#CLICKING MY TEETH IS THIS NORMAL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedreadvampy · 2 years ago

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AVAILABILITY. OBVIOUSLY.

'they import a majority of their tomatoes avocados oranges etc and all of them are tasteless' dude you are living in a country bordering on the Arctic circle. the southernmost point on this island is parallel with the Canadian-American border. those SUBTROPICAL FRUITS can only be grown in relatively small quantities under cover and don't thrive here, not do they travel particularly well. I'm not sure why you'd think that was a choice.

"I also notice the prepared foods lack a bit of flavour I'm missing from home" yeah man. That's the uhhhhh the thing I'm talking about in the post above. different cultures are used to different flavours. Your cultural background is a lot different so no things here aren't going to taste like things there. for example to me a lot of American prepared foods have very little complexity of flavour and everything is just Sweet (including bread???? for some reason?????) and/or Salt, and to me that's really bland. to me. because it's not the flavours I'm used to and the flavours I'm looking for aren't there.

Like first of all I literally did not ask about your opinions on British food, this is a post saying 'most foods exist because someone likes them so maybe stop acting like they're gross'. and second "the food quality is lower" yeah man if you are looking for food that's the same as food on a different continent. holy shit our tomatoes and avocados aren't as good as in the environments they're native to? you're kidding! our prepared food tastes different? whaaaaat?

I'm not going around calling Japanese food crap just because everyone I know who has moved there has struggled to find bread, cheese, potatoes or the veggies they eat at home, because Japanese food cooked with ingredients that grow well in Japan and that is made to match Japanese preferences. and even if I don't like it that doesn't mean it's bad, it means I don't like it.

The thing is. Bad/gross food is rarely a DISH - when food is bad it's because it's been badly made, whether because of skills or available ingredients. but a dish p much only exists recognisably and has a name because someone likes at least one version of it.

which is to say. there isn't really a way of naming a dish, school of dishes or specific food culture and going EW ISN'T THIS DISH UNILATERALLY CONCEPTUALLY DISGUSTING without denigrating quite a lot of people.

like you don't have to like it in any form. but it's eaten and shared because it's good to a not insubstantial number of people when cooked right.

(and I don't really understand how you approach that with total incuriosity when it's a dish you haven't tried like. ARE rocky mountain oysters good? Maybe! I would very much eat some to find out!!!!)

this is actually something the British food poll did in a way the American ones I've seen haven't really - they described how the food they're imagining is, specifically, badly prepared (grey meat and veggies; unseasoned shepherd's pie). which is wildly tipping the scales by calling it British Food but. like. that is an on point definition of why that food is gross.

(this also applies to American chocolate, which like. Broad category but I think most of us understand this refers to low-cocoa high-sugar chocolate, probably with bucolic acid. so we are being invited to imagine Badly Made Chocolate not. the concept of chocolate)

personally I just think it's very rarely a good or funny idea to shittalk how gross any given food culture is. partly because food is important and culturally evocative for most people, partly because it's very...alienating? to be like WHO COULD EAT SUCH A THING? just because you wouldn't, and largely because to be frank it says more about you than about the food that you have so little imagination or curiosity that you can't imagine why a food might be enjoyable to folks who aren't you.

yes this includes jello salad, I would like to try it. ONCE. if it wasn't appealing to someone it wouldn't be so widespread.

#can i get the same ingredients here as at home at the same quality and create the same flavours #you're right about the beef. tbf. idk why that is i think it's just that beef farming has become unprofitable here #i don't like beef but there's a very good chance that i don't like bed because most beef here is bad #i had steak tartare in prague and it slapped so hard #but this is baffling to me. like the American crops (tropical or subtropical) we grow here are mostly imported and bland #but apples and root vegetables are often flavorful and nice?#WHAT'S NOT CLICKING HERE. YOU HAVE DESCRIBED A VERY OBVIOUS EXPLANATION FOR THAT. YET STILL SEEM CONFUSED.#also re spices. yeah like the spice rack in supermarkets is very locally dependant #i can get stuff like white mustard seed and whole chillies at my supermarket.#bc i live in an urban high-asian-population area #but nowhere in my mum's town sells that and she has to get it online #bc like. most spices also. are not native here and have to be imported.#which has only been cheap to do for like. 70 years. it took time for people to get used to them being widely available.#but also. man. i do not understand the American In Britain attitude. you've lived all over the world? i GOTTA assume you've always had #to deal with certain stuff being unavailable or different #it's like pulling teeth in Germany to get half the ingredients i use as standard. or in the US tbh. japan fugeddaboudit #and yet. and it's not just you. Americans in Britain seem unable to conceptualise of this as a Different Culture With Different Food #even though. there is honestly way less crossover than you'd think outside a couple of American imports (burgers and pizza and texmex)#and we are in a completely different growing environment to most of the US #i do not understand this attitude. food tastes different here because it's a different country.#different things are available and cultural contexts and tastes are different #you're allowed to not like it. it's totally normal to not like things or for them to not be to your tastes #but if the question you're asking is #the answer probably shouldn't be. 'no because this food is objectively bad'

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wriokitty · 4 months ago

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“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

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a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

#—rivistyping!#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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y3sterdaysproblem · 14 days ago

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shifting - m.s.

summary: invisalign matt <3

cw: kissing, oral sex, invisalign kink?

wc: 2.7k

loosely inspired by take it or leave it by @plasticferal , mostly inspired by how horny matt with aligners makes me.

Click.

The sound of Matt absentmindedly pulling his invisalign tray off of his teeth and then pushing it back on filled the room, and you felt like you were about to explode if he did it again. He wasn’t even aware he was being so loud, his attention focused on whatever was on his phone that he held in front of him. You were both laying in his bed on top of the covers, having finished watching a movie around thirty minutes ago, now just doing your side by side doom scrolling in silence, or what was supposed to be silence.

You turn your head to the left to look at him, a slight look of annoyance on your face as you glare at his side profile. He doesn’t notice, still too caught up in his phone, fingers still toying with the tray in his mouth, clicking the bottom one on and off of the attachments on his molars. That was one of the nice things about Matt and his brothers being in the public eye, the fact that they didn’t have any of their attachments visible on the front of their teeth, leaving their smile otherwise smooth and normal when their trays weren’t in, however the downside was watching them stick their fingers so far in their mouth every time they wanted to take them out. Now was no exception, Matt’s thumb tucked into his mouth as he clicked, and then bit down, and then clicked, and bit down.

“Are your teeth hurting you?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence between you both. He’s caught off guard when you speak up, turning to face you with a confused look. “What? No, why?” Matt responds in his soft spoken voice, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

“Because you haven’t stopped playing with your fucking trays for the last twenty minutes,” you tell him, flopping your phone on your chest. “I can’t focus on anything.”

“Sorry,” Matt smiles sheepishly, setting his phone down as well. “I’ve had this tray in for a couple weeks and I’m about to switch it out. Doesn’t hurt so… sometimes I just fiddle with it I guess.”

Truthfully, this conversation opened the door to a topic that had always piqued your interest, and maybe you brought it up for more reasons than how annoying the sound of his repetitive actions were. “It doesn’t hurt?” You ask him, looking away from his eyes to look at his mouth. When he notices your gaze shift, he shoots you a large grin to show off all of his almost perfect teeth covered in the clear plastic. “No,” he says, chomping his teeth together a couple times. “When I change it, it’ll hurt for a few days, but I’m used to it.”

You nod, still staring at his mouth as he spoke. “What does it… I dunno.. feel like?” You ask him, meeting his eyes once again. “The outside?” Matt clarifies, and you nod. “Just like plastic. Makes my teeth dull. You wanna feel it?”

You’re a big caught off guard by his offer and you can’t help it when your ears start to heat up, feeling embarrassed that you’d even brought this up in the first place. “Feel your teeth?” You clarified, and he nods at you. You hesitate and he notices, reaching down to grab your hand. “Come on, I won’t bite,” he teases, and your cheeks darken even further as he pulls your hand up to his lips, parting them so you can run your finger over the aligners gently. For some reason, the close contact sent a small shiver down your spine, not used to being this close to Matt.

You realize after almost a minute of running your finger over his teeth that you’ve zoned out and you pull your hand away from him slowly, bringing it back to your own body. “Weird,” is all you can come up with to fill the void, looking back into his bright blue eyes that stared over at you, waiting for your reaction. “Does it affect when you like… kiss girls?” Matt’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected question, his own cheeks taking a turn at heating up. “I’ve never really kissed anyone with them in,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, nodding towards him. He mimics your action, feeling a palpable tension settle in his bedroom. He’s got an offer sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite force himself to say it, feeling like he might ruin everything you guys have worked so hard to create in the years that you’ve been friends. You turn your head back towards the ceiling, staring up at it as your mind raced along with your heart, wondering what on earth has got you so intrigued about this interaction. There was always an underlying attraction towards Matt, but ever since he started his treatment, you couldn’t help but find the way he looked with his aligners oddly sexy. The way he laughed or smiled, the way he ran his tongue over his top teeth just to get a feel for them, the way he had a slight lisp any time he spoke; it all made you hyper aware of how attractive Matt really was. You’re not given much time to overthink when Matt clears his throat, grabbing your attention again. “You wanna find out?” He asks you, voice full of faux confidence that you could see right through.

You turn back to face him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Find what out?” You ask cluelessly.

“You know…” he starts, confidence fading quickly. “How it feels to kiss.”

Oh, you think. That’s what he meant.

You stare at him for a few moments before silently nodding your head, not trusting your voice enough to speak. You genuinely did want to know what it felt like to kiss somebody with invisalign, if it felt any different, but more than that you wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Matt. You’d thought about it more than you care to admit out loud, or even to yourself.

Matt’s initiating the kiss, turning himself on his side to look down at you from where you still lay next to him, eyes staring up at him patiently. “You sure?” He asks quietly, wanting clarification before he crosses the line you both can’t come back from, and once again you shoot him a small nod, and it’s enough for him to lean down and close the distance, lips pressing gently onto yours.

It’s slow and soft the way his mouth moves against yours and the way his hand comes up to rest on your cheek, like he’s afraid of moving too quickly, afraid of shattering the environment. Matt’s heart is hammering in his chest as you kiss, unable to hide his nervousness when your own hand comes up to rest on his neck, pulse racing under your palm, holding him close to you, letting him know to stay exactly where he was.

The kiss was good, amazing even, but it was too tentative and wasn’t giving you what you were looking for, so when Matt’s lips parted for a split second, you took that as your opportunity to slide your tongue between them and press against his, pulling him into you a little bit harder as you both became more desperate, breaths becoming harsher.

His hand slid from your cheek and moved to the bed next to you, using it to hold himself above you as the kiss deepened, the sounds of your lips parting and reattaching and your staggered breathing filling the otherwise quiet room. In a moment of slowed intensity, you let the nagging voice in your head take control, hand coming around Matt’s face to grip at his jaw to hold him in place. Keeping your mouths pressed together, you ran your tongue slowly over his top row of teeth, feeling the dull plastic that he had described, the sensation sending a trail of goosebumps down your arms. You could hear the small, shocked gasp that Matt sucked in as you licked over his teeth, his eyes cracking open to peer down at you once you pulled away, entranced by how pleased you looked.

You opened your own eyes and smiled bashfully back at him, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I don’t… I don’t think I got a good enough feel,” you tell him, gliding your hand back around to the back of his neck, applying a bit of pressure. “No?” Matt asks sweetly with a slight tilt of his head. “Here, maybe this will help.”

His eyes flutter shut again as he dips back down to connect your lips again, rougher this time as you both become more comfortable with each other. Matt only kisses you for a few seconds before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it carefully, eliciting a small moan to slip from your throat. He releases your puffy lip and smirks down at you, tucking his face along your jawline as he starts to place small kisses on your skin until he reaches your neck, teeth gently biting at the warm skin. “Matt,” you whine, trying to press up into him more.

His only response is a small hum against you, his mouth kissing further down your neck until he reaches your collarbone, rounded teeth dragging against your skin as he descended. “You wanna know what they feel like, right?” Matt asks, slightly breathless. You nod, tilting your head down to look at him as he grabs the hem of your shirt and shoves it as high as he can, his movements pausing as he stared down at your chest. “Why are you not wearing a bra?”

Your bottom lip pouts out slightly as you watch him stare down at you, his hands moving to slide up your stomach, fingertips pressing into you like he was savoring every inch of skin he could touch. “I wanted to be comfortable,” you tell him, voice whiny. “Fuck,” is all he says before he leans his head back down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking harshly so the skin glides between his teeth, his groan sending a vibration through your chest. You’re instantly moaning, hand coming up to rest on the back of his head, your back arching to press your chest into him further.

His mouth felt like velvet around you, tongue working against the hardened nub that was pulled into his mouth, his hand kneading into your breast that wasn’t in his mouth. “Matt,” you whimper again desperately, holding him close while your hips searched for friction from his thigh that he rested between your legs. Matt felt like he was in heaven, face buried in the chest of the woman that he’d craved for so long. He was content just staying like this, sucking on your perfect tits until he died, or until you got sick of him. He could never get sick of this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” You groaned out. His cock strained against his underwear at your words, feeling lightheaded from the lack of blood rushing to his head. Matt couldn’t believe he was experiencing the honor of having you moan out his name, and he was committed to dragging it out as long as he could.

He pops his lips off of you and drags his tongue over your nipple slowly before he lifts himself up to look down at you. “It’ll feel so much better when I’m eating you out,” he grins, sliding his long, slender fingers down your torso again until they stop at your pants, keeping eye contact with you. You don’t have to be told twice, nodding your head at him to indicate your willingness and he scoots down on the bed and pulls your pants with him, leaving you with your shirt bunched up on your chest and your cute, pink panties covering your already soaked pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you. If I knew all I had to do was wear my invisalign around you I would’ve done it a lot sooner.” Matt’s almost talking to himself while he maneuvers his body between your legs, pushing them apart with his own knees as he settles down, sliding his hands up your thighs greedily. “God, your body is so fucking perfect, wanna worship you so bad. So pretty.”

You’d almost forgotten the origin of this encounter already, having to remind yourself that you were nearly naked in front of your best friend because of his orthodontic treatment, though his words only make you wetter, the mix of his dominance and his praise causing the hair to stand up on your arms. “God, Matt, please don’t be all talk. I need you to make me feel good,” you tell him honestly, pushing yourself up on your elbows to watch as he rubbed and squeezed on your thighs, seemingly entranced by the way your body moved under his touch. It looks like it takes a concerning amount of effort for Matt to pull his eyes away from your core and up to your own, a lazy grin forming on his face. “Okay,” he agrees, shifting his knees down so he can lay below you, spreading your legs farther apart.

One of his hands comes up to push your thong to the side, exposing your drooling center, begging to be devoured by him. “Holy fuck,” Matt groans out, wasting no time as he closed the distance, his eyes fluttering shut as your taste flooded his senses. You immediately dropped back down onto your back as his mouth sucked your clit between his lips enthusiastically, being mindful of how sensitive you were when he pressed forward a little more to allow your skin to come into contact with his covered teeth.

Teeth were never a thing for you before, but watching Matt’s get prettier and prettier and seeing the confidence that came along with his new smile, it did something to you, and that something was the same reason you were grinding your hips up into Matt’s face as he ate you out, tongue running over your clit. “Yes, yes, oh my god,” you babbled loudly, fervently. His pace never faltered, even when he brought his fingers up to your entrance and slipped them inside of you.

He was sloppy with the way that he was eating your pussy, though not in a way that felt unsatisfactory, but in the way that had you unsuspecting of each movement and had your eyes rolling back in your head. Matt’s fingers worked inside you leisurely as his tongue and lips stimulated your swollen clit, bringing you towards your peak faster than anyone had before. “Oh my god, Matt, I’m so close. Please don’t stop,” you beg, hand pressing him down into you as your hips rolled with the movements of his fingers, feeling your thighs start to shake on either side of his head.

Matt hummed against you, ripping a cry from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you, your body trembling with aftershocks as his mouth didn’t let up. “Matt,” you whine, grabbing his forehead and applying a bit of pressure until he pulled off with his own groan of disapproval. He moved his head over to the crease of your thigh, letting his teeth dig into you slightly, the sensation obviously feeling more dull than you’re used to, but you also felt way more into it at the thought of the reason why. He happily sucked a small mark into your skin the best he could with his aligners, pulling away after a few moments to admire it before he turned his attention.

Matt felt like he was kicked in the chest for a second as he laid eyes on you, your red cheeks and tired grin causing his heart to stop momentarily. “I’m, uh.. never taking these out ever again when you’re around, I hope you know that.” He tells you.

You’re laughing at his comment, but you couldn’t help but hope he was telling the truth. “As long as we get to do this again, that’s fine.”

a/n: nice and short! sorry if it’s boring it’s not my favorite thing I e ever written but invisalign matt is my origin story.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @ariestrxsh

#ave’s library 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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fandoms-writings · 8 days ago

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Shut Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (fem intended)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, smut, I wrote this on my phone so minimal layout and editing

A/N: hi hello I know I haven’t posted in forever I’m sorry, please take this as a peace offering 🥺

Bucky couldn't even remember what you were fighting about earlier. He knew it was stupid, childish even. You two bickered all the time, you always had ever since he met you. He liked to rile you up, see how angry and frustrated he could make you - the kind, polite, quiet one. Something about how you scrunched your brows, bared your teeth, and let the sweet girl facade fade. It made him feel alive.

But the second those words left your mouth, his mind had gone blank, and the argument ready on his tongue fizzled away.

"Maybe if I sit on your face, that'll shut you up."

You'd threatened him with bodily harm and spewed hate-filled words at him. But this kind of retaliation was a first. And, oh did he like it.

He more than liked it.

You'd followed him to his room earlier in the heat of your argument so there was no need for pause, or hesitation, or secrecy, before his lips landed on yours, silencing you. Your body slumped against his, all the tension and anger fizzling out into nothing as your hands gripped the front of his jacket. His feet guided you to the edge of his bed where he turned and sat, finally releasing you.

"Then do it." He'd countered, daring you to follow through with your threat for the first time. And when your eyes locked with his, your pupils blown wide and a hesitant look on your face, he smirked, "C'mon, you know you want to." And when you still didn't move, "unless you're all talk."

That'd done it. You hiked up the skirt of your sundress as you crawled on top of him, his smirk growing as you hovered over him, the damp spot on your panties on display for him. He instantly wrapped his flesh hand around your waist to pull the fabric to the side, using his metal one to guide you to his mouth.

He let out a low groan as soon as the taste of you hit his tongue. He never realized how badly he'd wanted you. He was still navigating being normal again, not being The Winter Soldier, that oftentimes the way his body reacted or his heart thudded against his chest went unnoticed, or left him in a stupor. But with you now grinding down on his tongue, it all clicked for him.

But he'd tuck that little secret away for now.

He could tell you were hovering, not letting him have the full weight of you and he pulled his mouth off you, chuckling at the pathetic whine that slipped past your lips as you looked down at him.

"Don't hover," He ordered, "I want all of you."

Your brows pinched and you only replied with, "And I want you to shut up," Before fully taking your new seat. The authority in your tone and the true weight of you on his mouth had his pants growing tight but he didn't want to take his hands off of you. Not as he reached up with his vibranium hand and gripped one of your breasts, massaging it as he pulled it over the fabric of your dress, lightly tugging at the nipple once it was free.

The moan that left your mouth at the coldness of his hand on your skin was pornographic with your head tipped back and your hands laying over his own, guiding them to how you liked to be touched, tightening his grip over your skin.

He decided then and there as you looked down at him, your jaw slack and the most beautiful sounds falling from your mouth, that he could do this forever. You were so beautiful like this, on the edge of release with him being the one to get you there.

He was never letting you go after this.

He slipped his hands out of yours, reaching his flesh one up to grip what he could reach of your neck, the other sliding under your ass to slip a finger in your soaked core. Your hands dove to tangle and tug at his hair as your moans pitched higher and louder, his name a chant on your tongue as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, tongue circling and lips closing around your clit while you practically fucked yourself on his fingers.

He wanted you to cum - needed it. So when his fingers curled and your moans turned to begging, he copied that same motion over and over and over until a gasp tore your breath from you.

As quickly as he could, he pulled his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue just as you fell over the edge, all but screaming his name, your legs clamping around his head as he swallowed your release, groaning into your skin.

Your hands left his hair and wrapped around his arms that were holding you up, holding on like he was your life line. He traced a few lazy circles around you with his tongue as your body relaxed before lifting you and sliding you down to sit on his chest.

When you looked at him, your confidence started to slip away, a sheepish, “sorry,” falling on his ears. He sighed with what he knew was the dopiest smile he’d ever let you see as his hands reached up to cradle your cheeks.

“Babygirl,” he’d laughed, “you can shut me up like that any time you please.”

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#bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky drabble #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #fandoms-writings

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heich0e · 2 months ago

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"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

#ho ho ho #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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emmyrosee · 2 months ago

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Itoshi Rin has an ugly laugh.

Normally you’re greeted with a huff and a smirk, and that’s the extent of the amusement he likes to show to you. Occasionally, a little laugh manages its way out, and you relish in the rare sound as much as you can before he inevitably clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest to suppress it.

But every now and again… once in a moon, the facade slips. There’s a crack in the concrete, a flaw in the code, and Itoshi Rin’s laughter soars.

“Baby,” you snicker at your phone. “Look at this video of Isagi slipping on ice.”

It’s one from Bachira, they’d been walking around the city, and Isagi flashed the camera the biggest peace sign he could muster before absolutely eating it against the sidewalk, arms flailing and legs cartoonishly slipping out from under him. Bachria screams in laughter, camera shaking wildly before it cuts off.

You watch Rin’s lip twitch. Then, he snorts. Then the wall completely crumbles as Rin cackles.

It’s hideous, it’s terrible, it’s uncontrollable as Rin shakes with laughter next to you, it’s somewhere between a bird caw and a car that won’t start, and you’d think it would be painful.

But it’s also just so imperfectly delightful. Rin is so… Rin, there’s no showing of weakness or denial of strength, and when you’re finally able to indulge in the side of Rin that he tries to hide so desperately, you can’t help but be enthralled.

You smile and sink your teeth into your lip as he comes down from his laughing fit, giggles replacing the cackles from just moments ago. A hand covers his mouth, and his eyes soften from their intense, laugh-driven furrow, and it isn’t until his pretty lashes flutter open and he looks at you, that a bright blush spreads across his face, and he clears his throat to gain some decorum.

“I love you,” you say simply.

He looks at you, confused. “Okay. I love you too?”

“You’re just so perfect, my handsome, perfect man-“

“Alright, you’re obsessed with me, I get it,” he groans. “What brought this on?”

You reach up to gently pinch his cheek, and he grumbles and bats your hand away, “you’re just so cute. I can’t help it.” You rest your head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t try to move you, “and I love your laugh.”

He groans again in embarrassment. You smirk.

“Freak,” he spits. “My laugh isn’t anything you need to concern yourself with, let alone enjoy.”

“But it’s so perfect.”

“It’s not.”

“Is too!” You chirp.

“Is not!”

You skitter your fingers up his side, and he yelps a snort before sharply grabbing your offending hand, glaring at you.

“It is.” You lean forward to kiss the tip of his flushed nose. “You are.”

He clicks his tongue.

But says nothing else.

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sttoru · 11 months ago

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“ryo,” it rolls off your tongue. naturally—as if you’ve called him that thousands of times before. you don’t realise it until he stops his movements.

sukuna narrows his eyes. you turn your head and look up, oblivious to your slip-up. the sorcerer doesn’t utter a word and instead glares down at your short frame. he looks irritated, or more annoyed.

“oh,” you realise why only a few seconds later. you bow your head at him and try to explain yourself in a hurry. normally, you’d address him with respect like everyone else does. ‘my lord’, ‘lord sukuna’, or even ‘master’.

you nearly fall to your knees. you don’t know how or what sukuna’s going to do now that you’ve dropped the honorifics on accident and called him by a nickname. you hold your hands together, “my deepest apologi—“

“again,” sukuna demands in a rough voice. you freeze for a second before tilting your head back. you catch a glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, intrigued and perhaps still a bit annoyed. he repeats, “call me that again.”

sukuna isn’t annoyed by the fact that you’ve called him by a nickname for the first time. he’s annoyed, because your sweet voice makes him feel stuff he’s sworn to never feel for a regular human. that warm feeling in his chest. . . he hates it. yet he yearns for it. from you.

you hesitate for a second, unsure if the firm tone in sukuna’s voice was a bad sign or not. you decide to just comply and hope for the best, “. . . ryo.”

sukuna grits his teeth. you think he’s mad, but in reality, he’s trying to eliminate the feelings of love from within him. your voice calling him so affectionately—so intimately; it makes him feel that warmth in his chest.

no one’s dared to call him anything like that before. everyone’s formal with him. it’s a must. sukuna’s used to everyone acknowledging his superiority in the conversations he holds. it’s a given.

no one refers to him so casually. no one dares to.

you’re the first one to break that pattern. the first one to make sukuna’s cold heart tremble. if it were anyone else, they’d be his dinner by now. but it’s you so it’s. . . fine, he assumes. an exception.

silence falls in the hallway. luckily, not another soul is around to witness the king of curses struggling to contain his own ‘foolish’ emotions. sukuna clicks his tongue and sighs before continuing to walk ahead of you.

you scurry after him—keeping your head low. you don’t wish to upset sukuna any further. you feel like you overstepped a boundary just now. the silence continues for a couple seconds, both of you deep in thought.

sukuna’s the one to end the quiet atmosphere. his voice is as deep and cold as ever, though there’s no denying the subtle softness that creeps in whenever he talks with you.

he takes a deep breath and sighs. sukuna keeps walking and doesn’t spare you a glance, however his voice and words tell you enough;

“from now on, that’s the only way you’ll address me until i say otherwise, understood?”

#sttoru writes.#listen i made this at 3 am and im drowsy so this probably doesnt even make sense #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #banner by cafekitsune

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miumura · 2 months ago

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TREATIN’ ME LIKE AN ENEMY ｡｡｡｡ 엔하이픈 🪽 ✦

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ in a secret relationship with your “enemy”

──── enhypen hyung line x f ! r ╱ ⌕ est. but secret relationship, workplace / co-workers au, fluff, comfort ( ? ) ∿ w. petnames, rude co-worker + mention of blood in sunghoon’s ( nothing graphic ) wc. 1.6K+ ( 1645 ) ｡｡ might need to make jey into my top 5 bc i love this song 😆

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

LEE HEESEUNG

“You’ll be working with…Lee Heeseung,” your supervisor said to you during a team meeting, unknowingly dropping a bombshell. It left your co-workers to exchange nervous glances around the room. Everyone knew you and Heeseung were practically sworn enemies, your relentless competitiveness with each other being the worst-kept secret in the office.

“So, go sit with your partner and start working on a new proposal,” your supervisor wrapped up the meeting, leaving everyone to scramble around to switch seats.

You chose to stay put, looking extremely disinterested as Heeseung was making his way over to the empty seat next to you. As you glanced at him, he seemed to wear the same look too as he sat down.

He scooted his chair closer to you, opening up his laptop. “Let’s work on this project with no hiccups, alright?” he says, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

To everyone else, you two were like oil and water—certainly not a good pair in other people’s eyes. What your co-workers didn’t know, however, was how Heeseung sneakily chose to get closer to intertwine his hands with yours under the table.

You subtly squeezed his hand back, both of you trying—and failing—to suppress the smiles threatening to creep onto your faces.

They certainly didn’t know how good of a pair you two could be.

PARK JONGSEONG

“Oh come on, you’re avoiding me even when we’re alone now?” Jay teased after trying to get your attention for the past few minutes. “It was just an act, I promise.”

You didn't even look up from your screen. “Suddenly sending me spam emails at once in front of our co-worker, and telling me I can’t delete them because one of them has important project details…” You tried to grit your teeth to hold back your frustration, but the words still slipped out. “And now I have to go through every single one of these with the same titles but blank emails? That’s a bit mean, don’t you think?”

"People were getting suspicious," he said, rolling his chair closer to you, only for you to shove it away with your leg. He just smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. "They said I’ve been too ‘normal’... or I guess, too nice to you lately."

“Well, I rather have a nice boyfriend right now, instead of him watching me go through these emails,” you huffed, your eyes still fixed on the screen. “You could at least share me another copy of it or just tell me now if it’s actually anything important.”

“I would think it’s rather important,” Jay replied, drawing out the last word in a teasing sing-song tone.

Finally, you glanced over at him, your frustration barely contained. He wore a small but sly smirk, his eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Are you going to tell me?” you asked, not sure whether to be more annoyed or curious.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to those emails for that?” He said, causing you to abruptly spin around, with your eyes glued once again.

“You’re really mean,” you said, thinking of the plan to ignore him once again.

He lightly chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking behind you. His hand rested on the back of your chair, and you felt a familiar warmth when his other hand slid over yours on the mouse.

“It’s this one,” he whispered close to your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You jolted slightly, turning to face him, eyes wide in surprise as his heartwarming smile spread across his face. “Why don’t you read it?”

You cleared your throat, your fingers lingering on the mouse as you clicked on the email. But there were no project details—just a simple message:

“Let’s go to the place you’ve always wanted to go to?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned to face Jay, lips parted in surprise as you watched his eyes light up, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“So, what do you say?” Jay crouched down to your level, holding your hand gently.

“Let’s go on a date?”

SIM JAEYUN

"Do you not know how to do a single thing?" you asked in disbelief, flipping through the “messy” weekly report Jake had written.

"Are you seriously trying to criticize my work right now?" Jake shot back, his voice sharp enough to make heads turn outside the break room.

He stepped closer, reaching for the paper in your hand. His brows furrowed, and his expression hardened, his frustration clear as he tilted his head to meet your gaze.

“Do you think you’re my bos—” Jake stopped mid-sentence, his ears perking at the sound of hurried footsteps outside. His eyes darted to the window of the door, catching a glimpse of a group of people quickly scurrying away. He walked closer, double checking to make sure everyone was out of sight.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, his serious demeanor melted in an instant. He turned back to you with a cheeky grin, a sight you started to get familiar with. Without hesitation, he crossed the room to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Not at work, babe,” you said as you nudged him away from you, although you still wanted to be in his embrace. His pouty expression had you lightly chuckling as his hands stayed firmly on your hips.

“Are you really the same person a minute ago?” you teased, wondering how your boyfriend was able to change expressions that quick.

“Is my acting that good?” Jake asked, his grin growing even wider, his pride written all over his face.

"A little too good," you admitted with a small laugh, your fingers tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. "I wonder what you were going to say next? Do I think I'm your... what?"

“Boss,” he clarified where he had left off from, his tone softening as he added, “and we both know that’s not what you are.”

“So, what am I?”

“I think you’re my girl,” he said confidently, but then he quickly shook his head. “Scratch that—I know that you’re my girl.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“And… Y/N,” your co-worker trailed off, his tone suddenly sharp as he glanced over your report. The air in the room grew heavy, and an uneasy silence filled the space. “You’ve done better work than this.”

The sound of a pin dropping could have echoed in the room. All eyes shifted to you as heat rose to your face. Your own gaze flickered from the report in his hands to the floor, shame creeping in.

“Are you going to say anything?” he pressed.

“I’m sorry…” you managed to mumble, your voice barely audible.

“That’s it?” His tone grew harsher, and your eyes darted back to him, surprised by the sound in his voice. “Aren’t you going to reassure us that you’ll do better next time?”

“I…” You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself, but the sting from the broken skin sent a jolt through you.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so—“

“If you don’t mind letting her finish her sentence instead of acting like a jerk, that would be greatly appreciated,” Sunghoon’s voice cut him off, making everyone turn toward him.

You blinked, shocked to hear him speak up for you. The whispers started immediately—no one expected Sunghoon to defend you, not given your so-called “bad terms.”

“Instead of giving her constructive criticism, you’re just trying to tear her down,” Sunghoon continued, his voice calm but serious. He picked up a copy of one of the very reports laid out, flipping through it with sharp precision. “And honestly, I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about anyone else’s work.”

“Excuse me?” The co-worker looked both offended and startled.

“When was the last time our supervisor called your report anything more than average?”

The room filled with hushed murmurs, and you saw the co-worker’s face turn red. He fired back, “Why are you defending her? Aren’t you two supposed to hate each other?”

Sunghoon leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Should I just leave my morals because of some petty label people decided to put on us? I won’t stand by while you talk to her like that.”

“You two clearly have something going on—” the man started, pointing an accusatory finger at both of you, only to stop mid-sentence when Sunghoon suddenly scraped his chair against the floor and stood up.

The entire room fell silent as Sunghoon grabbed your arm, his touch firm but not forceful. Without a word, you stood as well, letting him guide you toward the door.

“If you’ll excuse us both,” Sunghoon said, his voice having an unmistakable edge, “call us back when this team can manage a respectful meeting.”

The door shut firmly behind you, muffling the chaos of the room. Sunghoon immediately turned to you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip with tenderness. You winced slightly, and he frowned. “I’ll get you some ointment.”

“Hoon, you didn’t have to do that…” you said softly.

He shook his head, his hands still framing your face. “Come on, even if everyone thinks we’re enemies, I wasn’t going to just sit there and let someone treat my girlfriend like that. And I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I didn’t think that jerk would keep going like that.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you smiled up at him. “He’s always been like that. I’ve just dealt with it for so long.”

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” Sunghoon said firmly, his hands moving to gently hold your arms. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “Regardless of what people think or what they call us, I’ll stand up for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

‘💬’ ─── this was supposed to be an 0t7 work but i started blanking out 😖 but hey first hyung line work !!

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thebearer · 8 months ago

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making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up.

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home.

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him.

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before.

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind.

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively.

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-”

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum.

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach.

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?”

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-”

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!”

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-”

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-”

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you.

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest.

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!”

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible.

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one.

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for.

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing.

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat.

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth.

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear.

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed.

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt.

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-”

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in.

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted.

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger.

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door.

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again.

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick.

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber.

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits.

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance.

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open.

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him.

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?”

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question.

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-”

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it.

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you.

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left.

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?”

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony.

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left.

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him.

And he’d driven you away.

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete.

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went.

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything.

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you.

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you.

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feelgoodinct · 5 months ago

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nsfw, mdni.

cw: situationship simon you will always be famous, jealousy, f oral receiving, not edited, written on mobile during my lunch break lolz.

simon knows he’s no stranger to conflict. it’s intertwined with what he does and who he is. so when you come to him putting your foot down demanding answers about your relationship he figures he’ll let you throw your fit and sort you out when he gets back.

it’s a 3 month deployment, one of those that need a 6 month rest to recoup. when he gets back it’s easy to fall into his normal routine again. he spends his first night back at his usual bar, a seedy little thing downtown that gets crowded quickly. something he’s willing to compromise on since they have his favorite beer on tap.

he’s on his third beer of the night when he hears the chime of the entrance door. only this time he hears a voice that he is familiar with. very familiar with. he his quickly snaps up at the sound to see you. you’re in his favorite skirt one he’s pulled off of you in the back of his truck many times, and short little black number with a lacy top.

he doesn’t have time to gaze and your legs before he zeroes in on the hand at the small of your back, ushering you towards a table in the corner. he grits his teeth. when he said he’ll let you have your fuss he didn’t mean in the form of a fucking date. he stares unashamedly so, paying no more mind to the game playing on the bars dingy telly overhead. he knows you haven’t seen him or else you would’ve turned and walked right back out. he decides he’ll bid his time watching you and your date sit in a booth tucked away into the corner. he scowls as he watches your date lean in to put his hand on your thigh while you scan the drink menu. prick wouldn’t even know what to do with you if he had you, sweetheart. he watches you give him a polite smile. it makes him snort. dickhead didn’t even let you sit on the inside of the booth.

you lean in whispering something to your date making him nod. simon watches you stand and make way towards the washroom at the back scooting by tipsy patrons and disappearing behind the washrooms door. he looks back over to your booth watching your date tap away in his phone. idiot didn’t even have the decency to walk you to the loo. simon waits all of 15 seconds before he rises, chair scraping across the floorboards, dropping a few bills on the bar top.

you reapply your lipgloss in the foggy mirror of the bathroom. when you agreed to go out on a date you thought a nice place to eat. not some bar that make the bottom of your shoes stick. you take a big sigh, if anything you’ll get a few free drinks and make the most of it.

the door swings open, wood groaning with the force behind it, the click of the lock following quickly behind the sound. you turn towards the sound freezing when you see simon standing looking comically large in the small room. “simon? what the hell! this is the ladies room.” you say in disbelief. he ignores your comment and takes long strides towards you boots making a resounding thud with each step. he crowds you against the counter top craning his neck to look you in the face. “ye done throwing a fit?” his voice deep with irritation.

you look at him like he sprouted a third eye, “excuse me?” your reply laced with annoyance at his audacity.

“don’t be difficult.” simon says more of a command than anything. you open your mouth just to quickly close it. even with the tension, the air is thick with heightened emotion. “he’s not your type.” he says with a tight clench of his jaw.

you scoff at his words, “is this what this is about? you followed me into the ladies room to talk about my date?” simon’s eye twitches with your admission that you are, in fact, on a date. he feels jealousy flare deep in his chest. “ye wastin yer time with him.” he ignores your comment about him being in the ladies room. he could give less of a fuck.

you tilt your head watching the muscle in his jaw twitch. “that all?” you say hoping to end his questioning. simon grinds his teeth at your stubborn attitude hands one either side or you gripping the shabby counter. he’s not one to mince words, he considers your question staring at you with intense and dark eyes. he knows he’s being unreasonable that he should step back let you get back to your date. but simon is nothing if not stubborn, more so than you.

before he can say anything there a sharp knock at the door. simon looks at the door, an irritated look flashing across his face. “simon.” you plead with him. there’s a pause before the knocks come again in quick succession. “fuck off! it’s taken.” simon barks towards the door before turning back to you. you watch the rise and fall of his chest, muscles in his arms taut with tension, you notice the way he fills out his shirt the fabric stretching across his chest. you trying swallowing down the desire that’s been building ever since he trudged into the washroom. your on a date for god’s sake.

simon notices the look in your eye and that’s all the permission he needs before he’s hoisting you up onto the counter with his palms burning into the back of your thighs. you squeak at the sudden movement and instinctively open your legs wider giving way to simon’s wide torso. a hand tangles in your hair and tugs your head back barring your neck to him. he leans down, lips against the shell of your ear, voice gruff “if you wanted a fuck you come to me, understood? don’t need no prick trying to feel you up when you got me.” you nod as much as best as you can with the way simon has your head at an awkward angle.

“good.” simon pulls back loosening his grip of your locks and slides his hands down to squeeze the fat of your hips. “now behave and i’ll make it good for you.”

you immediately lean back on your forearms and widen your legs. simon grins at your obedience, canines peeking out from his top lip. he makes quick work of pushing your skirt up to your belly. you hiss as thighs and ass make contact with the cold surface. simon rubs your thighs with big warm hands as an apology. you whine as his fingers close around the band of your lacy black pair of panties tugging them down and off your legs. you feel the cool air hit your center and you see simon pocket them. filthy bastard.

he kneels with a groan taking in your cunt like it’s the first time he’s seen one and he stares like it’s the last time. pinning your thighs to your chest, he looks up through his lashes, “help me out here pretty thing.” he spreads your folds apart with both thumbs and lets out a deep groan.

you’re about to tell him to get on with it when he leans in and gets his mouth on the entirety of your mound. you grip the back of your thighs trying to ground yourself. simon dips his tongue in licking at your opening as your mouth drops open. you nearly sob when he adds a finger in and pulls back with a cocky grin. before you can tell him to piss off he introduces another finger making you whine out like a wounded animal. his mouth returns to tongue at your clit while he curls his fingers hitting a spot that has you jerking. he pulls back grinning and looks up “that the spot, pretty girl?” you nod quickly not caring how desperate you must look with your legs to your chest, feet grazing the top of simon’s shoulders, crying into the air. “yeah i know, sweet thing. yer just gaggin for it. cunts leakin all over my hand.” his words make you clench hard, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. simon doesn’t let up stretching you out with rough fingers giving a low growl into your cunt.

“simon” you mewl dropping your thighs to tug at the tufts of hair between your thighs. he groans, your sounds fueling simon as he speeds up his fingers knowing your close. you cry out chanting simon, simon, simon, please. he leans in to suck at your clit, hard, all while hitting that sweet spot. you come with a sharp pull of his cropped hair and a sob, ears closing around his head. he licks you through it until you’re forced to yank his head back from the overstimulation. he leans back on his haunches, big paws running up and down your thighs, and gives you a dopey grin.

“i can’t feel my legs.” you say in a hoarse voice, trying to catch your breath.

“yeah, m’not surprised. you came hard pretty hard, sweet girl.” simon stands to his full height, not missing the way your cheeks heat up at his words. he chuckles at your sudden shyness, a deep sound that vibrates throughout his chest. he circles his arms around your waist bringing you to sit upright at the edge of the sink.

his hand cradles the back of your neck forcing you to meet him halfway. he gives you a deep kiss, licking the front of your teeth, and sucking at your bottom lip before he pulls away. “ready to go home now?” he says with affection in his eyes.

the reality of where and who you are with dawns on you and you sit upright in a panic. “oh fuck.” you try to keep your voice steady. simon raises an eyebrow at your anxious state. “my date. i left him outside!” you shriek knowing you’re gonna have to go out and answer for your absence. simon clicks his tongue understanding why you’re so worried. “don’t worry bout it, pet. told him to sod off before i came in. bastard ran out before i could even threaten him” he says patting your backside in reassurance.

you let out a big sigh of relief knowing you won’t have to confront him. simon gives you a crooked smile. “ready?” he runs his hand through your hair. you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

(you make a mental note to thank soap for giving you a heads up on simon’s plans for tonight.)

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod x reader #call of duty smut

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katszumi · 6 months ago

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every room stood still. your kitten, katsuki insisted on naming 'skullcrusher', also didn't dare to move.

your head hung low, feeling the stuffy air sneak into your lungs. you glanced at the clock on your watch. 7:19. the usual time katsuki arrived at the doorstep.

normally, you'd rush to the door, showering your boyfriend with short pepper kisses on his face. but you remained on the velvet couch, the same couch you picked out when house shopping with katsuki.

a click sounded, indicating the door was recently unlocked. you harshly breathed in the same stuffy air, forcing yourself to swallow the panic that resided inside of you.

katsuki slugged through the door, immediately dropping his bag at the front door. his eyes met yours then to the kitchen, his face contorting slightly at the sight. it was empty?

"no food. what's up with you?" his words came off more formidable than he liked, especially when he knew something wasn’t right.

katsuki inched towards you, his eyebrows wearing an expression of its own. they were furrowed, his right eyebrow a little deeper than the other.

"katsuki," you started, breaking your words off.

he slightly cocked his head in confusion and worry. as he came closer, not only did he see your presence shaking alongside the couch, but he also saw two suitcases behind you that were clearly filled to the brim.

you watched how his eyes widened, how his teeth unclenched leaving his jaw to drop. his ruby irises instantly shot back towards you, scanning your face for any signs that you were playing a joke on him.

"what the fuck." the words leave his mouth too quick for him to register.

you swallowed nothing. "katsuki, we need to talk."

"talk?!" his mouth opened to continue yet no words seemed to come. oddly enough, for the first time, he was speechless.

"i-i need you to listen to me." you hated the fact that you stammered on your words.

"and then what?!" he paused, "you leave me?" katsuki's voice lowered in volume, a tone of angst leaked within his words.

you attempt to stand strong. you weren't even sure if this was the right choice now by looking at his wounded face.

slowly, you nodded.

"yes."

katsuki was expecting that. hell. who wouldn't when their girlfriend has two suitcases behind her? but hearing the words leave her mouth was entirely different. it was like a shot through his heart, the bullet penetrating every piece of restraint he had.

his head turned to the side. he was battling his thoughts; every fucked up thing he did occuring to his mind.

"is it because i left my bloody rag on the counter the night before? because if so, i promise to god, i will never do it again. i know how much you despise it." he went on his own plethora, his words and body language holding enormous amounts of panic.

"katsuki." you reinstated again. if he went on like this much longer, you were afraid you'd never have the strength again to walk out of the door.

"or because i yell too loudly at ungodly hours?" he ignored your words.

"katsuki." you repeated.

"i understand i'm not the easiest person. fuck. i'm even shocked i've gotten this far." he rambled, not caring about a word you have to say. he had to say something, do something, in order to convince you. bargaining with all of his strength. "what have i done? what do i need to fix?"

you reach for his hand, molding your hand to fit in his. you placed your open hand on top, soothing small circles into his skin.

"it's not you, katsuki."

katsuki's face fell. "then, why are you leaving me?"

"i can't live like this. i was not taught to be a housewife. to clean, cook, wait for your arrival every night at seven o'clock just to eat dinner with you." you shook your head. "i don't have a job or even a hobby! i am stuck within these walls everyday, the paparazzi at damn near every corner doesn't help either. i am exhausted being alone all day."

you could feel the sweat accumulate on katsuki's palms.

"i'll tell the media to back off. i swear to it. a-and, i know somebody who's looking for help with their business, i can set it u—"

"katsuki, i am miserable here!" you interrupted his words, slightly raising your voice. "i can't do it anymore! you are a pro-hero, dedicating your life to these people everyday. and what am i doing? making sure that your stomach is filled and that there's no stains on a countertop!"

katsuki was quiet, allowing the words to settle in. taking the moment of silence of advantage, you slipped your hands from his.

"you're a pro hero. you've made the ranks. you've accomplished everything you've hoped for." you sighed. "i just don't fit within your schedule."

katsuki remained silent, reality now kicking in for him. he bit the inside of his cheek to restrain the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"i'm sorry. i truly, really am. i just need to accomplish my own goals before it's too late."

katsuki's eyes fell to the ground, a very slow nod coming from him. he cleared his throat, also sniffling to remove the snot that was aching to run down his nose.

"where will you be staying?"

you echoed his action from earlier, turning your head sideways. you couldn't face him anymore after utterly destroying his heart.

"it's best if you don't know."

he paused. "right."

you spun on your heel to bend down behind you, grabbing your overly stuffed suitcases. you increased the height on the handles, slowly trudging them towards the door.

you couldn't believe that this was happening. it was a last minute decision. lying down in bed, realizing that if this continued, you'd be nothing more but a trophy wife that's made no true accomplishments on her own.

you were more than that. more than a cleaner and cook.

"i didn't accomplish everything." katsuki broke the silence.

you halted your steps, peering at him over your shoulder. you hoped he took the silence as permission to continue.

"i wanted to marry you. have a big ass wedding reception and drink until we could barely see anymore." he dryly chuckled. "maybe even have a few flowergirls of our own. that goal mattered more to me than any accomplishments i've made before in this life." your heart clenched at the fact.

tears covered your vision, your breathing starting to become sporadic.

"you can keep skullcrusher." you faced forward, grabbing the door handle. "i love you, kats. thank you for everything." your words trembled, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face.

as the door shut behind you, katsuki buried his face into his hands, and cried like a little boy in his now empty, silent home.

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g-k444 · 4 days ago

Text

health ed class where im the shy girl at the back who blushes, embarrassed when the teacher announces we're doing sex ed in class today.

the first thing he asks for is a volunteer

i normally get picked on for these sorts of things - y'know - given im the one at the back of the class that always tucks her head into her book whenever she's noticed... i do my usual interested-in-book act and hope to go unnoticed.

it fails once again.

against my volunteering-want, i pick myself up - cheeks darkening as I feel the class' attention turn to me as my chair scrapes the floor, my heels dragging as i stand at the front and look across the classroom - seeing how many judgemental pairs of eyes stare at me - today's subject.

"Now that we have someone who has kindly volunteered - will you hop up onto the desk-"

I leaned back and let myself pull my bodyweight up so that I sat with my legs extending from the teacher's desk on the front

"-And pull your skirt up."

the words took a second to resonate before my eyebrows flew up in shock. "S-sorry?"

"Show the class your pussy," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "we're in a health class and you volunteering yourself - your body - so go on, show the class your pussy."

My throat dries and closes, face draining of colour and yet heating up simultaneously, legs crossing over each other defensively whilst my body seemingly freezes at the overwhelmingness of it all.

I can't talk - my throat hoarse from the shock of it all - and instead the best i can do is shake my head erratically, not willing to oblige. was he joking? was this some example of how if you don't wanna show your body to everyone you shouldn't send pictures?

what sick thing what going on?!

it wasn't a joke though - and seemingly bad was turning to worse at the teacher frowned. "well, you've already volunteered yourself, and if you don't comply with what i tell you to do then there will be consequences, miss."

my body remained frozen in place from the shock of it all. and looking across the classroom, all the other students seemed perfectly okay with what was going on - as if there were some universe where this was normal! And if not neutral to it - some of the body even seemed to have their interests piqued by the idea, leant forwards in their desks as though trying to get closer to the action.

the teacher noticed my lack of movement and took matters into his own hands.

"Jones! Up!"

I looked across the room as my bully - the one that antagonized me for all things stupid and trivial - stood up and came to the front of the class.

"I'm going to lift her skirt up and hold her body to keep her still - i want you to hold her thighs open and pull her panties off."

this time the words clicked faster, and I pushed myself off of my arms to get off of the table and not let myself get undressed in front of the whole class - yet my teacher was faster. his arm wrapped around my body and pulled my back into his chest, his other forearm grasping at the hem of my skirt before yanking it upwards and revealing the upper skin of my thighs and the baby pink panties i'd chosen this morning - things that I hadn't expected nor wanted the class to see

"get-off- mE!" i wriggled under the teacher's hold and yet couldn't escape his grasp - and looking across the class with teary eyes, noone cared to make eye contact with me or help - instead they all made eye contact with the baby pink between my legs, uncaring for the yelps that left my mouth

the only one that looked me in the eyes was Jones. My bully, who hadn't shown kindness since I'd first joined. please, Jones... I'd whispered with a wavering tone to him - holding eye contact as he leaned down, his hands falling on either of my thighs... before he gripped them - hard - and prised them open to give everyone a better view of the pair of panties. and with both his hands occupied, his head fell between my legs as a scream left my mouth, his teeth clenching around the material to pull it away from my pussy and expose the raw flesh that evoked some scattered gasps and wows across the classroom.

"Terry, take my place holding her - everyone gather round-"

My body was grasped by a different set of arms, blubbers falling from my lips as the teacher came to my side and the class left their seats to come closer to my bare pussy - eyes fixated on the exposed mound

"This is what a real pussy looks like - this up here-"

he touched my clit and made my whole body jerk, a cry mixing ang mingling with a moan and making something of a wailing noise that seemed to make someone's trousers tighter

"that is the clitoris. the place that had the most nerves and it a pleasure point on the female anatomy. This set of lips is the labia majora - the other lips - and these inner ones are the labia minora"

i felt utterly degraded feeling him pinch either set of lips, shaking them with his words to emphasise what he said using my body - a trail of dampness following his fingers as he pulled away from my pussy

"and most importantly - this here is the vagina - the hole from which women have periods and babies from - but most importantly - the place which you put cocks, fingers and toys into to pleasure a woman."

"everyone, you may now touch and feel the demonstration."

my whole body jerked as various prods and motions were conceded on my pussy - Jones' hold firm around my thighs and stopping my from squirming or wriggling myself away from all the touch that made tears leak from my eyes

"can i finger her, sir?"

"absolutely, how else would you learn?"

a scream leaves my mouth as a pair of foreign fingers breaches my pussy, twisting and almost patting my inner walls curiously, before pulling away with a trail connecting his fingers to my pussy - fluid dripping between his fingers as the separated the two that had been inside my pussy

"okay, so, our first assignment will be to see how a pussy reacts when stimulated with pleasure"

everyone is given a chance to make me cum.

initially i scream and writhe on the desk whilst I'm instead pinned down, and have my pussy violated with fingers what scissor my walls and prod a sensitive spot until my juices spread over my shaky legs. then it's a tongue that breaches my hole with flicks and thrusts. they gain confidence though - and it's not long before a cock is inserted into my pussy and leaves stains of white over my pussy when he finishes.

my throat becomes so raw i cant speak - my mind a broken scramble and my pussy is so spent and broken that it doesn't even contract in horror anymore. it's completely passive as the orifice is breached over and over until...

"okay, that's good - now, as we still have a bit more time before class finishes... let's have some fun - everyone - find something in your bag or in the classroom to shove in her pussy to see how she reacts."

my mind is still scrambled - yet someone props a book beneath my head so that i can at least see all of the objects that are pushed into my hole - the pupils' cum acting as lubrication that allows the random objects to enter my pussy

a whiteboard pen, markers and other various stationary items enter first - testing the waters before someone tries to push a water bottle up there - then a chair leg that two people need to hold to effectively spear me with the metal rod

"good job today," the teacher bends to say into my ear as the students thank him and leave the classroom whilst im still starfished, energy dead on the desk. "clean yourself up and go the principal's office once you've done that. apparently he could hear all the racket in here and wanted a private meeting with you"

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