightly "I love you a lot too" you gave tiny pecks to all his face, your man just felt so proud of himself for making you happy.

You ordered him to sit at the sofa, and you started to arrange the products he just bought "but I want to help" you scolded him "you helped enough, don't make me angry" Jake sighted "alright" he looked at how you arranged everything and then he spotted a little stain "babe" you kept organizing "hm?" "don't get upset, but you have a stain on your pants" you froze, your cheeks were burning and you just looked so upset "again?" you cried "this is the third I ruined today" oh poor baby, Jake's heart broke at your expression he quickly got up from the sofa and reached you, his hands caressing your cheeks "It's okay love, Sinu taught me how to clean blood properly, I'll wash it, fine?" you nodded "fine" he smiled "then we can cuddle" you hugged him "I need your hugs".

#lookism #jake kim #kim gimyung #samuel seo #seo seongun #park jonggun #park jong gun #jong gun #lookism x reader

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artemismoorea03 · 9 months

Note

Ok, but for your amusement, might I suggest:

Tucker decides Danny needs a break and a shot at a love life. Tucker blackmails Danny into ATTENDING (though he makes the mistake of not specifying for how long) and Danny runs into a bored Wayne kid. Neither want to be there. Both were blackmailed with the kindest intentions. Both decide to team up to make their well-meaning but obnoxious meddlers pay.

I MIGHT HAVE GONE A LITTLE CRAZY WITH A REPLY HOLY FUCK, I'M SO SORRY. WARNINGS FOR THE END: MENTIONS OF GUNS, THREATS OF VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE. Happy ending <3

"Danny, you need a break." Tucker said, and Danny sighed.

"This again? Guys, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Danny." Sam insisted, standing next to Tucker. She had originally struck up this conversation when they were still in Amity Park. "You're going through a lot right now and you need a distraction that isn't work or ghost related. Gardening didn't work-" Because he froze every plant he touched, "Meditation didn't work-" because when he closed his eyes and tried to relax he would have flashbacks about the countless things he'd seen since the accident. "So the next step is dating."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Hard pass."

"Come on dude, Sam is right. If nothing else you can at least do some people watching and get to know the city better!"

Danny simply continued to scroll on Tiktok, wondering how hard it would be to do one of those dancing videos he saw everywhere. Then again he'd actually need to know how to dance for that to work. He was so busy looking at the video he didn't notice the glance his friends passed between each other before they sighed.

"You've given us no choice, Danny." Sam said, "Tucker."

Tucker held a phone out to Danny to make him see the screen as Danny's face burned red at the picture. It was a picture of him in his Phantom form after a fight with Skulker where a good chunk of his suit had been destroyed, showing off more than Danny was comfortable with.

"DUDE! I told you to delete that!" Danny said, jumping off the couch towards Tucker who was pulled out of the way by Sam who then armed herself with a frying pan. "Delete it, guys!"

"No way! And if you don't at least get out of this house and at least make a friend I'm going to make a Phantom Dating Profile using this picture!"

"You wouldn't dare." Danny glared.

"Try us." Sam said, "We'll even send it through the Ghost Zone now that the Phantom Phones are working we're bound to get some replies from interested ladies."

Danny faultered, then groaned. "Fine."

"Hell yeah, we even made it easy for you." Sam said, handing Danny a piece of laminated plastic. "One ticket to the Wayne Gala this weekend. Tucker got permission for two people to go with him. Which means the three of us are going to a party!"

"A party. A Wayne run party? You guys are just begging for trouble." Danny sighed, "Besides, I don't own a tux, remember?"

"Leave that to me."

Two days later the party arrived and the three of them walked up the drive towards the building where the event was being held.

Sam was wearing a beautiful A-Line dress that was jet black in color with a rose shaped black bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist over the back of her hand and connected to her middle finger.

Tucker was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt with slight rose shaped patterns on it, a black tie and a thin gold chain connected to his left vest pocket. he looked very sofisticated.

Danny felt like a fool though. Silently wishing he had never let Sam pick out his clothes. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the black compression sleeve on his left hand, a gray vest, black suit pants, black shoes and a black tie. He was wearing a silver watch on his right hand which served as a ghost portal maker in emergencies.

He also knew that the 'pocket watch' in Tucker's Pocket was the same kind of device, and the rose Sam was wearing would release harmless smoke out of it if they needed a distraction.

Danny still felt like this was a bad idea. No, actually, this was a terrible idea. Not only because he looked out of place compared to his friends but compared to the rest of the party he hardly seemed like he fit in. He was going to draw so much attention to himself.

They walked to the front doors, showing their invitations and id's to the guards before walking inside. It wasn't as loud as some other parties they'd seen since coming to Gotham but it also was more crowded. There were people everywhere in expensive outfits, talking about... something that sounded like rich person gossip, it was boring.

"Have fun you two, don't make fools out of yourselves." Sam said, waving as she walked over to mingle with a young woman with blonde hair and another girl with short black hair, both seemed to recognize her.

"Oh, hey those guys are from my team, I'll catch you later, Danny. I wanna talk shop." Tucker said, rushing off just as quickly as Sam did as Danny sighed.

'I wanna go home.' He thought as he began to wade through the sea of people, trying to find his way to a wall where he could make himself look as small as possible. Not that it would be hard, his body was so busy developing new powers all the time it had decided that he didn't need to grow anymore after he turned 16 and stuck him at a solid 5'6".

He finally found his way to a corner, letting out a sigh as he sat down on a chair and looked out at the party happening all around him. He started to subconsciously count the people in the room, even going so far as to closed his eyes and sensed the very souls in the room. 56 people in his room, 17 in the room Sam was in, 10 upstairs. Danny then opened his eyes and got a sense for the room in another way. 45 windows lined the entire South side of the building if he was going his math right, with two sets of double doors near the front of the building. The building was mostly open floorplan which helped keep an eye on everybody but in an emergency it would be a stampede.

A man walked over, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall with a growl. He was wearing clothes similar to Danny's but with a red shirt, but what caught Danny's attention was how he felt. He was luminal but not like Sam who felt like a walk through the garden or Tucker who felt like gritty sand, no the feeling that came from this man was like fire. A burning pain that also felt like grease stuck to the back of Danny's throat.

He was luminal but the ectoplasm that made him luminal was so fucking tainted that it made Danny want to gag.

Seeming to notice Danny's glance the man looked back at him.

"What?" He growled.

"Nothing, just thought your hair was cool." Danny said, noting the white streak at the front of his bangs.

The man blinked, touching his hair. He was about Danny's age if he had to guess, maybe a bit older.

"Thanks. It's a birthmark." He grumbled, but Danny could tell that it was probably a sore subject. If death turned his hair white he could only assume it did the same to this guy too. "What's your name kid? Never seen you at one of these boring as parties."

"Danny. Danny Fenton. And I'm not a kid, I'm 19."

"Same age as me, neat. The name's Jason." Jason introduced, himself. "You work at Wayne Enterprises?"

"Kinda, I'm just the janitor, my friend was the one who was invited. I'm just one of his plus ones."

"Yikes, what'd you do to deserve a punishment like that?" Jason asked as Danny laughed.

"My friends decided that going to work then living as some kind of godless cryptid that sleeps the rest of the day 'isn't healthy' so they dragged me out here in hopes that I'll make friends. Though they may have heavily implied that they expected me to either find a date or hook up with somebody while I was here. When I said no, they blackmailed me here. I'm just hoping that if I stay small and don't complain then they'll just let me exist without getting in my face for a while. What about you, what are you in for?"

Jason hummed and nodded, "Similar story. My dad and siblings are all here and said that if I didn't at least make an appearance this time that they would hide some of my books. Among other things. Plus my older brother used the whole 'you never spend time with us' whimper while my two sisters gave me puppy dog eyes."

Danny and Jason sighed before Danny looked at him. "Wanna hang out so they think we're playing nice and leave us alone?"

"Sure." Jason chuckled, "So which ones are your friends?"

"That one there." Danny said pointing to Tucker, "Tucker Foley, he works as a Programmer at WE. Then over there is Sam Mason, she works as a Gardener."

Jason's eyes widened, "Doesn't your friend Sam work at the Wayne Manor?"

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"My dad is Bruce Wayne." He said, his eyes going to Tucker before they landed back on Danny and he laughed. "Wait. You're that Janitor?"

Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. "I don't understand?"

"My dad came home one day and said that somebody told him that there was information happening at Wayne Enterprises that was above his paygrade an we've been teasing him about it for weeks. Now every time he asks anything we reply with 'that's above your paygrade, Bruce'."

Danny groaned, his cheeks burning red. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. I didn't even mean to say that, I just panicked when he suddenly showed up in storage for no reason and caught me... uh... testing stuff."

"Testing stuff?" Jason asked as Danny nodded.

"Y-yeah. See, I work as a janitor because I didn't graduate high school and unlike Tucker I can't just breeze through school and show off my hacking skills to get a job. So I've been using some of the tech that gets thrown away to make something that would help me temporarily lift some of the fragile heavy objects around the building and place them harmlessly down so I can clean under them. But then Bruce caught me, I panicked and that was my reply." Danny was quick to explain, which wasn't a lie he was working on something like that but it was for the Ghost Zone to help him move some heavy things around his Lair and hold down things that often floated off for no damn reason.

"You know, that does explain a couple of things. I can't imagine your boss seeing you mess with tech would be a fun thing to explain. But... if you're so smart why didn't you graduate?"

Danny shook his head, "I'm not smart, I mean not like Tucker or Sam or my family. My sister is in Metropolis studying Psychology and is already a good way through her degree because she graduated a year early. Tucker and Sam graduated and are both working on getting degrees in something but nah, school just wasn't something I could do. Sitting behind a desk learning from a book isn't my thing. I'm better at using my hands, figuring stuff out on the fly, and trial and error shit."

Jason thought about this for a moment before he smiled. "I don't blame you, school is bullshit. Just like stupid galas."

"Mhm..."

Jason suddenly smiled, "Dude, I have the best idea to get back at all of them."

Danny smiled back, "Oh, you have all of my attention."

That one choice was how Danny ended up leaning against a wall closer to the crowd while Jason loomed with one hand near his head, talking to him about absolutely nothing important just to play the position while Danny occasionally chuckled. To anybody outside of the conversation it was supposed to look like they were flirting, which in a way they were but they also weren't.

"Do you like raisins? How about a date?"

Danny chuckled, at the horrible pickup line. "Excuse me, sir, do you have the time? I would like to know the exact time when I got a crush on you."

Jason snorted, "Are you a magnet? Because you sure are attracting to me."

Noticing Tucker and Sam looking his way Danny reached up and gently touched Jason's black tie to sell it more, but he was careful not to touch Jason otherwise. "Let's flip a coin." He told the taller man, "Heads I'm yours, tails you're mine."

Jason's cheek got ever so slightly red as he cleared his throat. "Are you a parking ticket, because you've got fine written all over you." He said as Danny chuckled again, watching Sam and Tucker quickly walk away to give Danny privacy.

"If you were a vegetable you'd be a cute-cumber."

Jason relaxed again at the cheesy flirt as Danny touched the silk tie in his hands. Not because he was actively trying to flirt with Jason but because it felt really nice and expensive. Jason snapped him out of his thoughts with another flirt. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk by again?"

Before Danny could think of another flirt another man walked over, this one about 24 or so in age. He had wavy black hair and blue eyes with tan skin.

"Little Wing! Who's your friend?"

"Ugh." Jason groaned, moving slightly as Danny let go of his tie. "Take a hint, Dickie-Bird." He groaned.

The new person simply ignored Jason though and held out his hand.

"Hi! I'm Dick, Jason's older brother."

Danny shook his hand, "Danny. Danny Fenton, it's nice to meet you."

"You too, Danny! You look a little young to be working at WE, are you here with somebody?"

"A bit of both, I'm a janitor at WE but I'm here with my friend Tucker."

"Really? That's awesome! How old are you, Danny?"

"I'm 19."

This seemed to relieve Dick in a way that confirmed any suspicion that Danny had about him checking to make sure Jason wasn't doing anything illegal though he found himself ever so slightly annoyed. Did he look that young? No, people were just blind.

"Neat! Well, I just wanted to make sure Little Wing here didn't ditch the party, so I'll let you guys go back to what you were doing. Have fun~" He said, then walked away as Danny chuckled and looked at Jason.

"'Little Wing'?"

"Dick gives everybody nicknames, it's stupid. Now, where were we?" He asked, suddenly slamming his hand back by Danny's head as his cheeks grew warm. "Oh, that's right, I was going to out cheese you with these stupid fuckin' flirts."

Danny snorted, "Do you play soccer? Because you look like a keeper."

"I'm studying to be a historian. I'm really interested in finding a date."

This continued for a long time until they ran out of flirts and by that point Bruce Wayne was about to do a speech. At least that was the plan until suddenly the doors slammed open as party was crashed by a large group of people all wearing matching masks. Masks that looked like Ghostface from Scream.

There were at least twenty of them, all heavily armed with guns that they fired into the air. Jason cursed and Danny quickly grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't." He said, looking for Sam and Tucker who were trapped on the other side of the room. They were separated, they were in a large room but with so many people they might have been trapped in a hallway. "Where's your family?"

Jason looked around, "I see my dad and youngest brother. My two sisters are with your friend Sam. I don't see the other three though."

Danny shook off the question of 'just many of you are there' and instead nodded. "Okay, my friends are together too. So we should stick together, everybody else is in groups. Rushing anywhere now might start a stampede."

Jason frowned then glared at the criminals who were pointing their guns at everybody.

"Okay~ I think it's time we get this party started. Now, let's make this easy. If you don't actively work at Wayne Enterprises or aren't related to Wayne Family via blood or adoption get on your stomachs on the ground, the rest of you stay on your feet."

"They're looking for somebody..." Jason mumbled as Danny nodded.

The majority of the crowd laid down while only about a third of the crowd remained standing allowing them to see each individual person.

"Very good!" The criminal in charge praised and looked around. "Now, anybody who makes the wrong move will get one of the people laying on the ground killed. I know a lot of you are stupid enough to try to play heroes so instead of you getting shot we'll shoot whoever is closest to us."

"Shit." Danny and Jason both said together before passing a glance at one another.

The one in charge looked around again until he looked at Danny and pointed at him. "You. Step up."

"No way." Jason said as the man pointed a gun at a young woman who sobbed in fear.

"No no, it's okay. I'm coming." Danny said, patting Jason's arm as he walked carefully through the crowd towards the gunmen.

"Nice to see you again, brat." Hissed the man as Danny raised a brow. Before he could question it though the man pointed to Bruce Wayne. "You. Step up."

"Father." The young kid standing next to Bruce Wayne said going to argue but Bruce just told him to stay put then walked towards them. Bruce kept his hands up, looking at Danny with a clear look of recognition.

"Why don't you let the kids go, there's not a lot of them but those who are here don't need to be involved in whatever demands you have." Bruce said.

"Hah, no way, Bruice-Boy." Hissed the man as two of his men grabbed Bruce by his wrists, yanking his arms behind his back and knocking him back down to his knees. "We came here today for you, but damn we're lucky that this one is here. See, if it weren't for the kid here-" The man grabbed Danny by the front of his suit, shoving the barrel against his chin. "We wouldn't need to do this. This is what happens when you meddle, brat."

Danny's heart sank before he glared. "It's you. You're that bastard who boke in a few weeks ago!"

"Yeah! And if you had just minded your damn business this wouldn't be happening now. If you had just let us do what we were going to do then it wouldn't be a problem."

"You were trying to burn down part of the building with people still inside, I wasn't going to let you."

"And how is that turning out for you now, brat? Hm?" He moved the gun from Danny's chin as shoved Danny back into the arms of two more men who grabbed Danny's arms and shoved them behind his back but let him stay on his feet. "Now, Mr. Wayne, let me explain. See, you and your company were trying to find a cure for something found in the water supply that was making some kids sick, but see were were making a lot of money selling the cure at the highest price. We were going to destroy your progress but unfortunately we were stopped by another kid who thought he was a hero. So, this is what we're going to do. You're good at fundraising so you're going to help us fundraise ransoms for each and every one of these people from their own pockets. The more a person pays the more limbs they get to keep. We'll start at 20,000 per limb." He pointed his gun at Jason. "We'll start with the young man closest to doing something stupid."

Danny growled, glancing at Sam and Tucker. Their eyes met and Danny flashed them green. Sam nodded then with a swift motion told her friends something before smashing her bracelet on the ground.

In an instant their area filled with smoke that rushed out covering the men with smoke and protecting the majority of the crowd laying on the ground in a layer of smoke while only those standing could be seen. Danny reacted as well, knowing that more people would be able to see him . Dropping his full weight down he yanked the two men holding him together as they smashed their heads together and let him go. Danny then elbowed the one to his right in the crotch before standing up, grabbing the barrel of his gun and yanking it upwards, squeezing the metal so the gun would be unusable before he pulled it from the mans hand. Flipping on the safety of the gun he spun it and smacked the man in the temple with the butt.

Danny spun the gun, moving it to his left hand before disarming the man of his gun and kicking it into the smoke in the direction of the stairs in hopes of keeping it away from people. Snapping out of their dazes Bruce and Jason also seemed to react as Bruce slammed his head back, breaking the nose of one of the men before elbowing one in the center of the chest knocking the breath out of him while Jason grabbed the barrel of the gun the main guy was using and shoved it up, causing the gun to go up and break some of the ceiling plaster but preventing people from getting hit. Deciding to leave those men to those two Danny go to work again, but this time in a slightly different way.

He hated fighting humans.

They were too fleshy and not durable like ghosts so he chose not to fight and the smoke provided the perfect cover as he froze the feet of the enemies who were still posing threats while mysterious snake like shapes wriggled under the smoke and yanked the men under to where they would later be found wrapped up in plants or ice. One by one the men were taken down until there was a pained cry that made Danny turn when he heard Bruce shout.

"Jason!"

Danny turned, seeing Jason rubbing at his face. There as a cut above his brows from a knife. He had managed to get the gun from the man but he had pulled out a knife.

Protect.

Danny snarled, taking a step forward as the man went to stab Jason. Danny and Bruce moved at the same time with Bruce covering his son. But Danny made it to them before the man could make contact and he got in the way of the attack. Danny held the wrists of the man as he barred his teeth.

Danny shoved the mans hands upwards, knocking him back slightly before he spun and did a roundhouse kick. An attack that he might have put just a bit too much power into as the man was thrown a good ten feet backwards towards the stairs and the doors that he had broken down. Danny could hear the man wheezing and coughing, seeing him flailing desperately under the smoke but not getting up.

No sooner did Danny relax and turn back to the Bruce and Jason then did Batman (who seemed shorter today for some reason), Red Robin and Signal showed up with the police and a verity of confused looks.

"You sure you're okay?" Danny asked Jason who nodded, his forehead bandaged.

"Just a scratch, headwounds bleed a lot. I'm more confused what the hell just happened. Normally the bats react more quickly than that when they send in a smoke screen."

Danny chuckled, "You have a lot of experiences with the bats?"

"I'm a Wayne, it comes with the territory. Are your friends okay?" He asked as Danny looked towards Sam and Tucker who were mostly just waiting for Danny to finish but Tucker was also hacking on his phone to erase whatever data he could from the security cameras as he possibly could.

"They're fine. I'm going to get an earful for being reckless though."

"I don't think you were reckless. But... how did you learn to fight like that?"

"Uh... long story. Where we come from though the saying 'fight or die' was serious and there were daily reminders of it. But again... long story."

Jason nodded, looking drained. "Well... I know that this whole thing was just a way to get our groups off of our backs but how would you like to get dinner together some day? Just as friends, I mean I'm not against maybe trying some day but right now I kinda wanna get to know you. Besides, I'd like to thank you for protecting me and my dad."

Danny thought for a moment before he smiled. "Sure." He reached into his pocket and handed Jason his phone. Jason typed in his number then handed the phone back. "Get home safe, Jason."

"You too, Danny."

Danny started walking away when Bruce suddenly called out.

"Danny." Danny stopped and turned towards his boss, shrinking down slightly before Bruce smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"All good."

"Are you sure? You did really well out there but if you're hurt you should get looked out."

"I'm not hurt, Mr. Wayne, I promise. Just really tired."

"Alright, if you're sure." Bruce moved his hand and smiled, "Thanks for saving us, Danny."

"Any time, Mr. Wayne, but let's not make a habit out of it, okay? I moved to Gotham to get away from craziness like that." He said, waving his hand as he walked to his friends as he wrapped his arms over both of their shoulders and they made their way home.

"So, you guys have fun?" Sam asked as Danny looked at her.

"You know what... kinda, yeah. At least until the end."

"Did you get his number?" Wondered Tucker.

"Of course I did."

#dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #Friends let friends use stupid pick-up lines as conversation starters #Petition to call JasonxDanny “ALIVE BUT DEAD INSIDE” /j - unless #I honestly don't write a lot of shippy things with Danny #I actually think this might be the first #so it might be awkward #I'm also shit at fluff #SO I HAVE TO ADD ANGST #anyways #i loved this it was so fun #wrote this at 4:30 in the morning any mistakes just live there now

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

ok so maybe Steve's at work doing his nurse thing when who shows up in the emergency room and didn't even call to tell him that she was hurt? his favorite girl, that's who.

hmm?

AN | More Nurse Steeb!🥺🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to this, but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were dreading this moment. You really, really didn't want to be here. The temptation to just turn and run away was so high. It would have been so easy to just leave and go home…but the shooting pain in your arm told you that was an even worse idea.

The hospital was big…so maybe you wouldn't see him at all. Right? Right. Or that's what you were hoping for. The odds really were slim to none and yet… Maybe you didn't even need to go to the ER. Maybe you could just call and schedule a regular appointment with your doctor…

"Fuck," you sighed heavily as you looked between the entrance and your car. You had to do it. There was no way you could get out of this one.

Trying to collect your remaining dignity, you walked into the hospital and up to the counter. The woman behind the screen looked at you for a moment, recognizing you but not quite placing it.

"I-I think I did something to my elbow," you explained, tears already welling up and threatening to run down your cheeks, "I fell and it's stuck at this weird angle and I couldn't move it. Every time I try it hurts so bad."

She peeks over the counter before noticing the odd placement of your left elbow, "oh dear. Well, we'll get you right in with the doctor. First, let me get your name please."

You nodded and told her your first name and hesitated for a moment. She waited for you to go on and you sighed before giving her your last name, "Harrington."

And…realization hit her. She knew exactly who you were. You, him, and the disgustingly cute story of how you'd met in that very ER were well known around the hospital. You gave her a sheepish smile as she scribbled a few things down, "go ahead and take a seat. I've got everything here, honey."

"Thank you," the older woman's gentleness already made you feel better, despite your current predicament, "and umm…could we not tell him yet? Or at least don't put me in his wing?"

"I'll do my best," she promised with a knowing wink. You nodded softly before padding over to one of the stiff plastic chairs, careful not to irritate your arm further.

A heavy, tired sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes for a few moments of solace from the piercing fluorescence of the hospital lights. A dumb little part of your brain even dreamed that maybe you'd get home without him knowing anything.

Doubtful.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Well," the doctor, an older man with a calm aura - which did nothing to help your nerves - was almost silent as looked over your x-rays and studied the findings, "you've got yourself a dislocated elbow."

"No," you groaned as you looked at the ceiling. How could you be this clumsy and unlucky?

"Yes," he pointed at your arm, still stuck at an awkward angle as if to prove his point, "and that is nothing to scoff at."

"Umm, how do I fix it?" you asked softly, trying to ignore the throbbing, "can it be fixed?"

“Oh yes,” he seemed unphased by your question, as your panic had increased, “most of the time it can be corrected without surgery-”

“Without? S-so you mean you there’s a chance I would need surgery?” your lip trembled with effort as you tried to cry, “what are the odds?”

“The first thing I’m going to do is to try and set it back into place and then we’ll immobilize the arm for now,” he looked up at you for a moment and saw the distressed look on your features, “meaning you’ll be in a sling for some time. It’s imperative that you keep as still as possible for now. In a few weeks we’ll see how it’s setting and how your range of movement is. And onto physical therapy.”

“Physical therapy?” alright. This had to be some sort of cosmic joke. The last time you were in the ER was when you’d broken your ankle a few years ago. That had almost ended up with surgery and absolutely had required physical therapy, “oh.”

“It’ll be okay, Mrs. Harrington,” he insisted, “I’ve seen these before and while inconvenient, rest assured you’ll make a full recovery.”

“I-”

“I’ll send in the nurse and have them set you up with a sling and the dos and don’ts and talk to you about painkillers,” he gave you a pat on the opposite shoulder, “I’ll see you back in about two weeks. Any questions you have the nurse will be able to answer.”

“Okay,” you nodded and slumped your shoulders as you watched him go. Steve was going to lose his mind when he saw you, “fuck me.”

After a few minutes of terse silence, a few gentle knocks came at the door. You confirmed they could come in and regretted your decision as soon as you did. It wasn’t just any nurse that happened to be assigned to you. It was your husband.

“Steve?”

“Baby?”

“I-” he’d all but dropped your charts and came over to you, his hands finding your face as he studied you. He’d read over your chart to read the doctor’s diagnosis, but had neglected to read the name. Otherwise he would have known it was you. As soon as you looked in those big, soft eyes all the unshed tears rolled down your cheeks, “I-I fell.”

“Honey,” he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, whether of stress or relief you weren’t sure. He tenderly brushed away your tears before placing a kiss to your forehead, “it’s okay. I know it hurts, but don’t cry…please. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it better.”

“It hurts so bad, Stevie,” you wanted nothing but for him to wrap you up in his arms, but were also terrified of hurting your arm further, “I’m so stupid, ‘m sorry.”

“You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to be sorry for,” he gently shushed by putting a finger to your lips, “I’m glad you came in, okay? I know how stubborn you can get, my clumsy girl. But I’m here to take care of you.”

“I asked them not to send you,” you sniffled, laughing ever so softly as he shook his head in amusement. He tutted, but it was nothing but warm and affectionate, “didn’t want you to worry or panic.”

“It is my job to take care of you,” he insisted softly, “both here in a professional capacity and everywhere else as your husband and best friend. Will you tell me what happened, angel? How did you hurt yourself so badly?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” a pout settled on your pretty, soft lips and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to them, “it’s silly.”

“I won’t laugh,” he promised, “scout’s honor.”

“You were never a boy scout, Steve.”

“Still counts.”

“Does not-”

“You’re stalling,” he insisted, already guessing your little ployl, “just tell me what happened, baby.”

“I was in the backyard and I went to move one of the lounge chairs off the deck and one thing led to another and I lost my footing and slipped and tried to stop my fall with my hand and then hit my elbow and the thing I knew it was lots of pain and I couldn’t move my lower arm,” you replayed the events in your head and silently cringed at yourself, “and I came here.”

You looked up and found Steve’s brows knitted together as he kept his eyes on your chart. He was silent, but then you could see the subtle shake of his shoulders. You used your good hand and slapped his arm, “Steve Harrington, you’re laughing! Don’t laugh at me, you said you wouldn’t!”

“Honey, honey, honey,” he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m not laughing at you…I’m just amused by the situation.”

“You wouldn’t be laughing at another patient!”

“Other patients aren’t my wife,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his, “and I love you more than anything, so it’s affectionate teasing.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you huffed, but there was no malice behind your voice, “now make it better…please.”

“I will,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I promise I’ll make it better, sweetheart.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Ugh,” you sighed for what felt like the millionth time as you tried to move around to get comfortable. You were exhausted - tired and worn out from your accident and the excitement of the day, but sleep had proven to be elusive. The worst part of all, there were only certain ways you could lie down to keep your arm still and without causing too much pain. None of the positions were working. Steve was lying in bed next to you, attempting to read but you were sure he wasn’t doing much reading from all your huffing and puffing. You turned your head and gave him an apologetic look, “sorry Stevie.”

“It’s okay,” he promised as he dog-eared his page and snapped his book shut, setting it on the nightstand, “I know it’s difficult to adjust to, baby. Let me try and help.”

“This sucks,” you huffed before looking over at him, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles, “I’m never doing anything else again for myself. It’s proven to be a bad idea.”

“I’d say the broken ankle worked out pretty well,” he grinned as you looked at him in confusion, “more or less. I got to meet the girl of my dreams right there in the ER.”

“And to think, if I hadn’t broken my ankle we’d have never met,” you said, touching his cheek with your good hand and giving him a soft smile, “the injury sucked, but the man I got out of it is pretty amazing.”

“Who knows,” he shrugged with a small smile, “maybe something good will come out of this too. You’ll just have to get better first. That means listening to me and taking it easy and -”

“Asking for help,” you finished softly, “I will, Steve. I will. But I have a request for when this mess is all healed…”

“Go on, I’m curious now…”

“Can we get a dog?” you asked with wide, curious eyes as his face softened. Of course you would use this for something like this. Truth was, he wanted a dog too, but it just never had been the right time, maybe now that dream would come true, “pretty please, Stevie?”

“We’ll see,” he promised and you could tell what he meant, which only caused your smile to grow, “we’re focusing on you first.”

“Fine,” you agreed happily, “but right now I just want to sleep.”

“C’mere,” he got out of bed and came over to your side, gently helping to move to the side he occupied just moments earlier. It was warm and smelled like him, which was immediately comforting. He adjusted your pillows and fluffed them, making it so you could lie on your side, but keeping your elbow propped up so you wouldn’t jostle or hurt it, “better?”

“Much,” you agreed as he slid into bed next to you, “and now I can sleep facing you. That makes me feel better.”

“Me too,” he promised softly, “plus, the view’s pretty fucking stunning.”

“Steve,” you playfully chided him, “I look and feel like a mess!”

“A beautiful, wonderful, amazing mess,” he joked, “that I love so very much. I promise it’ll be okay, angel. I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you leaned in as much as you could and he met you halfway, kissing you softly and gently, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington. You’re my savior, I swear.”

“I love you, clumsy girl,” he whispered against your lips, “I’ll always take care of you. I swear it.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery x you #st

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buzzingroyalty · 3 months

Text

sometimes you see a single image on the internet and that changes your plans for the rest of the week

seahorse is made from lps #426 that i had horribly defaced with sharpie in a customization attempt when i was young (you can see the red ink refusing to give up relevance in the fins especially lol) and this rarity eqg mini

cat is from the lps mcdonalds series that i had managed to chip off its base and use as a normal pet and oh my god was this thing a bitch to get the head off of. that plastic does not cut easy let me tell you. also this blythe (all those accessories are long gone)

dog is lps 883 and oh god im gonna kill someone i forgot to double check which eye shapes she had. i sketched her with the clover ones but was looking at pictures and saw mostly the single dot ones and second guessed myself without actually looking at the damn doll. pretend i drew them right. her body is this flutteryshy and her clothes from this blythe. im planning to use the eqg heads for another project

and finally the dragonfly is #715 that i had broken the wings for a loooong time ago and we would use it as a cricket instead. kinda fucked up. her body is another lps blyth with arms harvested from yet another lps blythe and i dont like to be wasteful so heres a manner of beast

ok thats all ffrom me, sid toy story, for now see you laters

#lps customs #lps ooak #ooak #lps #littlest pet shop #anthro lps #melisongart #sid toy story momence #new tag for when i do this kind of thing #lemme go find my webkinz hydra and tag it with that aswell

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atozfic · 6 months

Text

a twist of the knife.

pairing. ghostface!wooyoung x fem!reader. synopsis. halloween night and you're all alone, boyfriend far from home. you've got plans- big plans- with a fully charged vibrator and a phone. what a shame you forget to check the number before picking up. warnings. slasher fic! pwp, daddy kink, noncon cheating, noncon (don't like it? don't bite it!), masturbation (f&m), sex-toys, degradation, name-calling, dirty talk, knife kink?, mask kink!, implied stalking, mentions of murder word count. 4.6k hyde’s input. listen, kids, sometimes mother (me) can't serve a three coursed meal, ok? sometimes, all mother (me) can serve are dino-nuggies and overcooked chips. just eat your meal and flush your shit when you're done (aka, this is lazy writing and i'm not 100% satisfied with this fic but i'm also too tired to try harder i'm sorry <3)

truth be told, you’ve started without him.

you’d waited, a whole twenty minutes longer than you were supposed to.

twenty two minutes and you sent a text.

babe?

the message was delivered.

no reply came your way.

another text, from you.

i should be naked by now :(

and then another.

come make me cum, u loser.

and a final message, once more from you.

or i’ll get someone else to do it <3

minutes passed, no reply came, and you stayed true to your word.

technically.

because, technically, nowhere does it say you can’t be that someone else who makes you cum.

spread on your bed, body draped in pretty black lace, only the light of a single lamp- a cheesy plastic jack-o-lantern bought by your dearest boyfriend- to shadow your movements.

the shadow dances in time with the fingers that brush down your soft skin, the drag of your sharpened nails bringing a thrilling chill down your spine.

your fingers settle, at last, on your heaving chest. they slide over the delicate fabric, scratch at the skin beneath. graze over one of your nipples, and pause.

you try to mimic his movements, memorise the perfectly choreographed routine he uses to drive you wild.

it’s hard to achieve, no matter how much you pinch and roll the hardening bud between your fingers, when your hands are not his.

too soft, too textured.

too small, too big.

too everything.

you miss the brush of his hardened fingertips, and the callous ways in which he teases you. and his gravel-deep, chocolate-smooth voice, echoing soliloquies of filth. and his thinly-dipped hips, flowing with yours in a demonstration of true poetry in motion.

suddenly, your ire grows tenfold.

because damn him for being miles away, partying in a city you’ve never been.

and damn his friends for suggesting the “boys” trip.

and damn him even more for agreeing to go and leaving you all alone.

it works in your favour, this ire, stealing away a pinch of the guilt from not waiting on him and replacing it with a heavy dose of vengeful craving.

you’d asked him to spend halloween with you house-sitting your childhood home, he made plans with his friends instead.

he’d asked you to let him see the first time you cum tonight, you’re making plans with your mirror instead.

opening your bedside drawer, you blindly reach in and find what you’re looking for: a pretty, soft, purple rabbit. it’s fully charged, in preparation for the night your boyfriend had promised you.

a night he’s now thirty six minutes and four texts late to.

you shimmy yourself further down the bed, till your feet dangle off the edge and the reflected version of you is positioned at just the right angle to witness the gathering wetness between your thighs, dampening the overpriced panties.

spreading your legs a little wider, you press the bunny to life.

in pulsing rhythms, it vibrates in your grasp, teasing the pleasure it aims to deliver as soon as you place it against your core.

instead, you switch it off.

decide you’re not ready yet.

he wouldn’t be ready yet.

a teaser, he’s a man who takes pleasure in watching you squirm, plead, beg for something, anything.

the mere memory of your boyfriend is enough to have your hips rolling up against the air, nothing but the squeeze of the fabric against your cunt to soothe the burn. a finger, middle- always the middle-, slips past your lips.

welcoming it, you feel it growing wetter at your touch, swirling your tongue around it.

your eyes fall shut. you try to picture him and his pretty-boy grin, remember just the way he likes it.

get daddy’s fingers nice and wet, pretty girl.

that’s what he’d say, because that’s what you are.

his pretty girl.

the prettiest girl.

pathetic and for your ears only, a whimper falls as you pluck your hand from your mouth. skipping over the part where he tortures you with feather-like brushes of his hands down your body, blunt ends of his nails scratching up goosebumps and leaving behind thing trails of red markings, you instead shoot directly for your core.

in the mirror, your legs inch a little wider and your teeth latch onto your bottom lip as the contrasting chill of your hand cups over the burning heat of your cunt. the scratch of red lace between your skin grows your arousal by tenfold, the cooling wet of your saliva slickened finger pressing the soaked fabric against your dripping seam.

you push a little more, hooking the tip of your finger at your entrance and squirm as the lace pinches tighter at your hips, digging marks into your skin that you’ll later compare to the one’s he so often leaves.

in the orange hue of your room, you let your mind trail off once more as you shift to sit up, knees pressing into the mattress, legs bent backwards and both feet tucked under the swell of your ass.

the image in the mirror is pure pornography: your hair still damp from an earlier shower, red lace covering pretty skin, nipples poking out against the fabric of your bra, your manicured nails resting at the apex of your thighs, teasing their way over soaked panties.

you look hot.

fuckable.

eyes slipping shut briefly, the image of him conjures behind you. his broad chest pressed against your back, his large hands roaming over your waist, his soft lips pressing indecencies into your neck.

as quickly as it appears, it disapeears, and your eyes reopen to the reality of your lonely bedroom and your lonely bed, no one upon it but you.

and the purple toy.

it’s in your grasp in a count of three seconds- no less- and buzzing to life with the delicate press of a button.

in the mirror, your thighs clench.

loneliness leads to anger leads to action, readjusting your legs a little wider and guiding the pulsating toy over your lower stomach and inching it’s way down, down, down under the hem of the expensive thong.

a fire stroked to life, the heat that comes along in the initial seconds of pleasure has your spine shooting up straight, knees digging further into the springs of the mattress as your clit welcomes the new feeling pulsing against it.

watching as your reflection cants her hips up, chasing after the waves delivered by the toy, you set to find a rhythm in all your blues.

you push aside the fact this should be your boyfriend’s mouth on your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and fingers burrowing in between your clenching walls, and not some rubber toy.

you ignore the inherent shyness and discomfort that comes with watching yourself in this position, making eye-contact in the mirror as you fantasise about another pair of hands.

you lay to rest the stress that no contact from your boyfriend brings you, a sting of tears threatning you if you let your mind wander too far into the attrocities of life, the attrocities riddling your college campus over the past few months.

a senior, stabbed to death in his dorm.

a freshman, found discarded at the side of the road.

your friend, wide-eyed and lifeless, slumped against your bed in your dormroom-

no.

you press at the toy again, it’s pulses grow more intense, more rapid, full throttle on your pleasure till it clouds you in that heady scent of sex and drowns you in the need for release.

just as you grow closer by the minute, the sweetest little whines making their way past your bitten lips, your ringtones blairs.

loud, and clear.

it’s murder on the dancefloor, familiar lyrics echo in the small room, screen lighting up behind you. you’d better not kill the groove, dj gonna burn this goddamn house-

you don’t look, just grab blindly at where you’d left it, tossed aside and forgotten in your frustration.

hit accept, press the phone to your ear and wait.

to hear his apology, his excuses, his ways to make it up to you.

but there’s only breathing.

heavy breathing.

it reminds you of your own, thighs still shaking and the toy still faintly brushing over your slick coated clit.

“took you long enough,” you’re the first to break the ice, praying you don’t sound as shaky as you feel.

a huh rings down the line, grainy. poor signal.

he must still be out, you figure.

“i thought you’d never call,” you’re pouty, purposeful in you approach to teasing him before you deliver a killing-blow to his ego: you’ve started without him. “and i was getting so lonely.”

for effect, you press on the button again, listen as the toy gets louder as it vibrates more intensely, waves rippling your skin even as you pry it back from your clit, enjoying it’s pleasure only in the way it moves against your panties.

you wonder if he hears it too.

you want him to hear.

there’s a sharp inhale, spanning a handful of seconds and leaving you with the imagery of his head falling back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

it says nothing, yet everything.

he’s frustrated.

he’s chastising.

he’s turned on.

“why’d you make me wait, daddy?” you say it and hope it hits a nerve. hope he’s squirming in his seat, surrounded by his friends and praying not a single one notices the tent being pitched in his pants. “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

you give an experimental roll of your hips, feeling the buzzing toy nudge against you once more, coaxing back to life the orgasm you’d let down.

a dramatised gasp leaves your mouth, aiming for him to take notice of it and just think about what you’re doing to yourself.

“no,” he finally talks and you hate how quickly your anger is to melt away, one foul swoop of his smooth voice and you melt into a puddle, waiting to be splashed around by him. “wasn’t nice of me at all, was it?”

the toy between your legs continues to hum away, coaxing you to try another roll, dip your hips down onto it.

a moan- admitedly, a bit exagerated- fills the room.

there’s no doubt he heard it.

“you sound a bit weird, baby,” in the mirror, you watch yourself tilt your head to the side, pressing the phone between your ear and your shoulder. it frees up your other hand to roam freely over your breasts, rolling one of your nipples through the lace. “is the connection bad?”

he doesn’t answer.

down the line, you pick up on more heavy breathing.

it makes you long harder for him, visualising him there, pressed up against you, heavy breathing in your ear as the tension builds between you, culminating in the buckling of your knees and the grabbing of your ass, propping you up at his desired height to pile-drive his cock into you.

in a desperate appeal for his attention, you dip the vibrator lower, pressing it’s nub against your opening, squealing at the foreign intrusion.

“d’you hear that, daddy? my pussy’s all wet,” a filthy squelch rings true as you replace the toy with your finger, squeezing it’s way into your hole. “she’s all tight with no one to stretch her out.”

the possibility that you’re setting feminism back by several centuries crosses your mind, but it’s quickly pushed aside for images of your boyfriend forcing you onto all-fours and taking you from behind, pulling at your hair to force you to stare straight ahead at the very same mirror that used to display you playing dress-up as a little girl, now displaying the way you’re sweaty and defiled.

“now, that’s just not true, pumpkin,” his voice tuts down the phone, and the disapproving tone is enough to have you slipping a second finger into your cunt. “and no one likes a liar.”

if you weren’t knuckles deep in yourself, fingers scissoring you open as you give the occasional brush of the buzzing toy over your clit, maybe you’d know what he was talking about.

instead, all you can muster is a breathless what.

“c’mon, pretty, i’ve seen that video of you taking it like a champ. stretched that slutty pussy out on all ten of those bright pink inches.”

oh.

truth be told, you wondered if he’d even seen that video you’d sent him, all shy and bashful, wanting to show off the new toy you’d gotten yourself. he’d merely reacted with a heart- and then never once brought it up, ever again.

“are you going to keep me waiting?”

you should say yes.

tell him it’s his punishment, for ignoring your texts, and partying too late, and not being beside you on the bed.

but you’re a sucker for him, caving in at his rougher than usual tone.

scurrying off your mattress, you press the phone closer to your ear and listen to the rustling of fabric on his end.

a zipper is undone.

it’s followed by a sigh of relief, one that has you picturing him freeing his cock from the confines of his too-tight jeans.

“chop, chop, pretty! i’m losing my patie-”

“i found it!” you exclaim, louder than you should.

but who cares, when you’ve got your hand wrapped around the bright pink dildo, pride flushing over your face.

“so you can fetch,” he mutters it. it’s hard to hear him, really, but you don’t want to complain. don’t want to risk him hanging up and leaving you high and dry- well, high and wet. “good to know you’re good for something.”

it’s addictive, his passiveness, coaxing you to squeeze your thighs together.

your panties are sticky with your own residue, your nipples are hard within their circumferential coffins, your fingers are soaked as they grip the pulsing toy.

you’ve still not turned it off.

“now, sit yourself down in front of that mirror and show daddy how you ride it.”

you’re across the room in a matter of seconds, slipping down so easily onto your knees, right in front of the floor-length mirror. pressing the dildo down on the ground, you listen as the suction cup sticks it in place, standing bright, and pink, and tall.

“i’m-” the call drops before you can finish your sentence.

you’re left in silence, once more, humming down the line.

it doesn’t last, phone screen lighting up once more.

only, this time, it’s a face-time call.

you waste no time on patience, blindly hitting accept and admiring the way you come in to view, back camera on and pointed directly at the your reflection.

you’re on display, down on your knees and awaiting his next command.

tearing your ego away from the small square you occupy on the screen you audibly whine at the view from his camera.

lowlights, casting shadows around him.

his head is out of frame, camera angled down onto his body.

his clothing is all black- his jeans, his t-shirt, the ring that sits round his index finger-, the only splash of colour coming from his tanned hand, curled around the base of his cock.

tugged out of his jeans, it’s red at the tip and leaking precum.

this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him this way, obviously, yet something is different.

something you like.

something that has your mouth watering and your tastebuds begging to taste the tangy, salty drip of his seed smeared all over them.

“well? get on with it, pretty girl,” tonight, he’s arrogant. demanding. “don’t quit while you’re ahead.”

staring forward, you make eye contact with yourself as you gather up the saliva in your mouth and let it drip down on to the plastic tip sitting in front of you. your free hand’s quick to wrap itself around the toy, soaking itself in your spit and working it’s way down the toy’s shaft, slickening the silicone.

on the screen, his own hand imitates yours, giving himself a slow stroke. it’s accompanied with a pleased hum.

“fucking look at you, a goddamn natural at touching cock,” his praise warms your heart and speeds up your hand, another glob of spit falling down onto the dildo, getting it prepped to nestle it between your thighs. “it’s what slut’s like you live for, ain’t it? taking it from anyone who’ll give it.”

god, you want to say no. you really do.

but you’re hardly in a position to argue your case, soaked panties and heaving chest, willing to do just about anything he asks of you.

“don’t be shy, c’mon, let me see how good that little pussy of yours is.”

inching yourself closer, knees dragging on the floor below, you grind against the pink toy, eyes rolling back as it brushes between your panty-clad folds, nudging at your clit.

“move them to the side,” miles away, and resigned to merely your cellphone, he puppets you, invisible strings tethered between his voice and your hands, willing and ready to move anyway he commands them too. “wanna watch you take it.”

you do as he says. hook your fingers into the red lace, slide it to one side and ignore the way it digs and scratches into your skin, bunched up tight against it.

first, you make sure you're in view, hand as steady as it can be and pointed straight ahead at the mirror.

then, you let yourself sink down.

take just the tip, feel it prod at your entrance and stretch you open, a greedy cunny willing to fit anything and everything to get the sweet release of friction.

you suck a breath in through your teeth, let it out through your nose.

in earnest, you’d forgotten the sheer girth of the toy and, eyeing your reflection and witnessing the offensively pink silicone cock beneath you fills you with a trickle of regret.

the plan this evening was just to use your vibrator and trusty fingers, not stretch yourself open beyond sense.

then again, the plan this evening had been for him to call you nearly three quarters of an hour earlier, blushy cheeked and wide-eyed, smiling down at you through his camera.

“pft, that’s pathetic,” he scoffs from within your phone screen, hand no longer working over his length. it rests, instead, beneath his balls, toying with the skin and rolling the heft of them over his veined hands. “you’re pathetic. ‘s that all you’re gonna take, huh?”

you take it like a challenge, just like he knew you would.

smoothing your free hand over your thigh, you feel the rigid muscles beneath and will them to relax, let go, give in to need to be full. moments later, you watch in the mirror as you sink further down on the toy.

it’s hard to recognise yourself this way and it sparks questions of if this is how he sees you, all dressed up and messed up, lips swollen at the hands of your own teeth, lashes damp with your own tears.

you really are the prettiest girl.

“tick-tock, time’s moving. keep going.”

as you sink down on the rest of the toy, heart in your throat as all your nerves spark ablaze, your eyes are on him, watching in grainy picture as he delicately runs his finger up the underside of his cock. he traces a vein and it has him jolting, a whimpered laugh quietly playing through your speakers.

“that’s it, knew you could do it for me,” it really is all for him, his praise merely a consequence of your compliance. “good to know you’re not a complete brain-dead idiot.”

the heat of your childhood bedroom is stiffling, choking you on it’s syrupy air, the heady stench of lust dancing up to your nostrils.

you wonder if his surroundings are the same: clammy, sex-smelling, erotic.

"tell me how it feels," he demands.

"full," is all you manage, head slumping forward and granting you the view from above of your puffy lips, squeezing around the toy’s base.

“for a slut like you? that’s nothing.”

he’s tempting you, cock on full display on your phone-screen.

it has you salivating, walls clenching around the pink silicone.

you’ve never wanted him so bad, needed him so bad.

in your hand, in your mouth, in you.

cock-hungry and touchstarved, you whine his name and beg for something you’ve yet to even understand.

all that you know is you need him, all of him, and you need him to feel the same.

“what’re you waiting for, an invitation?” oh, he growls, voice scratching on his ire and desperation. it’s spine-tingling. “start fucking the toy, princess.”

the first thrust is the deepest.

lifting yourself right off the toy, feeling the over-exaggerated tip of it resting between your folds, you sink back down with a single slam of your hips, hand jutting forward to grab at the mirror.

fingerprints on the glass, you try not to think about how you’ll have to clean it later.

“‘s that all you got?” he’s mean tonight, you think, his praise far more scarce than you’re used to. usually, you take an inch and he’s ready to throw you a parade. you like this side, though, like the fight for approval. “i’ve seen nuns take it faster than that.”

it’s hypochondria.

it’s a simile.

it’s symbolism.

it’s a lie.

but you let it get to you, let it fester down into your loins and build itself a nest within, infecting your bloodstream with it’s elusive possibilities.

you come down on the toy again, and follow it up with another quick lift of your hips, your own slick leaving it’s shiny residue on the dildo as you watch it slide out of you.

when you glance at the screen, you can see he’s started stroking his cock, shameless and unfiltered moans and whimpers coming from somewhere off screen.

usually, he’s a groaner, a grunter, snuffing out his little noises with presses of his lips to your skin, and teeth piercing into flesh.

this is another welcomed change.

matching the rhythm of his wrist, you begin to ride the plastic cock in earnest, letting yourself get lost in the fantasies of him beneath you, hands pawing at your waist and fingernails indenting your delicate skin.

his filth riddled rambles continue on, lyrics to the symphony of music created as you play yourselves like instruments, plucking the right string and stroking the right chord to make your music play.

“that’s it, pretty, fill that greedy pussy up.”

his hand speeds up.

your wrists chase to catch up.

“dirty slut, answering calls while she’s touching herself.”

up, and down.

and up, and down.

you’re fighting the muscle cramp in your thigh, and willing yourself to get rid of that hyper-aware conscious of yours, surrender yourself to ebb and flow of electric currents taking hold of your senses.

“just desperate for anyone to see you like this, aren’t you?”

you’re not even aware of your own head nodding, or the chants of yes, yes, yes that you’re giving.

you’re just living for the drag of the toy, in and out, filling you to the brim.

the reflection paints a portrait, an artwork for any eyes who dare witness. messy hair, running mascara, smeared lipstick. panties pushed aside, cunt on display, tits bouncing in lace confines each time your hips fall back down.

you watch as this sex-goddess version of you reaches out her hand, grasping fingers at the rabbit and bringing a burst of purple to the space between your thighs.

there’s no care to fix the setting, just a squeeze of a button and away you go, vibrator pressed to your clit as you fuck yourself on the toy again, and again, and again.

he hums in approval, calls you his smart slut, and you keen at his words, eyes glazing over with tears.

it’s all becoming too much.

too overwhelming.

you’re ready to crash and burn, open the floodgates to hell and throw yourself into the lakes of pleasure.

“hmm, pretty girl, y’know red really is your colour,” he’s embarrassingly more composed than you are. not a shake in his breath, not a stutter to his words. just the occasional moan, and the visible tightening of his fingers around his cock. “i’d love to see you dripping in it.”

everything comes crashing inwards. the length of the toy, ramming into you each time your hips crash down on it; the buzz of the vibrator, rippling your skin and stealing your sense; the erotic display of him, legs spread wide as he fucks up into his hand, tiny flecks of precum staining his skin. it’s all too much stimuli, sending you full throttle of the edge of reality.

you cum with a gasp, a cry, a shiver down your spine and a bust of warmth between your legs. like raging waters, the feeling flows, and crashes, and stains everything in it’s soaking madness.

it’s on your thighs, on the floor, even on the mirror, visual evidence of a climax you never knew was possible for yourself.

“fuck, fuck!” he’s still going, more desperate than ever, the repeated schlick-schlick of his hand taking over the beating of your heart. “d’you just squirt, huh? filthy, filthy pussy, got herself and all her belongings wet. go on, don’t be shy, lick your mirror clean-”

your phone buzzes.

it’s a fight through the orgasmic haze to read the screen.

yunho <3 - sorry babe, the guys keep buying rounds

yunho <3 - promise i’ll phone you as soon as i can

it takes reading it twice more to really read it.

process it.

understand it.

your heart drops to your stomach.

your lungs swell till they threaten to burst out your ribs.

your legs scramble off the toy, head shaking frantically.

no, no, no.

“what’s wrong, pumpkin?” god, you feel sick.

that’s not your boyfriend’s voice.

you watch the phone, paralysed in your own fear.

there he appears, in all his masked glory, haunting you straight out of your nightmares.

that very same mask, months ago, stood in your room watching over you, a blood soaked knife in his hand and your dead roommate at his feet.

“c’mon, silly girl, don’t tell me you didn’t know,” his words fill your throat with bile. because he’s right, how did you not know? “no, mister ghostface, i just thought my boyfriend’s cock got fatter! pathetic.”

oh god, oh god. yunho, you picture him now, sat among his seven friends, joking over alcohol infused delusions and awaiting his return to his hotel room, to call you and give you the night he’d promised you.

meanwhile, you’re naked, and afraid, and still reeling from the orgasm you’d let this crazed murderer prey witness to.

to make matters worse, you hate the way you’re not as scared as you should be.

or, really, that you’re as turned on as you are put off by the idea of this cruel torturer.

visions of riding that hollow-cheeked mask are fleeting, but vivid enough to have your eyes welling in shameful tears and your legs jumping in remorseful delight.

“you still want it, don’t you?” you should be looking away, hanging up, calling the police. not staring, wide-eyed and unblinking, as the man- the monster on your screen slaps the head of his hard cock against a toned stomach. and you definitely shouldn’t imagine him slapping the head of his cock against your asshole, teasing you with the fear of being defiled only to plunge deep into your cunt in one foul swoop. “yeah, you do. can see you rubbing your thighs together just at the sight of it. bet you’d like to know how’d it feel to be fucked nice and full of me while my knife’s pressed to your throat. just edging you between your orgasm and your deat-”

you hang up.

sit back.

count to ten.

ten.

nine.

eight.

seven.

your ringtone blares again.

unknown caller.

you hit ignore.

restart counting.

make it to four this time.

it calls again.

ignore.

you phone buzzes.

the notification reads unknown - 1 message.

messenger opens.

a picture.

of your house, taken from across the street. it’s dark, only the light of your bedroom and, within it, the blurred image of you. earlier, fresh out the shower wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

you phone buzzes, once more, and a text appears just beneath the image.

unknown- close ur courtains, u never know who’s watching.

you take a deep breath, stare out your window.

type out a reply.

curtains*

and block the number.

#ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung x reader

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