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yenhan · 10 days ago

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TF141 & International student neighbor on the verge of a crisis

Next - Masterlist

Synopsis: a tiny, itty bitty breakdown

You didn’t cry when you moved into your flat. A few tears spilled when the kettle refused to boil, and the radiator wheezed like it was dying, but that hardly counted. You weren’t this close to a soul-shattering mental breakdown in four different languages and two whole personalities. Nope. That was just being a successful woman, completely in control of her life. You lived in a flat that could be described as vintage, or one good gust from collapsing, as your best friend kindly put it when you called. It had four walls, a roof, and the washing machine only flooded the kitchen every other week. It wasn’t the worst deal in the world. At least you didn't have spiders building their little lego-web houses on the ceiling. That would be disgusting.

However, you spent your first night on the couch wrapped in every hoodie you owned, scrolling through your phone with the Wi-Fi from the library nearby that cut out if you breathed wrong, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

The move to England had been impulsive, at least that’s what your parents said. “You’re barely out of high school, sweetheart. Isn't it too soon?” But you wanted to prove you could do it; be independent, get a degree, build a career. Whatever that meant. You didn’t know yet. Those stupid tik toks about girlbossing your way through life didn’t help much, either. Classes were hard. Work was harder. You cleaned tables at a café full of old ladies who judged your every move, then crammed lectures and assignments into your evenings, falling asleep to the sound of cats screeching in the alley outside your window.

And then there were your neighbors.

The first time you saw them, your eyeballs nearly popped out. Four men who looked like they’d walked out of an action movie trailer. Broad shoulders, broader chests, paired with alertness that made you sit up straighter when they walked by. Pavlov's a bitch. One of them wore a beanie and had a beard that probably intimidated children. Or made them laugh, it depends on who you ask. You bet he worked as Santa Claus during Christmas time, that beard would do wonders. One limped slightly but moved like he’d break into a sprint at the slightest excuse, he also had a nasty scar on his head. One always had his baseball hat up and gentle eyes. And the last one… he wore sunglasses even on cloudy days and didn’t speak unless he was being sentenced to death. You nicknamed them The Lads before you even learned their names. It was honestly a really bad attempt at copying the British accent, a silly little inside joke meant only for yourself.

It was the limp that pulled you into their circle. Soap. His real name was Johnny, but everyone called him that. Something had happened to him. Not a car crash kind of injury, and surely not a oops-I-got-a-paper-cut issue. Something else. A kind of hurt that reeked of bloodshed and gunfire. He looked so cheerful despite it all... you envied his lack of self-restraint. He helped you carry a box of books up the stairs when you dropped it.

"You don’t look like a librarian." You tried to break the ice.

He grinned. “Cheers, lass. Ye don’t look like yer old enough to be living alone.”

“Rude,” you replied, winded. “But fair.” You became something like their mascot after that. Or a stray pup they all silently agreed to look after.

Price knocked on your door the night your power went out. Just handed you a flashlight and an extra blanket and left, didn’t even wait for a thank you. Gaz noticed your bike had a flat and fixed it without a word. Ghost, well, Ghost scared you a little. A lot. But you never said it to his face. It wouldn't be polite, would it?

You weren’t supposed to become attached to them. They were four grown men with lives and a bond so deep you couldn’t begin to understand. And you? You were just the girl next door. Sweet, a little clueless, a little cheeky, and hanging on by a thread.

You were tired all the time. Tired of pretending you were having the time of your life when really, you felt like you were slowly crumbling. Like the version of yourself that had boarded that plane so full of hope and plans had somehow gotten lost between Heathrow and the broken laundromat on the corner. How could you tell your mum you were regretting everything? How could you face your brother and say that the big sister he looked up to was just a loser? The weather was hell 365 days out of 365, if someone offered you another fish and chips dish you'd crash out, and you were likely forgetting all of the damned languages you spoke because of the humidity eating your brain cells.

Wasn't youth supposed to be the best time of your life? This was the part where you found yourself and laughed and made memories you’d cherish forever... Seriously, what the heck were you doing? You felt cold and alone. Ate one-pound meals at the measly convenience store run by Aunt Wang and listened to her ranting in Mandarin Chinese. What an exciting existence. How dignified.

Until the night you cried in the stairwell. You’d just finished a shift where someone called you incompetent because you didn’t know what a “flat white” was supposed to taste like. Your exam results had come back worse than expected. And your period had started early, like the universe had decided to kick you where the sun doesn't shine while you were already down. Bollocks, Simon's voice rang in your mind. You were curled up by the railing, the hoodie laid over your knees, when the door opened. Boots. Heavy ones. Speaking of the devil, Ghost’s voice scared the shit out of you. “Bad day?”

You sniffled, eyeing him up and down. “No, just peachy. Rainbows and all that.”

“Bollocks." He countered timely. You giggled. It was ridiculous and extremely easy to make your day better. Any of them could with just a snap of fingers. "I'm telling Price y'were here cryin' like a baby."

"Oh, shut it. I'll have you know some of us have beating hearts under our ribcage, Mr. Creep-a-lot."

"Oi, yer fifteen years too young t'make fun o'me."

Perhaps you did have one good thing in your hands, wasting it would be a shame.

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kateksmallcuteowl · 10 months ago

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June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!

#procreate #fanart #bagginshieldw24 #bagginshield week #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #thilbo #the hobbit #thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #lotr #lotr fanart #fandom event #tolkien #fan comic

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dreaming-medium · 2 years ago

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 3

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Hate Sex - Changbin

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Why is he always there? And why is he always using the equipment you need? How is it Seo Changbin knows exactly when to hog everything you need at the gym? It’s time to piss him off as much as he pisses you off.

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It’s a 24 hour gym. That’s why you joined.

There’s nothing worse than dragging yourself to the gym only to find every machine that you want or need to use is taken.

But since this one is open 24 hours a day, you can get there at ungodly hours of the morning and everything should be open for use, right?

Wrong.

He is always there. The bane of your existence: Seo Changbin.

You swear this man practically lives at the gym.

If you show up after dinner, he shows up after dinner. If you park your car in the lot at noon, you best believe his sleek black sports car is already there. When you walk in around breakfast, there he is– always hogging the single working foldable weight bench.

There were other weight benches in the gym, he just chose to always use that one.

And he does even use it properly! He doesn’t fold it up for back support, no, he uses it as a regular bench.

“Do you mind using one of the other benches so I can have this one?” You tried asking him once.

Changbin huffed and moved his headphone off one ear, balancing the 50 pound weight on his thigh. “What?”

“Can I use this bench please? I can bring one of the others over for you.”

“Can’t you see it’s being used?”

“Yeah, but it’s the only folding one that works and you don’t even need it like that.”

“I might.”

You rolled your eyes, “Do you really?”

“Maybe. Now, if you don’t mind.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his headphones back on and looked away from you and at his form in the mirror.

You groaned and walked away.

Ever since that day, you know he’s been going out of his way to get that bench whenever he can.

His ass is always firmly planted on that weight bench. His perfectly round, muscular ass.

It infuriates you to no end.

Each time you look around for the bench and make eye contact with him, the only response Changbin has is a dark smirk.

Slowly but surely, it became more than just the folding bench.

The tricep strap for the cable machine was never there when you needed it. Changbin was using it.

Where’s the ab roller? Changbin has it in front of him.

The fifteen pound kettle bell? In fucking Seo Changbin’s hands.

It’s like he has your routine memorized.

Your rage meter can only fill up so much before it bubbles over like a volcano erupting.

Were you being ridiculous now? Perhaps.

But at 3 AM, you’re certain there’s absolutely no way in hell Seo Changbin is going to be at the gym.

Could you just join another one? Sure. But is your pride going to let you? Absolutely not.

No one goes to the gym at three in the morning, at least no sane person does.

So, why the hell do you see a black, luxury car in the parking lot. It’s the only car in the entire lot.

Frustration gets the better of you and you slam your hand on the steering wheel.

“What the hell!”

You furiously park your car. This was your last straw, you barely remember to yank your gym bag out of the back seat before setting on your war path into the building.

Why the fuck was he here so early? Does he live here? Is he bound to the building by some curse? Is he bound to you by some curse?

You rip the door open, it practically flies off the hinges. There’s no one at the front desk. Of course there isn’t, who the hell would come here at this time?

Changbin is in the back where he usually is, sitting on that fucking weight bench.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed you storm into the gym yet. He’s too focused on the bicep curls he’s pumping.

Maybe if you weren’t blinded by your rage you would’ve taken the time to stop and stare at the way his arms flex in that compression shirt.

Your bag drops onto the floor. That’s when he looks up in the mirror.

Changbin’s face goes through several different emotions.

Surprise, shock, confusion, then finally, arrogance.

He places his weights on the floor and takes his headphones off just in time for you to open your mouth.

“What’s the big idea, huh?” You start, “Do you enjoy making my life miserable? Why are you here?”

Changbin stays sitting on the bench and arches an eyebrow at you.

“Now that I’m here do you want me to go grab all the equipment I plan on using? Should I gather it all by your feet and just leave? But even if I come back you’ll still be here, won’t you? Do you live here or something?”

His smirk only grows bigger and bigger. He tongues his cheek and stares into your eyes, which are burning with anger.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face and drips onto one of his exposed thighs.

Changbin says nothing for a long moment before he looks back into the mirror and preps himself for another set.

“I always come here this early.” He says cockily.

“Like hell you do.” you snap back at him. Your fists clench at your sides in anger.

“Sorry, Princess. Try again another time.”

“Have you ever tried not being a dick for three seconds?”

“Have you?”

Your jaw drops and you stand there dumbfounded for a moment.

“I am perfectly pleasant! You’re the one going out of your way to make my life miserable!”

“You really think the world revolves around you, huh?”

“Two days ago, you sat with the lat pull-down bar next to you for two hours while I waited for you to actually use it, you didn’t.”

Your arms cross over your chest.

Changbin winks at you, “So you’re saying you watched me for two hours? How was my form? Perfect, right?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Takes two to tango, babe.”

“Don’t—!“ Your own frustration cuts you off. “Don’t call me that! Fucking Christ.”

And with that, you turn on your heel, snatch your bag off the ground and stomp towards the locker room.

You’re positively seething with rage because of him. Who does he think he is?

You were not a dick! You were very nice in the beginning, explaining why you needed that bench; he’s the one that took it further than that.

Ripping your jacket off, you practically launch it into the locker, pulling out the various things you will be using and slamming them on the bench.

Since he’s still on the goddamn bench, it’ll be leg day, so you pull out your lifting gloves and pre workout. After dry scooping, you let it dissolve in your mouth with a big swig of water and adjust your clothes.

The new matching GymShark set you ordered came in and it is doing wonders for your body. How great you look in this outfit is about the only plus for today.

It’s a bright pink set that’s basically spandex shorts and a sports bra.

And damn, you look good.

As time ticks on in the locker room, your rage turns to a smoldering anger.

He’s on the bench. Which means the Smith Machine is free.

After filling your water bottle up to the top, you head out to the gym floor, headphones blasting pump up music.

Changbin is still sitting on the folding bench when you come out of the locker room. He’s presumably in between sets since he’s looking down at his phone. His own water bottle held loosely in the other hand.

You look away before he looks up and turn your music up louder. When you lift, you always need something that really pumps you up.

When you get to the smith machine you put your things down and start to get it prepped. First, before squats or anything, you want to do deadlifts, and for that you need to get so much ready.

You roll a bar out and slide on your preferred weight on either side. The entire time you can practically feel Changbin’s eyes following each one of your movements.

Once everything is prepped, you put your gloves on and walk over to the bar.

Your form is perfect, you know that, you’ve been doing this for years. Plus, there’s always that small bit of anxiety when you go to the gym that you’ll be doing something wrong.

So you poured hours of research into making sure everything you’re doing is right. Plus, this way, you also don’t need to worry about someone coming up and correcting you.

At the end of your set you drop the bar to the ground. It hits the padded floor with a loud clang!.

Everyone who lifts at this gym drops their weights, it’s nothing new at all.

But, you see Changbin’s head snap over to you out of the corner of your eye.

He can eat shit.

You pace around a little in between sets, catching your breath and taking swigs of water. Bopping your head to the music a bit and thinking about what you’re going to do for the day.

Time for set two.

Same thing, you do all your reps and then drop the weight at the end.

This time, though, you hear something through your music.

Looking around, you see Changbin staring right at you with a sneer pulled at his lips. He motions for you to take your headphones off.

You roll your eyes, but do so anyway.

“What?” you ask.

“Can you not do that?” he asks. By his tone, he is very obviously annoyed.

“Do what?”

“Drop your weights.”

“Everyone here drops their weights. Why is it different if I do it?”

“I hate it when everyone does it. You’re not special.”

You scoff and look away from him again, putting your headphone back over your ear. Changbin’s silent anger could be felt from across the gym.

Set three. Same exact routine.

And this time, you go out of your way to drop your weights at the end of the set.

The mat on the floor vibrates and one machine next to you shakes a bit.

“Yah!” Changbin yells through your music.

Turning to look at him, he’s already walking towards you, fists clenched.

You stand your ground, watching him stomp over to you. This time, you don’t even take your headphones off.

Once he’s in front of you his mouth moves with whatever he’s saying. You watch him for a moment, pretending to listen to what he’s saying.

Then you nod, putting on a show with exaggerating your movements, pretending to understand. You hold up one finger, his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth shuts.

You turn and grab your phone off the floor, lighting up the screen and holding it up to his face.

“Cut The Cord by Shinedown.” you say loudly, showing him your music in his face.

Changbin’s face contorts into an even angrier one. He bares his teeth and his shoulders raise a bit towards his ears as his fists clench more.

All you do is smile innocently and turn around to go back to your set.

A very large, strong hand grabs your wrist and you’re yanked back around towards him. You gasp when you’re pulled back towards him.

Changbin uses his other hand to yank your headphones off your head and throw them onto the floor. Your phone also tumbles down to the matted floor.

“What the fuck is your prob—“

You’re cut off by Changbin grabbing your face tightly, fingers and thumb pressing harshly into your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker.

“You just had to be fucking annoying, huh?” he asks, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Always walking around here like you own the place, like you know everything.”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. But then again, so would you.

“Fucking let me go, Changbin.” you struggle against his hold. Changbin quickly releases your wrist to wrap his entire fist in your ponytail. He tugs harshly, bringing your face close to his.

“I bet no one has ever put you in your fucking place before.” he growls and you’re so ashamed at the way your insides flip.

You pull harder and harder against his grip, but it’s no use.

“I asked you nicely to stop slamming your weights.”

“The fuck you did!” you quip back.

He yelled at you to stop dropping your weights.

His grip tightens on your face and he brings your body even closer to his. The heat radiating off his skin was insane. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his face.

“Maybe someone should shut you up for once.”

“Maybe someone should—“

His lips slam into yours in a harsh meeting. Like a lightning bolt travels down your spine, your entire body feels like it’s tingling. The feeling goes straight to your cunt.

A loud groan comes from the back of your throat. You kiss him back for about five seconds before you remember what the fuck you’re doing.

You bite down on his lip, hard.

Changbin yelps and brings his face away from yours. But his grip on your jaw remains solid.

His deep brown eyes darken significantly and the only way to describe his stare is predatory.

It’s like you just cocked the gun aimed at your own head, his finger on the trigger.

In an entirely too swift series of movements, Changbin spins your body around and bends you over the back hyperextension standing equipment.

The hand in your hair tightens significantly, he straddles the back of you, pressing his body completely flush with your back.

His other hand comes around the front of you to cover your mouth.

With no bit of gentleness, he shakes your face around and positions it forward.

“Fucking look at that beautiful sight.”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror in front of you. In the mirror, you can see Changbin’s eyes raking over your form.

Against your ass you can feel his dick twitch in his gym shorts.

Again, your cunt clenches around nothing at the feel of him against you.

“So gorgeous when you shut the fuck up,” he whispers into your ear.

You should not be turned on by this. You should be fighting back with all your strength and slapping him across his perfectly handsome face. This is Changbin, the same guy who’s done nothing but be a thorn in your side for the past few months!

But he’s also the same guy that looks fucking delicious in those black compression shirts.

“Maybe it’s time someone teaches you a lesson on what happens when you talk back, little girl.” he sneers with a cocky smirk.

You struggle against his grasp, it just makes him tighten his hold on you even more. Your scalp screams from his harsh tug, but it feels so good.

Squinting your eyes shut, you swallow a whimper from coming out.

Both of your elbows are underneath you, holding your weight up on the pads. You’re trying so hard not to look into the mirror in front of you; you know that if you see the way his body is caged around you, you’ll lose it.

Changbin presses his cock into your ass even harder, the feeling goes straight to your core and down your legs.

“Always in these tight fucking shorts, galavanting around the gym getting everyone’s dick hard.”

You thrash around just a bit underneath him and he holds you tighter. Your eyes open and you turn your head a little to stare at the wall, lips pulled into a sneer.

“What’s the matter, little girl? Hate knowing that everyone’s eyes always follow your bouncing tits around the gym? That this gym is the most packed when they know you have leg day?”

Over and over his hips roll into your ass, the friction feels delicious. You’re thanking the GymShark gods that their materials don’t show moisture through the fabric.

“Does the little princess have nothing to say now?”

When you let out muffled noises, Changbin only laughs.

“Fuck you, and fuck your stupid fucking folding weight bench.”

He leans his head down and bites your neck so hard you’re sure his teeth imprint will be there for days. The squeal that comes from your mouth is muffled by his hand.

Changbin takes his hand out of his hair to reach down and yank your shorts down over your ass.

As soon as the cool air of the gym hits your exposed core, you hiss and squirm around in his grip even more.

“Fuck… Look at that. The princess doesn’t wear panties to the gym.” When you look at him in the mirror, he’s staring at your cunt while biting his lower lip.

His eyes are looking at your glistening folds like he’s taking in a work of art.

The hand over your mouth comes around your neck to hold your head down by your nape. His fingers thread into your hair right at the base to keep a firm restraint on you.

Two of his fingers run through your soaking wet folds, “So fucking wet for me, babe. Who knew you got off arguing with me as much as I did?”

“Fuck you.” you spit out.

Changbin’s eyes meet yours in the mirror for a split second, his grip on your head forces you down even more.

He reaches down and pushes his shorts down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Holy fuck, he’s fucking big. Prominent veins run up his length. Your eyes widen in shock and he looks so fucking smug about it.

At this point, you’re positively dripping wet.

Fisting one hand on his cock, he runs the head up and down your cunt, catching on your clit a few times and making you gasp and squirm a bit.

“Jesus fuck, if you’re gunna fuck me, why don’t you do it already?” you bite at him.

Changbin spits directly on your cunt.

“With pleasure, princess.”

He bottoms out in one hard thrust and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Your eyes squint shut and eyebrows pinch together.

Changbin does not wait for you to adjust to him. He grips your hair as tight as he can and thrusts into you mercilessly.

The wet slapping noises fill the air of the gym and echo off the bare walls; there’s no music or anything to drown out the lewd sounds of your bodies conjoining.

Every single thrust feels so fucking deep inside you it’s driving you fucking wild, it’s like he;s fucking through you.

“Holy fuck– hng– you’re fucking tight!” he grunts out.

In the mirror you can see his face screwing up in the angriest display of pleasure you’ve ever seen. He’s positively seething with how good it feels to have you clamp down on his cock.

All you’re able to do is pant and moan and practically drool with how amazing it feels inside of you. But despite the pleasure you’re feeling, you can’t allow yourself to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it feels.

With each thrust, you do your damndest to keep the reactions to a minimum.

He notices.

“Oh, fuck you.” he pants out. You both make eye contact in the mirror and hold it.

He pulls your hair to bring your back up against his clothes chest, his hand comes around to hold you by the throat.

This new angle allows him to bully your g-spot over and over again. You can’t help it anymore, your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open with a strangled moan.

“That’s what I fucking thought, bitch. Feel how good my cock is making you feel, you can’t fucking lie to me, I can feel you clenching down on me, soaking my dick.”

Tiny whimpers leave your throat.

Changbin reaches his other hand down and begins toying with your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm that his thrusts were going in.

The combination of the two has you seeing stars.

“Shit–!” he moans out in your ear, “Pussy so tight when I do that, fuck!”

His hand around your throat squeezes a bit, making it hard to breathe, but my god it’s so erotic.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you pant out in between each thrust.

“Fuck me?” he says incredulously, he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Fucking look at yourself, getting fucked raw by my cock in the middle of the gym where anyone could walk in.”

Another clench down on his cock.

“Fucking bitch, you like that, huh?”

You can’t take your eyes off where your bodies are joined together, his cock slips in and out of you so easily, entirely coated in your combined juices. His thick fingers rubbing your clit, hurling you towards your orgasm.

“Shit.” you hiss as you approach that edge, it makes your toes curl in your sneakers. “G’na cum.” you mumble.

“Is that right?” Changbin says in your ear and immediately his pace increases.

You cry out and throw your head back, but Changbin forces it back down.

“No, you’re going to watch,” he growls. “You’re going to watch yourself fucking cum all over my cock. And then you’re going to watch me cum in this tight pussy.”

All you can do is pant and keep your eyes focused on his thrusts, the way his balls smack against your skin with each one.

More and more and more the pressure builds until it's too much and you finally topple over the edge.

You cry out and try to look away, but Changbin’s firm grip keeps you there.

“Holy fucking shit, fuck fuck, ah shit!”

Immediately after your orgasm you feel your insides flood with something warm and sticky. Within seconds you watch as it begins to leak out of you around Changbin’s now softening cock.

Both of you sit there for a moment, panting in silence. No other sounds fill the gym until Changbin finally speaks up.

“Next time, don’t slam the weights in my gym.”

Of fucking course he was the owner.

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #changbin smut #stray kids kinktober #skz x reader #skz kinktober #skz smut #seo changbin smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Not A Word 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, violence, parental abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note:😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

With all the unknown ahead of you, it's safe to keep to what you know. You go to the kitchen with the itch still under your skin. You're irritated, scalded by Sy's unwanted touch. Uninvited. Unnerving.

You've never been an angry person. Your father is, or was, and it always deterred you from the same. Being mad does nothing but drain you dry. But that's what you are. And helpless because you know there's nothing you can do to act on that displeasure. So you focus on what you can do.

You take out the breakfast sausages. Your father had a fit when you brought home the spicy instead of the maple ones. Well, he isn't there anymore to scream at you. Or hit you.

You turn on the burner and set a skillet over to heat. You grab the eggs and take out two. That's usually what he eats but you think of Sy. He's much bigger. You add two more.

You hear him. The floor creaks beneath his weight and he yawns as he lumbers down the hallway. You sense him in the doorway. That's the thing about being quiet, you learn to be observant. You read your surroundings like your books.

"Morning, sugar," he purrs. "Now ain't you an early riser. Already at it."

You don't react; not a flinch. You unwrap several sausages and drop them in the pan. They hiss against the hot metal.

Next, the coffee. All he'll get from you is that. Breakfast. Appeasement. But he won't get a look or a twitch. He touched you and he didn't even apologise.

He killed your father...

The machine grinds as it spits out the dark brew. You measure out your own breakfast. Oats and raisins, with a touch of cinnamon and sugar. You set the kettle to boil and keep your back to him. His fingers tap heavily on the table as he watches you.

"Sugar?" He drawls.

You crack the eggs into a bowl and sprinkle in seasonings. You add some milk for some fluffiness, then grab another pan. You twist on the third burner. He sighs heavily.

"Hey, you alright?" He asks.

You oil the pan as you ignore him. He hums low. You stir the eggs before you add them to the pan. You cover it with a lid and leave it.

You pull down a plate and pluck out cutlery. You pour a cup of coffee and bring it to him but do not see him. You stare at the wall as you put it down. He thanks you and presses his large hand around the porcelain,

"Look, sweetheart, I know yesterday was rough, but--" He puts his other hand on your hip and snap your fingers against him. The sharp swat has him recoiling as you spin and stomp away. "Hey, sug, what's that about?"

You turn the sausages as the grease spits. He huffs.

"You mad at me?" He wonders. You don't answer. "Now, what did I do?"

You take the lid off the pan and flip the omelette. You go to the fridge to get the cheese. You shred it over the omelette and cover it again. He shifts so the chair groans under his weight. The noise reminds you of his size. You hesitate. What if you make him mad?

"I know it's hard losing someone, sugar," he says.

The kettle rumbles and you remove it from the heat before it can whistle. You pour it into your oats and stir, then leave it to soften. The aroma of spices and sausage swirls in the air. His belly growls noisily.

You plate up the food and serve it to him. "Thanks, sugar, it smells delicious."

Once more, you're one your way back to the sink before he can finish. You pour the grease into a jar and rinse the pans, stacking them next to the sink with the dirtied bowl, spatula, and the rest. You add some milk to your bowl before you put the carton away and you take your oats.

He gets up as you walk toward the table. He pulls out a chair. You pass him and head into the hall. You unlock the front door and clamour out onto the porch in bare feet. You don't care. You sit on the step to eat alone.

The hinges squeal behind you, "now, sugar, why are you doing all this?"

You scoop the oats into your mouth and stare unwavering into the distance. The sky is a soft bluish yellow hue behind the dirt expanse and sharp points of distant trees. He crosses the porch to the step. He bends and squeezes your shoulder.

"You know I'm here to help you--"

You stand and nearly spill the oatmeal. You jerk away from him and trod through the dusty dirt. He grunts in surprise.

"What're you doing? You ain't got no shoes on." He chides.

You scurry away, cradling your breakfast in your hands, and don't look back. He doesn't follow but it's not a comfort. He'll come after you eventually.

You go around the garage and skirt down behind the cluster of thorny bushes your daddy never bothered to clear. You sit on the ground and set the bowl down. You bow your head and hold it in your hands. You blow out between your lips.

You don't miss your daddy. Him being gone doesn't make you sad, but not feeling anything about it does. That's the same callousness, the same apathy he always showed you. You don't want to be like him. You don't want to be happy he's gone.

💜

After a while, you relent. You don't have much of a choice. That adds to your frustration. Knowing that none of this is within your grasp only exhausts you. You just want to lay down and never get up.

You go inside. It's quiet. You enter the kitchen and find it empty. You wash your bowl and put it away. Not much has changed. You're still trying to be invisible.

A sniff jolts you. Sy lets out a sigh and you keep your eyes averted. You turn and walk around the table. He blocks the door. You know there's no way around or through him.

"Sugar, you're mad. I understand. And you just lost your daddy, so I'm not gonna hold that against you," he puts his hands on your shoulders and you flinch. You shove his forearms and step out of his hold. He holds his hands up as if burned. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to deal with but I'm tryna help you--"

Your eyes dart up, your hand too, and you point at him sharply. His eyes round and his brow furrows. He shakes his head. You wiggle your finger, exasperated. You want to yell at him! You stomp your foot and clap your hands.

Then, without a thought, you push his stomach. It has little effect as he's too big to be moved. You do it again. You slap his stomach then his chest, and huff, spinning away from him to storm around the kitchen.

"Sugar," his voice is low and rocky, "it was an accident. You know that."

You scowl and push the chair over. You fume silently as you throw your hands up, curling and uncurling your fists. He stays in the door, trapping you there to roil in your confused rage.

"He was insulting you. He always did. I never liked that and... and he was mean to you."

You sneer and clutch your head. You shake it furiously and put your back to him. You shake as your eyes well hotly. You lied for him. You all but sealed your fate because you were scared. Of what? Of him being the one to replace your father. The one who keeps you on a leash.

You grab a ladle hanging above the counter and hurl it at him. He lets it bounce off of him. "Alright, sugar. Throw another."

You curl your lip and do just that; a spatula, then a slotted spoon. You turn back and reach for another then stop.

"You just get it all out. I'll take whatever you got," he says. "Sugar, I know I messed this up but I'm gonna make it better. I'm gonna take care of ya."

You slap your hands on the counter and hang your head. You're so tired. So tired.

You slump and turn. You go to the chair and pick it up. You put it back at the table and round it. You near Sy. You point past him. He exhales but moves out of your way.

You pass him and turn down the hall. You stop between your bedroom and the bathroom. You go into the latter and lock the door. You just need to stop thinking for a while.

💜

You emerge from the bathroom reluctantly. He's waiting. The thought that he always will be from now on scares you as much as the man himself.

You go into your room. He's there. You stop short, in just your towel, clothes hugged against your chest. He sits on your bed, shoulders hunched, forehead lined. He looks at you and his brows arch.

"There ya're," he says and pushes his shoulders back. "Feel any better?"

You blink and drop your clothes in the basket. You pull open the dresser and feel the towel slacken dangerously. You catch it and suck in a breath. He growls. You reach to grab a shirt.

"You know, sugar, I don't wanna overload ya but..." the bed shifts with him. "We can't stay here. Bed's too small, as much as I enjoy cuddling and... it just don't feel right, does it?"

You open the lower drawer, carefully bending your legs to grab a pair of linen pants. You stand straight and pluck out some clean underwear. He stands and you tense as he nears.

"I meant it. I'm gonna be good to ya," he touches your shoulder and you reel away from him. You face him and he mopes. "Please, don't be mad at me. I couldn't-- I couldn't do nothing to bring him back. And I couldn't see him abuse ya no more."

You frown.

"You understand, don't ya? That's what he was doin'? Abusing ya? All those years?" He steps closer again.

Your lip trembles and your eyes singe. You back up and spin away from him. You race out of the room and across the hall. He sighs and follows you but stops on the other side of the door.

"I only wanted to hurt him. Not you," he pleads.

You look at your reflection. Your tears spill over and you squeeze the clothes tight. You sink down to your knees as your bad racks with sobs.

You're not sad your dad's gone. You're not even mad about what Sy did to him. He deserved it. You're scared and lost and... alone.

Before, with your dad, you knew what was expected. Now you do and you don't. Sy told the sheriff he's going to marry you. Why? You know wives have duties. You don't know if you can do those. Not the ones beyond cooking and cleaning.

"It's okay, you know? I'll wait for ya," he drawls as his hand brushes loudly down the door. "However long you want. I know you got a lot to think about. And I want you to think about the good things." He leans on the door as it moves in the frame. "You know, I got you a nice table with a light for your arts and stuff. Got ya all these little things, too. Think you'll like em. And some flowers."

You glare at your door and shake your head. Good things? You've never know anything good. Not before and not now. But you never expected it all to get so much worse.

#captain syverson #syverson x reader #dark syverson #dark!syverson #sand castle #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #not a word #series

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

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have no fear

jordan nobbs x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal x reader

part 2 of beautiful girl series -> pt. 1 -> pt.3

warnings: drug addiction, drug use, angst, pain, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of fluff if you look really close

So with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

“Hey chicky.”

You tried to smile at your ma, you did, but it was hard.

“Hey ma.”

You knew you had to look like a wreck, you hadn’t had time to look in a mirror on your way down, but you knew that you must look like a complete mess.

Jordan brought you into a hug before you could do anything about it her little arms squeezing your body as tightly as you thought she could manage.

She forced her way into the house before you could say anything about it, walking her way into the kitchen and leaving you close the door behind her.

“Le said you were out last night.”

You followed your ma into the kitchen, walking straight to the coffee pot.

“You want coffe?”

Jordan had always been the stricter of your two parents, probably because she saw you less, Leah was the one who had to do the hard yards, constantly fighting with you over the biggest and smallest things.

“Tea please, how late where you out till, who were you with?”

You turned the machine on, trying to hide your annoyance at the immediate interrogation.

“Did you come here to see me or question my choices?”

You pulled two mugs from the shelf, reaching for the kettle and pouring enough water in before reaching for a tea bag.

“I came here to see you chicky, and catch up with you, I want to hear about what’s been going on.”

You dropped the tea bag into the cup, reaching across the island to hand it to your ma.

“I was out with a few friends.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, hoping that it would help to soothe the insistent memory of the events of last night and push it from the forefront of your mind.

“What’s that?”

You looked up at Jordan curiously, one of your own eyebrows raising.

“What’s what?”

You looked back at the coffee machine, watching as your mug slowly began to fill up with the brown mixture.

“Since when do you vape?”

You pulled your mug out from the machine, setting down on the island so you were facing your ma.

“A couple of months, why?”

You reached for the sugar container, taking the spoon out of it and dropping two spoonfuls in.

“Does your mother know?”

The shock in Jordan’s voice was so obvious.

“Yup.”

It was all good and well for Jordan to judge Leah’s decisions with parenting you, but at the end of day she’d been the one to leave, refusing to take you with her, insisting that life in London was better for you and that passing you back and forth between Birmingham and London every week wouldn’t be fair, she left you.

“How’s football been?”

The pivot in conversation should have helped, but you knew that it wouldn’t as soon as the words had left her mouth.

“I stopped playing.”

Jordan frowned at you.

“Since when?”

You brought the coffee up to your lips, finding solace in the warm liquid.

“A while ago.”

You wished she’d drop the topic, she seemed to be becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Why, you were great, you were one of the best a the academy.”

You were one of the best because Leah spent all of her afternoons coaching you, because she knew the coaches, because she knew what she had to do to make you better, not because you were naturally gifted or because it came easy to you.

“I didn’t want to.”

You ried to answer her with some finality, to make her drop it and move on.

“How about school, how are your gcse’s going?”

You wanted to lie to her and tell her it was good, that you were on track to get all A stars like you’d planned.

“I don’t think I’m going to do them, my attendance isn’t high enough.”

Jordan’s face plummeted, her jaw going slack as she looked at you.

“What? I thought you wanted to go to college, that you were planning on doing medicine or law or english lit.”

You hated that Jordan had this preconceived version of you in her head, from when she left, from when she used to travel every weekend to see you, when you were doing everything to try and be the perfect kid for the both of them.

“Plans change.”

You kept your eyes downcast, scared to look at her and absorb the disappointment.

“What do you plan to do, without an education and your football? Do you plan to just live with your mother forever? Do you plan to use her until she’s old and retired? You can’t just live your life like that chicky, you need a goal, a aspiration, something you want to do with your life.”

It was the same conversation Leah had tried to have with you, one you’d ignored.

“I know ma.”

Jordan looked at you with disapproval.

“It doesn’t seem like you do, what are your plans, what are you spending all of your time doing?”

Getting high, crying, regretting your existence.

“I don’t know Ma, look, you don’t get to come here for the first time in a month and try to act like you give a shit about what’s going on, Mom’s been through it and I’ve been trying to support her, I’ll figure it all out later.”

Jordan looked dismayed, to say the least, her finger twirling the teabag inside of her cup aimlessly.

“Lovey, your mom is in a lot of pain right now, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, I understand you might be going through your own pain but it’d be nice if you could try and be a bit better for her.”

You wanted to yell at jordan, tell her that you were hardly the fucking problem, but you couldn’t, not when everything that had happened in the last 24 hours was circulating non stop in your mind.

“Look, I understand that I’m not the kid you wanted, that I stopped playing football and I’m not doing what you wanted me to.”

Jordan stopped you before you could say much more.

“No it’s just that months ago you were fit, you were reading and writing and playing football, you were smiling and spending all of your spare time with your mom and now it’s like all of that’s changed and you’ve just become this person I don’t know anymore. Can you blame me for being surprised? This isn’t you, This isn’t my kid, this just isn’t you, chicky.”

You couldn’t look at Jordan, you just couldn’t.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going on, you’re never here, the only time you give a fuck about my life is when it’s convenient for you and when you get to judge it. I’m not your kid anymore, you don’t fucking love me, you haven’t wanted me for a long time.”

Jordan recoiled at your words.

“First of all, don’t swear at me, I hope you don’t talk to your mother that way. Secondly, that’s not true and not fair. I’m here as often as I can be. I love you chick, I just think you could be making better decisions. Where were you last night?”

You rolled your eyes, you felt frantic, you could feel your heart beating in your ear and the blood pumping through your veins.

“That’s such bullshit. Trips to Spain to see Lucy are more important then me, huh? Trips to Ibiza to hang out with Caitlin and Katie are more important than me? You criticise the decisions mom has made but you aren’t here, you don’t understand what it’s like.”

Your hands were shaking so badly you had to put your coffee down, the liquid having spilt slightly down onto the countertop.

“Where were you last night, lovey?”

The question made you feel like you needed to puke, and for a second you thought it was just a feeling, but then you felt the bile rising and you realised it wasn’t just a feeling, you were about to vomit.

You rushed from the kitchen as quickly as your weary body would allow, your legs shaking underneath you, threatening to give out, taunting you from below.

You made it to the toilet bowl just in time for your jaw to go slack and the bile that had been rising in your throat to splat against the porcelain. You didn’t look at it, you couldn’t, knowing that it was probably evidence of what had happened last night, the alcohol, him.

You didn’t need to see Jordan to know she was waiting at the door behind you. It was the last way you wanted to spend your couple of hours with her, but it didn’t really matter now you supposed.

You knew you were done when the pressure in your throat dissipated and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You pushed yourself up, flushing the toilet before turning around to look at Jordan.

Your Ma reached out for you first, her hand coming up to your face, gently pressing onto your cheek.

“It’s alright bubba, I’m here, you’re okay, I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s arms opened up and without hesitation you leaned in, seeking out comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The hug didn’t provide the love you were yearning for, it didn’t soothe the part of you that was hurting, but it did patch a hole inside of you somewhere.

You were far taller than Jordan, but she somehow made you feel like a little kid again, your head coming to rest down on her shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch and we’ll talk, huh, one on one, no judgement.”

You felt eight again as Jordan lead you over to the same couch. You felt how you did when you were eight, when your moms sat you down and promised you that they would always be a safe space for you, that you could tell them anything about the past and they wouldn’t judge you and that they’d always be proud of you no matter what, you felt how you did at 12 when your moms sat you down to let you know that the academy had asked them if you wanted to play with them, you felt how you did at 14 when your moms sat you down to let you know that your teacher wanted to put you up a form at school. Except everything was different, it wasn’t your moms, there was nothing to be proud of, nothing for them to tell you you were doing good at.

Jordan sat you down, your head pressed to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I was rough on you, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not here as much as I should be. Can you tell me about last night, bubba, please?”

You didn’t get why she cared so much, your mom hardly cared what you did on your nights out as long as you were home by your curfew and stayed safe.

“I went to a party, okay? It’s no big deal.”

You heard Jordan exhale next to you.

“You didn’t do anything stupid?”

You wondered what Jordan would define as stupid.

“I drank a little, smoked a bit of pot, normal teenage shit.”

You wanted it to be the truth, desperately, but it wasn’t.

“That’s it?”

Jordan knew you were lying, she’d always been better at telling, Leah on the other hand wasn’t as practised in being able to detect when lies were falling freely from your lips.

“Yes, for fucks sakes.”

Jordan only tightened her embrace around you, bringing her as close to you as possible. Leah had stopped hugging you like this when she’d done her knee, it had become harder and she knew you were growing up, she didn’t think you needed her in that way anymore, she was so incredibly wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry chicky, I’ll stop with the questions. Let’s just have a you and me day, huh? Like we used to. We can go to the cafe that you like and down to the beach, whatever you want, just a you and me day.”

You didn’t want any of that.

“Can’t we just stay on the couch.”

You heard jordan chuckle a little bit.

“How about we go and get breakfast and then we can have a movie day, or we can catch up on the episodes of Love Island, I haven’t gotten to watching the new season yet.”

You didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted to stay in your safe space, up in your room on your windowsill.

“Do we have to.”

Jordan nodded from above you.

“Fresh air will be good for you. Plus, you want to get a mean hangover then that’s your own fault chicky, it’s best to learn the hard way. Head upstairs and get changed, I need to talk to your mom real quick.”

You wanted to stick around to hear what Jordan planned to tell your mom, but you didn’t want to wreck whatever you had going with her, so you just nodded your head and stood up, beginning the walk back up to your room.

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror.

Because you could act like you were fine, you could pretend you were put together and had your life together and fool yourself but as soon as you were forced to look at yourself it all was clear. There was truth in your eyes and the way they made your body look so vacant, so eerie, it was as if they were the sign that there was no life left inside of you.

You’d always felt out of place no matter where you were, like you never truly belonged. You’d always felt like you were one of those tragic people with no storyline, so you lived watching other people, living through them. To start with it had been your moms, watching how much they loved each other, how they looked at each other, how they spoe about each other, like you were a background character in their story. It worked for a long time, until it didn’t. Until they split up, until you were forced to heal all over again from the home that was breaking around you. All the things you’d been running from before them were back, and instead of feeling like you were safe you knew you weren’t, you knew that no matter how loved you’d felt for the longest time, you weren’;t anymore, you didn’t get to live vicariously through their love.

You scrubbed your face without any real care, scrubbing the makeup, mascara and tears from last night off of your face.

Once you were content that the were physically gone, even if it mentally didn’t feel that way, you stood up from the basin and dried your face, hoping the patting would somehow strip the pain that was painted across your skin, it didn’t.

You moved to your wardrobe next, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as your thickest winter jacket. It was the same thing you wore every time your mom forced you out of the house to go on some stupid errand with her or some random appointment. You picked out a comfy enough pair of trainers before pushing your hair into a bun and walking back down the stairs.

Your Ma was talking hushedly into her phone, and put it down as soon as she spotted you descending the stairs.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, one of your eyebrows up in questioning as you stared at your Ma’s phone.

“I was just checking in with your mom, she says they should be back around lunch time.”

Then Jordan would leave, like she always did.

“I’m not a chore, if you don’t want to hangout with me then you don’t have to be here, I can be left alone for a couple of hours.”

Jordan exhaled, deep enough for a few seconds to linger.

“That’s not fair, I’m here kiddo, I want to spend some time with you.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, Jordan could tell when you were lying and you could tell when she was.

“No, you have to spend time with me until mom is back, there is a difference.”

In the beginning, Jordan would come down every weekend, no matter where her game was, just to spend time with her little chicky, as the months and year had passed though, her time with you had become shorter and shorter until you’d only see her if she had a game in London.

“I don’t care, I get it, you’re busy with your new life, it’s whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with.”

Jordan looked like she wanted to say something, but the frown you sent her must have been enough of a silencer.

The two of you walked out the front door silent, down the street silent, all the way to the cafe, completely silent, the only sound to be heard was the cars going by, the sounds of your breathing and the repetitive puff of your lips as you pressed the vape to your lips. If you couldn’t have drugs then it was going to have to do.

When you got to the cafe you had enough courtesy to shove it in your pocket, focusing your attention on your Ma as much as you hated it.

She ordered you your normal, you were surprised she remembered.

“How’d the game go last night?”

You hadn’t tuned into either games, you’d had other things on your mind.

“We drew, it was a good game though.”

You nodded, it didn’t matter much in the scheme of things, Aston Villa weren’t in a title race, weren’t in contention for a trophy of any kind but also weren’t at any real risk of relegation, they were just mid.

“How about mom?”

Leah wasn’t playing, but a part of you still cared about how her team had gone.

“They won, 1-2 to man city.”

You nodded, that was something.

Your food arrived which was a good enough distraction, both you and Jordan focusing your attention on the meals in front of you. A couple of years ago, all of your sunday mornings had been spent here with your two moms, nowadays if you went, which was rare, it was by yourself.

The meal went on in awkward silence, the both of you clearly unsure how to deal with the pent up awkwardness that had been developing since you’d left the house.

The meal dragged on until the two of you couldn’t pretend any longer and called it done, the two of you standing up and leaving in the same silence you’d entered.

You didn’t mind the silence, it hurt, but not in the same way that it normally did, you were less alone than normal, you felt less out of place then normal.

You were silently praying that your mom got home earlier than expected, to give you the same normal, painful consistency that you were used to instead of this, instead of whatever it is that Jordan was pulling out of you.

The two of you walked back to the house in silence, once upon a time Blu would have been walking in front of you, her little legs patting across the concrete, nowadays though Blu stayed in Birmingham, with Jordan. Leah claimed she didn’t have time for a dog, it had always been Jordan’s thing though.

When you got back to the house, you collapsed down onto the sofa, flicking on a episode of love island before opening up your phone and starting to answer the multiple texts which you’d been leaving on delivered.

First, you replied to your friends, letting them know you were fine and just needed to be home before your curfew, then your mom, letting her know you were fine. Once you were finished updating all of your people, you moved onto aimlessly scrolling, flicking through different social media posts.

Jordan eventually joined you on the couch, her attention on the episode.

You didn’t miss the way her eyes would stray towards you every few seconds, darting away from the tv screen to look at you. It seemed like she was hesitating to say something, like there words on the tip of tongue that she was too scared to say. Jordan was always the silent one, even as you watched your moms relationship die out, she was always the quiet one, Leah on the other hand was always the loud one, always trying to fix problems that were unfixable.

You wanted to prompt her, ask her what her apparent problem was, but you stayed silent, muzzling yourself for the good of keeping whatever peace there was between the two of you.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME YOUR PART THREE IDEAS, KEEPING IN MIND THAT LEAH POTENTIALLY FINDS OUT ABOUT RS WEED USAGE AND CONFRONTS HER ABOUT IT BUT DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan and leah #jordan nobbs #wobbs breakup #it’s painful #i’m crying so are u #trauma dumping #pain sweet pain #woso imagine

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injestedsoap · 2 months ago

Text

inspired by the person who i guess is my muse at this point, @femalefemur.

18+ MDNI

reader beware you're in for-- nongendered reader with breasts and a pussy, role play, domesticity, rimming, pussy eating, a no mess cream pie, and pegging.

Your John MacTavish, your sweet Soap, was not stupid. He was, in fact, one of the smartest people you have ever known. Your favorite memory, to this day, was of him, fantastically drunk, reeling off every periodic element in order while balancing a full glass of beer on his forehead. He had finished the table and pounded the beer, obviously, and you had gotten contact drunk from the sloppy wet kiss he gave you. No, Soap was whip smart…. Most of the time. Because smart as he was, Soap was also afflicted with what your friend affectionately called ‘cum brain’ which is to say when he was horny John MacTavish had cum for brains and it was leaking out of his ears.

And, now, look… you never felt good about exploiting this fact about him… but at the end of the day if it worked it worked, and it’s not like you just left him high and dry! Sometimes you wanted pancakes in bed and, you know, if you promised a good boy a blow job in exchange for brekky well that was just what being in a relationship was, really.

You sighed, looking at the bathroom floor. You each did your part in the apartment. You didn’t have rotating chores or anything, but Soap didn’t mind laundry and you didn’t mind dishes and whenever the trash was full it was taken out but whoever was there at the time. You both hated sweeping but a Roomba from Kyle had solved that issue. The biggest issue was the bathroom. You both kept it clean enough but you couldn’t remember the last time you had given it a proper deep clean. You crouched down, looking at the dirty tiles and pulled a face. You really didn’t want to do this. You should, this was your crusade but… well maybe if you got the smaller stuff done you could talk Soap into the floor.

You stood, arching your back and feeling it pop. Okay, you’d get started on laundry and have most of the chores done before he got back from base today and then you would see if you could talk him into a good grout scrubbing over the weekend. You picked up the hamper and saw the bright red jockstrap on top. Looking around the apartment out of habit you ensured the coast was clear before plucking the underwear from the hamper and inhaling your boyfriend’s dirty gym smell. You’d missed having him home. It was then, nose deep in the jockstrap, that you had an idea. You grinned, biting your lip and dropped the pair back into the hamper before heading to the washing machine, you had a trap to lay.

You let out a happy giggle as Soap came in that evening, tossing his keys in the bowl and picking you up, spinning you around as he kissed you. You’d seen each other less than 9 hours ago but he’d been on deployment for nearly four months and it was worth celebrating every evening he was home as far as either of you were concerned.

“You smell nice,” He said into your neck, snuffling at you, “Oh, did my sweet thing do laundry?”

You kissed him and gave his mohawk a playful tug, “It’s Friday night,” You said, peppering him with kisses, “No chores tonight, just sex,”

Soap made a noise in the back of his throat and you shivered, “Aye, I think we can do that,” He said before tossing you over his shoulder and delivering a loud smack to your ass, carrying you back to the bedroom.

Trap baited, bait taken, time to snap it shut.

Saturday morning rolled around warm and lazy. Soap was a heavy sleeper at the best of times and after four orgasms and a prolonged prostate massage you didn’t think he’d even move before 10. You kissed his slack sleeping mouth before wriggling out from under his arm and making your way to the laundry room. You started up the dryer again to get the wrinkles out of the clothes and then padded over to the kitchen, getting the kettle on for tea, starting the coffee pot, and pulling out some eggs and bacon. If all went according to plan, your boy was going to need the energy.

About a half hour later a very naked Soap came plodding into the kitchen. He flopped over the back of your chair, nosing into your neck and nibbling on it before dragging himself over to the kitchen counter, pouring coffee and plating up some breakfast. He pulled his chair next to yours at the bar, resting his cheek on top of your head as he ate a strip of bacon and waited for his coffee to cool. When the dryer beeped he groaned and started to get up but you gave him a tap on the stomach and instead extracted yourself from under him and headed to get the clothes out of the dryer.

“Thank ye, bonnie,” He mumbled, blinking his sleepy blue eyes and giving you a sweet smile. You grabbed him by the cheeks and kissed the bacon grease off his lips.

You folded the laundry while Soap sleepily ate his breakfast. You made a careful effort to make sure the red jock didn’t enter your hands until you were sure that he had drunk at least half his mug of coffee and then you let out a little laugh.

“Here, your outfit for the day,” You said, laying the jockstrap on the table in front of him.

“Ooooh!” He said, his eyes waking up a little more as he accepted the ‘outfit’, he stood from the table and pulled them on, doing a little turn so you could see him from all sides. “How do I look?”

“Very sexy,” You replied with a big grin.

“Not,” Soap tapped his chin thoughtfully, “‘Incredibly’ sexy,”

“Incredibly sexy,” You laughed, your palms were sweaty, you had to play this just right, “There’s only one thing that could make you not look sexy, honestly,”

Soap clutched his heart, feigning hurt, “Bullshit, I can make anything sexy,”

“Really?” You asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Oh aye,” Soap put a hand on his hip, god he really did look good. “Go on, we’ve got all weekend, what am I making sexy.”

“I do not think,” You said, stepping closer to poke him in the chest, “You, or anyone, could make scrubbing grout look sexy,”

“Mmh,” He said, covering his hand with yours and looking down at you, a smoulder in his sleepy, sexed out eyes. You held them, this was the moment, he was either going to call you on it or– Soap leaned in, his breath a mix of coffee and bacon and sleep, it was rancid and you loved it anyway, “You’re on,” He whispered before kissing you hard.

And the trap snapped shut.

There was a knock on the door and you looked up from the email you were sending, you checked the time and frowned. You hopped off the chair you were sitting in and walked toward the door, wrapping your silk robe around you as you did.

“I’m sorry I think you have the–” you started as you opened the door before trailing off as you took in the tall man in the baggy jeans, stained white wife pleaser, and a low slung tool belt standing in the doorway. “C-can I help you?” You asked, startled and very aware of the fact that you were in nothing but a short silk robe and very expensive lingerie.

“Aye,” He said, his voice a low Scottish rumble, “I think ye called for some,” he made a big show of adjusting his cock, “Help with the pipes,”

You had to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing as you looked up at him, “Oh, um, yes, please, if you could come in and help me with, uh, pipe,”

Soap came into the apartment with such exaggerated swagger you had to duck behind him to stifle your laughter. “Please, uh, um,” You schooled your face into something resembling serious and stepped around him, “The bathroom is right this way.” as you walked Soap reached out to tug up your robe and you let out an offended gasp, smacking his hand away. “Just because my boyfriend is out of town on business doesn’t mean you can just grab anything you like,” You said primly, shooting him a dirty look over your shoulder.

Soap let out a noise you didn’t even know how to classify and spun you around, pulling you in by the belt of your robe and running his hand down your back to cup your full ass, “Pretty shite boyfriend, leaving you all alone dressed like this needing help with,” He squeezed your ass before saying “Pipe,” and popping the ‘P’.

You shuddered and it wasn’t entirely put on this time, you reached out to touch his chest, splaying your hand over the broad muscles and bit your lip, “Well… how about you see if you can get the pipe fixed… and then we’ll talk.”

Soap leaned in, he had brushed his teeth before changing and his mouth was much nicer smelling now, “Let’s see what we can do about that pipe problem,”

He let you go and swaggered his way over to the bathroom, you stood back and watched him turn on and off the sink, and then the tub, and then get down on his hands and knees, arching his back and giving you a peek of the top of his jockstrap over the waistline of his jeans. You bit your thumb, you had to admit it wasn’t not not sexy.

He spread his legs, arching his back and shoving his round ass out, just the way you liked him when you broke out the strap. “Alright, I think I see the problem,” He looked over his shoulder back at you, you bit your lip and looked back, “But I’m gonna need the room.”

You perched on the edge of your tub with a glass of wine Soap had insisted you needed and watched your boyfriend in nothing but a tool belt and the red jockstrap scrub the tile of your small bathroom. And you weren’t going to lie… it was extremely sexy. For some reason his maintenance man character had decided he needed to strip down to his underwear, you weren’t keeping track of the reasoning, something about his clothes being dirty and not wanting to get the floors dirty while he was cleaning them. He was committed to the tool belt though. He also needed to keep you in sight line of his ass the entire time. His round, hairy, ass, flexing as he scrubbed the tile, his tight pink hole winking at you with every full body scrub. You crossed your legs and took a sip of the wine.

Soap pushed himself up, you watched his hole disappear and were still staring when you realized Soap had turned to look at you, his eyes mischievous. “Alright, well, looks like you should be good to go, love,”

“Oh?” You asked, licking the wine from your lips as you raked your eyes over him “Am I good to go?”

Soap gave a half grin and crawled over, rising up over you and stepping into the tub. You let out a little giggle, setting aside the glass of wine and laying back in the tub as he gripped the edges and leaned in over you with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “What ever will your boyfriend think?” Soap purred low in his chest.”

“Oh I don’t know,” You replied, letting the robe fall open and giving Soap a beautiful view of your lingerie clad body, “he’s not as good a boy as you,”

Oh and that worked. You watched his nipples peak and his cheeks flush, if there was one thing about Soap he loved being a good boy. “A good boy am I?” He asked, trying to keep the character going.

“So good,” You said, reaching up and stroking his cock over the rapidly filling jockstrap “Coming in and fixing my pipes like that,” You squeezed his clothed cock “How about I fix yours now?”

Soap did his best to not scramble out of the tub and instead climb out with as much dignity and swagger as he could muster. He then reached down, taking you by the hand and pulling you up, out, and into his chest. He reached down and grabbed you by the ass, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You should take off your tool belt,” You whispered, your heels bouncing off his round ass as you tried to navigate not getting grease from a wrench on your panties.

“I will when we get to the bedroom,” Soap whispered back before carrying you off to the bedroom. “So,” He said, dropping you onto the bed and then unbuckling his tool belt, letting it fall to the floor as carefully as he was capable. “How are you going to reward your good maintenance man, eh?”

You giggled and crooked a finger. Soap crawled onto the bed, pausing briefly to shuck the jock strap, before leaning in and nosing your pussy sweetly. He kissed and sucked on your stomach before kissing up your chest until he was sucking and mouthing at your neck. You moaned, raking your fingers through his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“I love your ass,” You moaned, rubbing your ankles over it, “Please let me have your ass,”

Soap moaned loudly against your neck. It had been a while since you had given him a good pegging and after being teased with his tight hole for an hour today you were dying to stretch him around your strap.

“Please,” He grunted.

You pulled him up and kissed him hard before rolling the two of you around so you were on top. He reached up, squeezing your breasts over your bra and surging up to kiss your chest. His cheeks were flushed hot and you pushed him between your soft breasts for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hot face and his hotter mouth on your skin before pulling back to get your strap and a bottle of lube out of the side drawer.

“Hands and knees,” You said, your cheeks as red as his.

Soap barely needed to be told, rolling over onto his front and then getting up on his hands and knees, arching his back, his cheeks spread enticingly.

You leaned in, unable to help yourself, and gave his hole a deep, sloppy kiss.

Soap let out a whimpering moan and you gave his ass a swat before pulling back and strapping on your harness. You watched as he winked his pretty pink hole at you and grinned, popping open the cap on the lube and, with no warning at all, poured a healthy glob right down his crack.

Soap let out the cutest little noise at the feeling of cool lube sliding down his cheeks and before it could drip down onto the sheets you scooped it back up with your finger, sliding your index finger in up to the second knuckle in one go.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” He panted, his character fully forgotten as he pressed back onto your finger, forcing it deeper into his tight hole.

“Good boy,” You cooed, acting like you weren’t just as affected by this as him, “Such a good boy, looking so sexy cleaning the grout for me,”

“To-oooooo-ldja,” Soap moaned, bearing down as you slid a second finger into him and then quickly worked in a third. “Can make bloody anything sexy,”

“You told me,” You agreed, twisting your fingers and grinning at the yelp from Soap as you rubbed his prostate. You were probably imagining that it felt a little tender after all the love it got last night. You leaned in and kissed the slope of his back, working your way up to kiss his broad back and rub your cheek against his soft body hair before rising up slightly and rubbing the tip of your silicone cock against his hole. “Ready for me?” You asked.

“Been ready,” Soap grunted.

You fucked in in one smooth motion and Soap yowled.

“Cheeky.” You said before snapping your hips and getting to work.

You worked your hips as you plastered yourself over his back, kissing his warm skin sloppily and reaching down to work his cock, sliding his foreskin over his heavy shaft in time with your thrusts.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Soap chanted over and over as you fucked him and tugged him in time.

“I love you so much,” You moaned into his back, your sweat dripping down from your face to join his sweat pooling on his back, you leaned in and licked a stripe up his spine, “So fucking good to me, so fucking hot on your knees for me,”

“I’m your big fucking handy man,” Soap babbled, “Your handy man, big strong– unf!” Every inch of Soap tensed up and lightning fast you grabbed the base of his cock, stopping his climax as he yelled and you pulled out. Taking off the harness as fast as you could and then quickly rolling Soap into his back and dropping your dripping wet cunt onto his throbbing shaft. You both moaned and you leaned down, panting into his mouth, and managed to whisper, “No mess.” The way his pupils blew out the color in his eyes told you he understood what you were saying and in four quick thrusts he was cumming deep inside you. You barely had time to enjoy the sensation before Soap was rolling you up onto your shoulders and he was between your thighs, burying his face in your pussy as he licked and sucked on your clit, his own cum coating his face along with your juices.

“Soap!” You screeched, locking your legs around his head and burying your fists in his hair as you curled in on yourself and seized in a white hot orgasm. You were barely connected to your body as Soap lovingly licked you through it, you had to all but pull him away when the sensations were finally too much.

You both lay there on the surprisingly clean sheets as you panted and let the sweat dry on your flushed bodies. Soap’s large hand fumbled across the bed to find yours, tugging it to rest on his stomach as he idly played with your fingers.

“I have a suspicion,” He said, his voice raw.

“Mhm?” You murmured.

“That you just wanted the grout cleaned.”

You grinned.

#cod notebook #john soap mctavish #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod reader insert #cod fic #call of duty fan fiction #smut fic #mdni #uh? enjoy?

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mirage-aera · 1 year ago

Text

•°. *࿐ Microwave

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The Feeling - Lost Frequencies

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Synopsis: It’s way past midnight again. You’re feeling hungry and decide to warm up leftovers. You try to keep everything quiet, but you get bested by the goddamn microwave.

Word count: 1.136

Masterlist

More domestic Simon to keep me going in life.

It was another one of those nights. It’s 3 AM and you’re wide awake. You’re scrolling through your social media as Simon is happily snoring away next to you. Suddenly your stomach grumbles. You quickly cover your stomach so that it ‘quiets’ down, you didn’t want to wake Simon. You cringe at the loudness of your stomach. You turn over and glance at Simon, checking if he’s still asleep. Seeing that he’s still sleeping you let out a sigh of relief. You quietly and slowly climb out of bed. Widening your eyes when the bed creaks. You quickly whip your head to Simon. He stirs a little and turns over. You quickly place your pillow where you would be sleeping. He grabs it and pulls it closer to him. You snicker quietly before taking a picture with your phone. You’ll show him that in the morning.

You slip your feet in the fuzzy slippers that Simon bought you. You were complaining that your feet were always cold and you refused to wear socks when you didn’t have to go out. So, Simon bought you a pair of warm slippers so that you wouldn’t be cold anymore. You slowly get up, this time the bed spares you. You quietly shuffle out of the room and close the door gently behind you. Refusing to make any noise so you wouldn’t wake Simon. You make your way to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. You turn the tap on slightly, making a small stream of water. You splash some water on your face before turning the tap off and drying your face with a towel.

You head to the staircase, purposely avoiding the floorboards that are known to creak under weight. You quietly make your way down the stairs and turn the lights on. You walk towards the kitchen and open the fridge. You look at all of the items in your fridge, wondering what you should make. An idea pops up in your head. You still have some leftovers from tonight’s dinner. You’ll hear it up in the microwave and finish it. That way you save space in the fridge and you’ll have some easy food to make. You grab the plate with the leftovers and take off the aluminum foil. You open the microwave and gently put the plate in the machine. Not risking waking up Simon. You quietly close the microwave door and set a timer for two minutes.

While you wait, you quickly boil some water to make a cup of tea. You cringe slightly at the noise the kettle makes while boiling water. Everything sounds so much louder at midnight. Once the water is nice and hot you pour it into a mug. You’re about to take a sip when you abruptly stop. You panic as you hastily put the mug down and you check the microwave. You forgot to keep an eye on the timer. The noise the microwave makes when the timer goes off is horrendous, especially at midnight. Before you can even glance at the timer it makes a loud shrill sound. You tap on the button multiple times to turn it off, “come on, you shit thing. Turn off already.” You insult the microwave. As if it’s the bane of all your problems. It is currently but that’s beside the point.

Finally, you get the thing turned off. You stand there leaning against the kitchen counter and pinch the bridge of your nose, reflecting on what just happened. “For fucks sake.” You mutter quietly. That woke Simon up, you’re sure of it. You take the plate out of the microwave and put it down on the counter. As if on cue, you hear Simon running down the stairs. He’s holding a combat knife as he looks around the lit bottom floor. He analyses everything before sighing once he sees you in the kitchen, looking very guilty. He puts the knife down and walks up to you. “Bloody hell, I thought a bomb went off or something. But no, it’s only you making food again.” He jokes lightly. Finding this situation a little funny. You chuckle lightly, “sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you with a bomb scare.” He lets out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He kisses the top of your head before speaking. “It’s okay, lovie. Go on eat, you’re hungry again.” He leads the two of you to the counter where you place the plate. You grab a fork from the drawer and start munching away.

As you eat in silence. He’s watching you with a content smile. You stab the food with the fork and offer it to him. He chuckles but shakes his head, “no it's okay. You eat, ‘m not hungry.” You frown. You shove the fork closer to his mouth, “just one bite.” You say gently. He sighs but opens his mouth and lets you feed him. He chews on it and swallows. He smirks, “it’s cold now. You’ve learned from last time?” You groan as you’re reminded of your stupidity. “Oh come on! That was a one-time thing…” You grumble at his remark. You continue shoving forkfuls in your mouth with a pout resting on your lips. He smiles at you, “one-time thing or not. Once is already enough. Don’t want you hurting yourself around me, lovie.” You mutter an insult under your breath before grinning mischievously.

He looks at you warily, “what are you do-“ he tries asking before he gets interrupted with a mouthful of food. The fork is still hanging from his mouth. He stares at you in shock. You snicker at the sight of his dumbfounded look and the fork hanging from his mouth. You take out your phone and snap a picture. He quickly takes the fork out of his mouth, swallows the food, and tries to take the phone from you. “Delete that now!” He shrieks. You giggle as you continue turning your phone away from him. He smiles at your happiness. He knows he could overpower you easily, he’s SAS after all. But he doesn’t have the heart to do it, not after hearing your giggles. He huffs playfully and throws his arms in the air. “Fine! Don’t delete it.” He exclaims dramatically. You grin at him, finding this whole act of his amusing. He smiles before sighing and wraps his arms around you. “Now finish your food. I’m tired now and demand to go back to bed.” You give him a mock salute as you continue scarfing down your food. He shakes his head in amusement. He places a kiss on your cheek as you eat, content with holding you and swaying in the kitchen at 3 AM.

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #drabble #call of duty #call of duty x reader

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python333 · 2 years ago

Note

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!

anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?

that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌

unwind — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

word count 3.6k

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.

note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining.

You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water.

As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.

You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid.

You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.

Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge.

Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.

You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office.

After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud.

Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!”

You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands.

“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response.

“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.”

“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.”

You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap.

Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did.

He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast.

He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso.

Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today.

Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter.

You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine.

You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.

You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir.

As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.

You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine.

You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it.

You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.

You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.

You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something?

You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there.

Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does.

He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did.

He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?”

“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.”

“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”

“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”

“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms.

“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.”

“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.”

“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost.

Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.

From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this.

You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it.

Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg.

You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this.

You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it.

You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.

You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall.

You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on.

You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.

You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has.

Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes.

The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle.

Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink.

You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed.

You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit.

You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it.

Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in.

Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?”

“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.”

You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion.

“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?”

“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug.

“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?”

“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.”

“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”

“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms.

You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost.

“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.”

You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.”

You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar.

You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee.

Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!”

You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap.

“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?”

“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.”

Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white.

“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.”

“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact.

“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee.

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.”

“Your favorite what?”

“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.”

“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.”

“I can just taste the love in it.”

“Not the coffee machine?”

“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Not if it’s the one I used.”

“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh.

“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 10 months ago

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"tea" - emily prentiss x fem!liasion!reader

summary: you make a cup of tea to help you sleep

wc: 1.2k

cw: none, really? mostly fluff, & just emily being the best girlfriend ever

a/n: i'm in an emily phase rn and i'm not responsible for the fics i write ok ly all bad

A teal, ceramic mug with I <3 MYRTLE BEACH carved into it is cradled between both your hands as you lean against the kitchen counter. Your sleepovers at Emily’s apartment have become more and more frequent these days, which is lucky for you, really, because now you have a drawer where you can keep your comfortable, printed pajama sets. The set you have on tonight is blue, decorated with cartoon puppies. The shorts ride up your ass a little as you lean against the counter, but it’s no matter to you. Not right now, not when you’re the only one awake.

Or so you thought.

Emily’s steps are akin to that of a kitten as she pads into the kitchen. Her ivory skin is the first thing you see, standing out in contrast of her dimly lit apartment. Then her dark hair, pulled up in a chaotic bun on the top of her head, leaning a little to the left because she always sleeps on her side.

“Shit, Em, did the kettle wake you?” You grimace as she treads softly towards you. Her eyes squint to adjust to the light you have on over the range, and she reaches a closed fist out to chuck your chin playfully on her way to the refrigerator.

“It’s alright,” she says, her voice like sandpaper compared to the usual velveteen you hear all day long. She must have been deep asleep, then. You feel a pang of guilt tug at your heart as you take a long sip of your tea. Emily grabs a handful of green grapes from the bowl in the fridge, popping one into her mouth. She glides to stand against the kitchen island, opposite a small stretch of linoleum from you. “You’re having trouble falling asleep again?”

You shrug a little, trying to be nonchalant about it, but the truth is, you’ve been unable to fall asleep for a few weeks now. You chalk it up to a bad case about a month ago - unfortunately, both the unsub and their latest victim didn’t make it. You’ve had cases that didn’t end well before, but this victim was a young girl and you can’t help the way this one lingers in the back of your mind, like a bad aftertaste.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, baby,” Emily says before crunching down on a grape, the last one in her hand. You set your tea down on the counter beside you and cross the linoleum street that separates you and your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her satin pajamas tickle your cheek as you press your forehead into the crook of her shoulder.

You cling to her like a koala and Emily just keeps her hands on your waist, holding you closely as you embrace her. She smells like jasmine and vanilla, and you almost want to chastise her because you know that means she stole your perfume.

“My head just feels very full these days,” you sigh after a few moments, pulling away. Emily uses her hold on your hips to guide your back against the kitchen island. You hoist yourself up onto it and Emily moves to stand between your legs.

“It’s that Oregon case, isn’t it?” she asks, tucking your hair behind your ear with one hand, the other palm resting flat on your thigh.

“How’d you know?” you ask, an eyebrow quirking upward.

“You asked Reid to help you finish your report on it,” Emily begins. “Two out of three cases since then have revolved around young girls, like you’re overcompensating, and Derek told me he saw you zoning out by the coffee machine while Anderson and JJ were discussing the case.”

You feel pink rush to your cheeks. All of Emily’s evidence is factual, much as it pains you to admit. “Is that all?” you deadpan, feeling a little sheepish. You also want to lay into your coworkers for being such tattletales. As the Communications Liaison, you generally maintain a well-rounded, professional disposition, but you suppose even your attitude at work has been lacking recently.

“And, y’know, the gut feeling,” Emily adds. “You’ve been a little slower getting ready for work, almost like you’re dreading it.”

“We agreed, no more profiling at home,” you remind her. She runs her thumb over the dimple in your chin.

“It’s not profiling, it’s knowing my girlfriend,” Emily bites back with a compassionate sincerity that makes you want to eat her alive. How did you get so lucky? “You’re usually dragging me out of bed in the mornings, not the other way around.”

You rake your fingers through her hair, meeting her dark eyes in the soft, dim light of the kitchen. This is as romantic a backdrop as any, in your opinion - lovelier than Paris, Rome, and London combined. You’ve always heard that to be loved is to be known, and boy, does Emily know you.

“Well, I’m sorry for waking you up,” you concede in a slight change of subject, tracing your thumb across her hairline. “D’you want some tea? It’s that herbal stuff for sleep that Penelope recommended.”

Emily shakes her head, kissing your jaw gently, then your cheek, finally your lips. It’s brief but it carries so many words. “No, thank you,” she says in a whisper, then steps back, grabs your cup from the other counter, and hands it to you.

You take a drink, the warmth seeping in through your nostrils. “Do you love Myrtle Beach, Em?” you ask with a small laugh as you examine the mug in your hands. It’s obviously handmade, with the splotches of teal paint and weird lumps - and the lack of a handle.

Emily just laughs, turning around and hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside you. You eye her smooth legs sticking out of those black, satin pajama shorts, and, uncontrollably, you set your mug down and place a hand over her thigh. “I’ve actually never been to Myrtle Beach,” she says. “I bought that at a thrift store.”

“So, you buy designer pajama sets off the rack, but you shop for your mugs secondhand?” you chortle a little, drawing circles into the sliver of pearly white thigh peeking out from her shorts.

“Yep,” Emily confirms, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word and shooting you a sideways smirk. “I like some things luxurious, but other things with lots of personality.”

“And which one am I?” you ask all-knowingly, leaning a little closer so your mouth was mere centimeters for hers.

“Oh, c’mon, now, you know you’re both.” Emily teases, then kisses you softly.

You smile into the kiss, one hand curving against the smooth angle of her jaw to keep her face by yours for just a moment longer. “I really am sorry I woke you up,” you whisper as you pull away.

“Don’t be,” Emily insists, resting her forehead against yours. “If it comes down to staring at the ceiling all night or waking me up by making tea, just wake me up. Okay?”

You start to pull back, but Emily’s hand cups your cheek to keep your eyes on hers. “Okay?” she repeats.

You nod. “Mhm. Okay, Em.”

“Good, sweet, lovely girl,” Emily murmurs, pecking your lips once more before hopping off the counter. She offers you a hand to help you down. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds fic #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi

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trutrtl123 · 3 months ago

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Best Electric Kettles in india Under 800

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#Electric Kettle #Electric Kettle online #best kettle Machine #Kettle price in India #Kettle price

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yourstrqly · 10 months ago

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warnings: fem!reader, mention of sex / f1 masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ 𝅄 ⠀⠀·⠀ 𓈒ㅤ the only one i tolerate ﹗

getting woken up quite early on a non-work day makes you want to rip who ever wakes you to shreads, but not when it's your sweet alex, who's excited for the breakfast he has made you

��───── or in which I showcase the sunshine x grumpy!reader thrope again

In the middle of the bed, you peacefully sleep on your left side, white bed sheets spread all over your body, as soft snores fill the otherwise quiet room you shared with Alex. The sun has already risen about over an hour or so ago, waking him up; he had come to the great idea of making you breakfast that considered out of a spongy biscuit cake, which he had bought along his short run to the nearest park, and topped the plain bottom with whipped cream and strawberries, and self baked chocolate muffins with a drizzle of salty caramel.

Currently he places everything on a big wooden plate while he waits for the coffee to finish, your favourite mug in his hand to spill the caffeinated drink into it as soon as the bumbles shimmer and the machine dings.

Truthfully the thai is very excited for the small surprise of a breakfast in bed for you as he thinks, he hasn't had the time to fulfil the role of a caring boyfriend in the past few days — williams has him on the sim a lot, there's a shit ton of media work and on top of it all you work too, coming home when he's still out, resulting in you doing everything like mopping the floors, doing the dishes and other daily tasks. This shouldn't be it, he's home in England and Alex wants to show you his capabilities of being a doting boyfriend.

Grabbing the kettle, he fills the mug, puts it on the plate and takes the whole thing to the bedroom, where he places it down gently on your dresser before leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead.

You stir slightly, groaning softly against the pillow but the affection isn't enough to actually wake you up. So Alex lays on top of you, not quite laying as per se, he pushes himself up on his elbows, hovering over you to get better access to you; delicately he bumps his nose against yours before trailing his lips from the corner of your mouth to the soft spot behind your ear.

"What are you doing?", you grumble, voice low and thick because of the sleepy state you're in. It brings a genuine smile on your boyfriend lips, you feel it on your skin.

The hot breath of his fawns to your right ear. "Rise and shine, bunny", he coes happily.

Slowly you bring yourself to open your eyes as he buries his face into your smooth neck and his scent fills your nostrils; he smells of cinnamon and cayenne, rounded by an earthy hint of mos and bergamot, a scent that reminds you of home.

Alex is your home.

And then he unexpectedly bits down, not hard enough to make you tear but it sends a tingle though your body and amuses you. Normally you're the one bitting his neck.

"If you don't wake up right now, I'll lick you", he states, and your mind immediately wanders to last night where he did the licking, just far more south down your body. Surly, your boyfriend notices the flutter of your lashes and the heat that spreads all over your face. "Not like that, but we can definitely make that happen, bunny. After breakfast."

"Stop being such a menace, Al", is all you whine.

"But I'm having fun", there's a pout upon his face.

This pulls a tiny smile on your lips, and without missing a beat Alex bits on your pulse point, gaining a moan, one that he can't point if it's because of you lusty mood or the brooding of upset. In the end he does care how you took it, and he's greeted with your eyes closed and mouth open as heavy breaths glide though your throat — clearly, you are turned on from his teasing and he won't mind interluding you to have sex. But as he has said minutes ago, you have breakfast to eat first. The coffee is probably lukewarm now at best.

Alas, this gives him the kick to move, pulling your legs with him to make you sit upright. "Outrageous, can't let me sleep peacefully", you moan again, this time reasoning with slight irritation. Nevertheless you crash your lips on Alex', probing the tip of your tongue against his lips to ask for the allowance of a french kiss. He does, hands raising from his lap to run around your throat, and you cherish the pressure he puts on.

Sadly, the kiss doesn't last long as Alex breaks apart from you, and grabs around you, reaching for the plate, you only see now after opening your lids and actually inspect the room. "Oh Alex, you're definitely getting a blowie. This looks so good. Did you make them?", you question in genuine happiness, muffin in one hand while the other picks up your mug. The combined smells of bitterness and sweetness urges you to dig in, no patience for the response.

Alex, who heard your promise, chokes on spit but quickly recovers. "The muffins, yes, bunny, I did. Only the best for my girl", the thai shares, before adding with a cheeky smirk, "Don't get soft on me, can't handle you being not grumpy."

"Shut up, Alexander."

"That's more like it."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #alex albon x reader #alex albon imagine #alex albon fluff #alex albon

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rassicas · 7 months ago

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so, home spawn points!

- are they considered a form of home security system, or some kind of safety feature like having a fire extinguisher around (or maybe both)? are they something that comes standard with inkfish homes, or is it an income-related thing where not everyone can afford one?

- do they have any additional purposes like maybe transportation (like can they be hooked up to other spawn points to quickly teleport an inkfish home)?

- how did the salmonids know where it was, and that they needed to disconnect it? makes me think they've been watching cress for quite some time...

[DISCLAIMER: the following post is full of headcanon, extrapolated from what canon information there is or just What I Think Makes Sense] i have SOOO many thoughts about spawn points i'll try and not get side tracked and answer the questions LOL Communal spawn points are located on rooftops of residential buildings, where the building owner pays to maintain it and it's expected that only residents of that building use it, and in public places around the city, funded by the city. The nearest spawn point to Cress falls under that first category.

I last minute threw some spawn points of the rooftops of some nearby buildings in the last panel. So to answer the last question, the Salmonids knew that the spawn point was on the roof, because that's where it always is for an apartment building. This comic takes place some time before S3 era, so the one-man flying spawn points aren't in common use yet. I'd imagine hi-tech communal spawns are less common in less affluent areas and areas with low populations of inkfish vs other species, and extremely rare in the octarian domes due to electricity demands. I'd think there'd be more low-tech, slower ways to respawn, but the modern style of machinery is truly the best way to do it. the spawn points have two purposes: -to revive an inkfish in case of an accident at home/public space -navigation

The spawn points themselves aren't teleporters, but rather the kettles are, kind of- the way i think that works is that the kettles turn the inkling's genetic info and soul into a gaseous form, and the spawn point functions as a receiver and can rebuild the body from there- anyway. The main way inkfish get around is by super jumping, and to super jump to a far away location, you need an electromagnetic signal to hone in on, like radio waves from a radio tower, a satellite dish, or a spawn point. this signal emitted from the spawn points helps not only with guidance for super jumping, but it also helps guide the soul of a downed inkfish to it. The signals of each of these spawn points Feel different (maybe depending on what ink color it's loaded with, or particular to the machine itself, or both), and it'd be much much easier to hone in on the signal of a far away spawn point you're used to and have physically been to before than one you haven't. Cell phones are also built to pick up these signals from spawn points, kind of like wifi networks. Also like wifi networks, you can register a spawn point as a "home" spawn point, and your phone can notify you if it suddenly goes out or if it's been reloaded with a different color or something.

fortunately for cress, he forgot to turn on "do not disturb" on the spawn point notifs.

#asks #splatoon headcanon #splatoon world #spawn point #oc asks

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fairyhaos · 2 years ago

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how seventeen deal with your period cramps

requested by anon: "Would it be ok for you to write : How would Seventeen react and help with bad period cramps ? (I am currently on my period and its killing me... I can barely stay up, cramps are hurting as hell, I have nausea, hell I feel the worst...)"

notes: tw for menstruation pain, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol:

tbh he's kinda a little bit Clueless, but he tries his best. cannot fathom the amount of pain you're in, but he does his research and immediately jumps up to boil water for a hot water bottle the second you tell him you're on your period. is confused by the idea of pre-menstrual syndrome n thinks that it's very unfair: bc you can be in pain???? even before the actual menstruation itself???? that sounds terrible :((( always has his arms open for a hug

jeonghan:

spots its arrival better than you. can tell when your period is coming like some sort of seer. has a cupboard full of chocolates and snacks which he stocks up constantly and allows you to take your pick of whatever you feel like having when you're on your period. insists that you don't have to do anything while you're going through the worst of your cramps, tells you to just lie down w the hot water bottle he made for you n he'll do whatever you need okay?

joshua:

you Need to tell this man whenever your period starts bc otherwise he'll get upset that his calendar is all messed up :(( i firmly believe shua is the typa guy to keep track of your schedules for you, even if your cycle isn't regular. does Everything you want. you wanna eat a whole tub of Celebrations? he's rooting for you. need to cry bc the world is just too frustrating? tell him what movie you wanna cry to, he'll stream it illegally if that's what it takes. will probably also end up crying w you, but hey, we love a supportive guy <3

junhui:

curses the menstruation gods every time you tell him you're having cramps again. is essentially trying to stuff you full of painkillers the entire day bc he hates the idea of you being in pain </3 wanted to buy one of those period cramp simulator machines to see how bad it was for you, ended up chickening out when you told him vv seriously that it was like being thrown into the pits of hell. isn't allowed near the kettle to boil water for you (due to previous Mishaps), so he'll give you a pillow to put over your stomach and hug you in his arms for warmth

hoshi:

is confused for all of two seconds every time you tell him you're having rlly bad cramps (again?? didn't you have them last month??) before it clicks in his head. coos and baby-talks to you, offering his shoulder for you to sleep on if the physical contact will help. builds you a pillow fort to get comfortable in practically every single time. you had a really bad headache one month, and so now he's constantly talking in a hoarse whisper when your cramps are bad

wonwoo:

he's not Entirely sure what to do, but he does know that period pain can often manifest itself in mood swings, so he's always extra caring and considerate around your time of the month. will Let himself be yelled at if you do end up getting frustrated, then will hug you and pat your hair to help you calm down after. makes hot water for all the hot water bottles that you're ever gonna need.

woozi:

makes sure you take your painkillers on time, and also makes sure you eat. he's heard from his mom that loss of appetite can happen often during periods, especially when cramps are bad, and so he encourages you to eat foods with lots of magnesium and nitrates in it. will hug you if the cramps are really bad and you're practically crawling to him in tears. will probably hug you even if you're only pouting and talking in a sad voice tho, tbh.

minghao:

he researched that milk chocolate and white chocolate increase cramps pain, and so now he only ever gives you dark chocolate that's 60% cacao and above. has encouraged you to take up meditation when you're not on your period, saying it'll help strengthen you. you're still not entirely sure it's working, but then again, it's better to try than not. swaddles you in fluffy blankets and cushions bc seungcheol stole the hot water bottle to help with his indigestion or something

mingyu:

he's a lil confused, but he means well. carries you bridal-style everywhere you wanna go. searched up the types of foods best to eat to help with period cramps, and cooks food with lots and lots of spinach in it. regardless of whether you like it or not, because it's good for you and makes you feel better. spoon-feeds you the soup he makes, asks if it's making you feel warm inside with his adorable bright eyes

dokyeom:

has a little corner in the bottom of his wardrobe full of sanitary pad packages, bc one time he panicked when you asked him to buy you some and practically cleared the whole shelf of them. also has like 3 boxes of chocolates stacked on top of them bc of that same time where he panicked and ended up buying too many. as a result, always has supplies whenever you need them. is a little clueless too, but he's willing to help w lots of hugs and warmth!!

seungkwan:

Knows your menstruation cycle for you. frets if you're a few of days early or a few of days late. if you have an irregular cycle, then oh god he's analysing everything to see if there's any sort of pattern. ngl he's a little nervous of you when you're on your period, but he's always ready to open his arms for you to draw you in for a hug if you need. starts crying if you end up crying bc of the pain/ mood swings, bc he's an empath okay n he feels your pain so bad

vernon:

i get the feeling he's like. the hidden pro at dealing with cramps. you tell him that you're hurting, and he's already boiled the kettle to make you a hot water bottle, arms laden with snacks and blankets and do you wanna come into his room to relax and watch the new movie he's fixated on or do you wanna just go to your room by yourself and sleep? big encourager of sleeping through cramps, bc he swears it helps so much and actually. he is so right it really does

chan:

went through like five different brands of paracetamol with you during your previous cramps to see which one was the best n lasted the longest. steals the expensive chocolates from mingyu's stash bc really, the guy has far too much and it's more deserving to go to you when you're in pain and also pls share w him as a thankyou for getting them for you. offers to run you a bubble bath to help you relax, often forgets about the bath while he's doing other stuff and almost makes it overflow

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mayajadewrites · 11 months ago

Text

imagine levi teaching his twins how to pour tea

✦ content warnings: none. this is fluff and cuteness :) we luv soft levi in this house

"Sweetheart, if you hold it like that it could fall and the cup will break." Levi is sat between the two children you share at the dining table. They're twins: a boy and a girl. They just turned 5.

The boy's name is Levi. Even though his father protested, you insisted on keeping the name Levi Ackerman going for generations.

The girl, Eden, which means paradise, is a spitting image of Levi inside and out. Both the kids resemble him more, but she is truly almost a clone of him.

Morning tea was a tradition in the Ackerman house, one that you all take very seriously. You and your family enjoy a cup of tea before starting your day.

"Daddy I can do it myself!" Eden swatted Levi's hand away as she carefully held the teacup the exact way her father does.

Little Levi had more trouble with pouring tea - his hands are shaky. Levi set his hands on his son's, assisting him in pouring you a cup of tea.

"See, you got it." Levi whispered as he kissed the top of his sons head. He glanced at Eden, who was copying the way her dad reads the newspaper every morning.

"It says this week the ice cream truck is gonna start driving around!! Is that true?!" Eden beamed.

"You can read that?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Duh mommy. Daddy taught me."

Of course he did.

You smiled at the sight. Your husband, and your two beautiful children enjoying a beautiful spring Sunday morning.

"Eden can you pour daddy a cup?" You sit down at the chair across from them. "He hasn't had his morning tea yet."

"Yes! I'm the best tea pourer there is!" She enthusiastically grabs the kettle, then pouring a cup for Levi effortlessly.

"I only showed her how to do it once." Levi placed his hand on her head, messing up her hair.

Levi moved his seat next to yours, grabbing his tea cup from the top like his daughter just was. He kissed your cheek before taking a sip. "It's perfect, Eden. Did you help mommy make the tea today?"

"I did! Mommy did most of the work though. She knows exactly how you like it!"

Levi glanced at you, his steel-grey eyes glistening in the morning sun. "She knows daddy the best." He kissed your lips softly.

"Ewwwwwwwwww." The children said in unison.

"You don't like it when I kiss mommy?" Levi smiled as he set the teacup down.

"No! She's our mommy!" Your children ran to you to hop onto your lap.

"She was mine first, brats." Levi tickled Little Levi, his giggle infectious.

You held your kids close to you, their heartbeats pressing against their little bodies.

They are a piece of you and a piece of Levi.

As the kids ran off to start playing for the day, you put your hand on your stomach, smiling at your husband. "Can't believe we'll have another little one running around."

"They will be just as perfect as the other two." Levi pressed his lips to yours gently, cradling your face in his large, calloused hand.

"If this one also looks just like you I'm done being the Ackerman baby machine." You and Levi laughed together, holding each other as the clock struck 10 AM.

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman drabble

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tiny-minecraft-rabbit · 5 months ago

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Ooh! Please could you do Ethdubs with 10 or 20?

Etho moved around his kitchen, making his coffee with the old French press he hadn't touched since the day Doc had gifted it to him. He was tempted to turn his generator on just to power his coffee machine; but they were barely into late fall, the power outage caused by an accident involving a power line instead of the usual snowstorms that would cause two to three in a span of two months when winter hit. He didn't need to waste the gas when the power would be back on today and he only needed to fend off the cold with his own jacket and some coffee made with a French press and water heated on his gas stove.

He poured the small pot of boiling water into the French press, because void knows he doesn't actually have a kettle, and leaned back against the counter to let his coffee steep or whatever you were supposed to do with a French press.

It was the quietness of the moment that let him hear the soft scrap of wood, something that was usually so quiet it couldn't be heard over the usual bustle of his own movements let alone if he had something playing on the TV or his radio tuned to the news. He glanced at the board trim of his counter, a singular spot he had learned to find after many of visits from the second resident of the house. A little door, cut into the board trim, barely noticeable from the outside unless you knew where to look and even then it was pretty well blended into the grain of the wood. It was pushed open and his housemate, wrapped in his usual cloak covered in dried moss, dragged himself out.

The moment Bdubs saw him he was sent the fiercest glare he's ever gotten from him. Etho was really hoping he wasn't about to be blamed for the power outage. If Bdubs yelled at him about the cold he'd probably trudge right out to the generator and flip it on, and wouldn't that be annoying? Going the whole morning without flipping it on just to let a little guy bully him into it.

"Etho," Bdubs growled, crossing his arms the moment he was standing in the middle of the counter.

"Bdubs," Etho replied calmly, though after a moment he shifted his gaze and started glancing around the kitchen. Even at three (and a 3/8ths!) inches tall Bdubs had an intimidating glare.

"It's cold," Bdubs said shortly.

Etho hummed. "I thought you had the best insulated walls a borrower could ever have?" He questioned, directly quoting Bdubs from a few weeks ago.

"I do!" He was quick to defend. Offense to defense in an instance. "I- I just-! Why on Earth is it so freaking cold? You usually flip the generator on within the hour!"

It was still weird, but something he was getting intimately used to, hearing Bdubs talk about his usual habits. To Etho, they had only known each other a few months, having caught Bdubs when he was attempting to borrower while too sick to stand. Bdubs, however, had been in the home for about as long as Etho himself had. Years to memorize his schedule and habits and favorite foods. Bdubs knew him with an intimacy that very few people even got close to. He was slowly doing the same with Bdubs, learning each little thing about his housemate, to be able to pick up where and when he'd be and what he'd do and say. Getting to know every bit of him that he could.

"The power should be back on soon. It's not that cold, Dubs, you can wait it out."

"Maybe for you!" Bdubs shouted back, "Big oaf! You're big enough to heat up a whole room yourself."

Etho chuckled, "I'm really not."

There was a half second of silence, not anything anyone else would notice but Etho had gotten used to Bdubs' quick tongue that any moment of hesitation to think meant he was about to say something really interesting. "Well prove it then! If you're soo cold too, then I bet you couldn't warm me up."

His eyes immediately shot back down to the borrower. Bdubs was still arm crossed, still looking determined as ever to get what he wanted. Etho thought he had just wanted the generator back on, for the heater to start warming up his tunnels in the walls again. Seems he had something else in mind now.

Etho couldn't help the growing smirk, "Oh? Is that what this is about? Want me to warm you up?"

"N-No!" Bdubs replied, "Don't think I want this! I just think you're holding out on me. You could easily control the heat in the house and you're purposely making it cold to spite me! Now, I would be inclined to believe it's "not that cold" to you, cause the whole being a giant thing, but you insist you're freaking cold too. So, I know you're just being mean to be mean. How about that?"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Right. I see. Okay, I'll "prove" to you that I'm "cold"," he said, making the quotations with his fingers.

Bdubs either didn't notice or didn't care. "You better!"

Etho hesitated a moment, definitely still not used to picking up Bdubs, before setting his hand down on the counter. Bdubs had less of a moment of hesitation before climbing right on.

Bdubs blinked down at Etho's palm his own palms pushing into the skin (along with his knees), "What the heck? Why are your hands actually just as cold as mine?"

Etho slowly lifted Bdubs up, his other hand cupping around the back so there was one less side for Bdubs to tumble off of. "Told you."

Bdubs shot him a glare as he stood up. He looked around for a second before spying the sleeve opening of Etho's jacket. "Ah-ha!"

Etho had no clue what he was doing until Bdubs had shoved his entire hand down his sleeve. The little limb was cold against the warmed skin within his jacket.

"Just as I thought! You are holding out on me, your jacket is better than my moss- better at keeping in heat that is. My moss is the best in every other way, of course."

Etho sighed heavily. Bdubs was gunning to try and get into the jacket and that meant one of two actions. Either sticking Bdubs in one of the pockets until he complains about the amount of swaying and Etho takes him out for him to complain again OR Etho sits down somewhere and lets Bdubs curl up wherever he wants and Etho gets nothing else done until the power comes back on.

Then, Etho remembered another option.

He set Bdubs back down on the counter, ignoring his complaining, and flipped his jacket open. He has an inside breast pocket, one that he did not often use.

He dug his fingers in, making sure it was empty, and pulled out a packet of travel tissues and set it aside. With nothing else inside the pocket he scooped Bdubs back up. He gave the borrower a moment to realize what was happening, and when no actual complaints came out his mouth, he slipped Bdubs into the breast pocket and let his jacket sit against his chest again.

For just a moment the weight of Bdubs was heavy in his pocket. Especially as he readjusted and got comfortable, but soon it was as unnoticeable as the packet of tissues had been.

"You good, Bdubs?"

Instead of the usual shouting, Bdubs voice came out quietly, something so soft in the words, "Your heartbeat is so loud..."

"Wh- What was that?" Etho asked.

There was some sputtering and then, "Nothing! Just that I was right! This is much warmer. I am a genius."

Etho let the blush creep away from his face, chuckling softly, "Yeah. You're a real genius."

#Okay i think i really cooked with this one :D #ethoslab #bdubs #hermitshipping #tagging to be safe but this could be platonic #ethubs #hermitcraft fic #mcyt g/t #hermitcraft g/t #giant etho #tiny bdubs #rabbit writes

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