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wonkixo · 6 months ago

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FOOD CRITICS ⎯ ENHYPEN MAKNAE LINE (k. sunoo, y. jungwon, n. riki)

SYNOPSIS in which they fall down bad into the love at first sight trope when all they wanted was to film content and eat good food.

PAIRING youtuber! enhypen maknae line x food industry worker! female reader

GENRE/WARNING(S) strangers to lovers, headcanons, fluff, bits of crack, a few profanities, slight cliffhanger in riki's but happy ending!

AUTHOR'S NOTE i think i got a lil carried away with riki's heh... yet i ran out of ideas to make this an ot7 work sorry :,) but i hope you all enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and any feedback are always appreciated <3

⎯ KIM SUNOO

sunoo would be the cutest youtuber on the web

popular for his adorable mukbangs and food reviews, he was invited to try out working at a trending café for a day

"welcome back to my channel, everyone! today, we were invited to get a behind the scenes look inside of one of seoul's most popular cafés to date, tea bloom!"

there was not an ounce of nervousness in this cutie's body, he was so excited to try out a domestic job (due to its stark contrast with his influencer life)

but when he saw you and learned that you would be his mentor for the day, oh boy he was thrilled

"everyone, meet yn! she is my lovely mentor for the day, she will be guiding and teaching me the ins and outs of working at tea bloom!" "i'm so excited to work with you, sunoo! i've been a fan of yours for ages~"

when you revealed you were a fan of his, the blush that crept upon his fluffy cheeks was evident

the first thing you decided to teach sunoo was how to make a proper iced matcha latte

admittedly this choice was self-indulgent due to your love for matcha

but you also assumed this would be an easy start for someone who was new to the kitchen

sunoo did wonderful as expected

when you finished making your matchas, you two did a taste test of each other's

sunoo already knew yours would be delicious, seeing as your work is what made the café so popular

but when you got around to drink his matcha, you were stunned to say the least

"sunoo, you're such a natural! are you sure you were not a barista before becoming a youtuber?" "oh you're just saying that..." "SUNOO I'M SO SERIOUS."

you decided to also have sunoo watch you bake one of your most popular pastries, french macarons

sunoo was determined to help you in whatever way he could

but he was well aware of how difficult it was to bake french macarons

and he didn't want to mess up your flow

so he let you do your thing while he admired watched you :)

you of course let him take part in the tastings

and encouraged him to copy what you did as best as he could

"don't be shy, sun! you got this, just follow what i do as best you can and don't be afraid of messing up!"

you transitioning from calling him sunoo to sun btw...

the fans were biting their fists at how adorable you two were

at the end of the day, you and sunoo were able to create two perfect batches of french macarons (that sold out in less than an hour may i add)

despite sunoo being known for his soft aura on his channel, fans were quick to note his sweet and comfortable nature around you

not only was sunoo so eager to learn from you, but he was eager to take care of you as well

had to cut a slice of cake? you didn't lift a finger when sunoo was in the kitchen with you, especially near a sharp object

had to grab something out of the oven? sunoo already had his mittens on and was gently pushing you to the side to prevent you from getting burned

had to clean up a drink a customer accidentally spilled? sunoo was already rushing his way over with a mop before you could blink twice

it was as if he owned the cafe and he was the one mentoring you

"guys... i'm sorry but i may be stealing sun away from the spotlight and hire him to work for me instead." "you know yn, i wouldn't mind that." "i wouldn't mind your presence everyday either, sun."

there was clear chemistry between the both of you

the cuteness aggression was insane

after the video was posted, your café gained so many new customers!

ironically enough, your new customers were adamant on trying your french macarons & iced matcha lattes

some innocent middle schoolers who often came by your café after school even asked if you and sunoo were dating

flattered, you would innocently giggle and deny their assumptions

however, unbeknownst to all sunoo's viewers, you two talked every day following your day together

when you two weren't working, you guys spoke so much actually

you would come home from your shift at the café to facetime the cutie pie while he attempted to bake a red velvet cake himself

he would come home from a brand event to facetime and binge watch all versions of love island together

if your schedules aligned, you guys would visit each other's apartments and just enjoy one another's company (with no cameras or customers in sight)

you two were even planning to create a part 2 to your collab! perhaps another "work with me" video...

sunoo: hey ynie!! i hope your shift is going well:) sunoo: hypothetically asking though (forgive me for not asking irl) sunoo: but what would you say if i asked you out for dinner after your shift? yn: hehe hiii my sunny boy yn: im on my break rn but i clock out at 5 today <3 yn: i'll see you tonighttt

or perhaps a "get ready with me for a date!" video :)

⎯ YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was a popular youtuber for filming silly videos purely for entertainment and documentation of his life

whether it be challenges with his friends, deep dive in conspiracy theories, or simple vlogs of his days

on this particular day, he was filming a drive-thru telepathy challenge with heeseung (which they miserably failed btw)

jungwon sat at the drive-thru speaker with no thought behind those boba eyes and cat-like features

"hello, welcome to [insert fast food restaurant here]! what could i get started for you?" "oh yeah um... what do you recommend?"

the speaker recommended him a plain ol' chicken sandwich with a side of fries and a large drink

nothing can go wrong with that, right?

he simply agreed to your coworker's recommendation and paid for his order

jungwon waited as there were cars lined up before him, noticing how heeseung ahead of him managed to order 3 different bags worth of food

jungwon subtly also notices you giving his friend his respective order, where the camera catches a subtle sparkle light up in jungwon's eyes

"so there is absolutely no way hee and i got this right... but guys, the drive-thru girl looks super cute."

eventually jungwon drives up to the pickup window for his turn, where his eyes swore they were in contact with the love of his life (and they were)

"one chicken sandwich with a side of fries and a large drink?" you innocently ask with a gentle smile on your face, waiting for the man to confirm his order before handing it to him.

unfortunately for jungwon, he was too mesmerized to pay attention to what you were saying

he simply nodded his head, to which you responded by handing him his order

jungwon reached for his food, but he truly couldn't take his eyes off of you

so much so, that his fingers slipped and dropped his large drink

"oh my goodness, i'm so sorry! let me get you a new drink real fast..."

you swiftly apologize and turn away before jungwon could even get the chance to take accountability for the mistake

he looks off to the camera propped up on his dashboard with blown out eyes

a small smirk lingers on his face as an idea pops up in his head

you return within a matter of minutes, handing him a new drink and extra napkins

you once again apologize profusely for the silly incident, to which jungwon hands you a $20 bill in response

"what is this?" "a little tip for a really pretty girl."

jungwon's camera catches a playful glint sparkle in his eyes as he flirts

you, unable to respond to jungwon's advances, mumble a shy thank you

but your dilated pupils and rosy cheeks said more than enough to him

as jungwon drives away (not before giving you a cute wink), the camera catches you looking at the bill with a large grin appearing on your face

the bill had a sticky note attached that cutely read: "the spilled drink was my fault. please accept my apologies :) - jungwon" with his number written underneath

jungwon admittedly couldn't even believe himself

shooting his shot in the drive-thru of a fast food restaurant is crazy work

but i bet his fans are even crazier

they were determined to figure out who you were

not for any malicious intent or anything of that nature

but rather they were proud of the man for shooting his shot

seeing jungwon flirt on camera was not an uncommon thing

but those past instances were playfully directed towards his friends he filmed with, never a girl

so jungwon falling head over heels for this cute drive-thru girl was something that was not on his viewers' bingo card

a few videos and hundreds of adamant comments later, jungwon dropped the bomb and admitted that he left his phone number on the $20 he handed you

he left it a mystery as to whether or not you reached out to him

but with the way he kept looking behind the camera and smiling like an idiot at a hidden shadow figure revealed more than just that

"won, you are not slick whatsoever. look at you, you keep glancing back over here!" "sorry, i can't help it when i have such a pretty girl helping me film my videos."

⎯ NISHIMURA RIKI

i picture this man as a shit poster (as in he posts whatever he wants, whenever he wants)

thus he one day decided that he wanted to film a solo yap & mukbang session at his favorite diner

"ello chat, welcome back to the channel. we have no motive or goal for the day, but we're gonna have a nice solo date at one of my favorite local diners. not saying the name because i'm gatekeeping :3"

the diner was not too busy given that it was close to midnight

you were one of the few waitresses on duty at the time

and riki just so happened to be seated in your section of the diner

riki paid little to no attention to his surroundings at the time

he was given a basket of breadsticks to enjoy while he waited for his waitress to arrive

so while he was yapping about the political and economical state of the world /j

his beautiful waitress (aka you teehee) finally approaches him

"good evening! is there anything i could get you started with?"

since you asked so kindly, bro so badly wanted to ask for your number right then and there

but being the nonchalant emo he is, he simply ordered a ramyeon and a bubble tea (what a cutie pie)

you swiftly wrote down his order and assured him that his food will be out as quickly as possible

you left him behind with an adorable smile and reassurance that if he ever needed something to not be shy and flag you down as needed

riki watched as you walked away, the camera catching a cheeky grin grow across his face

"chat... abort mission. the waitress is quite literally the prettiest human being i have ever laid my eyes upon." he aggressively whispers to his camera, which he had propped up by the condiments beside him.

purposely kept ordering just so you could keep coming back to his table

with the amount of times you were sent back to his table, you would think he would garner the courage to at least make you aware of his interest

but nahhhh

the camera pitifully filmed riki ogle you throughout the night

thank goodness you worked at a 24 hour diner

was too shy to do anything but order food and anxiously eat

he eventually racked up a hefty bill by the end of the night

minus $300 from his bank account and no cute waitress' phone number... big L moment right there for nishimura riki

BROTHER DIDN'T EVEN GET YOUR NAME

he eventually went home with an hour and a half's worth of footage of just him eating, ordering more food, and of course, mindlessly talking about his waitress

"food? 10/10. customer service? 100/10. the waitress? holy hell, hit me up... please."

his fans were not used to watching him be such a simp

normally his videos consisted of him crashing out over video games or baseball

but over a girl? and a very pretty one at that

this coming from a guy who has not featured a girl on his channel once before

his video made big numbers on youtube

his adorable and flustered reaction to his waitress made everyone want to search for this mystery woman

however, with riki not revealing the name of the diner (he was adamant to gatekeep this spot) & little to no telltale signs throughout the video

it was lowkey a lost cause, much to riki's dismay

however due to the video's popularity, it wasn't long until riki's video appeared on your own youtube homepage

you recognized the diner easily from his thumbnail

and not to mention there was no way you would forget the cute boy who managed to return home with 5 to-go bags all by himself

you decided to take initiative and contact him through his instagram (which he expertly linked in the description of the video)

please help me find the love of my life.... PRETTY WAITRESS IF YOU SEE THIS HIT ME UP PLSPLSPLS INSTAGRAM (pls only dm me if you are the waitress 😞): nishiriki05

lovelyyn: hii this is the waitress from your little yt video haha, my name is yn :) nishiriki05: OHMY GOD nishiriki05: i mean Hi I'm Riki!

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finniestoncrane · 1 year ago

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Pleaseeeee can I have a softer Cooper who worries a lot about his girlfriend having to deal with people looking at them weird all the time, but who would be happy to yell "THIS IS MY MAN!" to anyone who would listen?

Willingly

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i am already on the soft cooper train oh no lmaooooo just a little bit of soft boyfriend cooper, or as soft as i imagine he can get, being defended by his partner 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: guns, blood, violence, good old fashioned trope fic!

Cooper struggled against your gentle grip, his gloved hand pulling away from yours, fingers no longer entwined with yours. You looked to him, noticing he was avoiding your inquisitive gaze, and then noticed the crudely painted sign on the wall ahead of you. The gates to the nearest settlement were just ahead of you. Your last stop before you headed on to the next job.

“What? Are you embarrassed to walk in here holding my hand, Coop?”

His easy, charming smile seemed a little off as he spoke to you, still looking straight ahead.

“You kiddin’? Darlin’, this is for your benefit. Not many settlements are alright with folks like me at the best of times, but with you on my arm? We’d both be in danger, and I can’t keep spendin’ all my time savin’ you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I can hold my own. You know that.”

There was no response, but you knew better than to keep fighting your corner in this particular arena. So instead, you sighed, placing your hands which now felt so incredibly cold and empty, back into your pockets to keep them from mindedly grabbing Cooper’s hands again. You couldn’t be too annoyed. For someone as stoic and cold as he could be, the fact he tolerated holding your hand at all was a pleasant enough gesture. But his willingness to offer up any form of physical affection dwindled completed when there was a risk of running into people. He became reserved, quiet, well-behaved almost. It was something you hadn’t expected from him, to be shy or to allow someone else’s opinions to hold him back. And admittedly, a lot of the time, you had worried that it was because he didn’t want to be seen with you. But you knew it was the other way around in his mind. He was afraid of how people would look at you.

As though he could hear your thoughts, knowing you well enough after all this time together, Cooper spoke finally as you sidled up to the gates.

“You wake up to this face smiling. You call me handsome. You say I’m charming. Good lookin’ I might be in your books, but there ain’t a lot of charm left in these old bones, sweetheart. I couldn’t talk my way out of an argument, and since you keep remindin’ me that I’m not allowed to cause problems everywhere we go…”

He tapped his thumb against the barrel of his holstered gun.

“… Then I just better not give anyone any more reason not to like me.”

“Well, I like you, Coop.”

“And I will forever question your judgement on that, kid.”

Smiling, you both passed through the open gate of the settlement and separated with a nod to get the supplies you needed. Quicker, and safer, to go separately. But still, you kept your head down, Cooper with his ragged mask up and his hat brim tipped to cover as much of his face as possible. Quiet, subtle, nondescript.

It didn’t stop them though, three of them. Pointing towards you, setting their beer bottles down on the stained and rusting bar top as they rushed to follow you.

“Hey! Hello there, pretty lady! You all alone?”

Turning, you spotted the colour of the uniform first, immediately recognising that you had made a mistake in even acknowledging them. That telltale burnt orange jumpsuit. The arrogance in their smug smiles. The Brother of Steel.

“No. I’m not alone.”

“Sure looks like you are… you know, maybe you could come on over and we’ll by you a cola?”

They laughed amongst themselves as you walked on. That one answer and a quick disappearing act was all you were willing to give them, turning quickly back and trying to lose them in the crowd as they slapped each other’s backs and spat to the ground.

And you thought you had been successful. You found a trader with everything you needed on your list before you returned to wait just beyond the gate for Cooper, no further interruptions to your day from the louts at the bar. But the entire interaction had out you on edge, so much so that when Cooper appeared behind you, leaning in without you noticing to whisper in your ear, you jumped out of your skin. Luckily, he was quick, and managed to grab your wrist before your fist struck the side of his face.

“Jumpy, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t think I’m so handsome after all.”

His wink made you blush, it always did, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“You surprised me is all, smartass.”

Cooper smiled, tightening the grip on your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You feigned some resistance, pretending to put up a fight against his grin, his charms, his strength. But you were following his pull, your lips almost touching his before the blow was landed.

Cooper’s body was knocked completely off balance, his body falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Turning in the direction he was hit from, you found yourself staring down the three members of the Brotherhood from the market. Holding back some of the choice words you had for them, you managed to narrow it down to one question simple enough for even them to answer.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shocked by your ungrateful attitude, one of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward and pushing your shoulder with his finger.

“We’re saving you from assault, lady! This monster had its hands all over you, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. And you’re welcome.”

You scoffed, face going red with rage as you knelt to help Cooper up.

“You’re not saving me, asshole! You’re ruining the fucking vibe, you dweebs.”

Again, a far more polite term than you had wanted to use, but that didn’t seem to make the men any less aggressive towards either Cooper or now you. The largest of the men grabbed your arm, pulling you back up and away from the hand that Cooper had held out to you.

“Oh… you’re one of those freaks! No wonder you turned down some good old-fashioned heroes like us then.”

One of the others nudged you to the side, the other pushing Cooper back down to the ground with a kick, turning around as all of them converged on you until your back was against the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped by them as they made their disgusting comments.

“Why would you waste your time on some abomination like that, huh? You into freaky stuff? Cos I could sure show you a thing or two. What’s he got? Like two cocks or something weird like that?”

You spat out your retort, well aware of the repercussions, but not caring.

“He could be feral and I’d still let him touch me before I even thought about letting any of you near me.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed your eyelids shut, opening them again moments later when you realised you hadn’t been hit yet. Instead, all three of the Knights were on the ground, Cooper kneeling over them as he tightened the lasso and added the long length around their wrists for measure.

“Oughta keep ‘em long enough for us to make our escape, hm?”

You nodded, smiling, surprised still at how effective he was at handling anything the Wasteland threw at him.

“And I did it all without too much violence and noise, like you asked.”

“My hero.”

You swooned playfully, watching him as he made his way to stand beside you, both of you looking down without an ounce of pity at the men who writhed before you in the dirt.

“And look at you, shouting all those kind words about me for anyone to hear.”

“I keep telling you, Coop. I can hold my own, and I don’t care what people think.”

“You sure about that, darlin’? The likes of these fellas don’t put you off none?”

His eyes darted towards the Knights, now trussed up and struggling against each other on the ground, straining their necks to move their heads out of the line of Cooper’s gun.

“What? You think I’m put off by the Brotherhood? Yeah… and the rads put me off stuffing tin after tin of delicious cram down my throat.”

Cooper grabbed your hand in his, initiating the contact for the first time, and pulled you away back onto the cracked road. He knew he’d let go before you hit the next settlement, but he felt a little bit better about the risks associated. Especially since he had to admit, you could hold your own. And you were determined to do so when it came to him. It was nice to feel like he could let the affection be reciprocated.

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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peachdues · 8 months ago

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WISH

Compass one-shot • bad boy!Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!Reader

A tooth-rottingly sweet one-shot honoring my sweet boy’s birthday.

This takes place a few months into Sanemi x Reader’s relationship in Compass — the main story is still in the hot, sticky summer. So think of this like a flash-forward. Don’t worry if you’re not fully caught up — no real spoilers here!

CW: 6k • MDNI • the cozy comfort winter oneshot of your dreams • mostly sickeningly sweet fluff but enough allusions/references to these horny idiots’ very active sex life • some references to gang violence (not descriptive) • swearing • abuse of cake

COMPASS MASTERLIST

Good birthday?

The two words sit on his home screen, a notification labeled with Genya’s name.

It takes Sanemi a moment to make sense of his brother’s text, until he spies the date reflected in the upper corner of his phone.

It’s November 29th.

For someone like Sanemi, dates are only important as far as they signal when something is due — and when something is late. The only dates that matter to him are the ones he’s told to care about; those hard deadlines that go unmet and require Sanemi to strap his crowbar to his back and his gun to his hip, so he can pay some poor bastard a visit.

Today is one of those deadlines, and Sanemi has a list of obligations to follow through on. But Genya’s text is a glaring reminder of the other thing today represents.

It’s his birthday.

Every year, his brother asks him the same thing — though, admittedly, Sanemi thinks the text is more a reminder rather than a happy wish of another year’s passing. Without Genya’s annual good birthday? Sanemi is fairly certain he’d forget November 29th held any significance to him at all.

I’ll be damned, Sanemi thinks, walking up the back entrance to an old computer parts shop — his first stop of the morning. Made it another year.

As unenthused Sanemi is about his birthday, he usually answered his brother with some pithy little acknowledgement. A biting Still alive, ain’t I? or, if he was feeling particularly festive, he’d simply send a thumb’s up, one that signaled his brother that Sanemi was working and didn’t want to risk smearing more blood and sweat across his phone screen than absolutely necessary.

This year, though — his twenty-second, he realizes after doing a quick bit of math — Sanemi’s not in any position to reply to his brother. Not yet, at least. So for now, his phone will have to sit in his pocket; his hands are about to be busy.

He’s got debts to collect.

—

Two hours later, Sanemi sits on his bike in an empty alleyway spliced between Market and Eastern Avenue.

In the last week or so, a strong front of arctic air had swept through the City, plunging it deep into the throes of winter. For a moment, Sanemi was grateful for the chill of the air; he always gets worked up after a collection, his limbs abuzz with hot blood and adrenaline. Cold air helped him settle down faster, cleared his mind so he could approach the next job with the same, violent precision.

Except, it’s now colder than he likes, but that itch still burns hot inside him. Hence, why Sanemi remains here, tucked away in this dark, forgotten alley, huddled over his bike. He’s got nothing to keep warm with but his worn leather jacket and the cigarette perched his lips, its end flowing a faint orange.

Tobacco-tinged smoke curls around his head, mixing with condensation of his breath as he exhales long and slow. The rush of nicotine is both a welcome distraction and extra sedative and finally, Sanemi feels his shoulders relax.

He’s only halfway through his cigarette, but he flicks it to the ground anyway. He’s not sure whether the burning in his throat is from the cold air or this particular bad habit of his, but it’s enough to kill his desire for anything more now that his edge has been sufficiently dulled. Still, he considers whittling himself down to the occasional cigarette is a marked improvement from the daily half pack he blazed through in his youth, before he discovered other outlets for his stress. Maybe he’ll be able to kick the habit all together by this time next year.

Assuming he lives long enough to see his next birthday, that is.

Sanemi’s in the middle of stuffing his lighter back inside his jacket pocket when he feels his phone buzz. He shouldn’t check it, not when his to do list still has one more name to cross off, but he’s already indulged in one bad habit this afternoon. Might as well go two-for-two.

And boy, is he glad he does when he spies the notification bearing your name.

Tell me you’re coming over tonight.

Sanemi’s lips twitch up with a smile he hasn’t been able to muster in days. Leave it to you to brighten his day in so few words.

What time you want me, sweetness?

A cutting gust of wind tears down the alley, whipping and tearing through the layers of his clothes. Any other time, Sanemi would simply hunch over the clutch of his bike and speed off, thinking only of someplace that wasn’t outside.

Now, he’s got you to look forward to.

Your reply arrives a few seconds later. Got a few errands to run so I’m closing up early. Owner can suck it. It’s cold.

It is, Sanemi mentally agrees, and he feels a rush of relief that closing nearly means you’ll be home — or close enough to it — before dark. The uptick in violence through the City has crept too close to your neighborhood for his comfort, and Sanemi already hates you walking home in the dark without him as it is. The season’s shortened days only makes that particular anxiety of his worse.

Thank the fucking stars you’re less inclined to weather the arrival of winter than he is.

It’s a date, beautiful. He texts back before pocketing his phone. He cups his hands around his mouth and huffs, willing his breath to unfreeze his fingers enough to grip his bike’s clutch.

Another torrent of wind rips through the alley, but this time, it brings with it the first snow of winter, pelting his face with fat, cold flakes.

Sanemi tilts his face up toward the sky and grins. It is a sharp, feral thing, full of teeth and challenge. Good. Let it snow as hard as it wants; let it suffocate the City under a thick blanket of white. He wouldn’t care; Sanemi can’t think of a way better to warm up than by crawling under the covers with you. Maybe he’ll even treat himself and convince you to sleep in with him tomorrow. It’s been a few days since he last had the chance to see you. While he knows better than to be a betting man, he’d wager his odds of keeping you in bed were pretty good.

Huffing nice, twice more on his hands and Sanemi starts his bike, its motor roaring to life underneath him. His fingers are still stiff, but he can at least grip his clutch enough to steer it. No doubt the icy sting of the wind will freeze his hands in place, but he’ll worry about how to unstick himself later.

For now, he still has work to do.

In the northwest corridor of the City is a port marina that harbors a smattering of small house boats. It’s inside one of these drafty little boats where his next target hides, no doubt relying on the sudden arrival of winter to trick his creditors into looking for him elsewhere.

That ruse might have worked if anyone else other than Sanemi had been tasked with hunting him down. Unfortunately for him, his name fell in Sanemi’s lap, and now he’s going to have to play host to some very unpleasant company.

Slowly, Sanemi treads his bike to the end of the alley, eyes squinted against the wind and the snow, sweeping the street for any unsuspecting travelers. Finding nothing but the odd plastic bag being whipped and tossed down the sidewalk, Sanemi kicks his bike into gear.

As soon as he gets this job over with, he’ll get to see you.

The engine revs, and then Sanemi is thundering down the street, a renewed warmth spreading through his chest that even the biting cold of November can’t dampen.

—

It’s just after dark when Sanemi pulls up to your apartment, quickly killing the motor on his bike. He scans the dark alleyway behind your complex once, twice, before he glances up at the series of windows. Once satisfied that there are no unwanted eyes tracking his movements, Sanemi makes his way to the building’s side entrance, and begins his steady climb up the stairs.

He twirls his key to your place around his finger. God, he can’t wait to get kick his boots off, strip down to his sweater, and climb into bed with you. Maybe you’ll let him poach off your neighbor’s cable satellite again, and that way, he can find you a movie to half-pay attention to. Or, maybe you’ve snuck away another handful of advanced release copies from work, and the two of you can get to work reading and reviewing them. Either way, Sanemi is ready for the calm he only feels when he’s with you; he’s ready to relax.

The first thing he notices when he steps into your apartment is the smell of something burning.

“Motherfucker —“ he hears your vicious snarl from the kitchen right as something clatters to the floor. “One more fucking thing go wrong, I dare you —“

Calm is not on the agenda, it seems.

The air inside your studio is hazy with smoke, enough that it tickles the back of his throat. Hastily, Sanemi pushes your door shut before it can spill into the hallway and tempt one of the building’s ancient fire alarms. The last thing he wants is to summon the City’s finest and tip them off that a high profile gang member likes frequenting this neighborhood. Or the reason why.

“It’s me.” He calls out, crossing through your living room to crank open one of the arched windows behind your bed. Cold air floods your apartment, the winter wind chasing out the thickest of the smoke into night. “Baby?”

No answer; only more furious clanging and a particularly fierce “oh, fuck you.”

Cautious, Sanemi pokes his head into your small kitchenette. “Y/N?”

He’s not sure what he expected, but he can’t say he’s prepared for the sight of you, standing in front of your oven, hands on your hips and your foot tapping irritably on the floor. A cooling tray lays by your feet, and you don’t seem to be in any hurry to collect it; not when you’re too busy glowering down at your stove.

Sanemi’s eyes follow yours, and he finds what he presumes is the source of the stench. The worst of the smoke rolls off something sitting on your stove, though it’s too black for Sanemi to even guess what it’s supposed to be.

You whirl around and Sanemi has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

There’s flour on your cheek and dusted all down your front, along with other smears and stains of beige — batter of some sort, if he had to guess, given the cluttered mess on your counter of used mixing bowls and measuring cups. Your hair is a mess, puffed up and frizzed out from the smoke, framing a face scrunched up in pinched fury.

All things considered, you look pretty damn adorable, but he isn’t about to tell you that. The block of kitchen knives you rarely touch are too close within your reach for his comfort.

So, Sanemi takes the pragmatic approach and casually folds his arms across his chest. He offers with a measured nod of his head toward your oven. “I thought we talked about you cookin’ without supervision.”

For all the grief he’d given you about your inability to make anything more substantive than cereal, Sanemi learned rather quickly it was the most you could be trusted with. Once, you’d tried to show off your culinary skills by making him ramen, only for you to stick the dried noodles in your microwave without water. You hadn’t even noticed the acrid smell of something burning until he pointed it out, and by then, it was too late. It was only after he’d thrown the smoking bowl of scorched, blackened noodles into your sink that he hotly declared you were not to use any appliance in your kitchen while by yourself.

He’d thought you’d agreed to that ban but, as he peers over your shoulder to inspect whatever it is that’s about to set off your fire alarm, Sanemi grimly realizes the two of you are not on the same page.

“I wasn’t cooking, I was baking.” You snap, as though the distinction matters. You yank an oven mitt off one hand and snatch a loose fork from the counter, jamming it right into the smoldering center of whatever the hell it is you’ve tried to make. It pops and sags beneath the stab of the fork, more steam hissing out of the wound you’ve opened in its surface.

You hold the fork up for inspection and your eyes widen with outrage. “How is it burnt on the outside and fucking raw on the inside —?”

Sanemi glances at your oven settings and raises an eyebrow. “‘Cuz you have it set to five hundred — didn’t even know ovens could go that high.”

You chuck the fork into the kitchen sink with more force than necessary. “I was trying to get your stupid cake done before you got here. I wanted you to be surprised!”

He blinks. “What cake?”

“Your birthday cake!” You rip the other oven mitt from your hands scrunching it up before throwing it to the counter in defeat. “It’s your birthday, and I didn’t leave the store ‘til late, so I had to rush to get it done because I couldn’t swing a present other than this stupid cake!” You jab a finger toward the blackened pan still smoking on the stove. “And I couldn’t even do that!”

Sanemi’s eyes widen and for a moment, he can’t remember to blink.

All he can do is stare.

As much as he’s tried to forget them, there were a handful of November 29ths that had stuck with him over the years; a wad of chewing gum cemented to his memory that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried scraping it away.

His fifth birthday was spent clinging to his mother’s arm, begging her not to leave him alone in that dinky, unheated shoebox where they lived. His eyes had been teary, and he hated that he was acting like a crybaby, but he didn’t want his Ma to go — didn’t want to be left alone. He wanted her to scoop him up in her arms, to hum fragments of lullabies into his hair as she curled over him beneath their threadbare blankets, desperate for her body heat to sink into her son and keep him warm.

But it was winter, and Sanemi needed something to eat, so Shizu, heavily pregnant, had to go work.

She returned the next day with a lukewarm fast food hamburger Sanemi couldn’t stomach eating. Not when his mother came home sporting a new black eye, so dark and purple that not even her paper thin smile could dull her obvious wince, or the shadowy bruises peppered along her too-thin arms.

He spent his eighth birthday scavenging for spare coins dropped between the sagging, stained cushions of the old man’s broken down furniture.

Genya was nearly three and crying, his belly aching with a hunger he didn’t understand. Their mother was dead, and no one knew how to care for them except for Sanemi, and he’d been desperate; enough so that he’d clawed at the broken wooden couch slats until his numb fingers turned raw; bloody.

Because it was snowing and cold and Kyogo had left his sons at home in the dark, unheated apartment with nothing to eat.

He’d found enough loose change to justify running down to his neighbor’s place, and the old man had been kind enough to give him a packet of stale instant noodles. No seasoning packets, but the Shinazugawa boys had been too hungry to mind.

The only candles he had to mark the day were the mismatched stumps scrounged out of some cluttered drawer. His birthday wish — the very first one he’d ever made — a feeble plea that come December, Kyogo wouldn’t waste the month’s electric bill on booze his sons couldn’t even drink to keep warm. Winter in the Silo was harsh enough.

But December came and went, heralding in harsh winds and thick sheets of ice, and the apartment never once turned warm.

Sanemi never made another birthday wish again.

When he turned ten, Genya brought him home a tiny green race car, no doubt swiped from the basket of loose toys that sat next to the cashier at the nearby corner store. The paint was chipped, and one of the wheels had a tendency to stick whenever Sanemi skated it over the kitchen’s cracked linoleum, but it was a toy, and Sanemi hadn’t had one of those before. So, he ruffled his brother’s hair and the two spent the night rolling the car back and forth to one another across the floor, giddy with that childlike innocence they never got to keep come sunrise.

The corner store it came from closed not long after his birthday, its owner having been dragged out sometime in the night by hooded men, face too swollen and mouth too bloodied to scream.

Not that anyone would’ve helped, anyway. Not here.

Sanemi still has the car, though. It’s since lost a wheel, and the paint has nearly faded away, but it sits in his window sill; a prized token of the boy he’d never been.

For his fifteenth birthday, Sanemi’s lucky ass got not one, but two presents: a broken rib and a black eye. Courtesy of Kyogai, a sleazy had-been in the Corps’ ranks, whose penchant for downers meant he never had enough money to pay his dues to the Corps. Sanemi, a junior at the time, had been sent to collect money Kyogai refused to cough up, and in his youthful arrogance, thought he could simply strong-arm the Corps’ payment back.

That was when he learned never to get between a junkie and their fix — especially once withdrawal set in.

Sanemi returned the birthday generosity on a cold day in January, with his crowbar to Kyogai’s kneecaps. Rumor was he still couldn’t walk without a cane. But he never tried his bullshit with Sanemi again, and he thought that was probably the best gift of all.

So no, Sanemi can’t say he expects much out of his birthdays.

“No one’s ever made me a birthday cake before.”

It’s a breathless sort of admission, one that he’d probably be embarrassed about making if he wasn’t so caught off guard.

His admission monetarily stuns you into silence, and he almost feels ashamed. But you quickly recover and instead offer only a brittle laugh. “Yeah, well. Fucked that up for you, I guess.”

You finally look at him and Sanemi is startled by the tears rapidly lining your eyes.

“It’s just a cake, baby,” Sanemi soothes, hands reaching for you. “And today’s just a day. ‘S no big deal.”

Another great sniff. “It is a big deal!”

Sanemi is all too used to never having and not being allowed to want, so accepting what others want or try to give doesn’t exactly come easy to him. But the sight of you, nearly reduced to tears over the scorched disaster you’d tried desperately to make into something worth marking the day with has him reevaluating twenty-two years’ worth of trained indifference.

Beneath your frustration is clear upset with the situation. Because, you tried.

Sure, Sanemi’s birthdays passed without the usual triumvirate of cake-ice cream-presents he supposes other kids got. Frankly, he didn’t quite see the appeal of it anyway, but that may have been because Sanemi hadn’t known to miss what he never had. November 29th was just a day, after all; the mark of another year gone by without him taking a bullet to the head or having his body dumped in some faraway hole. The watery sun that rose that morning was no different all the others he’d managed to cheat his way into seeing. To him, it’s insignificant.

But not to you. For some reason, you don’t think you’ve given him enough.

Months of being together, and he still hasn’t figured out how to make you understand that he doesn’t need any grand gestures from you. It’s enough that you continue allowing him into your home, your bed, your life; that you soothe his fragmented heart, and chase away the cloud of numbness always lurking over his shoulder with one of your sweet smiles.

He doesn’t want for anything because he already has everything in you.

But you still want to give him more.

God, he doesn’t deserve you. And he certainly doesn’t deserve the tears swimming in your eyes or the frustration that weighs down your shoulders.

Sure, he doesn’t really give a damn about his birthday, but he sure as hell gives several about you, and your defeat is not something he’ll tolerate.

Sanemi fishes his set of keys from his pocket. “C’mon,” he nods toward the door. “We’re going to the store.”

—

“It’s not right,” you sniff an hour later as you hand him an oven mitt. “You shouldn’t be making your own birthday cake.”

“We’re making,” Sanemi corrects, seamlessly pulling the hot pan from your oven and placing it atop your stove to cool. “The present ain’t the cake, anyway.”

He tosses the mitt to your counter and turns to you, eyeing the can of frosting in your hand, one you absently stir a butter knife into, unsure of how else to help.

With a faint smile, Sanemi swipes his finger through the top layer of sprinkled sugar, dolloping it right on the tip of your nose. “You are.”

You roll your eyes, swiping your finger through the small blob of icing and bringing it to your mouth. As you suck the tip of your finger clean, you peer over his arm, nose wrinkling as you as you look down at the golden brown surface of the very much baked-through cake. “Still, box cake mix?”

“A cake’s a cake.”

The kitchen is teeming with the warm, comforting scent of sweet vanilla, one that spreads through the rest of your studio, chasing away the last remnants of burnt confectionary which lingered after your earlier baking fiasco. Boxed mix or not, you have to know that plan b smells leagues better than plan a, even if that means your ego has to take the hit.

“If you say so,” you grumble, shouldering him out of the way as you scoop out a glob of frosting, ready to slap it across the cake’s surface.

“Not yet,” Sanemi corrects, gently catching your wrist before your knife can make contact. “It’s gotta cool first, or else that’s just gonna melt all over the place.”

Your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace. “That seems stupid.” You gripe, stabbing the knife back into the canister of icing, right in its center.

“Chemistry, sweetheart. Didn’t you pay attention?”

“I slept through most of chem back in the day.”

That surprises him. “Weren’t you a goody two shoes?”

You snort. “Not when it came to science. Or math, for that matter. Always got my lowest grades in science and math.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “And a low grade for you would’ve been —?”

This time, you drop your head, suddenly sheepish. “Anything below an A.”

Of course. “Damn, wish I’d known.” Sanemi smirks. “Maybe I could’ve made bank tutoring instead of runnin’ around, bein’ a delinquent.” At the skeptical raise of your brow, he scoffs. “What? You think a blossoming criminal couldn’t also score a few As?”

Math had always come easily to him, though that may have been out of necessity than raw talent. Knowing numbers meant he could tally up debts quickly in his head and calculate the exact interest owed, which meant less time wasted wherein his target might be able to get one over on him. Not once had he ever finished a job short-changed. That’s what made him so valuable to the Corps, even back then.

His academic success across the various fields of mathematics and science (which was math with more words thrown in), was just an added bonus.

“Still, though — tutoring?” You laugh. “Sorry — for some reason I can’t picture you meeting some poor kid in the library to go over formulas and equations. I can’t even imagine someone willing to ask you — I mean —“ you gesture to him, and Sanemi knows that’s explanation enough.

“I might’ve. Especially if a certain pretty girl had batted her lashes and asked me all nice and sweet.” Gently, he pushes your hair back over your shoulder, his eyes watching your breath hitch in your throat; the goosebumps that spread over your skin. Smirking, he leans in and presses his lips right below your ear. “Kinda like how you did last week — ‘cept, you were asking me to give you something then, weren’t you?”

The way your cheeks darken tell him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It was him. Specifically, his cum; you’d begged for it, actually, your recurring chant of fill me up, fill me up, baby, please! sweeter than music to his fucking ears.

You turn to grab the can of icing, defiantly putting your back to him, if only to avoid having to look at the cocky set of his mouth.

Sanemi’s gloating isn’t over. It’s his birthday, after all. “You know I’m right.”

“Oh, shut up before I make you decorate your damn cake.”

Still grinning, he lets you shoo him from the kitchen. Sanemi plops himself onto your sofa and fishes your tv remote from between the cushions. He busies himself flipping through the handful of channels you get, finally landing on some pro baseball game he only watches with half-interest.

“Ready!” You call a few moments later, and Sanemi tosses the remote aside, the game, forgotten.

You hover in front of your counter, hands together twisting nervously. The moment he appears in the kitchen’s small entryway, you step aside, revealing the fruit of your shared labor.

“Happy Birthday, Sanemi.”

The cake is small and its edges are a little lopsided. The icing looks like it was applied the same way as wallpaper paste. A lone, green candle sits lit in the cake’s center, its flame bright and merry.

Sanemi’s never seen anything more appealing in his life.

“You have to make your wish,” you sternly remind him as he leans over the cake, his eyes glued to the candle. “And you can’t say it out loud.”

A birthday cake; his very own birthday cake.

There’s a part of him that hesitates to blow out the candle, too entranced by the way the little flame dances and bends around the wick. After all, the last time he’d made a wish, it hadn’t come true.

And yet, another part of him — that silly, hopelessly optimistic part he knows better than to indulge — wonders if perhaps his eight-year-old self’s wish hadn’t worked because he’d lit the candles for light and feeble warmth. They hadn’t been intended for celebration, and he certainly hadn’t had a cake to hold them.

Maybe that was part of the magic; the spell’s missing ingredients.

This time, maybe things will be different.

His wish is simple, if not a little selfish. But Sanemi thinks that birthdays might be the chance to be selfish, and he’s not making his wish out loud anyways, so maybe he can get away with this.

Sanemi closes his eyes and he wishes for time. Time with you. Time with Genya. As much as the universe will let him have.

That would be enough.

Sanemi blows out the candle.

“C’mere you,” he says roughly, reaching for you. He pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Your arms wind around his middle. “You did most of the work.”

“You made it a birthday cake, though.” He lays his cheek atop your head. “You turned this whole damn day into somethin’ special. Thank you.”

Without you, Sanemi would never know what it felt like to have his own birthday cake or a candle to wish upon.

Neither of you of bother with plates or cutting slices; instead, you hand him another fork and the two of you dig right in.

At the first bite, Sanemi’s eyes slide shut. Cheap box cake has never tasted so fucking good.

“Not bad,” you say thickly through your own mouthful, leaning over your counter. Another bite is already loaded on your fork. “Wonder what mine would’ve tasted like.”

Sanemi swallows. “Like raw cake batter.”

You turn over your shoulder to stick your tongue out at him, not caring that your mouth is full, or for the crumbs that fall on the counter top.

You’re about to return to the cake when a smear of white catches his eye.

“Hold it.” Sanemi sets his fork down and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger before you turn away. He tilts your face up, and smirks.

That’s when he leans in, flicks his tongue along your lower lip. He moans at the taste of sugar, the spare bit of icing left on your lip further sweetening the honey of your kiss, his mouth capturing yours.

Your moan rights everything in his world full of wrongs, your fork clattering to the counter.

The hand he keeps on your chin slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head; the other finds purchase at your hip, tugging you closer into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before Sanemi is drunk on your lips, the warmth of the evening liquid honey that pools in his stomach.

Your kiss tastes like cake and home.

He’d stay here all night if he could, but the fervor of your lips moving with his has quickly stolen his breath away. No matter how much he craves your kiss, his body demands air.

With a faint grunt, Sanemi breaks your kiss. The hand on the back of your neck remains firmly in place, keeping you close as Sanemi traces the slope of your nose with the tip of his. “You had icing on your lip. Had to fix it.”

Through his lowered lids, he can see the quickened rise and fall of your chest as you steady your own breathing; the flush in your cheeks. Your eyes are bright, however, illuminated with equal desire and challenge.

Your tongue flicks out to dampen your lower lip and Sanemi’s eyes narrow. “Maybe you should check for more.”

Fuck oxygen. His mouth is back on yours before you can finish your next inhale.

And then, he’s moving.

Though you’re walking backwards, you’re the one guiding him, your fingers hooked through his belt loops as you tug him through your kitchenette and out into the open space of your studio.

His groan vibrates into your mouth. Sanemi doesn’t have to open his eyes to know where you’re leading him; he’s treaded this very path to your bed too many times to count.

Oh, there’s plenty of time for this later, and he’ll happily indulge himself then. Besides, you’re even more sensitive in the mornings, and that means he’s guaranteed to coax two or three orgasms out of you with just his tongue before you both have to go to work in the morning, never mind what he’ll be able to do once he’s actually inside you. It’ll be worth holding off, for now.

But right now, his heart is too full, and tonight has been mending something inside of him he hadn’t known was broken. Something shy and curious, a remnant from the boy who might have secretly longed to know what it felt like to have a birthday mean something; to matter.

Still, he can’t resist fanning the fire a little, the hand on your hip sliding to your ass and squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to the dip in your thighs.

He lets you strip him down to his underwear and you to yours, since that’s how you prefer to sleep when not otherwise naked. Only when he feels your hand sliding down his bare abdomen does he still you, his fingers wrapping delicately around your wrist.

He feels your frown before he sees it. Cautious, your mouth breaks away from his and you lower yourself down from the tips of your toes.

A dent has notched itself between your eyebrows. “You don’t want —?”

Later, he’ll be sure to tell you that he wants you all the time — so much so that it might be a problem. But that’s not what tonight is about — not for him. For now, he can’t risk you discovering that he’s half-hard already; the second your hand finds him, he’ll be too erect to function, let alone think clearly.

He shakes his head. “Actually,” Sanemi hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you back against the bed, falling into your tower of pillows and blankets with you safely encased in his embrace. “I think I just wanna hold you, if that’s cool.”

Confusion flits briefly across your face before your eyes soften. “Of course. Don’t you know that birthdays mean you get whatever you want?”

He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Because this is why he loves you: you know, without him ever having to explain. You understand.

With a soft smile, Sanemi rolls to capture you under him, but braces himself above you long enough to allow you to sit up against the headboard. The moment you settle, Sanemi inches up beside you until he can rest his head on your stomach, his arm hugging your waist.

He swears he can hear your smile as you ask, “Happy?”

Exuberantly so; your body is soft in every way his isn’t, and warm. He’s in a heated, dimly lit apartment with no fear of the lights cutting out or the cold outside making his toes turn numb. The girl he loves, loves him back. Everything he hadn’t dared let himself wish for is now his, carding her beautiful fingers through his hair.

it’s almost perfect. Almost.

“Nah, I’ve got one more request.”

He leans over you and pulls a novel from the top of the stack that perpetually sits on your side of the bed, never shrinking. He hands it to you, meeting your inquisitive eyebrow with his smirk. “Read to me.”

He doesn’t care what book it is — whether it’s something he’s read before, or of a genre he isn’t all that into, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to hear you.

“A bedtime story? Really?” You tease, but you’re already flipping to the first page.

Content, Sanemi turns his face further into your stomach, burrowing harder into you. One hand still smoothing through his hair, you begin to read the prologue, pausing for dramatic effect where the passage calls for it. Slowly, the hours unfold as your voice weaves together the story — some high fantasy set in a distant world. Once upon a time, Sanemi would’ve wished he could dive into the pages of his book; anything to escape his reality.

Now, he can’t imagine being any place better than right here, with you.

—

It’s nearly midnight when Sanemi remembers Genya’s unanswered text still sitting in his inbox. Carefully, so as not to disturb you and your faint snoring, he untangles himself from you. One hand pats across the surface of your bedspread, searching for the small rectangle while the other gingerly removes the book still propped between your fingers. You’d made it about five chapters, your thumb still marking the page where you’d dozed off mid-passage.

Book in hand, he turns and tosses it on your threadbare rug, and it lands with a dull thump. He finds his phone near the foot of your bed. His eyes flick to you once to confirm that his gentle movements have not disturbed your well-earned rest.

Your mouth twitches with another light snore, and Sanemi smiles.

He clicks his phone to life, taking care to keep it turned away from you, mindful of the bright little screen. Quietly, he thumbs his answer to his brother. The moment he taps the send arrow, he tosses his phone back to the ground and reaches across the duvet for you once more.

A few hundred miles away inside a sleeping boys’ dormitory, under Zenitsu’s nasally snores and the odd, violent twitch from Inosuke, Genya’s phone buzzes from its place under his pillow.

Yeah. Good birthday.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED!!

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny sanemi #kny #kny fanfic #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x you #kny x you #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi

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sleepyeepyp3rson · 6 months ago

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wwe/pro fighters!141 x announcer!reader

John Price, former two-time Wold Champion, the Bear of the Ring, back from retirement. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, a newcomer, moving on up to the big leagues. The Golden Boy of London. John "Soap" MacTavish, the Street Fight Champion, the half of the most menacing duo in WWE history. And "Ghost," the Shadow of the Ring, who won last seasons duo Championship with Soap.

an: i JUST got into wwe, so sorry for any inaccuracies! correct me, it's always fun to learn more :3 also also! my first full fic 😭😭 got SO SCARED posting this so sorry if it low key sucks, if it doesn't, i have plans for a second one + shoutout to my awsome beta reader (my best friend)

(masterlist, 2)

Recently, one of the announcers retired after a long career, and WWE scrambled to find a suitable replacement that wouldn't cause an uproar in the dedicated fanbase.

They chose you. A person with an impressive resume and a quick wit, willing to be accidentally trampled if need be. And the best part for the company? The fans love you, some even making compilations and edits of you. Of the few moments you get shown on camera at least. (The wrestlers are the main event.) And the wrestlers seem to like you just fine. Better than the refs and each other, at least. The 141 seem to like you the most, though.

Price, just coming back from a short retirement, was the first match you narrated. You loved him growing up, the finishing moves, the walkout song (Thunderstruck AC/DC,) everything. He put the attitude in the Attitude Era, the main event, the headliner. Then he retired.

You cried during his final show. Being one of the live announcers for his comeback now is huge for you.

He walked out on the ring, fought like hell, and at one point he slung his opponent over the net and the guy crashed into your table. Admittedly it was a little frightening, but seeing John Price drag the guy kicking and screaming back into the ring by his hair was enough of a reward. And the gruff "Sorry, dove," he said to you certainly didn't make anything worse.

But you thought that was it for the nicknames.

Until Gaz. Every match he has, whenever he has the mic, he's referencing you at least once, with an added "Love" or "Sunshine" to it. That alone gave you a thousand more followers on your Instagram, but the post he made on Twitter? At least ten thousand. And it wasn't anything major, but being the "Golden Boy" comes with certain privileges, and he uses them well. You start researching him after that, and he hasn't done that for any other announcer.

Soap and Ghost’s first team-up of the season has them against the men they stole the Duo Champions titles from. Graves and Makarov. Match made in Hell, the two of them. They can't stand each other, but they hate the 141 boys enough to justify a team-up.

During the match, Soap broke Makarov's arm. Maybe he just forgot it wasn't his usual rules, or maybe it was the reference he made to you during the pre-fight trash-talk session. Either way, Ghost had his back, as always, and covered for him by throwing the rest of the match as the script told them to. Either way, they were disqualified.

And you? You're having the time of your life. The fights are right up by your face, the adrenaline rush right there, and this time you actually get to chase it.

Maybe you're egging them on a bit. Grinning like mad during Price's first match, responding to Gaz's tweet and comments with nothing short of glowing praise, giving colorful commentary during Soap and Ghost’s fight. But who can blame you, really? For liking your job, for entertaining people.

Maybe that's why this match, the grand match between Task Force 141 and The Shadows is packed. You entertain people just as much as the wrestlers.

The lights flash, Thunderstruck plays, the 141 boys walk out. Then here comes Graves for a rematch against the ones who broke his arm, complete with his entourage behind him. Surprisingly the whole broken arm thing fits the storyline well, after some panicking from the writers and producers.

"Your boy broke my arm." Graves starts, grin sharp, canines poking out. Grinning despite the red-hot pain in his arm.

"We do what we have to. Keep your mouth shut next time, aye?" It's a measured response from Price, but the headbutt Soap does as soon as the sentence settles is definitely not.

"Grab your popcorn people, the world's Street Fight Champion Soap is jumping right into the fight!" And there's your voice, over the speakers. Sounding thrilled.

The fans both cheer and jeer and Ghost’s chant is started up, a steady thump, thump, of boots on the floor of the stadium.

The fight starts without much else, men thrown and chairs cracked over heads. With the disadvantage Graves has, it's clear who will win, but the play-by-play is still fun to give.

"Oh! And Graves has got Soap on the ropes, can he break his hold- and Ghost runs up behind him, always on his six, yanking Graves away! This is the Champion duo ladies and gentlemen."

And maybe it's distracting the boys a little. Maybe Johnny puffs up a little when you point out his title, maybe Ghost looks over at the booth for a little too long. Just maybe. And just maybe that gives the Shadows an opening for a takedown move or two. And just maybe, the 141 loses twice in a row.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #tf 141 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x reader #ok i think thats it people #tags are hard #sigh

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pucksandpebbles · 12 days ago

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MAKE IT MESSIER, QH⁴³

quinn hughes x ballerina!reader

CHAPTER ONE… getting reckless

a/n : i don't entirely know where this came from, probably my old love of ballet, me getting my splits again and watching DCC but this happened okay. also disclaimer that i never actually did dance competitions/was a part of competitive dancing and companies so some stuff will be wrong but i'm not expecting anyone here to be a prima ballerina okay. i hope y'all enjoy this even though its so unproofread its shameful

reminder !! show some love through reposts, comments and likes, I love seeing it and it does encourage my unmotivated ass. I love you guys so much honestly, this community and platform has revived my love for writing.

wc : 4.4k

link to series masterlist

When the lights are on you, the brightest white shining right into your eyes, it's like the whole world falls apart around you. And it does. When you get up on that stage, with already aching muscles and the rush of adrenaline disguised in anticipation, it is the only thing you can focus on. Each count of the music, each minute flex and point of your toes, each straining muscle when you move - it’s a high that is incomparable to much else in the universe. To you.

Tonight, everything hurts. Its the third night of performance in a row and its beginning to feel difficult to keep going. You are certain that you are one mistake away from a serious strain and you have definitely not been getting enough sleep. It’s draining, this season - the Christmas one that is.

The company has chosen to do Nutcracker and whilst you were delighted to be given the opportunity to play Clara, the lead role, there was an undeniable dread that came with it. Being the principal dancer comes with a pressure that cannot be expressed, not only as a leadership role but the stress of performing at such a high technical level and it is beginning to get to you. It is even harder, admittedly, with the lack of a support system for you in New York. Although most of your close friends are in New Jersey, including your best friend Madeline, with such full-time jobs and careers, you often feel lonely. Loneliness, physical strain and the pressure of your job builds up and it’s resulted mostly in the death of your love life.

The last time you went on a date has died a slow death in your memory. A horrific dinner date that made you delete Hinge and swear yourself off men. That might have been over two years ago now, and it did allow you to focus on your dance but it’s also resulted in incessant bullying from Madeline - who, in the time it took for you to swear off men, since got engaged. It’s kind of crazy to you, that in a couple of months, your best friend will be walking down the aisle, you will be watching her walk down the aisle. In contrast, you are dateless, overworked and will probably be unable to stand at the end of the Christmas season.

She would do anything for you though and tonight, after the show, you’ll be going to dinner with her and her fiance Luke and his brothers.

Stretching in the wings though, you can’t find it in yourself to be as excited as you should, the crushing weight of tonight. As you stretch at your hamstrings, tauter than a tightrope, a sick feeling swirls in your gut. You’ve already fended off a headache in morning rehearsals and now you are trying the massage out the knots that have seemingly formed overnight in your neck and upper shoulders. Someone close to you is breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes so loudly that you can hear it through your headphone and the podcast you have playing and it is so fucking irritating.

Your ballet mistress can also be heard shouting out a ten minute warning which gets you up on your feet and brushing out your ridiculous costume and rushing over to a mirror to touch up the hideous red circles on your cheeks that characterise you as Clara.

From ten minutes to places, time runs away from you. Even more so when the curtain opens and you see the spotlight on you.

Very little people talk about that feeling of the warm light on you and how it blinds you from the audience but it’s a sensation that it’s impossible to get over. All the adrenaline and panic fades, your breath slows and it’s almost as if you black out from there on in.

When the first act ends, you slip behind the curtain, your chest heaves with the exertion of making it all look effortless and you stumble into a chair as a makeup artist crowds you. It’s not a quick change per se, however it always feels like a rush to get all changed - new makeup, new costume and still managing to get a break from the long performance length. Just before you go out on stage, stood slightly behind the curtain in the wings, you spot in the crowd Madeline, Luke and his brothers.

You’d managed to bag them box seats and they’ve almost got a perfect view of the stage. Madeline has her head resting on Luke’s shoulder and the two of them are chatting quietly between themselves and to their left are Luke’s brothers. Having never met them, only seeing them in the corners of photos, it’s interesting to see them in person before you meet them at the wedding. The elder, you already know, is Quinn - dressed in a casual black shirt and his hair that pokes out of a cap even though it’s plenty warm in the theatre and he needn’t be wearing one. You watch as he chats to his brother and adjusts the way the cap sits on his head, he looks almost nervous which is hilarious to you, because he isn’t the one in the spotlight right now. Madeline says that it’s just how he looks.

“I don’t know babe, that’s his perpetual expression, like he’s seeing some demons or shit. That’s what the internet says.”

The music cue hits and you forget all about it as you step out onto the stage, feet perfectly on pointe and arms holding fourth position as you move into the centre of the bright white light again, kicking off Act 2.

Quinn Hughes, on the ice, is a Captain. Technically, he’s extremely talented as a defenseman in the NHL league - that’s what the stats say anyways, on top of that a Norris winner and Captain of a struggling team. The Vancouver Canucks. The busy part of their season is approaching - read, the playoffs and God, Quinn is desperate for them to make the playoffs this year, truly aching with the possibility for them to be in the contention to win the Stanley Cup, one step forward. With the minute break the team gets over the Christmas season, Quinn is honestly a little crestfallen that this is what he is doing with his time off. Watching a Christmas Ballet production.

This whole trip, in his opinion, is a bit of a piss take.

He flew in from Vancouver to New Jersey just a day ago and has to go back out again soon to play so soon after Christmas. So it feels like a waste of time to travel a couple of hours to see Luke and Jack as well as Luke’s fiance, and then spend half of the day watching one of Madeline’s best friends prance around on stage to Swan Lake. It’s not that Quinn dislikes dance, he thinks that everyone on stage is incredibly talented - they stretch and leap in a way that is borderline unfathomable to Quinn; it’s more that if he was to choose how to spend his Christmas break, this would not be it, ballet performances don’t interest him and are not the peak of his Christmas season.

So yes, he would much rather be spending this time perfecting his and team's craft for the games that shortly follow after Christmas is over. Especially important if they want to make the playoffs.

But he was invited. Not just by Madeline, but evidently this is something that Luke and Jack enjoy doing too. Quinn is nothing but polite, raised right by his mother, and such has accepted the invite.

Quinn hadn’t spent last Christmas in New Jersey with the boys, but this is clearly a yearly activity that the boys do with Madeline, which makes sense as they’re all living in the same apartment at the moment. Which makes Quinn feel… some type of way. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the easiest way to express it would perhaps be loneliness. A detachment that makes him feel left-out from the strong relationship his younger brothers had formed while they spend years together on the same rinks. He should be there. The eldest, he should be there to look after them. Except he’s not, and Quinn is somewhat dismayed to find out they’ve built their own lives together in New Jersey - without Quinn.

Quinn’s trying to swallow it all down. On top of his feelings about the Canucks’ season. It’s stifling.

It’s an entirely other beast that Luke is engaged. His youngest brother is getting married in a couple months and Jack has some weird situationship going on. No, seriously, he is on his phone texting every five seconds; he’s trying to be so sneaky about it but Quinn knows, he knows, it’s obvious on Jack’s face. On the other hand, Quinn hasn’t been on a date in almost spot on eighteen months. Not a serious one, anyways.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his love life had just stopped and fizzled out. There has been a lot on his plate recently with the Captaincy and hockey in general. Essentially, his job has stunted his love life. It’s a little sad and does make Quinn wonder how the guys with families find the time to spend with their wife and kids when he can’t even make the time to scroll on Raya or Hinge.

In conclusion, Quinn’s life in general is a bit of a mess. He comes to this conclusion sat in a box at a Theatre in New York, watching Madeline’s best friend dance Clara in the Nutcracker on stage. Which they do, every year, apparently. This nugget of information is a bit of a jab in Quinn’s chest, he’s not bitter about it, he’s not.

It leaves even more of a sour taste in Quinn’s mouth when on the way there Jack cannot stop talking about this goddamn ballerina.

“No dude, it’s like incredible, unfathomable now she can balance like that. She’s balancing on her toes man, her toes! Can you do that because I can’t?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t met her yet Quinny, she’s amazing. No I’m serious, she’s so fun but the dancing is so good too.”

“I haven’t seen the Nutcracker before man, but like I know she’s going to kill it as Clara.”

“How is it even possible to get your leg up that high?”

“I bet she stretches every day.”

“Dude, you’ll love her”

After a while, even though Quinn loves Jack, but it makes him want to scream. Particularly because he does not care about whoever the hell this girl is. Even if she does dance pretty well. And for all Jack’s raving about her skills and shining personality, he’s spent half the performance on his phone texting that girl, and whilst Quinn is very much not enjoying sitting here watching it, at least he has more decency than Jack to keep his phone inside his pocket.

He knows it is probably close to the end as they’re about a half hour into the final act and Quinn couldn’t be more relieved, he’s getting hungry and the jet leg is still catching up to me. By now in Vancouver, Quinn would be tucking into his post-practice meal, putting on an old game and taking mental notes. How he could move better, more efficiently - he needs to be better. That’s really what he would like to be doing, if not now then later tonight, but the night is yet to be over. After this Madeline and Luke are taking him, Jack and the prima ballerina out to dinner. Quinn’s already had a look over the menu to find dishes that will fit in with his meal schedule which is how he knows that it’s a fancy place. Quinn will fit in with his theatre appropriate casual suit but will have to take off his cap, Jack might fall short of the dress code though.

When the final curtain falls, Quinn lets out a sigh of relief and shuffles in his seat. Jack actually looks up from his phone. As the company comes out to take a bow, Madeline and Luke stand up and begin to clap, Jack pops up immediately and Quinn follows behind dumbly.

Madeline’s friend, the little prima ballerina, comes out and takes her bow and the crowd erupts. She has a smile on her face, it’s taut and forced - Quinn can tell, maybe it's the older brother in him, maybe it’s because he practices his own in the mirror, but he can always tell. It’s the first time that Quinn actually takes an interest in her. Nevertheless, she drops into an elegant and sweeping curtsey, and flashes her smile to the crowd then disappears with the others back into the wings.

You had said to Madeline that you’d meet her and the boys at the restaurant later which bought you some time to stretch off and get changed.

Jack had texted just after the show to tell you that they were headed down, the two of you had met a couple times since Madeline had moved in with Luke and Jack and he was a good friend to you. Had he tried it on, yes? But you’d made it clear that it was not going to happen and since he had respected your boundaries and was nothing more than a good friend. His text said to not worry about putting on your sweats even though Madeline had clearly booked a nice restaurant and yet still you taped up your legs and put on a nice dress. Although heels were out of the question, or any open-toed shoe for that matter due to the fact your calves hurt horrifically if you went up on tip-toes and there were welts and bandages all over your feet.

You were starving after being on stage for such a long time and skipping lunch to keep your figure inside that tight skirt. Being a ballet dancer wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, in fact it was hardly that. Many a ballet teacher had yelled about seeing someone lunch under their leotard and you were a principal dancer, the lead, so that couldn’t be you. Which is why you’d analysed the menu for the restaurant beforehand and how you knew that you couldn’t wear sweats.

Your muscles ache with the short distance it takes to walk from the uber to the table which is a nice table, inconspicuous and in the corner but not bad, it’s a front row seat, table or whatever. Expensive. You know what it looks like.

Madeline gets up to greet you, pulling you into a warm hug and says,

“Oh my goodness, how are you, you were incredible out there?”

You sit down in the only empty chair around the circle, which is just next to Madeline and on the other side is the brother that you haven’t met yet - Quinn. You let a sweet smile grace your face, as if like natural, good old customer service and shook his hand as you borderline collapsed into the chair.

“Hi, it’s Quinn isn’t it?”

His smile is tight in response, “Nice to meet you.”

When all five of you had sat down, drinks were ordered. The boys stayed away from alcohol for game related excuses but you and Madeline had one. You hoped that the vodka might soothe the pain and the adrenaline come down that you were currently experiencing.

Then food. Quinn and you passed each other odd looks when you both ordered the same thing, the blandest thing on the menu.

The conversation flowed gently, ebbed and flowed between the boys and you and Madeline and as much as you loved them all, except Quinn, who you didn’t know and he didn’t seem to want to know much about you.

You tolerate the conversation, half your attention on the topic at hand and whoever is speaking but the other half is focused on the painful sensation radiating up your left leg. The aching pulses irritatingly, causing you to shuffle a little in the hopes that a readjustment of your spine might soothe the pressure on the muscles. However it’s all to no avail, the production is taking its toll on your body you knew, but you smiled along placidly and try to forget about your troubles for the evening. It is the least you could do for Madeline and the lovely evening she had planned.

About halfway in, between mains and the deserts which you were planning on, Luke and Madeline slip away, for something, you weren’t really concentrating and you were on your third martini. Jack too, got up and snuck away - he’d been on his phone all night, you had noticed and you knew Quinn had too judging by the roll of his eyes every time he caught him.

So then it was just you and him.

He leans over to whisper in your ear as you sip at the dregs at your martini, “Don’t you think you should stop.”

You shake your head, snarking back, “I’m good thanks, mind getting me another?”

He leans back in his chair, but there’s little reaction from his face, it’s cold and hard and somehow you like it even less than a sneer or a scoff. You stay leant forward, chewing on the olives and swivelling your head over your shoulder to look right at him.

“It’s not going to help in the morning,” he offers.

Confusion washes over you, you turn around a little more to face him more directly, “Sorry?”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures at the empty glass which was already being taken by a waiter, “No matter how much you drink, your leg will still be fucked up in the morning. Probably worse.”

Instinctively, you reach down to rub at your left leg, massaging it over the tape layered over and over and the pair of tights covering up such tape.

You consider for a moment lying. What fucking leg injury? But Quinn’s got this look, like he just knows. It’s not necessarily care, but you can’t put your finger on it, what it is dancing over his face.

So instead you say, “That’s not what it’s for.” And yet still, somehow, it’s sort of a lie.

Disappointment flashes over his face, deepening in his brown eyes and it makes you shuffle in your seat and look away. You’re almost certain that he knows.

Thankfully, it is then that Luke and Madeline come back in with Jack shortly behind. They’re giggling to themselves and it makes you feel a little sick - or maybe that’s the mix of the ibuprofen, martinis and subsequent adrenaline rush. You take Quinn’s coca cola that’s right next to you - uncaring - and take a sip, hoping it unclogs whatever’s stuck in your throat. It helps for a moment. You don’t catch it, but Quinn passes a look over to you.

Then you catch Madeline’s eye and there’s something in it which makes you pause, stop. There’s a twinkle and she sits. For just a moment. You watch her eyes dart over to Luke, who you can tell, she is holding his hand under the table; they were so utterly in love, and had been since they met, it was adorable.

Only she could be so lucky.

It’s a sparkle that catches her eyeline from the corner. You flick your head around and see the cake. It’s a chocolate thing with sparklers fizzling on the top of it and a cute little sign which reads - Happy Engagement. It’s adorable.

You’re almost sick.

Somebody’s filling up your glass with champagne. You don’t try to protest but you can’t drink it and don’t complain as Quinn moves it away from you.

Madeline starts talking, sweetly and hand hanging in Luke’s, “So, there’s a reason we wanted to invite you all here.”

Your leg pulses with pain. Jack looks up from his phone from opposite you. Luke smiles. You don’t look at Quinn.

“We wanted a chance to talk to all of you about the wedding, which as you all know will be in the off season.”

The wedding, of course. It makes complete sense that that is why they’re all here. Since they got engaged, just a couple months ago, wedding planning has been flying along; you don’t know all the details and Madeline has been very hush hush about it, but your invite came in the mail the other week and you of course accepted.

A slice of chocolate cake is served in front of you by a kind looking waiter - he’s kind of cute, and you smile at him when he flashes you one. He moves away around the table and you pull the plate of cake towards you, looking down at the thick slice of chocolate and icing a little dumbly.

Madeline is still speaking, gripping the stem of her champagne glass with a smile that you know reads as nervousness, “We would like all three of you to be a part of our wedding parties,”

Jack’s grin expands, “I thought that was a given.”

Madeline laughs in response, she’s very clearly used to this, “Well we’d like to extend a formal invitation to you and Quinn to be groomsmen.”

“Don’t be a dick Jacky,” Luke retorts, but it's light-hearted and in good faith.

Quinn shuffles forward in his seat next to you, he’s serious and genuine as he speaks - to Luke or to Madeline, you’re not sure, “Thank you, we appreciate it and I’ll be there for both of you.”

Then, with a playful look, Madeline turns to you and says, “And you,” she points a finger kittenishly, “I’d like to invite you to be my very special maid of honour.”

“Maid of honour, are you serious Maddy?” You gasp, standing up from your chair suddenly and trying to ignore the way your leg screams at you.

You bring her into a close hug, letting her pull you inwards warmly and let yourself smile brightly. It’s not a surprise but it just reaffirms the strength of your friendship despite the distance lately due to the rush of the engagement and the busyness of your career and let out a quiet sigh of relief as you relax into the embrace.

“Of course you’re my maid of honour.”

It feels like a blessing.

The rest of the night is not a blackout per se, but to say that you will have full vivid recall on the events the next morning would be nothing short of a miracle. Everything gets kind of crazy after the announcement and excitement of the wedding which descends upon the group of them. Except for Quinn, who’s kind of a buzzkill. To be fair, it’s something which Jack had warned you about, Quinn is fighting his demons or whatever and is probably going to be a killjoy due to the fact that it’s the middle of the season and playoffs are approaching. You get it, but not really. You can show the fuck up, why can’t Mister Canucks Captain. It’s stupid.

Anyways, you have one more drink and then a couple more after the cake and Madeline in her ultimate wisdom assigns Quinn to walk you home.

It’s cold outside, much colder than when you set off and with the first shiver of your shoulders, Quinn is taking off his jacket and slipping it over your shoulders before you can even protest. Which feels like something he’s been doing all night, not hovering but just noticing, just being there; it’s not annoying but it’s strange for once, being noticed, especially as you’ve barely known each a couple of hours.

You walk, however, in silence. Mostly.

Quinn’s voice is low and husky when he finally does speak out in the dark night’s sky, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” You respond.

“The dance. I mean you’re obviously in pain, it’s hurting you.” He replies and it’s calm but you’re anything but.

There’s desperation in your defensive tone, “It’s not, it’s just how it is. And I’m not being obvious about anything, the reviews have been very pleasant thank you.”

“It’s obvious to me and it’s dangerous.”

“And I’m supposed to care about that. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Also, I don’t think you should be talking about dangerous sports when you get paid to be checked into walls. Still got all my teeth so there’s that.” You spit back, crossing your hands over your chest.

He stops.

“I’m not trying to criticise you, it’s a question.”

You huff, whirling around, cocking your head as you look back at him, “What are you trying to do Hughes, please enlighten me.”

“I just- I get it.” He concedes, and it only adds to the confusion swirling in your gut.

“You get it?”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks around, he looks lost as his eyes point up towards the sky, “You’re killing yourself for the thing you love because you love it right, and nobody else sees it. You don’t have anyone, a support system. I get it, I am there, I understand. I- I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Something flares in your gut, deep and cruel. He’s right too, he’s right but you hate being seen like that. It’s not right, not with this man who you’ve known for barely a couple of hours. To suggest that he knows you at all, it’s wrong, all completely wrong.

He’s stood there, looking like some sort of lost puppy.

You say, “Speak for yourself, it’s not like that for me.”

Quinn says nothing and you turn around and walk away. Part of you, the sick and conflicted side, wants him to catch up to you, try again. But all you can hear is the click of your own shoes against the pavement. He doesn’t follow you, of course he does. You don’t want to be disappointed, but you can’t help feeling it anyways.

161 notes · View notes

dovveri · 9 months ago

Text

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

#momo #twice momo #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo smut #twice momo smut #hirai momo smut #twice x reader #twice imagines #momo imagines #twice smut #dovveri

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jellysmosh · 1 month ago

Text

Feels Like Being in Love

Summary: As a camera operator at Smosh, you were accustomed to being invisible, preferring to be out of sight and blending into the background. But something seemed to shift when your crush started seeking you out to talk about things you also happened to be interested in.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, mutual pining

Word count: 3.5k

Note: I’m used to writing from an extrovert’s pov (since I am one), so I was trying to write a more reserved, shyer reader… shout out to any of my introverted readers out there! Love you divas! Also, this was meant to be short, that didn’t really happen.

☆

Smosh was an insane place to work.

When you were hired, you did not expect to leave your comfort place behind the camera. As a camera operator, you worked closely with Brennan safely out of shot. However, every now and then, you had been convinced to get mic'd up and stand in front of the camera for various crew-involved videos. They were a lot of fun, especially the hide and seek videos and crew gauntlet TNTL’s. You were admittedly camera shy, you were not a trained actor and you had very little experience being anywhere besides behind the camera. You loved filming and photography, releasing the reins and becoming the subject being filmed was a different ballpark, it made you sweat and you became hyper aware of where you rested your hands. Generally, you were content mixing in with the crew, invisible amongst the other staff members.

Your favourite videos to film were for the games channel. They had an elevated level of chaos and had really helped you improve your handheld filming skills. Last time they played The Maury Game, you were huffing and puffing, locking in on chasing Angela around behind the set.

Another reason you loved filming games videos was working with the one and only Spencer Agnew. You didn’t have a crush on him, you just admired him and how amazing he was at his job. He was so experienced and knew what he was doing so well that he directed with ease. He would give you clear and detailed instructions, but also gave you liberty to make creative decisions. Brennan was happy as long as you didn’t break anything when you ran after cast members. Spencer easily commanded the room when filming games videos, it was so attractive seeing him in his element, like it came as easy to him as walking and talking.

Okay, so maybe you had a crush on him.

He was a brilliant director, friend, coworker, subject to film, just a great guy overall. How were you not meant to fall for him? His charming and funny on-camera persona was magnetic, and his usual sweet and slightly mild mannered self off-camera was even more attractive. You weren’t close enough to hang out much one-on-one, but whenever you spent time with him in a group, you could feel your eyes being drawn to him the entire time. He was so attractive, full of quick-witted sarcasm, a huge bank of niche references in his head, and all topped off with an infectious smile. You were screwed from the moment you met him, essentially.

☆

“Hey Y/N.”

You looked up from your laptop to the sound of Spencer’s voice. You nervously smiled as he walked over to you. You had made it to set a little early and was checking a couple emails before you finished setting up the equipment for the next Board AF shoot.

“Hi, Spencer”, you replied softly, worried your voice would shake if you spoke any louder. “I’ll finish setting up in a second, just replying to an email.”

“Oh”, he waved one hand dismissively, “no rush, we have plenty of time. Nobody else is going to arrive on set for another ten minutes.”

You just mutely nodded, kicking yourself for being so awkward. You weren’t sure how to respond since you didn’t normally chat with Spencer alone unless it was work related. You were used to blending in, mixing into the crowd of the crew. You hesitated before looking back down at your screen, trying to focus on typing out a reply as if you weren’t extremely conscious of the man sitting only a metre away from you. Just as you hit send, you became aware of the feeling of eyes on you. You slowly raised your head, scared of being wrong and him catching you staring like a creep. But when you looked up, he was already looking at you. You felt your face heat up immediately and the hair on the back of your neck stand up, you felt like a deer in headlights with his green eyes locking with yours.

You raised your eyebrows in question, “yes?”

“Nothing”, he replied casually, “I just noticed your shirt, it’s cool.”

You glanced down at your shirt, a graphic t-shirt you bought from one of your favourite bands, Wet Leg.

“Thank you”, you murmured bashfully, you were flattered by his compliment, “do you like Wet Leg?”

It felt like a strange question to say to someone out loud.

“Yeah!” He smiled brightly, it made you also smile subconsciously, it was contagious. “Their stuff’s really cool. I loved their new singles.”

You felt yourself perk up, you didn’t often talk about your personal interests with people at work outside of the camera operation team. It excited you that someone shared something in common with you. Especially since that person was Spencer.

“Oh my god, they’re so good”, you gushed before you could stop yourself, “I’m so excited for their upcoming album.”

He laughed and nodded in agreement. You two chatted about the band until other people started arriving on set and you had to finish fixing up the cameras in preparation for filming. That was the shortest ten minutes of your life.

You were done adjusting the cameras when the cast members all found their seats. You nodded at the other members of the crew, signalling you were ready to go. You glanced over your shoulder to where you knew Spencer was sitting, he looked up at the same time. You almost jumped at the sudden eye contact.

You offered him a small smile. He smiled back. You turned back to the camera in front of you, cheeks and ears burning.

☆

You had helped finish up the last shoot of the day, a Challenge Pit video that required a lot of different angles, so there was plenty of stuff to put away. You were packing up various bits of camera equipment, stepping back to scan the shelf to make sure everything was in the right spot.

“Hey Y/N.”

You jumped. It was the second time that week you had heard that voice say those words.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you”, he looked at you with that charming smile of his as he stepped into the storeroom.

“That’s alright”, the volume of your voice was just above a whisper. You couldn’t deny you felt a little flustered being in a secluded space with him. “What’s up?”

“Alex just informed me that you like Baccano!” He leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. “I had to come talk to you about it. Such a good anime.”

You gasped. Baccano! was your favourite anime. You vaguely recalled mentioning it to Alex when they randomly asked you the question a while ago before scampering off, you assumed they were up to the usual strange games team antics, some kind of office survey maybe.

“Yeah, it’s so good!” You agreed with him, smiling. You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt to calm your nerves, “you like it too? It’s a bit old but I really love it. It’s so fun to rewatch too.”

You felt your entire face flush at the way he was attentively listening to you. He had this open, observant expression every time he was closely listening to someone, and it made you a little anxious to have it directed at you.

“Yeah”, he mumbled, “I really like it.” His eyes lingered on you a little longer before breaking eye contact and casually scanning the room. “You have great taste in anime. I would know, of course. I am obviously the authority on good taste.”

That made you laugh, you leaned back as well, shoulders pressed against a pillar. You were overcompensating a bit, trying extra hard to look casual and cool when your heart was actually racing.

“You clearly are”, you responded, you gave him a close-lipped smile and a tilt of your head that you hoped looked curious and not like you were straining your neck awkwardly. “Do you have any recommendations for my next watch?”

“Ooh..”, he lifted his head to stare at the ceiling, clearly thinking hard. “Have you watched Erased?”

He glanced at you and when you shook your head, he grinned in that gorgeous, beautiful way he always did.

“You would love it. Maybe we could watch it together sometime?” He lowered his voice, the air between you felt warm, electric.

You started to spiral. Was that a genuine invitation? There was no way he was flirting with you, maybe he just wanted to hang out. Maybe he was the kind of person that liked to see his friends’ reactions when watching things he liked? The idea of hanging out with him made you sweat though, you needed at least a third person to buffer otherwise you would have a nervous breakdown. You felt like you were about to panic, he had to mean that in a purely platonic way, right? This did seem like a good chance to get to know him better but there was no way you could handle being alone with him. He was looking at you expectantly and you were totally overthinking.

“Yeah, maybe”, your voice cracked a little as you replied, nerves showing. “Uh, I gotta go”, you said bluntly, incredibly embarrassed and trying to escape as fast as humanly possible.

“Oh, okay…”, he replied in confusion as you quickly grabbed some of your belongings and scurried out the door. You didn’t look back as you power-walked down the hall.

Your fears won this round. You were a bit ashamed of your awkwardness, sure you had fumbled that social interaction miserably. You wondered if Spencer was disappointed in your response. You pushed the thought out of your head, just relieved to be out of that stuffy room with the object of your affections standing alone inside.

☆

You patted your pockets, making sure you had your keys and phone as you walked towards the office car park. You heard footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, as you turned to see who it was, you nervously grabbed the strap of your bag on instinct. As per usual, you braced yourself for the incoming social situation. And you were right to be nervous, because it was Spencer making his way towards you.

You had been avoiding him since the weird interaction in the camera equipment storeroom, only really staying anywhere near him when working. You had grown more worried and suspicious he may have realised you had feelings for him. It was pretty simple to deduce, in your opinion, you feared your reactions to him made it obvious.

“Hey Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue made you shiver. You couldn’t deny you loved it when he said it, being acknowledged by him was a curse and a blessing, it made you cripplingly nervous but incredibly happy. Spencer Agnew made your life agony.

“Hi”, you choked out, grip tightening on your bag. You looked down at your feet, kicking slightly at the concrete. You weren’t sure what to say to him and you could feel your face warming the longer he looked at you.

“Um”, he seemed to hesitate. You glanced up at him and was surprised to see he seemed a little bashful. “I, uh, I have something for you.”

Your eyes widened as he dug around in his bag. He got you something? A gift? Your heartbeat was so loud, you were certain he could hear it. When he turned back to you with a Smiski blind box in his hand, you were afraid your heart was going to beat right out of your chest for him to witness.

“A Smiski?” You felt yourself grin despite your nerves, “I love Smiskis!”

“Yeah, I got this one for free”, he replied sheepishly, “I noticed you had a few on your desk, so I thought you would appreciate it more than me.”

You accepted the present delicately, your cheeks reddened when you felt your fingers graze against his own. His hand was warm and soft, making it obvious how clammy yours was. Your instinct to run away was overshadowed by your excitement that Spencer had not only given you a Smiski, but also that he noticed you liked them. He had a way of making you feel seen when you had always thought you were invisible.

“Thank you, Spencer”, you said gratefully, “this is so sweet. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

He shook his head, “it’s all yours, it’s clear you want it. Look at that smile.”

You immediately flushed a deep red, your hand reflexively coming up to cover your face. You were mortified that he could clock how ecstatic you were. You just hoped he thought you were happy because of the Smiski itself and not because it was Spencer gifting it. The both of you laughed, you shyly looked down again, admiring the little box in your hand.

When you locked eyes again, you couldn’t read his expression. The eye contact alone made you feel like you were going crazy.

“Make sure you keep it front and centre on your desk”, he jokingly pointed at you like he was giving an order. It made you giggle. “I’ll be checking.”

“Yes sir”, you smiled at him, genuine. He made you nervous, but he also made you want to open up, be honest with him. That made you even more nervous.

“Good”, he put his hands in his pockets, satisfied, “so everytime you look down at him, it’ll remind you of me.”

Forget opening up, you were ready to sprint away, just absolutely leg it out of there. You took a step back from him, chuckling to cover up how much you were freaking out. He was clearly just playing around, being friendly, but did he know the effect he had on you? You had to leave before you sweat through your shirt.

“Seeyoutomorrow”, you sputtered out briskly before practically jogging to your car. You were desperate to get out of there.

You didn’t trust yourself to glance at him still standing in the same spot as you quickly pulled out of the car park, tires screeching.

☆

You heard a voice as you set your bag down at your desk.

“Hey Y/N.”

Oh crap, you weren’t ready to talk to Spencer yet. It was 9am and you had not emotionally prepared yourself. After the conversation you shared the previous afternoon, you were still on edge. You had thought about him practically all night, staring at the Smiski he gave you and lying awake, plagued by thoughts of his kind gestures, his adorable smile, and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Good morning, Spencer”, you replied politely, subconsciously fixing your hair as you turned to look at him.

He was extra cute today, no hat covering his bouncy curls and short sleeves showing his array of tattoos. He seemed a bit apprehensive today, breaking eye contact with you, staying a reasonable distance away.

“Can we talk for a second?” He looked around briefly before adding, “alone?”

Anxiety built up in your stomach. Alone. You nodded, silently hoping the floor would open up and eat you. Instead, you had to simply follow him to the currently empty break room. Talking to him had been happening a lot more often recently, and you were trying to act like you weren’t about to pee yourself like a shaking chihuahua every time. He chose a table to sit at and beckoned you over. You elected to sit on the chair opposite him, deciding it was safer for your trembling heart than sitting right next to him.

“You’re not in trouble, by the way”, he held his hands up. You let out a breath without thinking, you were glad he tried to quell your anxieties. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable over the past few days.”

That made you furrow your brow. You were exceedingly confused, what on earth was he talking about? He never made you uncomfortable, you were a highly strung ball of nerves but that had nothing to do with him.

“Uncomfortable?”

Seeing the clear confusion on your face, he continued, “well, I thought I completely messed up. Every single time I flirted with you, you immediately ran away every time.”

Your jaw dropped as Spencer’s cheeks reddened. What?

“Wait, wait- what?” You exclaimed, “flirting? What are you talking about?”

This time he looked confused. “You know, like the past few conversations we’ve had one-on-one?”

“You were flirting with me?” You could have sworn the room started spinning. Were you hearing him correctly?

“Yes”, he replied exasperatedly, “or, well, I was trying to. I thought you were trying to make it clear you weren’t interested.”

You gaped like a fish, you couldn’t recall anyone ever admitting to trying to flirt with you. How had you not picked up on the signs?

“Like with Wet Leg”, he continued, running a hand through his hair, “I only started listening to them because I had seen you wear that shirt before. They’re really good, don’t get me wrong, but I just wanted something to talk to you about. Something just between us.”

“Huh?” You thought your brain was about to short circuit.

“And with Baccano! … I admit I asked Alex to ask you what your favourite anime is”, he rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, “and then I binged it, I barely slept that night. But I was so keen to talk to you about it, I got restless.”

“What?” You placed your hands on the table, shocked at his admission.

“And the Smiski I gave you yesterday”, you held your breath while he confessed, “I lied. I didn’t get it for free, I was being a creep at your desk so I could figure out which line you hadn’t got yet and went out to find it so I could give you a present.”

“Why?” You felt faint.

“Because”, he shrugged nonchalantly, but his red cheeks gave him away, “I like you. I wanted you to notice me.”

You were a new level of flustered, your entire body was hot and you felt a little bit lightheaded. You pressed your two feet together under the table, confused, giddy, and scared of all this attention all at once.

“You’re silly”, you replied quietly. He leaned in to hear you clearer, hanging onto your every word. “How could I not notice you, Spencer?” You glanced at him shyly, “I never thought you would notice me, I don’t really stand out.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughed breathily, “I could pick you out of a crowd of a million people with no problem.”

You locked eyes with him. You were overwhelmed in the best way possible. What you thought was a one-sided crush was actually reciprocated.

“I’ve liked you for ages now”, you blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore. You didn’t realise how filled with feelings you were until you were ready to spill it all out for him now. “I ran away from you because I was afraid you would realise and you didn’t feel the same.”

His gaze rested on you wordlessly for a beat, it looked like he was taking a minute to search for the right words.

“You’re the silly one”, he chuckled, scratching his beard, “how could I not feel that way about you? You’re amazing.”

You stared at each other silently for a moment before both bursting into excited giggles. You weren’t used to this feeling in your chest, like there was a firework ready to burst, shattering you into a hundred little sparks of every colour.

“I can’t believe you were paying such close attention to me”, you grinned at him mischievously, “I trust you enjoyed listening to good music and watching good anime?”

“Of course”, he nodded, “you have great taste. It just made me like you more.”

You didn’t think you could flush any darker. You didn’t feel brave enough to grab his hand, instead you slowly kicked your leg out until your foot was pressed up against his, he responded by gently pushing his foot back.

“Hey Spencer?” You weren’t sure if you could ever feel calm around him when he looked at you like that, eyes full of warmth and a small grin.

He hummed in response.

“If you forgive me for running away last time, and if you’ll still have me, I’d love to watch an anime with you sometime.”

And when he smiled at you like that, you were so glad you weren’t invisible to him.

☆

Note: I hope the shy readers relate to this… all my friends that like Smiskis are introverts, I couldn’t unsee that pattern once I noticed lol. And this might be a hidden ad for Wet Leg, I love them.

♡ masterlist

#starsfics #smosh #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #spencer smosh

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nadvs · 10 months ago

Text

out of bounds (part five)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut (zach is subby and packing) (and you can’t convince me otherwise)

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | two | three | four

» masterlist

The setting sun is an orange sliver behind the clouds over the lake, promising a colder night as you sit by the campfire.

It’s been another tiring day and lights out can’t come soon enough. You check the time on your phone to see you have twenty minutes left of free time before campers retire to their cabins.

Zach sits across the fire pit with Malcolm, surrounded by chattering kids.

“It’d be nice if our campers actually wanted to spend time with us,” Ami says to you quietly, sitting next to you.

You laugh, noticing that a lot of your girls are sitting around Zach and Malcolm, talking and staring at them in awe. They’re not subtle at all.

“I have so much to tell you, by the way,” she adds.

“About…?” you ask, your eyes inconspicuously drifting towards Malcolm.

“Yeah,” she says. “He came over when you and Zach went on your little date.”

You laugh again to cover your nerves. Ami was already asleep when you made it to your cabin last night. This morning, you briefly chatted with her about how you ran an errand in town with Zach, making it sound as boring as possible.

You’re still putting up the front that you have no romance between you. You’re not sure you’re doing such a convincing job and it’s been feeding your anxiety.

“We went shopping for work,” you reiterate. “We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” she replies, unconvinced. “He’s totally looking at you like you’re a friend right now.”

You glance up to meet Zach’s gaze, the corner of his lips quirked up, his eyes on you. You smile at him and look at Ami again. You haven’t told her a thing. Not even that you and Zach confessed your feelings for each other.

Admittedly, it’d be nice to be able to gush with Ami about your flings. She’s become a good friend over the two weeks you’ve been working at the camp and she tells you everything about Malcolm. But you respect Zach too much to give in.

“Okay, maybe there’s a tiny possibility we like each other, but we’re not doing anything about it,” you offer quietly. “So, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you tonight,” she says.

You nod. You already decided that when you get to your cabin, you’ll tell her that you’re going to the dining hall to have a video call with friends. If she insists you stay, you’ll say you’ll be loud and you don’t want to bother her in case it goes late.

In reality, you’re planning to go to Zach’s cabin tonight. He’ll have the place to himself. And you can hardly wait.

It’s complicated and a bit guilt-inducing to be lying so much, but when you glance across the fire again and see Zach’s bright smile, you know he and his comfort are worth it.

Ami falls into conversation with another counselor and you text Zach to tease him: what’s with the staring? you’re making it a little obvious maclaren.

It’s not until after lights out when Malcolm leaves their shared cabin for his shift that Zach showers, tidies up, sits on his bed and pulls his phone out to text you that he realizes you texted him a while ago.

He’s been riddled with anticipation all day. It’s been hard to focus. You didn’t exactly directly confirm you’d be coming over tonight, but it seemed to be an unspoken plan between you two.

And the fact that you bought condoms last night has been turning over and over in his head. He won’t rush you, he wouldn’t dream of it, but he hopes tonight is the night.

He replies to you: I can’t stare at you? Come on. You’re asking for the impossible here.

And because he can’t wait, he texts again: You want to come over tonight?

Five minutes pass. Then, ten. All he has left to do is reread his texts to you. Maybe he came across too strong.

Come to think of it, your first text calling him out for staring could have been serious. What if you’re not teasing, but actually upset with him?

He’s drafting a text to apologize if he said anything wrong, but you reply: be there soon.

When you knock on Zach’s door, he opens it within seconds and you rush inside.

“Sorry,” you tell him, pulling him in for a hug. “Ami was filling me in on some stuff.”

“All good,” Zach says, although in reality, he was kind of freaking out. He leans to kiss your forehead and his body warms when you tighten your arms around his torso. “Where’d you say you’re going?”

“Taking a call.” You squeeze him once more, his body firm against you, before leaning back to cup his face and pull him down towards you.

Your kiss is gentle, its tenderness proof of just how much you’ve missed him. All the tension in his body fades like you’re pulling him out of a bad dream. He’s relieved that things between you are okay. Your touch shows that you’re still in this like he is.

“Hi,” you whisper in relief.

“Hey, baby.” His deep voice is like velvet, the word spilling out of his mouth as if he’s called you that a million times before.

“How was your day?” you ask.

“This is the best part of it,” he replies. You smile and kiss him again.

When you settle on Zach’s bed, sitting across from each other, you look around his small cabin, laid out like yours, items neatly tucked away.

“Thought you said you were messy,” you say, playfully pushing his shoulder.

Zach takes the opportunity to hold your hand, cupping it, stroking his thumb over your fingers in his lap.

He gazes at you, at how effortlessly pretty you look in your comfy clothes, at how quickly you make his blood go hot and his body go tense just from a hug and a few kisses.

“I cleaned up,” he says. “Think I’ll have to mess it up again so Malcolm doesn’t get suspicious, though.”

“I wonder if he and Ami talk about us,” you say. “She’s been teasing me about liking you ever since our first night here.”

“Did you? Like me then?” Zach flirts.

You look down, smiling shyly, thinking back to the night you kicked the ball around under the starry sky, getting to know each other, bodies lightly brushing together.

“Yeah,” you confess. “Did you?”

“I liked you since you told me there was only one fork left.”

“So, the first thing I said to you?” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Zach brings your hand up against his chest as he feigns offense. You laugh together and he dips his head to kiss the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours.

He’s acting like he couldn’t wait to get you alone again. You feel the same way. It’s ridiculously hard being in the same vicinity all day and having to act like you haven’t kissed or touched each other.

Now, he’s merely inches away, his heartbeat pounding against your palm, the tension between you thickening by the second.

Zach lowers your hand on his bed. His blanket is soft. His stare is tender. You look down at the way his big hand covers yours and you quickly notice the thick ridge of his erection beneath his sweatpants.

It makes the coil in you tighten, knowing he’s already as turned on as you are. You discreetly feel for the condom in your pocket to make sure it’s still there.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Zach offers, tilting his head towards his desk. You see his laptop propped open.

You smile, endeared over how considerate he is not to rush anything, especially when he’d so clearly do something else.

The other night in your bed has been on your mind. He was so hard and so big in your hand that your heart is already hammering at the thought of seeing him naked, of feeling him inside you.

“Sure,” you simply say.

He asks you what you’d like to watch and you pick one of the first movies you see, figuring you won’t be watching much of it anyway.

You lie on your side in his bed as he queues up the movie and tilts the laptop screen towards you. The smell of his strong, calming body wash wafts over you as he settles behind you.

Zach plants a kiss on your shoulder once he props himself onto the pillow, curling behind you. He knows you can feel how hard he is, but before he can worry about you feeling uneasy, he reminds himself of how much you’ve reassured him that you want him, too.

“You’re the big spoon type?” you ask with a soft chuckle as he shuffles into position.

“You sound surprised,” Zach mumbles behind you.

“So, you don’t want to be the little spoon? Ever?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” he replies, earning another giggle from you.

The movie’s opening credits roll over the screen, but all you can focus on is the sensation of Zach’s large hand against your thigh, dragging to cup the crook of your hip as he pulls your body against him.

You arch your back to press against his hard length. His hold on your hip tightens, a shudder leaving his lips.

Zach tries to concentrate on the movie, but he’s so hard that it aches. His eyes refuse to look at the screen; they want to trail over the peaks and valleys of your body, to take in your pretty face.

He shifts to nuzzle against your hair, relaxing simply from the smell of your shampoo. His palm glides up past your hip, over your tummy, resting right under your breasts, where he can feel the wire of your bra beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Your stomach rises and falls, his hand moving with every one of your breaths. Having to keep a distance from you all day is hard. Being this close and not touching you how he wants to be touching you is somehow even harder.

All Zach can do is shut his eyes as he nuzzles in and expels warm breaths against the back of your ear. He tells himself to just cuddle you for now, to go slow.

“I feel like I can’t get the smell of campfire out of my hair,” you admit with a laugh. “Sorry if it-”

“No, no, you smell good,” he mumbles. He glides his hand back and forth across your waist and slowly presses his lips against the side of your neck.

You bite your lip, lowering your palm over your stomach. Zach quickly raises his hand, clearly concerned he did something wrong, serving as a reminder to you of how much he appreciates your direction and praise.

“It’s okay,” you say. He realizes you’re lifting up your shirt. “You can touch me if you want to.”

You guide his hand under your top, feeling his palm on your breast. Warmth pools in your stomach when he almost inaudibly groans.

“If I want to?” he whispers with a nervous chuckle. “Of course I want to.”

He gently squeezes, swallowing the lump in his throat as the soft cup of your bra bunches between his fingers.

His touch is soothing, his breath ragged. He spends so much time slowly massaging you that it begins to feel like torture to not have him making direct contact.

You’re sure that he can feel how hard your nipples are under your bra, but you let him decide the pace this time, let him decide when you can move to the next step.

“Can I take this off?” Zach finally asks, his hand skimming over your bra strap.

You wriggle to pull your top off then lean forward, your back still to him.

“Yes,” you say with a note of relief.

Zach plants wet kisses on your bare shoulder as his hands wander to the back of your bra, unhooking and guiding the straps down your arms. You press your back up to him again once your bra hits the floor.

He feels your bare breast against his hand and he’s thrown back into how nice the swells of your flesh felt in his mouth, how hard and perfect your nipples were against his tongue.

He stimulates you with gentle pinches, kneading softly, making you buck your hips back against him.

“God, I love these,” Zach rasps, fondling you. “I just…” He trails into silence.

“What?” you breathe.

He only kisses your shoulder again as he continues to touch you, his cock twitching against you.

You turn to face him and Zach doesn’t waste a second. His lips are soft and wet when they press against yours as he drags his thumb back and forth over your nipple.

You pull back, nose nudging against his.

“You just what? You can tell me,” you reassure him softly.

His heart is racing, wishing a part of him wasn’t still scared that he’s too much for you, that how deeply he feels for you will freak you out. He��s never thought of himself as an insecure person, but right now, one negative word from you could shatter him.

Goosebumps bloom over his skin when you caress his jaw, your hand against his cheek. He’ll say what he’s thinking, even though he’s afraid.

“I just want to make you feel good,” Zach says.

You smile, tilting your head to kiss him again.

“You are,” you say when your mouths part. “All I ever feel with you is good.”

Your words make him dizzy, pushing him to capture your lips again, rougher this time. When his tongue dips into your mouth, you let out a moan that makes him feel like he might go crazy.

Zach sucks your bottom lip as you tug at his shirt, willing him to pull back and take the clothing off. His shirt falls onto the floor behind you with a soft thud and he pulls you tight against him, the sensation of his bare, hard chest against yours utterly perfect as he kisses you.

You’re lost in the moment, making out slowly and heavily. The sounds of your hungry kisses and the movie playing and the wind rustling through the trees just outside his window fill your ears.

You eventually shift to straddle him, coming up for air as you sit up, thighs locked around his hips. Zach gazes up at you in awe, eyes drifting up and down, taking in your every feature.

You can feel how soaked your panties are now that you’re settled on him. You drink in the planes of his muscles and the ridges of his abs and the line of hair below his bellybutton that trails down past the elastic of his sweatpants.

You knew he was muscular, but it’s surprising how much he’s hiding under his shirt. As you look down at his half-naked form, you take in how every plane and edge of his is hard and sharp, except for his eyes. They’re always kind, looking at you softly like you can do no wrong.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and smile lazy. He cups your hips gently, biting his lip as he gazes at your breasts.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“You’re so pretty,” Zach whispers, his half-lidded eyes and messy hair and swollen lips the picture of drunken bliss. You thank him through a soft laugh.

You can feel it in the air that he wants to go all the way, too. But to be sure, you dip into your pocket to pull out the condom.

“Do you want to?” you ask, holding it between your fingers.

“Yes,” he says, paired with fast nods. “Do you?”

“Yes,” you say with a small smile.

“I never go this fast,” he admits impulsively. He typically dates a girl for at least a month before he takes this big a step. But things just feel so right with you. He can’t resist you. He doesn’t want to.

“If at any point, you want to stop-”

“Trust me, I won’t want to stop,” he interrupts.

You giggle at his enthusiasm, leaning over to kiss him again, your hands splayed on his hard chest, the wrapper of the condom crinkling.

“Same for you, okay?” Zach says. “We’ll stop if you want to stop. I won’t be mad.”

You laugh again against his lips.

“What?” he says, amused.

“I kind of can’t imagine you being mad at me.”

Zach smirks, his hands gliding up the curve of your spine. He’s completely weak for you. He’s okay that you can tell.

“Me, neither.”

Your lips meet again and a gentle whine escapes his mouth when you thread your fingers through his hair, grinding against him.

His hands drag down to your ass, squeezing. Another groan sounds from the back of his throat as you roll your hips over him, his cock hard against your middle.

He can’t even control his own body, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards you. His pants feel tight against his erection, the sweet friction of you grinding making his muscles weak.

His throat tightens when he feels you shuffling to take your pants off.

“Let me help,” Zach whispers. “Please.”

“So sweet,” you praise as his thumbs hook under the band, pushing your pants down your thighs. Your words make him move even faster.

Your pants are soon bunched at the end his bed and you straddle him again, left only in your underwear. Zach inhales sharply when he feels the bare curve of your ass without much fabric left in the way.

He sighs in satisfaction, groping you, pushing against you so that you’ll grind at the pace he wants you to, offering him a little more relief.

You lean back down to kiss him and eventually perch up on your knees to tug down his sweats, leaving him in his boxers. You palm him, feeling the wet drop of precome he left on the soft cotton.

You meet his eyes, his desperation for you clear. He’s completely at your beck and call, hanging on what you’ll do next. You’ve never had this much power over anyone before.

You want to please him just as much as he wants to please you. You tilt closer to him again, your cheek pressed against his, knowing how much he loves to be complimented.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur in his ear.

“Shit,” Zach says with a disbelieving chuckle. He’s in heaven. “Repeat that for me.”

“You like hearing how bad I want you?” you say, dipping a hand in his boxers. He nods wordlessly, too in awe to speak, and when you feel his cock in your hand, the desire deep in you pricks every inch of your skin, your stomach twisting.

You start to stroke him gently and heat rushes through his body. He’s never had someone know how to talk to him. He’s always been a bit embarrassed of how much praise he wants.

Other than offering gentle encouragement, he typically stays quiet during sex, never asking for compliments even though he desperately wants them. But you give him what he needs so effortlessly, understanding him in his entirety.

“So big,” you whisper. “I’m going to have to take some time to adjust to you.”

He feels like he’s going to wake up soon, because this can’t possibly be real.

“As long as you need,” he says through a strained voice.

You smirk against his skin, kissing his cheek as you skim your fingers over him.

“Take these off,” you encourage him, pulling against the band of his boxers.

“Yes,” Zach obeys in a hush. He shuffles to take off his last piece of clothing as you prop up on your knees again.

You nearly gasp when his cock springs out, craving him with everything in you. You start to gently pump his length, eyes flitting between how big he is in your hand and how captivated he looks, watching you palm him.

“That feels so good,” he breathes in a whimper. His breaths are shallow and soft and slow as you touch him.

He’s in disbelief over how incredible his feels, how perfect you look, how hungry his body is for you.

Beneath the hot, overwhelming lust you’re feeling, you can’t help but be endeared at the way his hand is trembling when he picks up the condom lying beside him, having it at the ready, nervous and excited.

“Here,” you say softly, holding out your hand to take it.

Watching you doing this part for him, rolling the condom down his shaft, puts him in an even deeper fog of bliss, making him feel reassured and so incredibly wanted.

You lean over him, perfectly lined up, his tip pressing against your panties as you kiss his lips.

“I can be slow?” you ask.

“As slow as you want,” he mumbles against your mouth, the air thick with anticipation.

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Mhm,” he mumbles dreamily. The control you have over him, the way he’s hanging on your every word is addictive.

“You’re going to be patient with me?”

“Yes,” he breathes.

Now that you know just how much praise turns him on, you feel more comfortable to speak to him in a way you’ve never spoken to a man before. To tell him what he wants to hear, but is too shy to ask for.

“You’re going to be a good boy?” you whisper.

“Oh, my God,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. He could come just from listening to you talk like that. “Yes. I promise. Yes.”

You kiss him deeply as you push your panties down over your hips. He helps you strip, hands clumsily cupping yours, painfully desperate for you at this point.

With a shaky breath, you sit up to look down at him and grip him at his base, lining his cock up against you.

When you slowly start to sink onto him, Zach’s breath hitches, a strained moan spilling from his lips when he feels how hot and wet and tight you are. You exhale in pleasure, keeping your eyes locked on his as you get used to the pressure.

You swallow hard when you get to a point where you need to stop, holding yourself up on your knees, your hands splayed on his toned stomach. He’s stretching you out so much, nearly putting you on the cusp of pain.

“Take your time, baby,” he whispers, his hand resting over yours. “I don’t want it to hurt you.”

You nod gratefully. No matter how bad he wants to feel all of you, he’s so relieved you’re doing what you need to do to feel good. He wants to give you nothing but pleasure.

As you take the time to get used to his size, he takes the opportunity to savor every sensation, to appreciate how incredible you look naked, perched up on him.

You slowly put the rest of your weight on him, burying him inside of you all the way, feeling him hit you deep. You almost can’t believe how big he is and how a man this well-endowed isn’t arrogant or egocentric at all.

You meet his gaze again, seeing the sweet way his face pinches with pleasure, looking like he’s so damn grateful that you want him like this.

When you start to gently roll your hips, his length pressed hard and tight inside you, he pulls your hand towards his mouth to kiss your palm.

“Feels good?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you reply through a lustful moan. “So good.”

You start to rock on him a bit faster. Zach can’t hold himself back. It’s like his voice isn’t his, spilling out of his mouth in low, feeble groans from the pleasure of your soft heat wrapped around him.

“Oh, fuck.” His voice weakens. “You’re so tight. Fuck.”

It’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. You thought he whimpered before, but compared to the way he’s whining now, that was nothing.

“Keep making those sounds for me,” you tell him. He’s flattered and so relieved. He’s not confident that he could stop whimpering, no matter how hard he tried.

“Anything you want,” he says shakily.

Your moans tangle in the air together as you start to roll your hips faster, finding a perfect rhythm and filling the room with the sounds of your body meeting his. Zach has to look up at the ceiling, urging himself not to come, not yet, not until you have.

You lean over, chest pressed against his as your lips meet hungrily. Now that you’ve adjusted to his size, he starts to slowly thrust up into you.

The friction against your clit sends sparks through your body, pulling a breathy moan out of you. Between quick kisses, he calls you beautiful over and over, praising you even more than you’ve been praising him.

His breath is hoarse and uneven, hands cupping your hips to help support you with every bounce. You melt into each other with perfect ease, past the initial nerves, moving like you’ve done this together before.

“Just like that,” he whispers as his fingers dig into your skin. He’s lost in the pleasure, revelling in the feeling of you wanting him as bad as he wants you.

One hand stays on your hip while the other drags up your back, caressing your jaw, tilting your head so he can leave kisses on your cheek. When he starts to thrust into you harder, ecstasy rushes through you.

“That’s perfect,” you moan, writhing. “You’re perfect.”

He tilts his head back, eyes squeezing shut, fighting every urge to come. Perfect? He’s never been called perfect in his life.

Within moments, heavy gasps tumble out of your mouth, your body going stiff. You both feel sweet release, unravelling together, hot pleasure flooding your bodies. His hips stutter against yours as he groans through his orgasm, feeling you quiver around him at the same time.

He’s in a haze when you collapse on top of him, your head buried into the crook of his neck. You’re both sweaty and breathless, reeling, shockwaves making you shudder.

“You okay?” he whispers, twitching inside you. “Was it good for you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. You didn’t expect anything less from Zach, already having seen his sweet and affectionate nature so many times, but the care he’s showing you is making your heart feel like it’s weightless.

It’s too soon, way too soon, but you can’t stop your mind from racing to the thought that you can see yourself eventually falling in love with him.

After he cleans up, Zach comes back to lie next to you. He pulls you in so tight that getting any closer to each other would be impossible. His kisses are featherlight over your collarbones, knowing he can’t leave marks any higher, the sounds of his lips puckering on your skin sweet.

You spend countless minutes like this, still naked together under his covers, your breaths slowly starting to even out, both thankful and recovering.

“It feels like I’ve known you for so long,” he admits. He pulls back a little, meeting your eyes as you both rest on his pillow. “Is that crazy?”

“Not crazy,” you say with a wistful smile. “I feel it, too.”

Zach runs his hand up and down your side, drifting over your back with every other stroke. You’re exactly what he always imagined the perfect girl would be like.

His laptop is still playing the film, a dramatic track softly spilling through the speakers.

“You like the movie?” he jokes quietly.

“The first ten minutes were great,” you laugh. “I picked well.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hip.

“What time is it?” you ask.

He lifts his head slightly, draping his arm up over you to check the time on his computer.

“10:37,” he says.

“I should go,” you sigh. His arm tightens around you, shuffling closer to you.

“I want to hold you a little longer,” he replies.

“We’ll get found out,” you giggle. “I’ve already been out of my cabin for so long.”

You secretly hope he’ll say it’s fine, you can just tell your cabin-mate where you really were, and that if a few other counselors know, it’s okay.

But he shifts back, kissing your forehead, leaving a bittersweet feeling sitting on your chest. Blue eyes meet yours and he seems to notice the sadness in your gaze.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Stay the night?”

You smile, knowing he’s putting your comfort above his right now. He’s already shown you how important it is to him to not get caught breaking the rules.

“I shouldn’t,” you say.

“You don’t want morning cuddles? For real?” he teases. You laugh.

“Maybe next time,” you say. He breathes a sweet chuckle, adorably burying his head into his pillow.

“So, you want to do this again?” he asks, voice muffled.

“Yeah,” you say. “Do you?”

“I do,” Zach says quickly, moving to press his lips onto yours. “Again and again.”

You smile under the kiss. It’s nearly impossible to tear yourself away from him, but you do.

When you stand, you bend to collect your clothes and he helps, quickly finding your panties bunched up on his bed.

“Sit down,” he says softly.

“What?”

“Sit.”

“Don’t order me around,” you tease, but you sit at the edge of his bed, your clothes balled in your hands.

Zach smirks. It’s never been easy for him to make decisions, to be assertive, but when it comes to you, it’s not as big of a challenge as he’s used to.

You watch as he leans down, lowering close to the floor, his hair still a mess. He unbunches your underwear. It’s wrong to let you leave so soon, his heart wringing at the possibility that you’ll feel cheap, like all he wants from you is physical. The least he can do is help you get dressed.

He drags the fabric up over your ankles, your calves, your knees, fingertips ghosting over your skin.

You lift your hips off the bed as he pulls your panties up and you notice his jaw tighten when he sees you up close.

“What?” you say playfully.

Zach scoffs. He already knows that next time you’re alone together, he’ll ask to put his head between your legs and feel you reach your peak on his tongue.

“You know what,” he says.

Once your panties are on, you rake your hand over his hair, touching him lovingly. He gazes up at you, a soft smile on his face.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says, tone hushed, brows turned down in sorrow.

You agree. Leaving simply because there’s a slight chance it could lead to you losing your jobs feels ridiculous right now. But you’d never forgive yourself if you played a role in Zach being forced to leave a place he loves so much.

You’d rather crack a joke than remind him of the fact that you’re risking something every time you’re together in secret like this.

“You’ll have the chance to be the little spoon next time,” you promise. His smile widens as he laughs. “Does Malcolm usually come back here in the morning after an overnight or does he just go straight to breakfast?”

“Straight to breakfast,” he says. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” you shrug. Then, you start to put your bra on, giggling when he quickly stands to help you with that, too.

He kisses you long and deep before you leave, watching you to make sure you make it to your cabin.

Thankfully, Ami’s asleep when you enter. You’re not sure how you look right now, but you’re almost certain you’re not the picture of someone who just got off of an innocent video call with friends.

The next morning, Zach’s brushing his teeth when his phone buzzes with a text from you. you awake?

He replies: Yes, good morning!

You text: you alone?

He texts: Yes… :)

The knocks on his door are rapid, but quiet. When he opens it to see you standing in your uniform, arms crossed as you glance around the campground blanketed in sunlight and morning dew, his heart flutters.

“You said something about wanting morning cuddles?” you say.

Zach beams, pulling you in, shutting the door and kissing you gently. Falling asleep last night without you next to him hurt his heart even more than he expected.

“I think we have a good five minutes before people start leaving their cabins,” you say. “Then I’ll sneak out.”

“Can we take our clothes off?” His fingers dip beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your cheeks warm at how desperate he is to touch you, even for innocent hugs.

Your clothes are soon a pile on the floor, and you’re snuggling in his bed in your underwear, facing each other like you did last night.

“There,” you say softly, nuzzling into him. “It’s like I never left last night.”

Zach’s body is buzzing, overjoyed that you miss him just as much as he misses you, that you’re so sweet that you come to spend a few minutes with him before the day begins.

“You need to turn around,” you tell him. He catches on and complies immediately, making you laugh at his speed.

You wrap an arm around his broad frame, pressing your cheek against his back, not feeling like much of a big spoon with someone so tall.

Zach lets himself shut his eyes for a little, breathing calm, sleepy breaths as you hug him. He’s never met anyone like you. He’s never felt so seen. So cared for.

He can’t stop thinking about last night, a little nervous you felt slighted having to leave after doing something so intimate.

“How do you feel?” he asks. “About last night?”

“Sore,” you say with a laugh. Admittedly, you can feel tenderness where his body met yours.

“What?” he mumbles sadly. “I hurt you?”

“No, baby. I’m not sore in a bad way,” you reply. “I had a good time.”

He sighs like a weight has been lifted off of him.

“Me, too,” Zach says. “And you can call me baby whenever you want. Just for the record.”

“Got it,” you whisper with a smile.

You continue to talk together. Five minutes go by way too fast. You rush to get dressed when you hear people talking outside, worried you won’t be able to leave without being seen. Thankfully, the coast is clear when you sneak out.

The crowds in the dining hall are loud and rambunctious, a hard contrast to the slow, peaceful way Zach started his day. As he stands in line to make his breakfast plate, he spots you a few people in front of him.

You’re everything he could ever want in a girl and every second not right next to you, not holding your hand, not talking to you, feels like a waste.

He’s completely infatuated. His heart is already yours. He steps forward a little, hoping he can somehow fall into conversation with you.

But seconds later, Ruby approaches him, holding her clipboard, to ask about a shift change. Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t closer to you. It’s better to avoid any chance of being seen wearing the obviously enamored look he’s sure he always has around you.

Zach is glancing at the chart when he hears one of his campers say your name in confusion. When he looks down at Oliver, he notices the boy’s eyes aren’t on you, though. They’re on Zach’s name-tag.

“Why do you have her name-tag?” he asks loudly.

Cold flushes through Zach’s body as he glances down and sees the shiny plastic rectangle hanging off the lanyard. In the scramble to put your clothes back on this morning, he realizes he must have gotten your name-tags mixed up.

When you heard your name exclaimed, you immediately turned around. Now, you can see that Zach’s eyes are wide, looking lost as Ruby and a few kids look up at him, waiting for an answer.

Your mind is jumbled. You feel for your lanyard. You’re not wearing one. You forgot to grab it from Zach’s floor this morning. And then, he took yours without making sure that it was his. His must still be in his room.

You run with an idea that pops into your head, thinking back to the first time you talked with Zach in this very building, listening to his teasing about how impressive it is that he never lost his name-tag in all his years of working here.

“Okay, I get it,” you say loudly, stepping towards him and holding your hand out. “You’re hilarious.”

Zach meets your eyes, confused. You look down at Oliver, shrugging.

“He’s wearing it because he’s trying to make a point. He was telling me how easy it is to lose your name-tag and I was bragging that I’d never lose it.” You look at Zach. “Where’d you find it?”

Relief settles into Zach’s tense muscles. You and your quick thinking just saved you both.

“Outside, by the staff cabins,” he plays along. “Don’t be so sure of yourself next time.”

You laugh as he pulls the lanyard off over his head, handing it to you.

“Funny,” you say sarcastically, hoping nobody asks where his name-tag is. “Thanks, Oliver.”

“Yeah, good eye,” Ruby says with a laugh. Your gut tells you she’s not suspecting anything, but your anxiety refuses to let you fully relax.

For the rest of the day, you can’t get how freaked out Zach looked when he thought he’d been found out right in front of his aunt out of your head.

You don’t have any drills scheduled with him so after dinner, during free time, you stand by the lake with a few other counselors and text him: can you come by the dock to talk?

“Good thinking this morning,” Zach says to you when he approaches you, quiet enough so that other staff don’t hear him. You notice he has his name-tag now.

“Thanks,” you say with a nervous smile. “Think we got away with it?”

“Yeah,” he says confidently. You nod, looking out at the fire, your brows pinched in worry. “You don’t?”

“That was like, our third time almost getting caught,” you say. “What if we’re not so lucky next time?”

Zach’s stomach drops. Maybe if he was more rational, he could agree that it’s harder to hide than he thought. But right now, his heart doesn’t care about being rational. It’s too busy cracking.

But, because he’s never been good at telling people that they said something he doesn’t want to hear, he nods.

“Guess we’re not that good at keeping the secret,” he agrees, forcing himself to joke away the discomfort.

“It’s so much harder than I expected,” you say. “Do we just… cool things down, maybe?”

Zach looks down at you, his throat tightening. How’d things go wrong this fast? You were naked together last night, whispering sweet things to each other, and now, well… this kind of feels like a break-up.

“You think that’s best?” he asks.

“I hated seeing you so worried this morning,” you confess. “I know how important this job is to you.”

Zach scratches the back of his neck. You don’t miss the way his face drops. You couldn’t miss it from a mile away. You want to reassure him that you still want him. That you’re suggesting this because you care about him so much.

“I think it’s best we do what we originally said we were going to do,” you offer. “We wait until the season’s over and pick up where we left off and go on that date we talked about. Is that okay?”

Zach sighs. No. It’s not okay. He wants to touch you every possible chance he can get, even if it is in a stolen moment he knows he’s not allowed to have.

But he’s never been good at being upset with people. It seems that while you bring out so many sides of him, that piece of him remains unchanged. He’s hurt. But in his usual way, he buries it, not letting it see any light.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he says. “Hope you’re ready for the best date ever.”

You smirk, finding relief in his words.

“Can’t wait,” you say honestly. Zach gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes and heads back towards the campfire. You already miss him.

That night, you step out of the bathroom in your pajamas to see Ami sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Did you see that it’s gonna rain this weekend?” she says to you, eyes glued to her phone. “What do we even do with the kids then?”

“How bad is it supposed to be?” you ask. You settle on your bed on the other side of the cabin.

She looks up, about to answer, but her mouth stays open, no words coming out.

“That bad?” you laugh.

“Um, what’s on your chest?” Ami asks with a scandalized smile.

You look down to see that your pajama top slid down when you sat, revealing the marks that Zach left on you last night.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb. But she’s not falling for it. She laughs and stares at you with a knowing look.

“I mean, the hickeys.”

(part six)

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#zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader #zach mclaren

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jermer10 · 2 months ago

Note

Hi .. I’m very shy with asking people to write hcs but could you please do how the mercs would feel about a big chested (DDD+) fem s/o? NSFW and suggestive themes would be appreciated. That’d make my entire life! ☺️

TF2 mercs with a large chested s/o

18+ only, afab reader | thx for the ask anon!! :3

tw: nsfw content

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - he's obsessed with your chest - makes sure to clarify that he'd love you no matter what size your tits are - but jesus they were hot - he's not the most adept to foreplay, but will often play with them before and during intimacy - squeezing them and roughly toying with your nipples to try and get you in the mood - will always beg to cum on your chest, even in the most unconventional times (often when you have quickies in semi public spaces)

Soldier: - could care less about the size of your chest, he's just happy he gets to touch you at all - another man who doesn't care for foreplay, so no special attention to your boobs unfortunately - though you will catch him giving them a longing gaze when he's itching for a fuck - the kind of man to casually squeeze your chest, no sexual intent he's just admiring what's his

Demoman: - THE foreplay king - he teases you, gently biting your nipples between his teeth - sucking on one bud and rolling the other between his fingers - he won't stop until you're writhing and begging for him - has no preference for chest size, but he is admittedly a tit guy - adores it when you give him a tit job, loves it even more when he gets to watch your chest bounce while you ride him

Heavy: - a man who prefers women of the larger variety in general - so your breasts intrigue him, from the moment you first initiate sex he's almost rushing to get you out of your top - worships your chest, peppering it with kisses before lapping at your nipples until you're bruised - will casually squeeze your breasts the way someone would squeeze their partner's ass - "hehe.. do you like them?" "da." his face is red hot

Engineer: - another one who doesn't care about the size of your chest - he only cares about your pleasure - teases you for hours, poking and prodding - insists that you don't wear a bra around the house, after all you should feel comfortable around him! - he soon realizes he can't stop staring at the way your tits bounce as you walk - or how stiff your nipples look in your much too tight tank top - this might be the easiest way to pry him away from his workshop

Medic: - he often has to see your bare chest when you come off the battlefield, half dead and in need of several surgeries - or when you need to come in for a breast exam - and despite being your partner, he can't help but flush at the sight of you, so exposed for him - usually a thigh man, he crumbles when it comes to large chests - on a more sadistic note, he often fantasizes about licking the wounds that may litter your chest after a particularly gory fight - he's a little bit gross but sweet in his own way!

Sniper: - a large breast man through and through - he could play with your tits for hours and hours, in a sexual and non-sexual way - if he could lay in bed sucking your tits, leaving bruises all over the supple flesh, he totally would - loves the way they bounce, the way they sit on your chest, the soft fleshy feeling of holding them in his hands - loves it when you wear outfits that show off your cleavage - loves it even more when he knows he's going to be the one to rip that outfit off later

Spy: - another big cleavage fan - will buy you hundreds of different lingerie sets, he absolutely adores seeing you all dressed up just for him - loves rubbing his cock all over your breasts, watching the the beads precum decorating his tip smear onto your nipples just does something to him - constantly parading you around in clothing that flatters your chest, he needs everyone to know how well endowed you are

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thebluester2020 · 3 months ago

Text

[SDV] SDV Bachelors X Receiving A BJ For The First Time

Summary: Anon does a pretty good job of explaining what’s happening here!

Warning(s): Pure Porn, Whiny Sam + Sebastian agenda, Mean! Jio (per the norm, I love mean men), Alex is gentle with you, Dirty Talking Alex (he encourages you to stop sucking him off and let him eat you out lol), Sam is rough, Reader in Jio's part is a slight bit obsessed, Gentle + Crybaby Jio combo for a bit before he becomes rougher, Jio refers to the reader as a slut and whore once.

Side Note(s): Sorry for the wait, anon! I hope you like this! I decided to only do some of the bachelor's instead of all of them (Lol, mostly cause I wanted to make room for my main man Jio)

Sebastian

I'm going to jump straight into it and say—I firmly believe that Sebastian would be super quiet but twitchy when receiving a BJ for the first time. (Like constantly opening and closing his legs type of twitchy).

Can you blame him, though? He's never received one before!

Pluusss the fact that his crush is giving him a BJ? He would keep wondering if what's happening to him is a dream or not!

And as much as I wanna say that he'd let you take your time— I kinda believe he wouldn't?

Not in a disrespectful type of way, ofc, but in a way that something feels so good that you have to get more of it right then and there. The moment he feels himself closer to his release, his hand would begin to press down on your head while begging you to keep going, that "he'll pay you back right after!"

Not that you need payback, of course, his cute reactions are more than payment enough.

♡ - Sebastian's mind was spinning as his eyes were glued to your lips, shiny with spit as they wrapped around the tip of his cock.

But he felt bad, his legs constantly opening and closing as the feeling of you suckling the tip of his leaky cock...it felt too good. "B-Babe..." He managed to whisper through his teeth, his hand quickly covering his mouth to force down a moan that threatened to escape his mouth. Your brow twitched in annoyance as you looked up at Sebastian through your thick lashes, although he was soooo cute trying to hold back his sounds of pleasure as he was right now...you wanted to hear him. When you had invited him over to hang out, you practically felt him burning holes into your lips with how hard he was looking at them without a single lick of shame!

Now that he was caught and put into a position he was so clearly enjoying, he was shy?

Cute but...you weren't having any of it.

Sebastian whined, trying to get your attention. "Baby...go faster, please." He begged.

You chuckled, the reverberation of the sound making Sebastian once again threaten to snap his thighs closed if it weren't for you holding them open. Thus, you took your lips off of his tip with a lewd 'pop'. "Please?" You tilted your head to the side. "But you're so quiet...you don't seem like you're enjoying it." You sighed teasingly.

His eyes widened. "I-I am!" He gasped. "It's just—Oooh..." His next words slipped from his mind as you dragged a finger up the underside of his cock, trailing along the prominent vein for a few moments before you took Sebastian into your mout once more. He whined at the feeling of your hot mouth enveloping his dick so suddenly again, his chest heaivng up and down with an eed tha tfeew more and more until...he could no longer take it anymore. Admittedly, he felt bad for the thoughts that rushed through the front of his mind as his hand slipped from its position of covering his mouth before finding itself entangled in your hair. All he could think about was how good you were sucking his cock, how the lewd slurping noises that emitted from your lips, glistening with a mixture of his leaky pre-cum and your spit...it all served to make his cock throb inside your mouth as the urge to cum grew even stronger.

And he would.

He swore to himself that he would eat you out to the point of tears once he was done being a little selfish with you!

"Sorry...!" Was the only warning you had before his hand suddenly pushed your head all the way down to the base of his dick. The sound of your shocked whine as the tip of his cock threatened to slide down your throat made him emit a throaty groan. Your hands braced against his thighs even harder as you tried to quickly stabilize yourself and breathe through your nose. Yet, as you looked up at Sebastian through your wet lashes, with the intent to give him a scolding glare, your intentions melted away at the sight of Sebastian's adorable face matching the color of a perfectly ripe apple.

Spit dribbled down the side of his mouth, and his eyes were watery with unshed tears, born from a dizzying pleasure that he wasn't able to hold back as loud moans mixed in with pleas and apologies flooded from his mouth.

"S-Sorry...! Your mouth feels too fucking good..."

"I promise I'll p-pay you back after this, just let me use your mouth...pleasepleasepleaseplease...!"

Those lines along with some others only sent more heat rushing down to your aching pussy, your clit throbbing with need as you began to moan at the idea of Sebastian being just, if not more whiney than he already was now while you bounced up and down on his cock.

But you supposed that was for later on.

Sebastian let out a drawn-out groan as he felt his orgasm begin to creep up on him. "Fuuuckkk..." He said, his head falling forward a little when you begun to choke around his cock, the feeling of your clenching throat in combination with the way you begun to caress his balls making him pant even more as if he were in heat. However, Sebastian forced himself to restrain himself from closing his eyes and only focus on you.

Youyouyouyou.

Your name was repeated inside his head a million times over before he whimpered out the word 'Cumming...' before you felt ropes and ropes of his hot seed begin to flood your mouth.

You nearly laughed at how fast his grip upon your hair faltered, your poor one-night stand freely letting his tears of overstimulation fall before you finally released him from your mouth, stroking his cock a few more times to wring out anymore cum he had left in him before you pressed a sloppy kiss to the front of his thigh. "So cute Sebastian~" You easily praised him before you shakily rose to your feet, and immediately, you took his hand before you slowly led him to how wet your poor cunt was.

You had to endure watching him feel soooo good, all while you were forced to practically edge yourself!

And with how cute he was while he came...you weren't quite done with him yet.

Sam

You guys probably already know where I'm going with this, but— VOCAL SAM FOR THE WIN.

I'll never stop promoting that I think this man is a perv, bonus points if he's super loud and honest about it. Henceforth, I'm going to go ahead and say that Sam would be a dog when it comes to receiving a BJ for the first time.

Panting, moaning, and begging for more. You name it. But it's born out of a more selfish nature compared to Sebastian, though. It's mostly due to him being so pleasure-drunk off how your tongue moves around his cock that he can't really think of being selfless at the moment.

And you best believe, if you even think of trying to stop as a way of teasing him for being so vocal despite sucking him off in his bedroom.

He's definitely taking over and fucking your mouth for himself.

♡ - "S-Shit farmer...how long have you b-been able to do this?"

The two of you were located in Sam's room on his bed. The blonde's baby blue hues were glued onto your lewd form as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. It was Sam's first time having anyone suck him off, he knew it felt good based on all the pronos he's watched on his phone but he didn't know that it could feel this good. To the point the poor man was panting like a dog while his heart threatened to thump straight out of his chest, all as he was hardly able to keep his hips from bucking up into your mouth much less the deep moans that escaped his throat!

However, you could care less, every unabashed moan of his...the breathless ways he'd gasp out your name like a devotee praying to their god went straight to your weeping cunt.

Especially when he started to beg for more. "Fuck—shitshitshit—faster...please...!" The poor man suddenly whined before a pout began to slowly crawl onto his face when you did the opposite and slowed down, all to giggle at him teasingly.

You took your mouth off of him briefly to let a glob of spit drip down onto his reddened tip. "You're so loud, Sam...aren't you afraid that I do anything more that someone will hear you?" You said with faux concern. Frankly, you didn't care if the two of you were caught one way or another, you loved the obvious way Sam made it clear that he craved more of you too much to stop anytime soon! Especially when he looked at you as if he'd go insane if you didn't go back to sucking him off in the next few seconds.

But, Sam didn't care for your teasing words, bucking his hips up slightly in an effort to pull your attention back to his throbbing dick. "Y-You're so worried about me...what about you?" He bit back with a huff that blew a strand of hair from his face. "You look like a reeaallll slut right now..." He continued. "Straight from a porno, babe." You hated how quickly the way Sam referred to you as a slut made your thighs clench tighter together, especially whe he otherwise looked so enamored with you.

"What if someone catches Pelican Town's local favorite farmer, sucking off the dude that works at JojaMart, huh—A-Ah!" You interrupted his words with an impromptu lick to his tip, flattening your tongue as you did so before you took your lips away once more with an obnoxious smack.

"So mean, Sam! Keep that up and I won't let you cum." You chastised.

Oh.

You wouldn't let him cum?

Your words bounced around inside of Sam's head for a long few moments as he quickly recalled how perfect your mouth felt on him, as if you were solely born to service his dick like a wanton whore, how every movement of your tongue...how you would tighten your mouth at the tip as if you had done that trick many times prior. The idea of you being with anyone else? It was obvious that you would've, you were soooo pretty. It was why Sam had fallen for you to begin with; hell, the fact that you responded to his text asking you to come to his house to hang out was a long shot in the dark! But...he wanted to be the last person you were with.

After all, how could he look at anyone else when he felt like he could easily go insane from your ministrations alone? And the longer he stared at you, waiting for you to continue sucking him off...the more he'd grit his teeth together out of impatience as well as annoyance. If you were going to keep on teasing him...he'd simply have to take control and chase after his own orgasm, wouldn't he?

Sam flashed you a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes completely. "Who would've thought the farmer was sooooo mean?" He pouted as his hand went to your head.

He let his palm linger for a second before he suddenly gripped your hair tightly, forcing you to hold still before he fucked his cock up into your unsuspecting mouth.

A groan left his lips at the feeling of your shocked scream reverberating around his dick, through his blurry vision, soaked with his tears of heightening pleasure...he saw the way your hands gripped his bedsheets. And he wanted to feel bad, oh he realllyyyy did. The right thing for him to have done was let you wait to get adjusted to his cock suddenly bullying the back of your throat! But, he just couldn't get over the way you looked right now as he drilled himself up into your sloppy mouth.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull as spit drooled out from the sides of your mouth, serving to make his already glistening cock even sloppier as those lewd slurping and gulping sounds from earlier restarted in earnest. He could almost—no, he did laugh at the sight of it all. You were talking so confidently earlier!

The least you could do, in his humble opinion, was be able to back your words up and take a little rough treatment without looking as if you were going to pass out all of a sudden! "Hah...hah...you look so fucking sloppy farmer." Sam moaned, more to himself rather than you. "All that talk...and you can't take me fucking this tight throat of yours?" A weak snort left him before it was quickly followed by a throaty groan, the feeling of your teeth just barely grazing his cock making him teeter on the edge of cumming.

But he held himself back; he wasn't through with you yet.

"Y-You said I wasn't cumming? Guess t-that ain't true, right?" He laughed mockingly at how you tried to respond, the sound coming out as a weak, gargled noise before Sam caught how your hips were trying to buck and rub against his bedsheets.

He clicked his tongue, tempted to reprimand you for trying to cum along with him when you were being so mean to him earlier! But...the sight of your tears as well as how you so needily bucked your hips against his sheets...he couldn't bring himself to stop the visage when he was soooo close to cumming. "Fuck...I'm sososo close—!" Sam practically cried out as he threw his head back.

His moans were unabashed now, he could hardly give a damn about who heard him as he lost himself in your mouth, only managing a few more hard thrusts before he stilled completely against your mouth. You were forced to take every single drop of his cum, the salty taste of his spend almost overwhelming before the blonde finally weakened his grip against your head and allowed you to take your mouth off of his dick. But you were disappointed.

You were soooo close to cumming, only a little longer and you would've came with him!

And the feeling of your orgasm quickly dying down nearly drove you insane. "Sammmm...!" You whined as you shakily rose to your knees before you scooted up to his chest, trying to quickly shake him from his post-orgasm high. "I didn't get to—"

A knock at the door stopped you dead in your sentence, even causing Sam to snap his head to look at the door, although his eyes were still a little unfocused. "Shit."

Alex

Okay, so, hear me out on this one—

It's really hard for me to believe that he's never received a blowjob before. But let me say this, I can believe that he's never came from a blowjob before. After all, the poor guy is rocking a third leg in his pants, every girl (and guy) that's seen it has immediately gotten intimidated and backed out!

Not that Alex would judge them, though. He knows he's a big guy! That being said though, I'll also add on that I don't think he'd be much of a head-pusher either when he actually comes across someone who has the courage to suck him off.

But, he would use the opportunity to tell you what he's going to do to you once you're finished "playing around," as he calls it all the while he's petting your head and giving you praise upon praise for making him feel so good.

For your reward for nearly breaking your jaw trying to take him into your mouth, he's giving you head!

♡ - You were so careful in the way you treated him.

It was cute; he couldn't deny or lie about it.

He thought your reactions from earlier were cute already, with how you moaned with every single peck he'd place onto your lips. How he'd teasingly grace his fingers against your sex, groaning at the feeling of how quickly your slick was beginning to soak the center of your underwear. Oh, and he couldn't dare to forget how you, oh so sweetly in fact, begged for him to let you please him instead of the other way around. To be frank, he wanted to deny your request the moment you suggested it, especially when his mouth was practically watering at the idea of tasting you, lifting up your skirt and digging his mouth into your cunt while he kneeled on the floor.

But...as you looked up at him with the cutest doe eyes?

He was unable to say 'no'.

And it was for the best, he thought. Currently, as you slowly stroked his cock and gave tentative kitten licks to his cockhead? It wasn't even close to make him cum but he loved how you were genuinely trying your best to take all of him into your mouth! Even if you only huffed in frustration and went back to teasing his tip in the end.

He wasn't just talking himself up; he really was a big guy. Far too much for an untrained mouth like yours to handle. However, when it came to you? He was more than patient and very much willing to train you. "So big..." You murmured against Alex's cock, his length unabe to stand up fully with how heavy it was.

To say that your jaw was sore after only a few minutes of trying was an understatement, but you were nothing if not determined!

"You're trying so hard." Alex laughed, both in disbelief and out of genuine amusement. You frowned at how composed your boyfriend sounded, nearly fifteen minutes of being on your knees, and you weren't able to do anything aside from getting him to blush a little!

"Y' sure you don't wanna get eaten out? I'm sure it'll feel waayyyy better than this."

You pouted. "I'm sure." You told him stubbornly.

Alex's breath hitched when you quickly returned to licking his tip, using your hands to stroke the rest of him off while you eagerly lapped up his pre-cum. You were so stubborn...it was clear enough to him that he wasn't going to get you to stop anytime soon, especially when you genuinely believed that you'd be able to fit all of him into your mouth in one night!

It wasn't that he doubted you, some sufficient training over some weeks, and you'd reach your goal in no time! But...as Alex's eyes roamed over your form, all before they settled on the exposed top of your breasts, while he remembered just how wet you were from a little bit of kissing. He supposed he'd just have to convince you to get off your knees and let him eat you out already. "Well then, you should hurry up and make me cum babe—" Alex softly gasped at how you moaned around his tip when he placed a hand on your head, beginning to pet you as if you were a loyal pet. "—I have soooo many things I want to do to you once your done down there."

That little movement, one that would've been easy to miss if he weren't paying close attention to you. He knew you had clenched your thighs.

Still, on your knees you remained. "You were so cute when we kissed earlier, y'know? Could feel that eager pussy of yours twitch all over thigh." He laughed. You tried to withhold your soft moans as you clenched your thighs together even tighter. You knew what he was doing. Alex always did this to you, whenever you were being stubborn, he'd always try to entice you by saying things that he wanted to do to you. And...you admitted, it worked so well that it was infuriating.

Thus, you let go of his tip with a 'pop' before you softly glared up at him. "Stop." You huffed.

He chuckled. "Stop what? Am I lying?"

Your silence was his answer. Alex snickered before he gripped your hair, the tight feeling making you hiss a little before he guided your mouth back to his tip. "Don't let me stop you, though...get back to it." He clicked his tongue, as if you were a dog he was trying to encourage to do a trick. "Well? Hurry up, I have so many ideas as to how we can better spend our time after this. Like fucking your cunt into the shape of my cock..."

"Think you can handle it? Maybe not..."

"Look at how hard it is for my sweet girlfriend to fit my dick into her mouth already!"

"I'd train you reeaallll good though."

Each lust-filled word that left his lips had you nearly creating a puddle underneath yourself as thoughts of what the two of you would do together continued to infiltrate your mind, distracting you from your goal of sucking off your hung boyfriend to completion in favor of wanting to be fucked silly already! And the second you released Alex from your mouth once more...he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"What's wrong? Don't you wanna—"

"J-Just eat me out already...!"

Oh, he was more than happy to oblige you.

Jio

Working him up to the idea of a blowjob is an accomplishment in of itself.

Not only does he have to see you in a romantic light first. He also had to be comfortable with you as well, but once he's there? This man is rocking the dirty-talker + praise/encouraging you to do more + headpusher combo.

"You're sucking my cock so eagerly...have you been wanting to do this a long time, farmer?"

"Such a good girl/boy, keep it up and I may just think about giving you a reward in turn."

"Sorry in advance, I don't think I can hold myself back any longer, my love..." UGH

Let me clarify, though, that the type of headpushing he's doing to you really depends on his mood as well as whether or not you've been a brat or not. On one hand, he doesn't want to cum too fast and risk not enjoying your treatment of him to the fullest but at the same time? If you get too cocky and try to take control via denying him his orgasm, he definitely has no qualms about putting you back in your place!

♡ - It wasn't hard for Jio to pinpoint how the two of you wound up in the position you both were in now.

Earlier that day, you had invited him to walk with you all the way to the Mines, close to the highest mountain peak in all of the valley. Although he was admittedly tempted to decline your request in favor of going about his normal patrols...the way you looked at him with the widest eyes, full of hope and another feeling he wasn't able to quite place...he said yes (and the strange blooming feeling in his chest, one that was only felt when he was around you only encouraged his acceptance).

But as the mid-afternoon slowly rolled over into dusk during your walk.

The underlying tension in the air was heavy.

As if your very souls knew what both of you wanted to say, much less do to one another, despite the two of you hardly speaking a word aside from mild commentary about each other's day or the scenery around you! Thus, when the two of you finally got to the Mines and Jio was just about to turn to leave, your confession spluttered out of your mouth before you could attempt to reel it back in.

The air between the two of you was so silent that you could almost hear the squeaking of the bats deep down in the mines. But a single line from Jio, "Do you really mean it?" He asked. "That you really feel this way about me?"

Although you nodded your head firmly. That wasn't enough for him.

"...Prove it."

Thus, that's how Jio found his back against the rocky wall of the entrance into the mines while you had sunken down onto your knees to suck his cock, your eyes obediently trained onto him per his stern command of you so that he could further see the love and obsession that swam around so clearly within your watery eyes. "Hah...you must've been wanting to do this for a while, haven't you, farmer?" Jio practically purred behind his mask as he looked down at you, a deep red tint coating his cheeks as his hand rested gently on your bobbing head.

Each and every moan of his went straight to your sopping cunt, your tongue swirling around the tip of his dick before flattening against the underside of his cock. The slightly sweet taste of him was addictive, far better than you had previously imagined it to be whenever your fingers would be knuckle-deep inside your greedy pussy, aching for a cock that you originally believed you would never be able to have!

Now that you had him right where you wanted him...you didn't ever wanna let go. "F-Fuck—" Jio cursed when you suddenly deepthroated him, practically clawing at his pants as his cock began to tease the back of your throat. "W-Wait..." He suddenly began to pant, the sudden increase of pleasure making the elf's mind swim as he tried to convince and plead for you to go a little slower. He didn't wanna cum just yet, when he was able to blink back his tears of overstimulation to look down at you...you were so pretty.

Your face was flushed, all the while, despite how you looked as if you were on the verge of going dumb, you looked at him as if he hung the very stars of this world.

Quite frankly, he couldn't get enough of how you looked. As if you were constantly searching for more ways to please him despite doing sooo much for him as you were!

"My love...if you—if you keep looking at me like that—Ah!"

You giggled dumbly as you took your mouth from his cock, your hand quickly moving to stroke him as you relished in the adorable sight of Jio clenching his eyes tightly shut, his hips helplessly bucking into your hand. "Looking at you like whaat?" You teased.

An eye snapped open. "Don't tease." Was his only warning. One that you were about to take seriously until you thought about it.

Normally, Jio was so stoic and serious...to see him in such a state was a treat that, like a glutton, you wanted so much more of! To see him reduced to tears and practically begging to cum? The idea was far too tempting for you to listen, thus, your hand slowly moved up to focus more on his tip while you began to plant kisses along the side of his dick. Each soft, almost featherlight peck of yours made him twitch and throb, whines beginning to ooze out from the elf as he struggled to keep himself upright against the wall when you started to use your palm to massage his leaky tip.

"O-Oooh..." He whined. "F-Farmer..." He panted. "I-I'm warning you—Fuck!" You giggled against his length at his words being interrupted by his own moans.

You trailed your tongue all along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock until you reached the end, licking your lips as if you had just gotten finished with tasting a sweet treat. "Warning me?" You pouted. "What about you, Jio~? You looked like you're about to cum at any moment..." You whispered. You increased the speed of your palm against his hand, the act making Jio practically wail into the air.

Up until he just barely heard your words of "I wonder if I should even let you cum..."

Joke or not, he assumed he would let you have your fun reducing him to such a mess so long as he got to cum but for you to deny it? Like the flip of a light switch, elf snapped himself from the fog of his mind before he gripped the back of your neck and thrusted himself forward. "Apologies, my love—" The term 'my love' made you moan needily despite the feeling of Jio's balls slapping against your chin with how hard he was fucking your face. "—but I believe you've had your fun seeing me in such a state of need, right?"

No.

Far from it in fact, but...it was hard to think of giving him that type of response much less think at all when the feeling of Jio's girthy dick plowing in and out of your mouth made you lose all brain function. And the elf laughed at how you looked right now. Disheveled and teary-eyed, snot threatening to drip from your nostrils as you struggled to keep your eyes focused on him and from rolling to the back of your head. That very sight, though, weirdly enough, only made him want to delay his orgasm even more.

"My love, you look so slutty right now." He chuckled, the noise of his laughter making you moan as you tried to sneakily trail a hand down to slip into your pants and rub at your aching clit.

But he was quick to catch you, delivering a swift punishment via pulling at your hair with a grunt. "Wanton whore." He practically spat. "Don't try to touch yourself when you were just about to make me wait for my orgasm. The least you can do is wait as well, no?"

Jio laughed mockingly at your whine. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with you now that he understood your feelings and exactly where they lay. All he could hope, though, was that no one walked into the mines and caught the two of you in such a state.

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writingoddess1125 · 3 months ago

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We Missed You Pt. 3

Nikto x FemReader + OOC

Note! This is less Ava heavy- It's for a reason tho and she will be prominent next part!

<<< Part 2

WARNING: Stalking, Jealousy, Invasion of Privacy, Manipulation, Awkwardness, Anxiety

NOTE: If you've never seen Nikto from COD before he does have acute dissociative disorder, so at times he will refer to himself as 'Us/We' a bit randomly.

That Son of a Bitch!!

When you rushed into your apartment Ava now wide awake at having been in the stroller while you jogged to the house and slammed open your front door.

You stare hard at the man sitting on the couch right were you expected. Now getting the aura of when the man could or would magically appear.

Pointing your daughter's new documents at her father with fire in your eyes.

"Nikto, You can not just break my lease an-"

"How am I suppose to help?-"

"Well.. What?"

Cutting you off mid rant he looked to Ava calmly and gestured to her with a calm hand.

"You need help- Correct?"

You blinked at him as if trying to remember what the point of this argument was. He had just shifted the whole conversation in a direction you hadn't expected leaving you really confused.

"Well yes but.."

"You need more room. Ava is growing. So we got a bigger place, even one with an extra room so I can help"

Blinking in surprise you try to figure out how to tackle this first. Logically sure you'd eventually need a bigger place.. and he had even made sure he had a seperate room just so he could be there.

"Still. This should at least be a discussion you shouldn't just make these decisions for me"

"We can talk then.."

He said softly, Gesturing to the couch. This all throwing you off terribly as you took a seat. It was weird with him being so diplomatic and actually speaking more then a handful of words at a time.

It had been oddly calm? Logical as he managed to sway your issue with him doing this, You didn't like it but it made sense and he had even laid it out almost like a cross between a roommate and a co-parenting situation.

So then and there an agreement was made-

You'd let Nikto help with living till Ava was 7 months. Which was plenty of time to find a far better job then the one you had, Go half on daycare and to keep your savings intact in the meantime. You offered to also pay him back for the years worth of rent but he admittedly refused.

Nikto would use the 3rd bedroom to assist. However since he didn't mention his deployment in any of this you figured it ment he wouldn't be going to tell you about it now at least.

So here you are, Moving into the new apartment. Nikto having wondered off with Ava once again leaving you there to watch it all- it was only a few boxes anyway since everything else had been bought new.

In these last few weeks he had grown to pick her up more- Especially now that she was learning to move more, Hitting her milestones and stretching into her nearly 3 months of life. He would just take her from where ever she was and walk off-

It was rather anxiety indusing at first however it seemed this was his way to bond with her. That and she was often returned within 30 minutes of him taking her.

It was weird.. But at this point he was weird so you were growing to accept that..

Snapping from your thoughts as the Maintenance man walked over to you with a bright Kool-aid smile.

"Hey (Y/N) pretty much done. You had like 8 boxes so it really wasn't much"

"Thanks Mikey, I really appreciate the help"

Smiling you couldn't help but admire him. Mikey was a sweet guy really, a taller husky fellow from some tiny town up north- aka the poster child of the sweet farm boy. Dark hair, chocolate eyes and a smile to melt hearts- whole 9 yards.

"Ah its no problem (Y/N), Always happy to help" He smiled, A bit of a blush on his cheeks as he looked at you.

"So- I did want to ask what's with the upgrade?"

It didn't take a genius he had a thing for you, always taking the time to rush over if he saw you needed help. Would be the one to always come over if something needed repairs on anything-

Hell he was even sweet to Ava, sometimes bringing toys for her while he chatted away with you.

"Ava's Father actually. He wants to help out so offered to get a bigger place"

He hummed, nodding a bit. However didnt stop that smile.

"Ah, So he just wants to help out with Ava the.?"

Nodding softly this seemed to make him relieved somewhat.

"Yeah, Thats all really. Came to a nice Co-Parenting situation"

You sort of got worried the moment those words left your mouth. Seeing the way Mikey's eyes sparkled at hearing that.

"Well You know, since you are getting help with Ava from her biological father.. Would you maybe want to get some dinner when you get the free time?"

You genuinely looked to him a bit surprised.

Especially since he had been so blunt and the use of 'Biological Father' which by his tone alone was a hint at him willing to spent up for Ava-

"Well, I would have to think about it- Especially with this new arrangement and all. We are still adjusting"

Mikey smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, Clearly a bit disappointed he didn't get a yes however happy he didn't get a no either.

"Ah I understand well, When there is a better time just let me know. I can give you my number if youd like"

"Sure, I dont see why not. Besides maybe in the future I can take you up on that dinner"

Smiling you hand him over your phone, watching as he was almost giddy putting in his number to your phone.

Right as he hands it back to you you see him jerk a bit. Looking behind you with a mixture of emotions you couldnt read.

Turning quickly you saw Nikto there, By the very nasty glare he was striking both you and Mikey down with you knew he had heard everything. His hand gently patting Ava back who seemed to be half asleep as he silently stared.

Mikey clearly putting the pieces together at the large clearly pissed man holding your daughter, Which ended with Mikey giving that signature smile to Nikto- You swore you saw Nikto eye twitch.

"So you're Ava's father! It's lovely to meet you, I haven't really heard much but I'm glad to see ya with little miss Ava. I'm Mikey"

"Nikto.."

You closed your eyes slowly as you could practically hear Nikto teeth gritting. The small jabs at the military man from Mikey were as clear as day.

"Well, I'm happy to meet you Nico. Its a pleasure to meet Ava biological father. I hope to see you around more often hm?"

Nikto only grunted in response, however you felt a trinkle of sweat go down your spine. Silently praying that Mikey would make it out okay with the clear growing anger from Nikto. 'Mikey this is not a game of chicken you will win'

Mikey however clapped his hands together cheerfully seemingly just choosing to buff off Nikto anger like it was nothing- Honestly you silently respecting Mikey willingness to just brush off a man that looked like a robber in a home security commercial.

"Welp! I'm gonna Finish up Miss (Y/N). Don't be a stranger, text me some time. It was also nice to meet you Nico!"

Mikey said cheerfully walking off to finish helping move the final box into the new apartment Nikto eyes following him as if ready to burn the man at the stake- Especially knowing that Mikey had said his name wrong on purpose.

"... Leave it alone Nikto-" You said softly, damn near begged. You could see the gears in Nikto head on what he was going to do to the sweet man... non of it good.

His eyes return to you now, still patting Ava back as he narrowed his glare at you with a very annoyed scoff.

Before suddently walking into the apartment, You quick on his heels to follow afraid of what would happen if Nikto was in a confined space with the poor maintance man.

Nikto calmly glanced around, as if making sure everything was set- Like Mikey had somehow possibly disturbed the lay out.

You behind seeing how it looked like the place was essentially set up for you to just add your personal touches?

Now walking around you see Ava's room set up with a crib, changing table, box full of toys and dresser all clearly brand new. In your new room you see a similar set up, New queen sized bed, Dressers, nightstand and even a large Vanity set up with a stool.

You hear Mikey call out a quick goodbye to you which you returned- Making sure to see him leave to make sure Nikto didn't follow..

Speaking of, You couldn't help but take a small peak into his space from the hallway. It was dark since he seemed to have drawn the windows closed, but you could make out a bed- and some duffle bags with blue stitching on the side barely readable.

'I.V.Y'

You don't try to look further. Instead heading back to the livingtoom your eyes narrowing a bit at how perfectly everything was set up- Looking to Nikto who was in the livingroom still, His hold on Ava still there as she was asleep against his chest.

"You set all the furniture up?"

He nodded. You looked around crossing your arms over your chest.

"...You put cameras in here too didn't you"

And just like that he walked to you not bothering to answer you as he passed Ava to you calmly.

"We ordered food. It will be here shortly"

Then turning on his heel and walking to his room. Sighing heavily you decided not to fight this one again since you had gotten your answer and at this point knew it was pointless to argue against this.

Instead just taking the time while Ava napped in her new crib to move some of the boxes to their rightful areas- Putting her clothes in the tiny dresser and supplies in the changing table.

Your own personals going into your room to be stored and tucked away.

It wasn't long before dinner had arrived. Sure it was just some pizza from a fairly upscale place but sitting at the dining table to eat was a luxary you hadnt experienced in some time.

Strangely enough it seemed to even spur some level of conversation between you and Nikto.

The two of you talking mostly about Ava who you were nursing while taking a few bites of pizza in-between feeding your daughter. Ignoring Nikto staring at you as you did so- but in the back of your head a bit weirded out he hadn't eaten anything yet.

While it was awkward between you two at the best of times this wasn't too bad.

The rest of the evening was oddly boring?

Both of you Showering separately of course, Giving Ava a bath, getting Ava to actually go to sleep (For some reason she fell asleep better when Nikto took her-) before both of you retired to your own rooms for the night with soft goodnights.

You felt drained truthfully-

It was a longer day then expected.. Especially after witnessing that little pissing contest between Nikto and Mikey.

Flopping in bed like a seal as you set up the baby monitor next to you on the nightstand and pull out your phone. Thinking a bit as you look at the phone icon.

'Speaking of Mikey.. .. it had been quite a while since you had a date..'

Biting your lip a little you glance at your bedroom door, As if Nikto would appear again (Which you wouldn't be surprised if he did-)

'Might as well just send Mikey a text so he can save my number'

Sitting up a bit you scroll through your contents calmly but not seeing his number there... Confused you start to search through all your contacts more carefully to make sure you hadn't just somehow missed it.

Actually quite a few numbers were missing?..

An old boyfriend you had never got around to deleting the number of, a guy you had like 3 dates with and didn't even safe with a real name just a few emojis, hell even a few former coworkers that you hadnt deleted either.

What the fuck-

This started a frantic search of the phone overall.

Any dating apps- Gone.

Risky photos?- Gone.

Hell you noted your email looked well looked through-

One thing invaded your mind..

Nikto-

You're stomach dropping a bit and face warming at the very quickly realization he most likely had seen your search history- you're hidden tabs you sometimes browsed through, Or the risky stories you liked to read in the middle of the night.

It wasn't till you opened up to the small save file you had of certain celebrities or fantasy idols that you got to gawk at and let imagination take over had been scrubbed clean.

Yep Yep Yep.. This crazy motherfucker was jealous- and had access to God knows what and lived in this apartment..

Correction paid for this apartment so you lived under HIS roof.

"Oh shit.."

Scrambling up you begin to look under the bed where you'd slid that all to well hidden box you had planned to hide the contents of which in your dresser later. Opening it from under the bed you saw it was empty-

...

You're face started to burn as you jump from bed quickly. Searching around through a few boxes you'd planned to also hide as you took note of things that had been removed or replaced completely.

Old lingerie you occasionally wore for yourself? Gone replaced with a nicer one-

That one impulse buy of cheap shibari rope that you looked at once and put back in the box? Now replaced with a much nicer one that had even been wrapped up by hand.

Slamming it back in its box you jump up from your spot and march opening your door hard red in the face and ready to rage war.

However are stopped when you see Nikto already there.. down the hall right infront of his door.

He was leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, dressed in sweats and a plain black shirt. This the first time seeing him in an outfit that wasn't his hoodie/jeans combo.

It felt like some sort of weird standoff. Cause you knew damn well why he was standing there and he knew that you knew as well-

"..I-I want all of my- Items back"

You manage to whisper yell out, Still blushing as you feel humiliated and completely exposed.

"What items?"

It was the fact you could hear that slight twinge of humor in his voice as he said it.. The bastard

"You know damn well what items Nikto-"

"Нет. We can't know if you don't say-"

You bow your head, Feeling like you were about to explose from embarrassment as he stared you down clearly waiting to see if you had the balls to actually say it.

"The toys.. the clothes.. hell the photos on my damn phone and apps... I want it all put back"

You manage to whisper out. Just loud enough you knew he could hear you- Especially by the amused hum as he rolled up from his spot on the wall and sauntered over to you.

"Why?.. You don't need it-"

"If I do or don't isn't your damn concern Nikto. So I want it back"

He shrugged, at your words. Staring down at you lazily as if your concerns didn't even matter that much when it came to this.

"They are all gone. Nothing to return"

Oh you were pissed, You knew damn well why he was setting this up and for what purpose.

"You're jealous-"

"Нет.."

"Liar- You're just Jealous that I got asked on a date"

He bristled a bit at your words. Clearly you had hit the target of wby he was doing this childish shit. Mad you pointed a finger at his chest.

"You have no influence on that part of my life anymore! I'll just buy more anyway- AND going to accept the date with Mikey"

You hiss more anger then real rhyme or reason just to get under his skin for daring to jump into this aspect of your life- However you see him glare at you hard with a intensity and rage that made you flinch slightly.

The silence that followed made the hairs on your arms stand on end. You could see the exact sentence going through his mind 'Lets see how well that goes-'

"You're very tired.. Sleep"

He said suddently a bite of anger in his voice, turning on his heel as he walked back to his room. Leaving you standing there with a mix of emotions, fear being the dominate one.

Right as you heard Ava starting to cry from her room, you slowly look up at the ceiling as if some devine being could see you now.

What have you just signed up for..

#x reader #call of duty thoughts #call of duty mw3 #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto #cod x female reader #call of duty x reader #x femreader #x female reader #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty modern warfare

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felibrary · 5 months ago

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BACK TO FRIENDS

PAIRING: rin itoshi x reader (gender neutral)

SYNOPSIS: when rin itoshi doesn't answer your texts, yoichi isagi has the brilliant plan to invite him over and let you guys make up—but will it work out?

wordcount: 866 | content & warnings: sloppily written, no beta read we die like deadchi, rin is the goat at communicating (jokes for obvious reasons), wingman!isagi, light angst if you squint; drabble

author's note: yeah first fic out of the psych ward yall lol

“did he text you back yet?”

isagi who’s sitting in front of you impatiently taps his fingers against the material of the cafe desk. after a second or two pass, without hearing a response, isagi speaks up once more. this time louder and more irritated. “has mr. rin itoshi answered your texts yet?”

as you look up and survey isagi’s face you can tell that he’s not very pleased—it’s apparent from the way he purses his lips before taking a long sip from his drink. “well,” you start off with hopelessness evident in your voice. “is it colder at night than outside?” your eyes wander from your open chat with rin to isagi.

“has rin messed with your brain that you started speaking in riddles?” isagi sneers as he twirls the drink in his glass around. upon his response you can’t help but chuckle a bit yourself. “shut up yoichi.”

“so, is that a yes?”

“he obviously didn’t answer. opted to avoid me as usual.”

it’s all thanks to isagi that you got to meet rin and technically also why you’re stuck in this situation—he was the one who set the two of you up. it was after the u-20 match when you jokingly remarked to yoichi that rin was not only the better striker but also the better looking one among the two of them.

of course, he didn't take any offense but his look of disbelief and somewhat disgust was a funny sight. from there on isagi and the other’s from the u-20 team (because apparently secrets between childhood best friends have to be told to the whole team now) started teasing you about it.

after gathering a bit of courage you started to approach rin and even when it took him a while to open up to you, it somehow worked. rin was busy for the most part of the day so when it came to talking he usually replied to your texts in the evening after football practice.

over the course of a few weeks you eventually grew closer. having found similar interests and dislikes you can bond over and share your opinion on. admittedly, maybe you were too expectant that things would work out but from how things were developing you thought rin was enjoying it too.

holding hands in the cinema while rin brushed his thumb over yours, having his head on your lap and softly scratching your fingers through his black hair and rin being more open and communicative with you, confessing that you became part of his routine—those were all things which made you get your hopes up.

but perhaps, you were wrong and instead were rushing things.

although he’s not actively avoiding you, his replies are curt and you can sense that rin has distanced himself from you—but you’re unsure why. thus isagi’s constant asking of when or well, if rin has answered you.

“i seriously have no clue what i could’ve possibly done for rin to avoid me now.” you express frustratedly, slumping in your seat. “i wish i could help you better, but i’m not rin.” isagi says in an attempt to cheer you up. “yeah. still, thanks yoichi.”

suddenly isagi’s phone dings, his eyes light up, and isagi fiddles with the pocket of his pants before pulling his phone out, immediately huffing as he reads the newly received notification. there’s a faint smile gracing isagi’s lips and you’re not sure if you should be scared or not.

“yoichi..why are you smiling so weirdly?” you ask carefully. “oh, it’s nothing. rin just texted me that he’s here, which means i’ll take my leave. my job is done here.” isagi hurriedly stands up and grabs his jacket which he draped over the back of the chair before storming out and yelling. “you can thank me later.”

as one guy with black hair leaves, another enters, none other than rin. you lock eyes and stare at him intently, watching what he’s about to do. to your surprise, rin doesn’t seem in the slightest bit caught off guard and joins you at your desk.

“isagi said you wanted to talk to me. what is it?” that was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. “isagi invited you here? saying that i want to talk to you?” you repeat, in hopes of not misunderstanding what rin has said.

he nods in acknowledgment. “did he set this up? if yeah, i’ll just go.” rin already attempts to stand up to take his leave but you stop him. “he didn’t lie. i mean i did want to talk to you but you never replied to the texts i sent you,” rin’s cerulean eyes slightly widen at the mention. “the messages, i mean.” you add abruptly.

“i’m aware.” at his response, you can feel your gut churning. “you’re aware? and you didn't bother to respond?” it’s small but you can see the glimmer of uneasiness swimming in rin’s eyes. after a long pause, rin finally responds, although you’re not sure whether you would’ve rather taken his silence.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think i can provide you with the stuff you need. i think we’d be better off as friends.”

end note: sorry you guys but if i can't be happy yall cant be either LMFAO

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin itoshi angst #blue lock angst #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #rin itoshi x you

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silvercoloredskiess · 5 months ago

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Why won't you play with me? - Stalker Squid Game Recuiter x Female Reader

Synopsis: When you say no to the contact card for the squid game. you start to notice suspicious behavior.. perhaps a stalker?

Content warnings: Stalking, little bit yandere, mentions of killing, it's said you don't have a lot of money. One use of a swear word. Creepy behavior from a worker at a cafe. This story has a not-so-happy ending.

Sorry if this is bad, I tried ;-; ending is a little rushed

Word count: 1,896

Have fun :-)

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You weren't doing so good financially, with millions of won in debt. You couldn't find a job anywhere and was worried you might just live the rest of your life like this forever. It truly was the worst way to die in your mind.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the subway station for no particular reason, when a very handsome man wearing a grey suit and a big smile on his face approached you with red and blue ddakji in his hands. He offered to let you play, so you tried and tried again, getting a slap each time you messed up since you refused to pay the fee for losing the game. You only endured this because you were promised a reward for winning.

After finally flipping the other ddakji tile over, you were given a small business card by the man, which had three shapes on the front and a number to call on the back. But you had heard rumors about a mysterious entity behind that number. Even though you were desperate for anything, this wasn't it.

You broke the man's smile when you gave him the card back and walked away. That was a big, big mistake. But you didn't know that yet, so there you were going back to your apartment, the place you were going to be evicted from soon if you couldn't pay rent. You barely scraped by last month.

Walking to the entrance of your room, you teared up when you saw an eviction notice paper taped to the door. How has it already been a month? What will you do now? Where would you stay now...?

You opened the door and sighed, falling onto your bed. You were trying to come up with reasons as to why it was good that you didn’t accept the card, but admittedly you struggled. But no time for getting caught up on something you can’t change.

While you were sleeping, there was some mysterious knocks on your window, and a tall silhouette. Thankfully you slept past it. You did wake up to another card on the table next to your bed; but it was a different number. Where did this card come from..?

You threw it out and took a walk outside. Even if you got a job now, you couldn't pay rent in time because you already got an eviction notice. But now you needed to figure out where to live. Were you going to live on the streets, especially in this frigid weather?

But you had a feeling like you were being watched. Even in the empty streets of the early morning, you definitely weren't alone. You went into a lightly occupied cafe to avoid the feeling, and used some of your spare won to buy a coffee. But the man behind the counter smirked at you.

"Well aren't you a pretty woman? Smile a little more, y'know? I'll give you a discount on that mocha if you do. Women are much prettier when they smile for men.." He then snickered a little. You didn't find his quip funny. The man glanced at a mysterious person who came up to the counter, handing over 8,700 won (~$6) to him.

"I'd like to pay for her order, sir" the hooded person said, glancing at you briefly, eyeing you up. You thanked the person when the order was processed and a barista was making your coffee. Before you could, however, the person walked away. That was strange.

The temperature of your coffee was perfect for your frozen body to warm up a little. It was nice to just be able to relax a little. You spent around forty minutes in the shop before you went back to your apartment. You still had chills from the strange person who paid for your coffee. It was likely a coincidence. Perhaps you weren't used to people doing nice things for you?

That was until you unlocked your apartment door and stepped in, only to find an envelope with a letter inside. Since when did this get in your apartment? Did someone break in? You were shaking as you read the letter;

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dear (y/n),

I know you're struggling. Why did you decline my offer to help you, sweetheart? You could live so much better.. what is it you're still clinging onto? There's not much going for you after that eviction notice I saw on your door the other day.

By the way dear, I'm sorry you had to deal with that shitty worker at the cafe. But lucky for you, I already took the trash out.

-Your secret admirer"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart stops for a moment, your hands barely gripping the note. What offer was this person talking about. But when you connected the dots; it all made sense. This had to be the same person who left a contact card in your room recently. But was this also the same person that paid for your coffee?

But you were more concerned about what they meant by "taking the trash out" when referring to that creepy coffee shop worker. At this point you were too scared to go out anymore. You spent the rest of the day indoors, your brain going around in circles. You weren't sure what problem to fixate on; your eviction, or your stalker.

You switch on your TV and let the news play in the background while you ate your cup of instant noodles. Some minutes later, you hear a reporter say,

"A man in Seoul has just been murdered in the back of a coffee shop. Unfortunately due to the quality of the footage, we can’t see the murderer’s face much. Police are currently working on this case. The murder is seen brutally stabbing the man many times. His body was laid in a corner before the murder fled the scene."

You couldn't believe what you heard. You recognized the worker's face. And the murder was definitely the one who wrote the note. You weren't sure what exactly was going on. Lightheaded, you went to sleep early. You were worried of what this person would try to do to you. The doors and windows were locked so you would be safe.

And you thought that until you woke up the next morning. Something felt very off. Those suspicions were right when you started checking your apartment, only to find that some of your belongings had been stolen. You were extremely scared. So you quickly picked up your phone and called the police. They arrived in a few minutes to check our your place and try to identify the robber.

Due to the severity of it, you were asked to go to the police office with the officers for further research. You spent a while there, sitting silently in a chair while a few cops there investigated the camera footage. One of them brought up the idea that the burglar could be the same person as the one who killed someone just yesterday evening. However there wasn't enough evidence to make that claim.

But based on the past events, you knew it had to be true. You told the officers about your stalking suspicions, and gave them the note. There was no other reason your apartment in particular would be targeted by a burglar. You also gave them the contact card that was left in your apartment as well. One of the officers looked up the number, but they couldn't find any info.

They assumed it must've been a fake number. And that's what you liked to believe too. After around thirty minutes of more investigation, you were let go. They told you they would contact you if they had any updates. For now, you needed to find somewhere else to live. It wasn't going to be long before you had to move out anyway, but you were more urgent now.

As you walked back home, you still had this uncomfortable feeling. It didn't resolve when you entered your apartment. Little did you know the whole place had been bugged while you were asleep. The camera footage did show the person tampering with items, but because the cameras were so tiny, you didn't see them. If only you knew this fact.

You walked to your room, but when you closed the door...

"AAAAAAAAH" You screamed when your eyes laid on the extremely familiar man in his well tailored suit. His mischievous eyes looked down at your terrified face.

"We meet again, though it hasn't been too long since I've encountered you." He smiled, chuckling a little bit. "Remember me at all?"

You froze still. "Yes... I remember you. Why are you here-"

"That doesn't matter at this moment. I want to know why you rejected my offer to help you. After all, I simply wanted to help a cute lady like you, but my offers were useless."

"Why does it matter? It's been a few days. Leave me alone!" You snapped back.

"When I was walking around the train station, I saw the helpless look on your face. I just couldn't bear seeing such a beautiful woman like you suffer in this cruel, unforgiving world. Don't you see I was doing this to help you..?

"Your actions didn't help! I've heard of the entity behind that number. I wouldn't ever risk my life for money. I know life will be difficult, but I'll eventually find a place to live."

"But sweetheart, life doesn't have to be this hard. It could be so much easier. If it wasn't already conveyed by my looks, I'm a very wealthy man. If you just live with me, I'll give you whatever you desire. And trust me darling, a billionaire like me doesn't even have to think of an eviction..."

He put a finger on your lips.

"And plus, I think I'm far too attached to you to let you go. You'll be so much happier with me." His grip on your wrist was even tighter, so you struggled to escape.

Suddenly, you lost consciousness,and got very sleepy. When you woke up, you found yourself inside a very large bedroom. You were lying on the king-sized bed. You wondered how you got here. You heard a voice next to you, so you turned only to see the same man, his legs crossed as he sat in a chair.

"Well good morning, (y/n). Notice anything different?"

"WHERE AM I? WHERE DID YOU TAKE ME!?" You yelled at him, frantically looking around. But you were too tired to move.

"All bark, no bite." The man snickered at your actions. "Anyway, you are in my mansion. This will be your bedroom. From here now on, you will be utterly mine. Don't worry, you'll be allowed outside, occasionally." He then laughed.

"And yes, I know you'll ask if I was the same person who killed that cafe worker and left you those cards. And the answer is yes. For now though, let's ignore all of that."

You were horrified at your current situation. But what was the point in fighting back? He would always find a way to take you back anyway. At first, you were very feisty and sassy, but some months later you succumbed to your situation, basking in the luxuries of never having to worry about bills or rent.

Maybe this life wasn't so bad after all.

#squid game x y/n #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game yandere #stalker yandere #gong yoo #squid game recruiter #squid game recruiter x reader #squid game x reader #the recruiter #gong yoo x reader #silver's posts

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