#( i just barfed this up don't look at me )
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sometimes recall that Scenario of like "oh a stranger draws another stranger sharing a space with them & without their knowing & Drawn Stranger is like how flattering that you did that & i love your Beautiful Artistic Interpretation of me" which i hate so i was like what's the opposite of that. & i'm pretty sure i'm averse to like every aspect of it & the opposite is about strangers sharing space with consideration for that & like oh no its sickos using headphones, on they phones, reading. if direct verbal interactions happen (or eye contact, or nonverbal cues) it doesn't have to Transcend shit or be an inherent improvement over not interacting. but also the best opposite is like oh sorry i looked over your shoulder kind of or just indeed spontaneously glimpsed what you were drawing but i like your jellicle cats haunted house episode fanart. or i have a question about some technique or materials i see you using b/c i'd be interested in having that knowledge for myself & if this is a meetanything that's fine i guess but can be a limited as what it is strangers interaction for a minute which is no worse
#obviously also a scenario like on billions like oh amazing of you to have drawn me without my knowledge while i slept; Artist Bf#while i also happened to have my makeup on as always & be posed with such Aesthetic Worth(tm) b/c i'm so Above anything else#that even while unconscious i could not possibly look inelegant. & i will cherish this drawing. like both of you die challenge#also hilarious to throw back to the misogyny logic Primarily about like oh men have their Pure minds & souls vs their base bodies right#women's minds & souls being Lesser means they're considered the horney ones who ruin men's cerebral transcendence w/their sicko seduction#(which is them existing btw) like not at all like that Bitches Ruining My Life no nut november logic has gone away obviously lol#god wendy my special genius omniscient Art Boy was making such true worthy Abstract Paintings....real art#and then ohh wendy Ruins it with her wiles making him Draw From Life his Woman Portraits of Romance. thanks a lot#and then that art man's Spontaneous Expression Of Genuine Emotion arrrgh i Destroy the Canvases i pour Black Paint over it#is once more Real; Valuable Art. i hate billions lmfao like can we have been serious about anything for 5 seconds???#throw back to how Obviously Inferior people are if they'd like to frame a production cel from a scifi movie they like#and don't know what kinds of Fine(tm) Art(tm) they like. but mafee; worthiest of the three! you took an art history class!!#and there's winston indeed wearing headphones & wooing his crush with like. treating them like a person as he does anyway. eugh imagine#billions Could imagine like yeah if Winston did this like i drew you just now? look i painted you from memory? like ew barf you sicko#winston billions#not actually About Billions primarily but sure brought it up enough in the tags
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love how all the men who have ever played whizzer have their own version of annoying fag voice
#stephens straight but idc hes an honorary fag to me. masc king#he's got like a nerdy flair about his it's great it's very classic#andrews is silly it reminds me of my grandma a little bit it's great. love you midwest girl#nick a hes like. Well he's like la millennial fag. is the masc in the room with us type voice#i don't know man just look him up youll understand#garfs barfs
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐆 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.
𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤 : it’s not spoken anywhere in regards to rex’s canon upon how he had recieved the mandalorian’s jaig eyes. so here is both my prediction and headcanon on how he had earned them. so i will discuss the official star wars definition of the jaig eyes and who exactly has the authority to bestow it. fun fact before i scuba dive into this, i got inpsired to write this becuase like in real life hindu symbols, they are often taken, missused, abused, and misunderstood. i wanted to recognize and emphasize that rex uses a symbol from a culture not his own and thus carries the meaning with a educated - based pride with it
𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : a simplification of jai’galaar’la sur’haii’se, translating as “shriek - hawk eyes” in Mando’a, and more commonly reffered to simply as jaig - were a Mandalorian sigil bestwoed by clan leaders as a mark of honor, awarded for particular acfts of bravery.
𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤 : rex was a FIRST generation clone soldier, therefore must have been trained b mandalorian warriors that volunteered in the kaminoan / republic project of engineering a cloned army ⎯ at least those that might have been around at the time. despite on how many i see others’ view on rex, he is a little more older than we usually think. as per the first 2D animated clone wars show, captain fordo was technically the first clone soldier on screen to bear the sigil. next was captain rex who in fact is a different character but was literally based off of fordo ( i’m taking this from an interview with dave filoni himself i currently don't have a link ) initially wanted alpha / fordo but didn’t want the ‘A’ alliteration with anakin and ahsoka, so he created rex.
rex is not just . . . brave. he's far more stoic, firm, and speaks with conviction. he's not some happy go lucky guy who loves his bros. his brothers just like him are a tool, and this is CRITICAL to understand the reason how he was able to earn this sigil. this is never to say he can't empathize, but why should he if that would just bring more emotion and drama? this is war, and he and his men alike all clones understand this resolve. emotions are a luxury and it's not something worth fighting for. this allows him to committ actions, such as saving ahsoka by killing his own men after his chip removal. ahsoka was the one to order rex to only stun them, she didn't want to kill them, rex wouldn't give a damn at this point in their situation.
𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙮 : rex was taken separately from his squad by astute observation done upon him for his military tactics and leadership and put into a rigourous trainging group with captain fordo into becoming realiable leaders within the army. rex’s first official battle in the books after his commander training by mandalorian warriors was the first battle of geonosis. yoda blazed into the arena where general obi wan kenobi, anakin skywalker, and senator amidala were marking the severity of the separists crists against the republic and vice versa on 22BBY. this was the first entry of the clone army, the captain hadn’t et earned his title until becoming spedicially involveed with senator amidala herself once anakin had embarked on the chase with kenobi to capture dooku for commmitting terrorism against the republic. it was rex that assisted her and secured her saftey until dooku had espcaped yoda, and thus marked the beginning of the clone wars. anakin selected rex to be his first in command of the 501st torrent company and was soon gifted the jaig eye sigil by his trainers back from kamino - high praise from the chosen one had demonstrated rex’s resolve and dedication based on the lenghts rex would go through in order to acheive the jedi’s orders and priorities.
𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 : he continues to bear the sigil. but the mearning as to whom it was meant to express as a whole changed once the execution order 66 was implemented. technically, clones are republic propert and he understands that if that was one of the man uses he and his brothers were meant for, it still held true. his dut was to the republic. however his allegiance changed back to the jedi after ahsoka removed his regulation chip after the seige of mandalore. his view upon the endowment is not so defined simply beause the change of his allegiance was not his choice. [ more on this later ]
𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : rex out of any of the many well trained commander clones it was rex anakin, the chosen one, selected ( from a clone wars novel i forgot but vidly remember ). anakin is paramount to rex’s character and is why he took importance in the clone wars show. i refuse to believe anakin wouldn’t pick just anyone, and thus saw something in rex that would fulfill anakin’s role as jedi. and later even became as close as brothers. which is another reason why i think the clone wars season 7, the partnership and dyad - like duoship between rex and ahsoka was atestament to that relationship with anakin. the two closest friends had to disconnect from the very conflict that brotught them all together ⎯ and ultimately their demise
rex will serve as a reminder to me that this man had been through it all what made anakin who he really was later. and he would never dare question the darkness in him, and that, is true bravery of a soldier.
#∦∦ ━━ •• 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 ( headcanon. )#( i just barfed this up don't look at me )#( i think its all dissapointing msterious and hella dope that we have never seen WHAT exactly had rex earn the eyes )#( but we've seen kanan on how he got them )#( HHRRGGG this keeps me up at night )#( this king this soldier this man this boi )#( rex is just a GREAT character and i feel like sometimes some things are overlooked :') )#( thanks for reading if you did! )#( I don't normally get too creative lmao )#( long post tw )
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im so cagey about my online artist persona and i have tried to avoid having any link between it and my irl life (with few exceptions). anyway should i sign my paintings with my alias or with my real name.........
#the thought of signing my real name makes me want to barf#but so does the potential of having to tell ppl oh yeah it's my pseudonym. don't look me up ok#i am just an ant i don't imagine i will achieve even a small amount of fame or renown for my paintings anytime soon (or ever)#but imagining participating in an art fair irl or having so socialize with other ppl wrt to my art and using my real name......#throws up#maybe i just need to come up with another pseudonym so i have one for drawings and one for painting#compartmentalizing even more seems like the right solution here :3c
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the blast that changed everything
sevika x female! reader
summary: your wife came home after being gone at work for more than a day with a limb missing and it was definitely an adjustment
a/n: i did do research for this fic about limb loss but if there's anything that i can do to improve this please don't hesitate to let me know!!
tags: loss of limb, angst to fluff, emetophobia tw, domestic moments, weed, making out, reassurance,
ao3 version
thank you for requesting anon!!!
when sevika had first told you that she was switching to work under silco, you were more than confused. but once she explained her reasoning and promised that she would be careful, you slowly got on board with her work. you knew that she wanted action instead of whatever "passive bullshit" that vander was negotiating with piltover, but you knew you couldn't talk her out of it even if you tried.
sevika got so many nasty looks whenever she was out in public for "betraying" vander, but a betrayal is a stab in the back, not the front, which is what sevika did when she left vander.
but working for silco meant going along with his scientist's experiments, which you were less than keen to learn about. sevika didn't tell you much because honestly, mainly because she didn't know much about it herself. she did tell you to never touch the substance, a shimmering purple substance would bring nothing but trouble.
so here you are, waiting on the couch for your wife to come home from work. you glanced up at the ticking clock in the living room, it was well past midnight, where was she? sure, she had late nights before, but she would always send someone to at least tell you that she was going to be late. you tried not to worry, but you felt a pit in your stomach that something just wasn't right.
your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a frantic knock on the door. bolting up and throwing the door open, you're met with a panting ran who takes a deep breath and rambles out something slightly incoherent, but you pick up the words "sevika" and "hurt". quickly throwing on a jacket and slipping on the nearest shoes you urge ran to bring you to her, the two of you tearing down the street until you go down a huge spiral staircase into a lab that had an open window view of the ocean.
frantically looking around, you raced to sevika's side as you saw her passed out on a crude surgical table and cupped her hand in yours, reassuring her that you were here even if she couldn't hear you.
then you saw her other arm.
it was charred as it she had stuck it directly into a fire, but it was glowing... blue? she had a scar running up from her shoulder to her cheek with blue cracks as if her skin were a glass that shattered. you had never seen an injury like this before. singed was working on her shoulder with a bone blade and you covered your mouth with her hand, there was no way that this arm was salvageable. you squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the crunching of her bone, she was losing her dominant hand and you had no idea how she would adjust to losing her primary arm. you felt nauseous and dizzy, quickly kneeling down by the nearest trash can and barfing your brains out. you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and took a shaky breath. you had to be strong for her, especially after she woke up. eventually, you fell asleep at her side and didn't wake until you felt movement near your head the next morning.
you quickly perked up and almost started crying when shew finally showed signs of life. sevika groggily looked around, clearly very disoriented until her eyes locked in on you. "baby? what happened?" she asked raspily, trying to shake the brain fog out of her head.
you gulped and took a deep breath, clutching her hand in yours, "after you pushed silco out of the way, the blast had some sort of blue technology in it, it wasn't a regular explosion. singed tried everything he could, but he had to amputate your arm up to you shoulder and there is some blue scarring going up your face that he couldn't explain to me how they got there."
sevika slowly nodded along and looked to her side at the stump that was now her arm. she seemed oddly calm, but sevika was never really one to let her emotions overtake her. by this point, you had tears streaming down your face and profusely apologizing as if you had been the one to set off the blast. she shook her head and placed her hand on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheekbone, "baby it's okay, i'm okay. it's just an arm, silco's probably commissioning a new one for me as we speak. it's gonna be alright."
you sniffed and covered her hand with yours, leaning into her palm, "i'm supposed to be the one comforting you dummy, you're the one who got hurt."
she snorted and shook her head, "as long as i have you, i know everything's going to be alright."
you wiped your tears away and kissed the inside of her hand, "okay okay you sap, I'll stop worrying. but you're not going back to work until you feel ready, capeesh?"
"caposh, now get up here and kiss me," she said with a grin. you basically lunged up to her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, throwing your arms around her neck as you smothered her in entire face in kisses. sevika was a little thrown off when she went to wrap her arms around you, but only one actually showed up.
this was definitely going to be an adjustment.
over the next few weeks, you had taken sevika to a decent physical therapist that you had found in zaun and worked with her to improve the handwriting in her right arm. her center of gravity was entirely off and she was unconsciously leaning to the right side when she walked, which she also had to work on in physical therapy as well as outside of it. she opens up to you after a while about how she swears that she can feel every finger in her left hand still, sometimes still reaching for things with a limb that is no longer there and mourning what she lost. she also asked you to cut off the left sleeve of her shirt to make it easier to dress herself, which you happily obliged as you had an excuse to practice your sewing.
when she started getting phantom limb pain, you started massaging the area and sitting down with her with a stand-up mirror so her mind gets tricked into thinking it still has all of the pathways in her body.
and smoking weed.
she joked that the doctor had basically given her a prescription to smoke weed, but that is kind of what happened. you would smoke with her and she loves it when you shotgun into her mouth, her brain releasing tension with the pain in her missing limb soon forgotten. it became a nightly ritual for the two of you to sit out on your bedroom balcony and smoke a shared blunt that usually ended up with you perched on her lap in a sloppy make-out session. life was slowly starting to feel normal again with her adjusted lifestyle. it took her a while to ask for help when she needed it, even from you, her close loved one. sevika was nothing if not resilient, but her patience usually wore thin when tasks started taking her twice the time it did before the accident. you were always there to lend a hand and reassure her that asking for help was nothing shameful, that you wanted to help her. it took her a while to accept, but when she did, her life drastically improved for the better.
during all of this, you were hounding silco's ass about her new prosthetic arm that he calmly said was still getting worked on. he would never admit it aloud, but he was a little scared of you.
when she came home one day with a new prosthetic arm attached to her shoulder, you looked at her in awe as your wife had the cheesiest grin on her face. she immediately wrapped you up in her arms and chuckled as she felt you shiver with her cold metal arm against your slightly exposed back. even though she had the new arm, she didn’t like wearing it around you since it was technically a weapon.
being able to write with her left hand again was. a huge relief for her, sure she made do with writing with her non-dominant hand, but this was different, it was almost like having her own arm back again.
plus, now she could write with both hands.
you were less than thrilled when she added a shimmer component to her arm, lecturing her on how it was hypocritical of her after she was so adamant about not using it when singed was first experimenting with it. however, silco kept sending her on harder missions and shimmer helped her do her best work, so you slowly came around, especially after seeing how feral the substance made her (especially in bed, shimmer strap who?)
eventually, things settled down and she was back at work with new additions to her arm every so often that she loved to show off to you. you admired them and asked about the new features, simply happy that she had new tools to keep her safe while she was out doing silco's dirty work.
it was all worth it for zaun to slowly take steps forward to becoming independent and governing themselves instead of the ever looming presence of piltover stopping them.
a/n: silco having workers comp??? maybe he's not so bad /j
taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds
#sevika#sevika arcane#arcane sevika#sevika x reader#sevika x female reader#sevika angst#sevika fluff#reader x sevika#sevika season 1#ao3#sevika fan fic
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pleaseeeee the honeymooners with lewis were soooo good 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 you wrote him beautifully 😩😩😩 write more for him please im begging you
Since you asked very nicely, I will oblige <333
Saviour
Summary: You were supposed to walk home when you ran into a group of men. When Lewis sees what they do to you he can't let it slip.
Warnings: Sexual assault, fluff, Lewis being a sweetheart (is that even a warning?!)
Word count: 3,4k
Now, where do I start?
I was on my way home from a friend's house late one night, it must have been past midnight, me and my friend had a lot to catch up on and time slipped through our fingers. The night was uncommonly calm for a Saturday night in Monaco. I was slightly drunk, me and my friend had a couple of glasses of wine earlier, but I was still able to find my way home, or so I thought.
As I slowly walk along the streets of Monte Carlo, running into a few tourists here and there, them being way more intoxicated than me, at least they acted like it, smashing bottles into the sidewalk and talking loudly, I come to a stop at a red light.
I look around, there's not a single soul in sight. The only thing I hear is the familiar clicking sound of the traffic light. The air was chilly, I certainly wasn't dressed for the night with my short dress and blazer.
I click my high heels as I wait for what feels like forever for the light to change. I look around, but there's not a car in sight, what the hell am I waiting for?
As the light changed to green, thank fuck; I was freezing, I start walking along a small street filled with small artisan ice cream shops, cafées, and vendors. This street was usually filled with people, drinking their sangrias, mingling, and laughing, but now, I was the only one walking along it.
I can almost see my apartment building when I hear a whistle behind me, making me freeze in my tracks. I slowly turn around, only to see three of the drunk men I'd run into before.
"Where do you think you're going, loca?" One of the Spaniards asks. "We don't bite, you know." Another one chips in.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'd really want to get home now." I try to argue but to no avail. The men walk behind me, catching up quicker than I can react. I would run, but my high heels won't let me, and the wine certainly doesn't help either. "Stop, we just want to talk to you!" The third man yells.
When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I turn to see the three men looking over me with hungry eyes. They're conversing in what I only can assume is Spanish. They smell like alcohol and tobacco, all of them standing almost slumped over on each other. I was sure I could outrun all of them if I wanted to, do I take the chance before this situation escalates? My body fails me, and I can't move an inch.
The grip on my shoulder tightens, and one of the men, the one in the middle, grasps my hand. "Don't worry, we will take care of you..." He whispers as the man to my left moves behind me, sandwiching me between him and the man holding my hand while the third man seems to keep watch for any witnesses to their actions. Their hands wander, and I'm ready to barf on them all. I'm revolted.
I go berserk when their hands land on my breasts. I scream, I kick, I do everything in my power to get out of their creeping hands.
"Shut up!" The men try to shush me and the one in front of me places his disgusting hand over my mouth with an annoyed expression on his face. "Naughty girl." He whispers. "And naughty girls deserve to be punished."
And with that; a blow to the side of my face, and I'm on the ground, gasping for air. The pain rapidly spreads to my head, and my hand flies up to protect it from any more damage. The iron taste in my mouth makes me cringe, and I look up at my assailants.
The men, chuckling and talking in their mother tongue, lean over me. "Come on, it wasn't that bad." One of them laughs, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto my knees.
I'm dizzy, and it feels like I'm going to be sick any second. Together, the men get me onto my feet. "Now, where were we?" One of the men whispers next to my ear, lips brushing against my neck. I feel disgust bubbling in my stomach.
"What do you say, she's got a nice ass huh?" The men discuss my body as if I'm not there. When I feel a slap on my buttock, I flinch, but I don't have the strength to fight their touches. I shut my eyes and disappeared somewhere else, somewhere far away. I feel one of them slipping his hand under my dress, but I'm frozen. I can't move, talk, or fight. I just let it happen. When the men pull my dress off, my hands fly up to cover myself.
"What the fuck is going on?!" I hear a distant voice yell, followed by barking.
Then, everything stops. No lingering touches, no whispers in my ear, nothing.
I couldn't believe it. I'm suddenly ten times lighter. Am I in heaven? I thought to myself.
"Hey hey, it's okay. You're safe." I heard someone say, it sounded like they were miles away, but I could feel their touch on your arm.
That voice. Surely I've ascended to heaven, but I didn't dare to have a peek.
"Are you okay, miss? Do you need an ambulance?" The voice asks.
I collapse on the hard stone pavement when I realise that the voice isn't one of the men. I felt the voice grabbing me violently as I was about to hit my head on the ground.
My head is slumped and my eyes are shut, still in that lovely place in my head that I adore so much. "Gosh, you're trembling!" The voice exclaims, and I feel something hot and heavy on my shoulders, something that feels like a coat.
"Please, talk to me." The voice asks of me while I feel his hands on my arms, rubbing them to keep me warm. The voice is soothing and angelic.
I feel myself coming back, my imaginary world slipping away from me no matter how hard I try to grasp it. When I feel someone licking my face, I'm abruptly thrown back into the real world. The owner of the tongue is small and certainly has a very large and wet tongue. The sensation makes me chuckle, I must say, and I dare to open my eyes just enough to see the bulldog in front of me.
"Okay, Roscoe, that's enough." The kind man says as he tries to hold the dog off my face.
"They..." I start, still in shock, sitting with my arms crossed in hopes of protecting myself.
"I saw what they did, you don't need to tell me." The stranger says.
I reach out for the dog, which happily accepts my scratches. When I look up, I see him sitting on his knees before me. Never in my life had I seen a man that gorgeous. I'm stuck in his eyes as he chuckles. "Can you stand up? You'll get sick sitting on the ground like this. Here is your dress if you want to put it on." The man reaches for the tossed dress and waits for me to grab it. He offers his hand to help me on my feet again.
I hesitated to accept his hand, but eventually, I reached for him and pulled myself up. My legs are wobbly and I almost fall over again, but the man holds me up with his strong arms. "Shhh, you okay?" He whispers.
"Y-yeah." You reply.
"I'm Lewis, and you are?" He offers me a handshake.
"I'm Y/N." I say as I grab his hand. His handshake was powerful, and his larger hand swallowed my hand.
"I-I'm sorry, for this." I quickly follow up.
Lewis stops in his tracks and locks his eyes with mine. "Y/N, none of this is your fault. You know that right?"
"I know but-"
"No... No but's."
I shut my mouth upon hearing that and Lewis looks down at me with warmth.
"Come here, I'll carry you." Lewis says as he picks me up and starts walking with Roscoe in close tow. His musky cologne made my heart flutter, and the sensation made me blush which he surely noticed. His arms felt like home, for lack of a better word, and his smile made my heart skip a beat.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"You'll see." Lewis quickly answers.
I lift my eyebrow, and he notices, followed by a sigh.
"Don't worry, we're going to my place. It's not far, I promise."
The thought of going to a stranger's place seemed stupid, but in my defence, I hit my head and blamed my lack of judgment on that.
As he carries me through the streets of Monaco, and we get to know each other, he smiles at me when we get to the topic of how we ended up in Monaco, of all places.
"Fate, really. I wasn't supposed to move here, but I was offered a job and took it without thinking it through." I explain.
Lewis is left silent and slows down as he processes my words.
"So... Now you're unhappy?" He asks.
"No. Not at all, I love it here, mostly anyway." I admit, and I give my head a rub, feeling a slight bump forming where I hit my head.
Lewis notices my change in mood, and stops. "You okay?" He asks, worry evident in his voice.
"Yeah, I think I hit my head harder than I first thought."
Lewis nods and speeds up his steps. "Let's get you something cold to put on that."
As we walk past one of the fancier apartment blocks, I audibly gasp at the cars parked outside. Lamborghini, Ferrari, Audi, Mercedes. "Why are we here?" I ask.
"Because this is where I live, Y/N."
What? This, is where he lived? I had so many questions. "Okay, Lewis, timeout! Let me down, please!" He does as I ask, the gentleman, despite his protests.
"Who are you?" I ask, expecting an honest answer.
"I'm Lewis Hamilton."
"Nice to meet you, Lewis Hamilton. Why do you bring me here?"
"This is where I live?" He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the universe.
"Okay... So, are you part of the mafia or something?" I chuckle, half joking.
Lewis lets out a laugh, and looks down at my smaller figure, "No, Y/N, I drive."
"Like taxis and stuff?" I ask, still not catching on.
Lewis blinks at me and continues. "No, I drive in Formula 1."
Now, I hadn't heard of his name before, but I definitely knew of Formula 1. Me and my family used to watch it when I was young. You know, the Schumacher vs Häkkinen era. I can feel my eyes becoming bigger and bigger as his words penetrate my mind.
"Formula 1?" I ask, needing confirmation.
"Formula 1." He nods.
"What the fuck, Lewis!" I can't help my heightened tone. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
Lewis's eyes are still glued on me; worry painted on his face, but still calm as a cucumber with his hand out in case I faint.
"Hello Florian, beautiful evening, is it not?" Lewis says to the doorman, as the man holds the door for us as we step inside the grand hall. I stop, just to take everything in, the marble floors, the handpainted paintings on the walls, and the huge crystal chandeliers.
"Come on, let's get you upstairs." Lewis says as he softly grabs my hand and leads me to the elevator. While we wait for it to come down, I bend down to scratch Roscoe, which he seems happy with as he leans into my touch. "He likes you." Lewis concludes and smiles at me as I look up at him. "He tends to be wary of strangers."
I hear a "ding" and the elevator doors open. Lewis leads me in with Roscoe following my footsteps, licking my bare leg as if he wants to comfort me.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Yes." I say, dragging out the "s". I smile at him to look more convincing, but in reality, it felt like I had been run over. I'm sure I looked a mess too, hence why he asked.
"Here we are." Lewis says and offers me his hand to take me to his entryway.
"I can walk just fine, you know that right?" I giggle.
"I don't take any risks." Lewis simply replies.
His keys clink as he pulls them out of his pocket and unlocks the door.
"Go ahead." He says as he ushers me into the hallway.
The smell of his apartment was expensive. I felt like I couldn't touch anything, as if I would contaminate the grandness of his space if I did. So I just stood there, like a proper fool.
"Please..." He chuckles. "Would you like something to drink? Perhaps some juice?"
I'm left in the hallway as Roscoe lazily walks in, and turns around to look at us. Lewis takes a few steps towards the kitchen and lends me his hand. "You're allowed to move, Y/N."
"I know, but..." I could feel myself blushing again. I felt so misplaced.
"Come on." He cheers me on, with a wide smile.
One step, two steps... My goal was his hand. After four steps, my hand landed in his, and he interlocked his fingers with mine.
I hadn't felt it before, surely because of the adrenaline, but now my body felt numb, and fatigue was quickly taking over.
When we make it out of the hallway, and into the main living room, that is connected to the kitchen, I can't help but gasp.
The room was spacious, and light. It seemed like the room was lit up even though it was in the middle of the night.
You weren't exactly surprised that a Formula 1 driver owned a penthouse, but in one of the fanciest districts in Monaco? This guy had to be really good.
"Lewis, which floor are we on?" I ask.
"We're on the top." He answers while he has his head in the fridge, looking for something for me to drink.
Sneaking forward on my tiptoes, I walk up to the huge window. "The view... Is phenomenal." I whisper to myself.
"Isn't it?" Lewis says, walking up from behind, with a glass of sparkling water in hand, making me smile and accepting the drink.
I take a sip and the water has a subtle taste of lemon. Refreshing. Lewis seems to take notice of how much I enjoy my drink and offers a refill.
As we stood at the window, looking over the Mediterranean sea, my eyes landed on something to our left. "Don't tell me you have a pool too?" I ask, feeling overwhelmed by how luxuriously this man lived.
"Of course." Lewis admits as he opens the doors to his terrace. "Come." He walks out, and the crisp air hits my skin as I walk out with him. I felt the cold cement against my sole when we walked further out towards the railing. There was a slight wind up here, but it wasn't chilly enough to make me cold, not with Lewis next to me.
As we are admiring the view, Roscoe walks out too, letting out a bark, demanding attention. Not from Lewis, but from me.
"Roscoe really likes you." Lewis says, rather flabbergasted, as he walks off. I follow his movements at the same time as I cuddle with Roscoe. His footsteps stop at the edge of the pool, and he turns around to face me, giving me a mischievous look, and jumps in with a loud "Woohoo!"
I slightly panic, thinking what the hell the man is up to, and Roscoe follows me to the edge, looking for him. The water was dark, and I couldn't see Lewis anywhere.
I bend over to see better and before I even get the chance to react, Lewis' hand is around mine, pulling me in with him. Roscoe is left at the edge, barking for us to come up to the surface again.
When I make it up above the water and gasp for air, Lewis laughs. "Sorry, I had to!" He says, holding his hands up in defeat.
I splash him with my hands, "I'm gonna kill you!" I giggle, before getting up. "You could've warned me, given me a chance to pull my dress off."
"There's no fun in that!" He says, him too climbing up.
We're both soaked and laughing at each other.
"How did we just meet? Feels like I've known you for longer than an hour." He asks.
His words silence me, not quite knowing what to answer. It was true, Lewis was fun, kind, and caring to me, and it felt like I had always known him.
"I-I don't know. Thank you, for saving me. I never thanked you."
"Don't worry about it, Y/N. Now, I'm sure you're tired..." He says as he walks up to me, grabbing my hand. "Would you like to spend the night?"
I was confused, what did his words mean, exactly? "What do you mean?"
"Oh... I didn't mean it like that. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take the sofa." He quickly chips in.
"Oh! Yeah, okay." I nod, sleeping over seemed like a good idea? Right?
"Let's get you something dry to wear, come on." Lewis says as he rubs your arms.
Your clothes are soaked and heavy when you walk up to his bedroom, and Lewis opens his walk in closet, inviting me inside too. "Tee and sweatpants? How does that sound to you?"
"Sounds perfect." I smile at him and look down when our gazes meet. When he hands over the outfit he put together, I look up at him, not sure of what to say. "Lewis... This is Gucci."
"Exactly." He says as he closes the closet doors, and that was the end of that discussion.
Lewis is left standing there, not quite sure of what to say or do next. "Would you like to take a shower, or?" He asks.
"I would like that." I admit, and with that, Lewis escorts me to his personal bathroom. "I-I'll leave you to it, feel free to come down if you need something."
I nod, and watch as Lewis leaves the bathroom and closes the door. The warm water hitting my body felt like heaven in contrast to the chilly water outside. I could really do with a warm hug right now, I think.
When I'm clean, thanks to his body scrubs and schampoos, I dress into his clothes, and hop into his bed. The sheets smell of him. I take an extra whiff before I get up again. As I walk down the stairs, I see Lewis lying on the sofa, cuddled up next to Roscoe.
"Lewis?" I whimper.
My call makes him instantly open his eyes and jump up from the sofa. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"Nothing, nothing... I just-" I start, not getting another word out before tears flood my eyes. "Oh, Y/N..." He whispers, and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. We stay like that for, I don't know, 5 minutes? Him just holding me as I sob my heart out.
When we part, Lewis leads me to the sofa to sit down. "Talk to me, Y/N."
I couldn't find the words. No matter how hard I tried.
"I..." I started. "I was thinking of how badly things could have gone if you didn't save me." I look at him with an appreciative look.
"I know, trust me, I know. But things went well, and I'm here now. You're safe." He whispers in my ear. I close my eyes as he pulls me in again, and I end up essentially lying on top of him on his sofa.
When I open my eyes, I'm confused about waking up in a bed instead of a sofa. And there was no Lewis either, or Roscoe, for that matter.
I walk down the stairs, and as the Monaco sun hits my eyes, I see Lewis in the kitchen, at the stove. "Good morning, Y/N. Sleep well?" He asks as he turns a vegan pancake in the pan.
"Morning." I say as I walk up to him, stretching my body. "Slept like a baby."
"Good. Breakfast?" He asks with a grin and a wink.
#fan fic#fic writing#f1 fic#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula one#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lh44#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton smut#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fic#f1 2024#f1 fandom#f1 imagine#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic
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JUST LIKE HER.
warnings: incest (father/daughter), James being disgusting, james comparing you and Mary 😭, non-con to dub-con, and getting turned on by yelling.
this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.
a/n : this lowkey sucks to me
Being with your dad wasn't so bad. He supports you, cares for you, lets you drive his car sometimes, and decided it was okay for you to live with him still. Unless you find a nice spot. But there's one thing.
He's really, really, really, really, a serious loser. I mean come on…he's kinda pathetic. Sad to say it but it's true, your dad isn't always the best of the best. He can be lazy and dumb. Sometimes really touchy with you as well….but that's for another time. Whenever he sees you, cleaning, cooking, or whatever that reminds him of Mary in the slightest.
He'd go insane and go on long stories about her, of course he never told you what really happened…you'd hate him with all your guts and heart. He even feels pathetic for mistaking you for her once.
“Dad, it's been years. I thought you'd let go of it now.” You sighed as you grabbed the tiny towel to dry off a dish.
“I know, sweetie but it's just-....you look like her sometimes and that makes me freak out..” He looked away from you, what kind of father does that? Gets excited over almost seeing his dead wife but in reality it's just his daughter.
Honestly, when did you get so big? When you were a kid, you looked a lot more like him. Exactly like your dad, people would mistake you for a boy sometimes.
He was staring at you, long and good…just looking. ‘Would she feel just like Mary?’ He let his thoughts take over. What the fuck.
He cringed internally and put his head in his hands. He can't. He knows he shouldn't…but fuck. He saw all the bits of Mary…Mary…and himself. Mostly his genes but you were a perfect mix. The tits and ass…god he just wanted to grab them and compare them but that'd already make him more of a loser than he is.
Being miserable and wanting to fuck his own daughter? Really trying to make himself look bad at this point. But what could be the harm? Only once. He hid Mary's death for a bit…He can hide this too.
“What are you doing?” Scoffing at him as he puts his hands on your hips, Trying to swat them away.
“You look like her, y’know..?” He said in the softest and sad voice he had.
Pathetic ass loser trying to seduce his daughter. Barf.
“Okay…and?...” You tried to turn your head to look at him. He stared at you with a certain look you've seen before. The look you saw customers give you at work. “Let's fuck” look. He tried slipping his cold hands underneath your sweater, making you flinch and push him away.
“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your brows furrow and look disgusted with him. You should be disgusted because he deserves it.
“Honey, I'm so sorry…I don't know what came over me….” He sighed. He knew exactly what came over him but sadly it didn't work.
So plan B. Fuck her while she's sleeping. Not his proudest moments but hey, he's had worse moments. So during the night, while you're all tucked in and fast asleep. He comes in like the boogeyman at night and boom.
He can't wait another minute, feeling up your tits and kissing you…Okay, so it doesn't really taste like her but it's sweeter and softer.
After minutes of kissing you and feeling up your tits, you get up and slap him quickly “God, what the fuck is wrong with you? I can't even sleep anymore? Fuck…you're so gross, I can't believe mom delt with you.” You basically yelled at him and wow, that's what got him hard.
Whiskey Dick the whole time he was touching you but the yelling is what got him turned on. Fucking freak.
You couldn't do much, he's stronger and older, you had to give in and just let it happen. He has a big dick though…a real nice pale, veiny, pink tip dick. Pushing it deeper and deeper into you as he let go of strained groans.
“I'm sorry…. I'm- fuck I'm sorry baby but…I couldn't stop…” He breathed out into your neck, he got red pretty easily. his pretty neck is all red and his dick of course just absolutely throbbing against your soft walls. Making you cry out in pleasure and pain.
“Dad!...Oh God…ahah…please rub my clit…” you whined to him and he instantly listened. It's so cute. the perfect pussy, chubby, tight, and wet. After what seemed like hours, he finally came all in you. His jaw clenching, eyes closed, and hands stuck to your hips while he tried so hard to not moan ‘Mary’. No condom or anything. He wasn't capable of waiting for something like that. He felt guilty. Looking at your tired and exhausted expression.
“Baby…My baby…I'm so sorry for that..” He sighed out, leaning his head down to your shoulder and letting it rest there as you just patted his back. “S’okay, dad…” you slurred out, cock drunk.
At least he got some pussy finally.
#james sunderland smut#james sunderland x reader#james sunderland#silent hill 2 remake#silent hill#silent hill 2#dad!james sunderland#tw.incest
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Something Stupid
pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
summary: and then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like...."I love you."
content: absolute teeth rotting fluff. pining for each other but wandas is much more intense? tiniest bit of blackhill if you squint.
a/n: had this idea for a while, and I actually kinda like it??? idk. first time for everything. reader is referred to as "sweets" like twice just because I love the nickname. it's what my boyfriend calls me. anyway. love yall!!
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Wanda Maximoff loves you.
She’s known that for years.
She’s known it since she first became an avenger and felt a strange urge to gain your forgiveness over everyone else's after what her and her late-brother Pietro did during the battle against Ultron.
She knew it when you became her best friend, teaching her how to control her magic and really just how to enjoy life.
She knew it when she had to watch as you got ready for dates with people that would never live up to your standards. Not she thought she would live up to your standards- no, she knew she couldn't- but she did know she treat you better then any of those no good pigs who are just looking for a fuck buddy ever good. The witch wouldn’t go up against your suitors though, just standing on the sidelines as her heart slowly breaks faster and faster the more you don’t see her in the same light you do them.
Little she did she know, she was the only one you truly wanted.
So finally, Wanda worked up the courage to ask you out so she no longer had to cry into her pillow while you were out sucking face with someone else.
Surprisingly, you agreed easily. The only thing you had to say was that she had to promise it wouldn’t change anything between you guys for the worse. If it didn’t work, you guys couldn’t become like Natasha and Maria. (those girls can’t be in the same room as each other for more than 2 seconds without making a backhanded comment about their four week long situationship)
The Maximoff girl agreed, eagerly setting up a dinner date.
It had quickly gone wrong.
The reservation was somehow not in the book despite the fact that Wanda called the fancy dinner place with insane prices about six times in the hour-long drive there. So you told her it was fine, that you’d be happy with some food from the delicious Thai place down the road as long as you were with her. But they were out of your favorite and Wanda ate so much that she felt ready to barf as you guys walked out of the restaurant- that was before she actually did barf in the parking lot.
Finally, you guys headed to a bar near the Avengers tower for a quick nightcap, but that quickly turned into you both downing two drinks each before stumbling onto the dance floor.
A sweet looking old man who’s been reading a comic book in the corner sees you two and decides to put his own change in the jukebox and press play on a slow, but peaceful song. He sends you guys a smile, winking Wanda's way before he continues to read about some cool looking superheroes.
Wanda’s hands fall to your waist, gently gripping them as you both sway. Your head falls to lay on her shoulder, arms wrapped around the back of her neck as the music fills your ears. Her breath is on the back of your neck, warm, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of her lips as she places a gentle kiss in that same spot.
Then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like, “I love you, sweets.”
You roll your eyes, thinking back to how many times people have told you that during first dates just to get in your pants. Though you will admit that when you hear Wanda say it, it brings a small, warm, fluttering feeling to your chest, and you manage to let out a small giggle before you say, “No you don't. You don’t love me Wanda. You like me. There’s a difference.”
She fights the urge to tell you that she knows there is a difference between love and like. She knows that because she’s felt both those ways towards you. Why can’t you just understand that so she doesn’t have to find a way to put it into words?
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After a few days of her saying the same thing and you never believing her, the witch realizes she has to put it in words. Nothing else is capable of explaining how she feels about you. How she’s felt for so long.
So she recruits Natasha and Clint for help, and they spend the day working on some speeches. By 2pm, she has this;
“Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you’re the only ten-I-see.” - A line from Natasha which she used on Maria who was passing by at that moment just to prove to Wanda it works. (Natasha left and was found leaving the agents room an hour later. Apparently that’s back on)
“I love you.” - Clint Barton, the stupidest man on earth. There is a reason people call him bird brain. They were there because the three words are not enough to describe what she feels towards you. Did he even read what was on the brunch invitation? It clearly stated; “fixing Wanda's love life; no I love you’s, no magic town in which she controls so she can make Sweets fall in love with her against their will.”
“Hey, do you have wifi? Cuz I’m really feeling a connection.” - Natasha. She once again used it on Maria and was gone for another two hours. Can someone please address this?
“Start listing facts about the baby turtles you saved. Always gets the ladies.” - from Tony, who was walking by the living room and decided now was the best time to interrupt. He has never once gotten close enough to endangered animals to be able to ‘save’ them, but we can pretend if he wants too.
“Are you a beaver? Cuz dam.” - Natasha. (someone needs to restrain Maria from jumping the redheads bones. She is literally needed at this meeting.)
So, as we can see, no one is any help.
She decides after that to just go with her gut, and her gut is telling her that you’ll know when the time is right, and hopefully will send her a sign.
Maybe the sign is sooner rather than later.
The witch spends about an hour in her bedroom in front of her mirror, trying on every outfit from sweats and a t-shirt to the 10,000 dollar dress Tony bought her for her birthday. Which clothes would draw your attention to her? She thinks about that alot, which is why she wears different outfits everyday simply in hopes of you sending her a small compliment. She always spends countless amounts of time planning the perfect outfit just to hear you say, “You look pretty Wans.”
Why is this happening to her?
It’s when she sets up a cute little picnic under the stars with all your favorite foods and snacks and a makeshift tv screen with a projector to watch your favorite film do you realize that you are deeply and utterly in love with Wanda Maximoff.
She’s sweet, and pretty. She can always make you laugh when you truly think you no longer can.
And besides all that, she’s your best friend. The one that will stick with you through thick and thin simply because she wants to be beside you.
You can’t help but feel your cheeks beginning to heat up every single time she even glances in your direction, let alone actually speak to you. You can feel your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves as she just… exists.
You don’t tell her that though, afraid of getting your feelings hurt.
You just sit down on the nice thick blanket with her, grabbing some grapes to give a few to her and a few to herself as she presses play on the movie. It’s silent other than the sound of the movie, but she can hear your thoughts louder than any film. It’s not like she’s trying to read your mind. The witch vowed to herself to never use her magic on you unless it was necessary or life saving. That includes mind reading. Your thoughts are too loud though, and even with the amount of control she has over her powers, they still fill her head as she tries to focus on the movie.
“I love her.”
“She says she loves you.”
“She doesn’t mean it.”
“Yes she does.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”
Your internal battle on if she truly does love you or not breaks her heart into a million pieces, though she doesn’t want to call you out on it and make you feel uncomfortable. So you guys continue silently watching the movie. She doesn’t mention your loud thoughts, and you don’t mention that you can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face as she stares.
When the movie is over and the projector turns off, you guys sit in the darkness of the night. There are stars dressing the night sky, so you silently look at them as Wanda turns on her side so she can gently pull you closer to her.
The moment is perfect; looking up at the stars in each other's warm embrace, your back pressed against her front and she moves around until she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck, so close to you that your perfume fills her senses and puts her into a peaceful bliss. Your truly happy as is she, and this time, as she says the tree words, you find yourself believing her;
“I love you.”
She doesn’t regret it or cringe out of embarrassment when she says it like she did last time. The witch just lets the words hang in the air. If you choose to say them back, you do. If not, at least you'll understand how much she truly means it.
“I love you.” You whisper back with new found confidence, and her chest fills with warmth and pure happiness. You finally believe her. Her words sounded so sincere and simple, not like the drunk words she said a few days ago. It’s the only reason you feel okay telling her the truth. You love Wanda Maximoff.
“I love you.” She mumbles, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
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#Spotify#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#the scarlet witch x reader#the scarlet witch#marvel x reader#marvel#marvel mcu
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Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.
Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)
CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...
Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.
They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.
This is unfair.
Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.
You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.
You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.
Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.
You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.
And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.
Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?
"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.
He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.
Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.
It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.
"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.
"Just you."
His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.
"Ya've got me. Always."
Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...
When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.
"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.
"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...
"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.
"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.
"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."
You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.
Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.
You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.
Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.
"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.
His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.
You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.
"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"
It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.
Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.
"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.
"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."
"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.
"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"
You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.
"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"
"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."
Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.
Your comfort is that common goal.
With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.
His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"
Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?
"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.
When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."
You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."
"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."
Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.
They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.
"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.
"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.
"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.
"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."
"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."
Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.
"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.
"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.
"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.
"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"
"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.
"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.
Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.
"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.
"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.
"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.
A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.
"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"
Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.
"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."
The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.
Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.
"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."
"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...
"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.
"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"
His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.
Expecting an answer.
"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.
"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."
"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"
You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.
Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.
Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.
"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"
Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.
"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"
He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.
"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.
There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.
A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.
"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"
Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.
It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...
Instead, you get a kiss.
It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.
"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."
It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.
"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.
"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.
"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.
The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.
"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.
"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.
You're going to be alright.
Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.
But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.
"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"
"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"
You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.
After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.
"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"
The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.
"Johnny."
When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.
It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.
"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"
Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.
"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.
"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"
"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."
"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"
"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."
All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.
They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.
And, frankly, he does.
They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.
It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.
"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"
"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.
Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.
Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.
Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.
Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.
Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.
As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.
"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"
You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.
"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"
You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.
"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."
He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.
"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."
And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.
Because you're enjoying touch again.
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Viktor trying to introduce girls to his family but....god they are all so weird. and you would think viktor would be embarrassed and be like "this is why none of you meet my girlfriends." but i think they are just as weird and used to their family at this point that....they don't even notice. there's bickering, talking about time travel and powers like its the weather, one brother threw a knife, it hit a wall and bounced off and then he got really sad (was he trying to impress them?) the blonde one seems REALLY eager to play a board game but no one is biting, the germophobe is playing music way too loud, the knife guy's wife called the only sister a "stuck up, washed up, used up celerity" and then the other huffed back with "at least my hair is a natural color." and ...then they both laughed. and everything smoothed over like butter. and the one viktor REALLY wanted them to meet is a snarky younger man in a suit who most likely says something mildly concerning about how old the ceiling is and how it might give out any day now (five was so trying to scare them + quirky old man protective brother hours.) but when asked, viktor goes "oh he does that with everyone." and when girls dump him BECAUSE of the family, he shrugs and is like "if they cant handle you guys then they aren't worth it. it take a lot to say this but my family comes first. you guys come first. if someone cant handle my family then they cant handle me. my family shaped me, the bad and good. yeah, it was bad for a LONG time and it took a lot to not want to run away and not see you guys anymore after everything settled down.... but you all have proven to love me beyond our past. It was Reginald that fucked us up. the last few years have been healing....so like. girls come and go. but my family is forever."
Klaus and Allison would cry. five would look away and cover his mouth (he wants to cry so bad but the walls in his brain are stopping him) Luther asks firsts and then if given a yes, gives Viktor a big hug. (for ovious reasons, viktor does still has unease about Luther hugs. but they are working though it) Diego would be like "HELL YEAH" and join in on the hug.
and Lila is like "you guys are so fucking sappy it makes me want to BARF."
#the umbrella academy#five hargreeves#tua#viktor hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#allison hargreeves#diego hargreeves#luther hargreeves
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the scaredy cat support group | logan sargeant
summary: much to her dismay, y/n's friends have dragged her to see the scariest film of the season. luckily for her, the blond sitting next to her in a darkened cinema seems to be just as petrified as she is
pairing: logan sargeant x female! reader
warnings: scary movies & scaredy cats, implications of fear and gore, logan being a sweetie.
"this is such a bad idea."
the theater was packed, groups of people passing by them to get into the auditorium, eager to see the latest blood-soaked halloween killfest on screens. y/n, however, just couldn't get her feet to move. her friends stood just in front of her, worried looks on their faces as they looked back at her.
y/n loved halloween, make no mistake. it was her favourite holiday by leaps and bounds. she loved micheal meyers and ghostface and even freddy krueger.
but she absolutely hated being scared. she was a sensitive soul, and that was why she preferred older horror movies that were limited on the level of blood and guts.
"are you sure you don't want to sit this one out? we told you you didn't have to come." her friend said gently.
"no, no. i came here to spend time with you guys because i love you. and no scary movie is going to keep me from doing that."
she was reassured by the group of college guys that came in after her, with an athletic looking blond hanging back to stare at the film poster with a similar queasy look to the one that she was sporting.
"alright, let's get this over with. but if i barf up my popcorn, it's on you guys!"
they filed into the dark theatre, previews already beginning to play out on the big screen in front of them. their group of five took up most of the row, which, being in a small cinema, only held ten seats.
she sat in the middle, next to gloriously empty seat as she tried to steel herself for what was to come, with reminders to herself that it was all made from special effects, and she could walk out of that theater and into the real world whenever she wanted.
"is this seat taken?"
she look up and towards the soft speaker, who was using his phone flashlight to try and find his ticketed seat. it was the same blonde who had stopped to stare at the poster outside, and he looked a little pale in the face as he sat down next to her.
"not a fan of being scared?" she whispered, offering him some popcorn. "me neither."
"oh good. that means i'm not going to be the only one shaking like a baby." he laughed. "god, i would much rather have gone to see fucking joker or something."
"i wasn't given an option. they just told me that this is what was happening and i was invited if i wanted to. i'm y/n."
"logan."
"will you two be quiet?" the man behind them hissed. "some of us are trying to watch a movie.
logan shrugged, typing something on his phone before showing her the screen.
a movie that hasn't even started yet? i didn't realize that the advertisement for jackass was so interesting
"and turn your damn brightness down!"
y/n stifled a laugh as she watched logan pretend to give the guy the middle finger before slipping his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. the lights in the theater dimmed even further, the feature presentation beginning to unfold on screen.
to her credit, she lasted about half an hour before she jumped, knocking over her bag of popcorn and spilling some slippery buttery kernels into Logan’s lap. she was mortified, but the massage logan typed out on his phone reassured her that everything was fine.
it’s all good, squeeze my hand if u get 2 scared
no points for grammar, but five for being a sweetie.
naturally, it was logan who reached for her hand first, during a particularly gory on screen kill that had y/n squeezing her eyes shut and physically turning away from the screen while logan clutched her cold hand in his.
despite herself, she found Logan’s touch to be comforting. what did that say about her that a little scary movie had her seeking out comfort from strangers? (don’t tell her mother that or she would start singing the jamie walters song and everyone would be miserable) for a minute, she almost forgot that she’d come with a group of friends and was only reminded of that fact when one of them messaged her.
getting cozy over there? see, horror flicks are a great place to pick up guys! just make sure his favourite isn’t american psycho.
she giggled, looking over at her friend, who flashed her a thumbs up before turning back to the screen. that scene had long since passed, but logan continued to hold her hand, and she could feel his muscles tense as a scare drew nearer and nearer on the big screen.
she squeezed his hand reassuringly, only to be clutching it in terror moments later, one hand clapped over her mouth to stifle a scream. Logan reached over her body, almost as if he was gallantly and protectively trying to shield her body with his own.
she was going to fall in love with him at this rate if she wasn’t careful.
the movie finished, winding down in a way that much much calmer, if not eerie compared to what they had seen throughout the course of the film. she was relieved to see the end credits roll, although displeased at the idea of leaving logan behind.
she followed her friends out of the cinema, dropping her empty popcorn container in the trash as she went.
"y/n!" a voice called after her.
she paused, turning around to see logan standing just near the door. she glanced back at her friends, smiling when she saw their excited faces, gesturing wildly towards logan.
she walked up to the blonde, hands tucked nervously in the pockets of her flannel coat.
"hey," she started, rocking back and forth on her heels
"hey." logan grinned, scratching at the beck of his neck. "so, i think you're really cute." just out of her range of vision, she could see logan's friends standing behind him, sticking their thumbs up and whistling in encouragement. "and i was wondering if you wanted to go and get a coffee with me?"
she beamed, looking back to her friends for approval, one last time.
"i would love to. after all, you were my protector in there."
logan smiled. "is now okay with you? there's a little place in the plaza just across the way."
"sounds perfect."
#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#the cozy collection 2024#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#logan sargeant x you#f1 x fanfic#logan sargeant x y/n#logan sargeant fanfic
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The girl behind the bar (Part 3)
pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader
warnings: banter, fluffy Jake (if you squint)
words: 3.3k
Summary: Jake brings a date to the bar and she is not, well, the nicest person alive. Which is kind of expected of him but still annoying. Thankfully, Maverick convices Penny to close the bar early to sneak off and you close up. You start singing along to your playlist while you cleaned up, thinking you're alone at the bar...
a/n: The songs used in this chapter are Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC and Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, if you want to listen to them while you read.
Link to my masterlist
"Can I play something for you, Darlin'?", Jimmy asked on his way to the storage room, passing the Jukebox. The bar had just opened and you and Jimmy were holding down the fort until Penny was supposed to come in later that evening.
"Could I have some Hall & Oates, please?", you mentioned with a smile. "I got you", the old man smiled and pressed some buttons on the old machine.
You make my dreams come true started playing.
"Oh Jimmy, you know me too well", you cooed at him, betting your eyelashes and shooting him a smile.
You started to sing along to yourself while you polished some glasses and put the beer from the box into the cooler. As you were crouched down, you didn't see a new patron approaching the bar.
"You make my dreams come true", you sang as you got up and suddenly found yourself face to face with a grinning Hangman.
"Only if you're a good girl", he said, accompanied with a cocky smile. "Barf", you said dryly and rolled your eyes.
You checked the big clock on the wall behind him. 5:10 PM. "It’s Tuesday, do you not have a job?", you simply asked.
"So, just anybody can give you a nickname but me?", he ignored your question and asked his own. For a second, you didn't know what he meant, but then you remembered that Jimmy had called you Darling just before. You were already so used to him calling you that.
"By god, she's got it! Good job, Eliza Doolittle", you mockingly cheered him on, booping his nose with your finger. He flicked your finger away like it was an annoying fly.
“What can I get you?”, you asked him. “The usual”, he simply stated and put his credit card on the counter, his typical sign to open his tab for the night. “So, a Tet-shot and the morning after pill for whoever fell for your bullshit?”, you suggested and gave him the sweetest smile. “What do you think of me?”, he asked playfully shocked, a hand on his chest.
“Only the worst”, you told him as you put the bottle of beer in front of him and the smile on your lips took the harshness out of your words. He shot you another wink as he grabbed his drink and left for the darts board.
You hated to admit it, even just to yourself, but your shift was always more fun when Hangman was around. Someone to look out for, someone to be excited to see. That this was all just one-sided wasn't even a question to you. Every time you felt that way about someone, as annoying as they might be, it was always one-sided. And even on the off chance it wasn't, you never dared to ask and nobody ever came forward. So, as always, you shot him another glance and kept on working.
Later that evening, the others arrived at the bar, too, as always gathering at the pool table. You brought over a trey of beers that the group had ordered.
"There you go. Phoenix, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, and Eliza", you said as you placed the last beer in front of Hangman.
Fanboy almost did a spit-take as he had just taken a sip of his drink. "Excuse me, what?", Phoenix asked and she didn't do a great job at suppressing her laughter.
"Just a little inside joke we got, don't we, Lizzie?", you turned to Hangman. He chose to remain silent but the look he gave you let you know that you were gonna pay for that joke at some point.
But for now, you took the win of shutting him up.
For a Wednesday night it was surprisingly full at the bar and Jimmy was not in after requesting a sick-day. You and Penny had your hands fulfilling all the orders. Even though you had some practice by now, you were still lacking in speed compared to Penny.
You spotted your usual group at a table in the middle of the bar, letting other people play pool for once. But you noticed that Hangman was missing tonight. It was odd to you, but you didn’t think much of it.
Until he came in at around half past 9 with a tall blonde on his arm. She was dressed in an expensive-looking short dress and looked totally out of place between the khaki uniforms and informal clothing on all the other patrons. She looked like the type country club, my daddy bought me a horse for Christmas kind of girl. The Hard Deck was clearly Hangman’s idea, who was not wearing his khaki uniform for once but a black pair of jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. If you didn’t already know him as part of the bar’s interior, you would also find his appearance here out of place.
Your eyes followed the pair to the table of Hangman’s colleagues, his date getting introduced to the others. They all exchanges polite smiles and hellos. When the woman sat down, she let her eyes wander over the place, looking a little disgusted. You could tell that this was not the place she thought the night would bring her to. She took off her cardigan and hung it over the back of her chair before she even attempted to lean back.
There was no use of prolonging the wait, you would have to get over there to take their order. Also, the glasses of the others looked rather empty as well. You took a deep breath and walked over to the full table.
“Welcome to the Hard Deck. What can I get you?”, you welcomed the woman and smiled at her politely. She looked up at you with an annoyed face. Her eyes let you know where your place in her world was. You were the help.
“Do you have anything here that costs more than 10 dollars?”, she asked and the tone in her voice could only be described as disgusted. “I can sell you everything for at a least twenty if you prefer it”, you commented, trying to knock her ego down a peg. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any practice with Hangman.
You heard some suppressed chuckles from the others but kept your eyes on Hangman’s date. “Excuse me? You better watch your tone or I’ll will have to talk to your manager”, she snapped at you. And she couldn’t take a joke. Great taste, Hangman.
You swallowed and took a moment to calm yourself before you spoke again. “I apologize. We have a very good Chardonay you might like, Karen”, you said to her instead but couldn’t help yourself at the end. Another round of chuckles behind you. “My name is not Karen, it’s Whitney”, she told you and her tone got more indignant. She looked over at Hangman, looking for support of her outrage.
“She will have the Chardonay and I’ll have a beer, please”, he said, ignoring his date. You nodded and then turned to the others. They ordered another round of drinks and you basically fled towards the bar.
Penny was overrun by a new group that had just entered the bar and you helped her out before you prepared the drinks for the table and brought them over there.
“Here’s your Chardonay”, you said and placed the glass of wine in front of the woman. “About time”, she only mumbled, no Thank you or even eye-contact. Lovely girl, you thought to yourself.
“Here’s your beer”, you placed the bottle in front of Hangman. “Thank you, Y/N”, he said and shot you a smile. You looked at him a little weirded out. The please before was already a little out of character for him.
“What?” he asked innocently. “Nothing, you’re just weirdly nice”, you simply said and kept placing the drinks in front of the guys. “I’m always nice”, he countered and a little mischievous glimpse was back in his eyes as he followed your round around the table. “Oh yeah, I’m always so touched by the empathy you display every time you’re here”, you said and put a hand over your heart, pouting your lips, holding the empty trey in your free hand and letting it hang down your side.
Whitney watched your exchange with a watchful eye and put her hand on his thigh, seemingly displaying some sort of ownership. “Do you come here often, Jakey?”, she asked the man to her left, a warning tone in her voice not to say the wrong thing. Whatever that may be. You and Phoenix exchanged a glance over the heads of the others, both of you biting down a smile.
“No, Darling, only when these knuckleheads drag me here. They can’t have fun without me”, Jake told her and she seemed satisfied with his answer. “We drag him here?”, Coyote whispered to Payback, who was sitting right in front of where you stood.
“It’s true, he’s not here often, but he certainly leaves an impression”, you chimed in before anyone could say something. Hangman looked up at you and you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to say something compromising or silently thanking you for having his back in this lie.
“Alright, just yell for me if you need anything else”, you said and finally left their table. It was getting uncomfortable and you were glad that you had a good reason to get out of there. After looking at some of the faces of the guys you could tell that they were just as uncomfortable.
“Come on, Penny. We’ll just sneak out of here”, you heard Maverick say as you came back to the bar circle. “I can’t just leave, not when it’s that packed”, you heard your boss answer but the tone of her voice let you know that she actually wanted to.
“I can finish the evening”, you just entered their conversation and they both shot up like they were planning some secret mission. “No, you can’t handle this many people on your own”, Penny said and took a look at the still pretty well filled bar. “No offense”, she quickly added. “None taken, you’re probably right”, you said and scanned the bar as well. “But you can close early”, you suggested.
“That’s right”, Maverick agreed and you both looked at Penny with raised eyebrows. Your boss looked at your faces and chewed her bottom lip. “It’s your place, you run the show”, Maverick added. You nodded agreeingly. You also wouldn’t mind to get off early. “I’ll clean up, I can definitely manage that”, you offered. “She’ll clean up”, Maverick repeated. Penny contemplated for a few more moments, then she sighed defeatedly.
“Okay, I’ll close early”, she gave in and you and Maverick high-fived. Penny walked over to the bell and rang it. “Last call!”, she shouted and a common groan erupted from the crowd. “Alright, settle down. It’s still my bar”, she added and waved off their protests.
While you were handing out the last drinks of the night, Penny asked repeatedly if you were okay to close up on your own and you waved it off. “I’m working here, aren’t I? And I have to learn sometime. You don’t always want to stay ‘til last call, don’t you?”, you said. She answered you with a smile and handled the register.
When everybody was finally out and Penny had left with Mav, you were suddenly alone. It was weirdly quiet compared to before when the room was filled with people. So, you took out your phone and put on your Spotify playlist while you started to clean up.
You collected glasses and bottles from all over the place. You even found a cardigan on the chair that Hangman’s date was sitting on. You grabbed it to put it behind the bar for when she came back for it. It was a warm night though, so she probably wouldn't notice right away. The urge to wipe the counter with it was almost overwhelming. Instead of following the urge, you placed it somewhere safe as it looked expensive and was probably worth more than your month’s salary.
You continued cleaning up and started to sing along to the song that was currently playing. It was Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC, one of your favorites.
“But when we talk in the middle, in the middle of the night. Oh, we get closer every time. But when we meet in the middle, I feel the clarity rise. Oh, it moves over, straight from your eyes”, you sang as you put the glasses in the basket for the dishwasher. It wasn’t like singing Karaoke with friends or the impromptu concert with Rooster a couple of weeks ago. You got really into it since you were all alone and nobody could hear you.
“Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh. Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh”, you kept singing and grabbed the dishtowel to wipe down the counter
“I actually have green eyes”, you heard from the door and you jumped in surprise. You spun around to where the voice had come from only to find Jake Hangman Seresin of all people standing there.
Shit, did he hear you sing? He must have. Why else would he say that?
“Jesus Christ, you scared me”, you said as you put a hand over your heart that was racing like crazy. You turned away from him again, seemingly to finish wiping off the counter and putting the damp towel back in the small sink behind the bar. You mostly needed a moment to collect yourself. You felt so embarrassed that he had heard you sing. You thought you were all alone for the rest of the night, singing like you only did when you thought no one would hear you.
You heard his steps coming closer, resting his underarms on the bar top when he arrived across from where you were standing. You turned down the music on your phone.
“You have a beautiful voice”, he said and as much as you looked for it in his face, you couldn’t find any hint of mockery. Hangman and an honest compliment? Were you in the Upside Down?
“Thanks”, you said, still startled, and blushed a bit. “What are you doing here? We’re closed”, you asked, still in disbelief that he was nice to you. “My date forgot her cardigan”, he finally disclosed why he was back here so soon. “Ah, and she doesn’t put out if she doesn’t have her precious cardigan?”, you said and a smile creeped on your face, revealing the joke. “The chances are better with it”, he answered, also with a smile, indicating that he wasn’t here purely out of a gentlemanly gesture.
“I’ve got it here”, you said and walked the few steps over to where you put it for safe keeping. You handed him the garment and when he took it from you, his fingertips brushed along your fingers. You were sure he didn’t even notice it, but it sent an electric jolt up your arm.
As soon as he had it in his hand, you pulled your arm back, putting your other hand over the one Jake had just touched, folding it in front of you. Your fingers still tingled. You almost rolled your eyes at yourself for this stupid reaction.
“Thank you”, he said, glad that it hadn’t got lost somewhere else. “Now you can be her knight in shining armor when you bring back her precious cardigan”, you said with a chuckle and grabbed the broom from behind you. You came around the bar to sweep up the peanut shells that were scattered all over the floor. “And you’re Cinderella?”, he asked jokingly, nodding at the broom. “Yeah, well, there are other balls, I’ll dance another time”, you said with a shrug of your shoulders and a light smile.
Jake looked at you for a moment before he lifted his hand for a goodbye. “I’ll see you around, have a good night”, he said. “Yeah, you too”, you answered.
You didn’t wait for him to leave the room, you turned around and turned the music louder on your phone again. Your playlist had kept playing while you talked to Jake. Now it played Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, a slow song. The mood to sing along was gone anyway, you were too afraid someone else would show up again.
You started moving the broom over the floor but you only managed to get about three sweeps in before you felt a hand on your shoulder. When you looked up, it was Jake again. Without saying a word, he took the broom out of your hands and leaned it against the bar.
He grabbed your right hand with his left and put his right hand on your lower back. You looked at him with big eyes, too stunned to speak.
“You get your dance now, Cinderella”, he winked at you and started to sway you to the slow music. With his hand on your back, he pushed you closer to him and slowly moved both of you in a circle.
You were aware of every single spot where your bodies touched, beginning with his big, warm hand clasping yours. You were afraid he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.
He removed his hand from your back only to have you spin around which made you giggle lightly and then pull you back in, even closer this time. He put his hand which was holding yours against his chest, pulling your arm with his. He put his hand on top of yours which meant your hand was placed directly on his heart. You felt how hard his peck was beneath his shirt and swallowed. You looked up only to find those green eyes of his looking down at you. He held your gaze while he moved your bodies slowly from side to side. His hand on your back slid a little lower but you almost didn’t notice it because you were so hypnotized by his eyes. Almost.
“Bedsheets, no clothes. Touch me like nobody else does” came out of the speakers of your phone and you suddenly became very aware of the lyrics of the song. It made you swallow hard. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t. Did he notice the lyrics, too?
His fingertips felt like they were burning through your shirt, leaving permanent marks on your skin. Instinctively, you licked your lips. Jakes eyes darted down to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.
You both got snapped out of your stare as the broom fell over and hit the floor with a loud bang.
As soon as the moment had come, it was over again. The song drained out as the two of you stopped moving. Like you were both snapping back to reality, you let go of each other.
You opened your mouth and inhaled to say something but you didn’t know what, so you closed it again. Was a Thank you appropriate? Did that mean anything? Did he just want to be nice? But Hangman wasn’t nice. Your head was spinning as all kinds of thoughts invaded your brain.
Hangman looked at you for a second longer, then turned around, grabbed his date’s cardigan off the bar top and left the bar for good this time.
With shaky hands you grabbed the broom off the floor and held on to it for dear life. Your heart was still pounding rapidly. You weren’t even sure if it had actually happened or if it was just a day-dream of yours if it wasn’t for the hand you still felt on your back like an echo. That was something you couldn’t dream up.
Next chapter: Part 4.1
#jake hangman seresin#the girl behind the bar#jake hangman seresin x plus-size reader#topgun maverick#glen powell#glen powell imagine#jake hangman seresin imagine#glen powell fanfiction#jake seresin fanfiction#topgun maverick fanfiction
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Continuing on with my America/Europe dichotomy, and this one's gonna be a doozy. This one's for the real thinkers. Ok so basically, Americas are uh, patriarchal and Europes are Oedipal. Ok. Look. This one, right, you're really gonna have to follow me on this one.
Look. In America, right, we do the whole single family home, like, patriarchal homestead medieval Icelandic family farm thing, the man is in charge of the house, rugged individualism and/or suburbia. But it's patriarchal. American man goes out and gets a hot trophy wife, who looks good and bleach blonde hair and signifies "this man is a Real Man, cause he got a hot trophy wife". Wife is like a fast car, wife is like a ferrari you get, to show off. For the American man. Remember China is also an America. Chinese gucci fuckboy chainsmoking guy needs to own a house, he needs to own a house and make one bajillion dollars to land a Chinese beauty standards thin and swan-necked hot Chinese babe to go with his gucci and his car. JUST like American man. Remember that China only ever had one empress in its million year history. Patriarchal.
In a Europe, right, every man wants to fuck his mom. He just does, I've met European men. They all want to fuck their mom. Italian guys? Fuhgeddaboudit. His wife is NOT a trophy to show of to other guys. He will expect her to cook, clean, wipe his ass. And there's this reputation, I know because I have family members who habitually date European men, there's this reputation where they literally live with their mom who cleans their underwear until they move in with their wife and now she cleans his underwear and pops out sixteen Catholic children. Right? Europe is oedipal. Ancient multi-generational homes... it breeds wanting to fuck your mom wanting a fucking mom-wife. Japan has had nine empresses. Squarely a Europe.
This is the source of all the other differences. They don't mind reusing old bathwater in Japan for the same reason moms don't mind when their kids barf on them... in America we don't mind poisonous chemicals in our food because young men don't care about that kind of shit. This is the fundamental difference.
IDEAL state of affairs, ok, is to be born in a wild and crazy America such as America or China, or maybe Russia (edge case), and then move to a nice and peaceful Europe in adulthood. They're great at walkable cities and shit in Europes, they love that shit. Doing what mommy tells them. And as an American it's a breath of fresh air. But it's important to be born and raised over here, you see, so you have that fuck you attitude, so you don't want to fuck your mom. Have I ever told this story? My grandad ate rat poison once, when he was a kid in the great depression riding the rails. I'm not making this up. Apparently he ate so much that his body didn't even try to digest it and it went right through him. He was fine. 🇺🇸
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Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 3
You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....
Part 1, Part 2
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*"Help me raise this baby Kaiju"* "Pfft, easier said then done..." R/n muttered as she unpacked her stuff in one of the guest rooms, which was by the way; bigger than her apartment, R/n's things barely filled the space leaving huge gaps in the room making it feel little empty.
"Maybe I'll buy a couple plants or something..." She sighed and went to go check with Ken on what exactly she was supposed to do? Like R/n knew she had to help with the baby...but, how exactly? Not everyone can turn into a superhero the size of a skyscraper! She'd like to know what exactly his game plan was?
Meanwhile Ken was pacing around his base while baby was napping in her chamber. He had no freaking clue what to say to R/n, his brain was so fried from a lack of sleep he wasn't thinking straight when he came up with whole co-parenting thing, it was all starting hit him all at once!
What could he get R/n to do? She was just regular human! What if she had work the same time he had a game? what if baby has an explosive tantrum and accidentally hurts R/n or worse? The death of a civvy would not look good on Ultraman's track record, then again; neither was hiding a baby Kaiju but-
Ken's train of though was cut off by R/n coming down the elevator it was kinda weird seeing her in regular clothes and not that obnoxious red and blue Depotman uniform, having traded in said uniform in for a t-shirt and shorts, Ken straightened himself out and tried to make it seem like he wasn't on the verge of a complete breakdown as He and R/n got down to business...whatever it may be.
R/n's responsibilities were meager at due to her human factor, she was basically a glorified playmate to distract the baby whenever Ken was away. "...Feed her when her tummy rumbles, the burp her." R/n interrupted him with a snort.
"Right!~ burp her, right, right- I'll do that, But first lemme just call up Zordon and see if he has any spare Megazords laying around..."
"Ah, a woman of culture I see..."
"Lonely childhood."
"Hm..."
So...yeah, R/n burping Baby was out of the question...almost, they tried testing at method that Mina suggested; it involved R/n running up and down barefoot along the little Kaiju's back as a alternative and while it did work. the downside was it was very unstable for R/n to keep her footing and Baby's need to spit up afterwards caused some problems.
The infant immediately jumped to her feet with R/n still on her back and sent the woman tumbling off towards the metal floor, where she would've broken her back or neck if Ultraman hadn't quickly caught her. "Okay, not doing that again..." Ken said with a sigh as R/n slapped her hand over her mouth. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna barf too if I don't get on solid ground." She groaned Ultraman carefully put her down and announced his intention to clean baby up outside seeing as she wasn't completely done spitting up yet.
R/n meanwhile was looking at the putrid green mess already pooling around on the floor and was worried he was leaving this for her to clean up, until the she noticed the glowing "window" was actually a force field; sea pooled into the room as ultraman and Baby stepped outside before it was all pumped out by a drainage system. "Seriously, how much did this cost to build?" R/n wondered out loud It was then when Mina revealed that this basement use to be part of a spaceship that Ken's father used to arrive to Earth.
Cut to Ultraman rubbing Baby's back as she finishes up her business when the rare silence was broken by a faint yell from somewhere...It sounded like someone yelled "What?!" at the top of their lungs.
To say, things got better for Ken with the extra help would be stretching it R/n again had no idea what she was doing and was mainly in charge of keeping the baby entertained for a couple hours so he could get so sleep or go to work, but unfortunately life's a B, and Though they took turns waking up at odd hours feeding her, or bathing her. (R/n uses a large push broom as a scrub brush.. or at least tries to, that baby Kaiju can run!),
Ken was still heavily needed for heavy clean up duty and that left him exhausted during his games, also he noticed R/n hadn't gone to work once since she moved in with him which caused him to jump to the conclusion that she quit, cos that what the last person who lived with him back in LA did (Which resulted in nasty break up).
So he confronted her "No I didn't quit my job, I took maternity leave." R/n said affronted by his accusation, Ken looks at her skeptical how she could possibly gotten on leave when she doesn't have kids? "I told my boss that a friend of mine had just became a single parent and asked me for help so I'm moving in with them, he gave a month off to adjust my new responsibilities." She further explained that it was Mina's idea and the bot pretended to be the friend on the phone with R/n's boss to confirm her story.
"Okay, if this is the case, then where the heck have you been going when I'm on baby duty?" The exhausted baseball player pressed R/n looked at him slyly. "Toy shopping." Ken at her befuddled "Toys for who?" Cut to Mina helping R/n pull in a large cart with a tarp over it out of the elevator and in front of the baby who looked at it curious as R/n removed the tarp revealing a adult pedal car (It looks like the ZAT van from Ultraman Taro) and a 9ft tall Oni? action figure. (it's Momotaros from Den-o)
The baby cooed reached out to them but R/n stopped her for a moment before pulling out what looked like a giant tan rolled up mattress, Ken wondered if it was for chewing on or something, until the delivery girl cut the straps and plastic wrapping open to reveal it was a vacuum sealed 15 foot tall stuffed bear!
Baby squealed excitedly bouncing on her feet before grabbing the bear hugging it; she started playing with rest of the toys she got. While Ken stares on in awe. "I'd figured she was bored being stuck indoors all watching nothing but TV, I know was..." The baby was apparently acting out a hero saving her bear from a car crash she saw on TV show.
"How much did that stuff cost you?" Ken asked watching the scene feeling guilty about earlier; he pretty much accused R/n of being a leech when she was spending money for him. "The car and figure were from my job, rejected packages that were rotting away in the warehouse for the last 10 years; figured they might as well be used for something." She said the paused for moment seemingly in thought. "Annd you kind of paid for the bear." Ken looked at her confused how he could've possibly paid for the bear, R/n noticing his confusion and sighed. "Of you don't remember, last month? when I brought you coffee and donuts? You acted like a spaz and tipped me?" The cogs were spinning in Ken's head before grinding to a halt now remembering.
"Right....How much did I give you?
"Around 30000 yen or so..."
"...That's three hundred dollars, Yer telling me that bear cost three hundred dollars?"
"Hard to believe, but yes. It was a prop for photos in this designer children's photography shop I deliver to, the guy was selling it cos it scared the kids, I thought we could make better use of it."
R/n said with a little shrug Ken hummed and went back to watching the baby and trying not to doze off, only to be alerted that he had to go to work and begrudgingly made his way to the elevator much to R/n's concern the delivery girl could feel the tipping point was coming, she just hopes that when it does Ken knows he's not alone now and can try to open up to her a little more...
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Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.
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@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,
@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,
@oh-kurva
#ultraman#tokusatsu#ultraman rising#ken sato#ken sato x reader#emi ultraman#afab reader#ultraman fanfiction
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g’day! i saw that you're receiving requests: so is it OK to request osamu with his significant other who calls him "ochamu" instead of "osamu" just to get a reaction out of him? sort of like baby talking his name if that makes sense??? i think it's super funny that he might look at you like you're crazy at first then get used to it overtime (atsumu gives him the side eye every single time) 😭
but ofc, this is more of a suggestion if anything ^^ feel free to delete/ignore if it doesn't spark any inspo or you don't have any thoughts on it! ++ i know you wrote abt samu recently so maybe he should wait a little longer to get his turn PFFT. thanks for your time btw! i love your workssss ✨
Baby Talk
note: I love your brain omg- this was so fun to write lol. Hope you like it!!!
“Ochamuuu, pay attention to me.”
The moment the word ‘Ochamu’ was uttered from your lips, Osamu did not react positively. Sitting on the other side of the sofa, you see his lip curl in disgust. The side eye directed towards you was lethal.
“What. Was. That.”
It was hard, but you managed to hold your giggles in. You pull the most innocent face you can and say, “What do you mean, Ochamu?”
He immediately gags and puts his hand out at you. “Oh my god. No. Babe, what the fuck.” He's looking at you like you grew a second head. You laugh and punch his arm.
“What? What did I do?” He raises his brows and laughs, perplexed.
“What did ya do? Ya sound stupid. Don't do that again, it was creepy.”
You giggle again and respond, “I love you, ‘chamu.” His frown gets even deeper as he stands up from the couch and walks away shaking his head.
“I love you too, but no. Just no.”
–
“Ochamu, pass the salt please.” You ask sweetly. He stops mid bite and turns to you unimpressed.
“Really? This again?” You hum and shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea what you are referring to, my dear husband.” He gives a small smile and resumes eating.
“Now that's a nickname I can get behind. The other one, not so much. How the hell did ya come up with that anyway?” He questions, finally handing you what you asked for.
“I honestly don’t know. I think it came to me in a dream or something.” You gasp. “It was a message from a higher power. Ochamu is your destined nickname, I'm sure of it.” He lets out a little chuckle at that and places a kiss on your cheek.
“Sure, whatever. If it keeps you entertained, I'll allow it.”
–
“Ochamu, have you seen my brush?” You inquire as you pop your head out of the bathroom. He's sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone.
Without looking up, he answers, “It's on the dresser, baby.” You bite back a smile.
“Not a single comment this time, huh?” He blinks and glances up at you.
“What do ya mean?”
You let out a shocked laugh. “Wha- you didn’t even notice?! I used that nickname you hate.” He groans and throws a pillow at you. “Yer usin’ it too damn much! Messin’ with my head!” He huffs and crosses his arms. You roll your eyes and move to sit down next to him.
“Admit you like the baby talk.” He gives you another dose of side eye.
“I’d rather not.”
–
You, Osamu, and Atsumu had all decided to go grocery shopping for dinner ingredients. Rather, you and Osamu were, and Atsumu tagged along because he was bored. Osamu was in charge of the list, Atsumu was pushing the cart, and you were the one grabbing the ingredients. You were walking aisle to aisle, taking your time, while Atsumu was grumbling like a bored child.
“Ochamu, what's next on the list?” He opens his mouth to respond but gets cut off.
“Ew, what the hell?” Atsumu makes a grossed out face and does a barfing motion. “Yer such a weirdo! ‘Samu, ya let her call ya that?!” Osamu scoffs and takes your hand, leaving Atsumu behind.
“Yer just jealous yer single. Scrub.” You can still hear Atsumu squawking when you get to the next aisle.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq#hq drabble#osamu miya#osamu x reader#osamu miya x reader#osamu haikyuu#osamu miya x you#haikyuu crack#miya osamu#fem!reader#haikyuu x female reader#request
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Bed Sheets
Lee Know x roommate afab!reader
A/N: This is the longest fic I've made to this day, so I hope you guys like it. I was supposed to finish it yesterday, but I fell asleep... If you want to be added to my taglist please comment under this post! I hope you guys liked this because it was really fun to write!! I really hope you guys like it!!!!!!
CW: Kinda Perv!Lee Know/big dick Lee Know, but the reader is also kind of pervy. One bed trope! Having to cuddle for warmth trope! Unprotected sex (please don't for your own safety), Lee Know calls reader kitten, cum eating. (idk what else)
WC: 2.6k
It was the dead of winter, snow was falling making the ground look like it was covered in a blanket. It was currently 11 at night, and you had just done your entire nighttime skincare routine. The lotion soaked into your face when your roommate’s cat, Soonie, strutted into your room like he did every night. Purring as he wrapped around your legs and brushed himself against you. You felt like that was your cue to finally put your bed sheets on, ready to curl up with a good book on your silk bedsheets after taking an everything shower.
“Lee Minho get your ass in here!” you yelled across your shared apartment. As soon as you placed them down, Soonie threw up all over your sheets. “What?” he walked up to your room, leaning his body on the frame. “Look at what your son did to my bed sheets” You looked at him with a face of disgust, but not anger.
“What do you mean my son? Last time I checked you told me Soonie is yours and laughed when he slept in your room at night instead of mine.” He looked at you with his signature stoic face.
“But that was before he barfed all over my only sheets,” you whined “Please just clean it up already, you know just the thought of someone vomiting makes me nauseous.”
“Fine,” he said with a sigh, getting some paper towels from the kitchen. “Where are you going to sleep now though? You only have one set of sheets and I know you don’t want to sleep on the… couch” his face ridden with disgust.
It wasn’t like the couch was that bad of a place, but when you walked into Jisung fucking a girl on it you vowed to never sit on the couch or be in a 5-foot radius without having to take a shower after. You guys even offered Jisung to take the couch but he said how you guys “now have a little piece of him.” You kicked him out of your apartment after he said that and did not let him come back without cheesecake and a horror movie marathon as a way to apologize.
“I would rather sleep in Soonie’s vomit than on that couch,” you said with a deadpan face. “Suit yourself,” he replied, already ready to leave your room without cleaning up Soonies… incident.
“Wait! Come back Minho,” you yelled, “please just clean this up for me. I’ll make you breakfast in bed” you pleaded. He was still walking away, about to go back to his room when you offered something he could not resist. “I’ll buy you pudding for the rest of the month.”
Now that got his attention, he came scurrying back to your room ready to clean your room. “You have a deal, now please get out of my way. The faster I finish this, the faster I can find what places sell the most expensive pudding” he said with a grin.
After he cleaned up Soonie’s mess he came back into your room seeing you on the floor reading your book. “Are you going to sleep on the floor tonight?” he asked knowing if you did you were going to complain about your back all of tomorrow. “I guess that’s what I have to do because I have no sheets to cover the wet spot on my mattress,” you groaned getting ready for the most uncomfortable sleep of your life.
“You can always sleep on my bed if you want”
“Really? The Lee Minho will let me sleep on his bed? Did hell freeze over? Are you sick?” you questioned. “If you wanna sleep on the floor be my guest.” He shrugged turning out of your room. “Wait!” you ran up to him giving him a bear hug from the backside, “I never said no.”
He chuckled at your response, “Go to bed, I’m gonna finish cleaning this up.”
Even though you are Lee Know have been roommates for years, you’ve only been in his room a couple of times. Almost all of them were to wake him up or ask him a question when he wasn’t in the living room. You took everything in as you stepped into his room. Lee Know was a minimalist, not having much in his room other than his desk, bed, dresser, nightstand, and a cat tree for Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. You didn’t really expect much from his room. He had a few pictures of him with you, Jisung, and the rest of his friends.
“y/n, are you done snooping through my room because I’m tired,” he said to you while taking off his slippers. “Calm down grumpy pants, I’m just assessing what’s going to be my sleeping position, I don’t know what side of your room I like better yet. Don’t you want me to wake up happy enough to make you a delicious plate of breakfast in bed?” you pouted at him.
“Just get on the damn bed” he grunted at you. You finally got into his bed, his comforter was so nice and cozy, but it was weird having a huge warm body next to you. You finally fell asleep after 30 minutes of tossing and turning.
You woke up to your body shivering, for some reason, the room was so cold. You turned to see Lee Know also shivering, his body shaking with each breath he took. You shook him awake “Lee Know, please wake up it’s so cold” you whimpered, regretting wearing shorts in the winter. “Fuck, why is it so cold?” he asked you finally realizing how the room felt like it was below freezing. He opened his phone to see a text from your landlord. “The power went out due to the snow and the backup generator isn’t working. That means the heat isn’t working either.” You could hear a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “How are we supposed to keep warm then?” you whined to him. Your body was getting colder by the second and your teeth began to chatter.
“We could cuddle?” he suggested a bit giggle in his voice. You and Minho cuddle all the time, especially during movie nights on the couch. This was the first time he ever asked you to do it on his bed, but dire times are dire times, so it wasn’t a terrible suggestion. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, and he did the same, making you guys feel like a ball.
Even after fifteen minutes of trying to combine heat by cuddling, you were still freezing. Your teeth began chattering again and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Minho, is there anything else we could do, I’m still freezing.”
“There is one more thing we can do, but I don’t think you will like it” he sighed. He was afraid you were going to think he was perverted for even suggesting it. “Please anything, I don’t care what it is, but if I don’t get even a bit warmer in the next 10 minutes I might just turn into an icicle.”
He laughed at you, you were so cute when you were angry. “We could combine body heat,” he said affirmatively. “What do you mean, we are already oh…” you replied. “We can do that, but you're getting naked first, I don’t want to be the only one naked” you giggled.
“Yah! What do you mean naked?” he asked with a concerned face, “We are still wearing our underwear silly.” He pressed your forehead with his finger. “Obviously, you really thought I was going to get butt naked?” you asked him giggling at his assumption.
“No, that’s not what I thought, I thought you thought that.” He kept rambling until you stopped him. “Please can you just take off your clothes, I’m going to die from hypothermia or whatever it is.”
He sighed, taking off his shirt and pants as you did the same. You couldn’t see much in the dark of the night, but you forgot how broad his shoulders were. You sometimes forget how beautiful Minho was because he constantly pestered you. “Are you done staring at me?” he asked. You looked at him gobsmacked “I am not staring! Plus you can not even see my eyes, mister. Now get to cuddling.” you said with the most assertive voice you could muster. You were thanking god that he couldn’t see the blush that was riddled on your cheeks, and the same went for him.
The last time he saw you naked was by accident. You were in your room changing and he opened the door without knowing. Somehow you didn’t notice or hear him, but he saw you. You were wearing a lace bralette and cute white panties with a pink bow on it. He just stared in awe and quickly turned into his room to take a cold shower, which didn’t help, at all. That was engraved in his mind for months, and he would feel guilty every time he jerked off to the thought of you, on your knees taking you in his mouth, or him pulling aside your cute little underwear and fucking you til all you knew was his name. He would never admit this out loud, but he was obsessed with you. He just didn’t have the balls to tell you.
You finally wrapped yourself around him again, feeling his entire body pressed into yours. Finally feeling warm and at peace, you fell asleep in his arms. Minho, on the other hand, couldn’t fall asleep. The feeling of your body pressed against his was something he could only imagine in his wildest fantasies. It was taking everything out of him to not just rut his hardening cock into you. He tried and tried to fall asleep, that was until he could feel your pussy grinding straight onto his cock, moaning his name.
“Fuck kitten, don’t do that to me” he moaned. You slowly woke up to hear his moan, rubbing your eyes awake. “Minho?” you asked with such innocence in your voice he felt like he could cum right there and then. “Kitten, go back to sleep, nothing happened.”
“I can’t, I’m so wet, just for you” you pleaded, he could see your doe eyes pleading even through the dark. “Fuck,” he replied.
Little did he know, you purposely pretended you were sleeping. Him liking you was no surprise to you. You knew that he saw you in your underwear and you knew he had been jerking off to you. You heard him when you came home early one day. The image of him moaning your name while cumming all over himself was engraved in your mind. You would fuck yourself on your vibrator thinking of him. You were waiting for the perfect opportunity, and you were finally given one.
You slowly palmed his dick through his boxers. “Don’t start something you can’t finish kitten” he grabbed your hand. “But I want it so bad” you whimpered into his ear kissing it and then his lips slowly. He couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped himself on top of you, kissing your neck. “You wanted this didn’t you?” trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest biting along as he went. “Fuck, I wanted it so bad” you moaned into his ear. “Wanted this for so long you have no idea.”
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered into your ear before pulling your bralette down and sucking on your nipple. You could feel his erection on your thigh. It was throbbing and you needed to feel it inside of you. “Please, need it in me Minho,” you whispered. He waited for you to say those words for the last two years.
“Fuck kitten, I need you around me, but I gotta stretch you out first.” He slowly pulled down your panties, removing them and putting them in his nightstand drawer for later. Slowly putting one finger into your soaking cunt. “So good Minho, so good sir.” He moaned in response. “Can’t believe one finger is enough for your cunt to squeeze around my finger like this. You are gonna let me add a second one, let me stretch you out to get ready for my cock aren’t you?”
“Yes sir, going to be so good for you, going to let you fuck me with your big cock. Please, sir, give me another finger, I need you, need to cum around your fingers.” you pleaded.
“Awe, does kitten need another finger, I’ll give you another finger.” he slowly added another one, and to give you more stimulation he ran his tongue against your clit. “Fuck!” you yelled and started yanking on his hair. “Fuck, this pussy is sweeter than any pudding I’ve ever eaten. You are going to let me eat it any time I want, right kitten?” he moaned against your clit. That’s all you needed to cum. Your body shaking feeling his fingers hit that spongey spot inside you over and over again.
He slowly took his cock out of his boxers, stroking it. It was the biggest you think you have ever had, but also the prettiest. It wasn’t too thick, but it was long. You didn’t know how you would be able to take it inside of you. “Don’t worry y/n it will fit, you are going to take my cock so well aren’t you?”
“Yes sir, going to take it so well” you whined wanting to feel it inside you. He was going back to his nightstand drawer when you reached out your hand to stop him. “Please give it to me raw, I’m on birth control and I’m clean.” Just by you saying that and the thought of cumming inside you was enough for him. “I’m clean too, but are you sure y/n, I don’t mind wearing a condom.” Before he could even finish his sentence, you grabbed his cock, slipping his tip through your folds. “Want it inside of me raw Minho,” you whimpered. That was enough confirmation for him.
He slowly pushed his cock into you, the stretch not feeling too much because he already prepped you, but it was so deep, you felt like you could cum from him just putting it inside of you. “Fuck kitten, your pussy is taking me so well, wish we did this before, it’s like you were made for me.” he moaned while thrusting into you. He slowly started playing with your clit. “Wanted you so bad sir, wanted you for so long.” That’s all he needed to start thrusting into you deeper. Each thrush hitting your g-spot perfectly. With the stimulation of his finger on your clit, you couldn’t do it anymore. You started clenching down on him harder and harder.
Your cunt was locking him in and all he could do was groan. The final push was when he moaned directly into your ear. You came all over his cock letting your moans hit his ear. He pulled out of you stroking his cock “Where do you want me to cum kitten, where do you want it?”
“I want it in my mouth” you begged and that was all he needed. He pushed his cock into your mouth causing you to deep throat it, cumming down your throat. “Fuck, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” you giggled. He kissed your cheek “I agree.”
You both fell asleep in each other’s arms only for you to wake up to make him breakfast like you promised. He came up behind you seeing you wearing his shirt and gave you a big hug “You know I could get used to this more often” he said kissing your cheek.
#stray kids#skz#straykids x reader#straykids smut#skz x reader#skz smut#skz lee know#skz lee minho#skz minho#lee know#lee minho#lee know smut#lee know x reader#minho smut#ju<3writes#ju <3 writes
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