#ghost questions 🤭
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❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️ oh and ❌️
🤭🤭 Ily bestieeee 💕
Oh damn 😳🥰 gonna need to spread these out a lil 😅
Loooooovveee youuuuuuuu bestieeeeee 🧡
Send me an X if you'd fuck me.
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Price getting reader a step stool cause she keeps asking Bartender!Ghost to reach stuff for her. Simon obviously brakes it when no ones looking. 👀🤭
LOL
"Is this your way of insulting me?" You ask, holding the colorful, children's stepstool in your hands. You're grimacing at it, a look that has Price chuckling as he folds up the bag from the store.
"I figured you could use it - now ya don't have to wait for Simon to grab anything for you." He says, patting you on the shoulder.
"I don't mind the wait..." You mumble under your breath. The stool feels as decorative as a clowns nose as you tuck it under your arm and head towards the stairs. "I'm keeping it upstairs, I don't need customers laughing at me when I pull this out. Might take it home and spray paint it."
"Suit yourself." Price calls as you bound up the stairs. He heads over to the bar, where Simon is currently polishing the glasses you convinced him to order for the Halloween drink.
"Got a problem with me helpin' 'er?" Simon says, thick fingers rubbing the glass with a rag. He doesn't mean to sound defensive... but he can't help the bite in his tone.
Price smirks, picking up on the jealousy laced into Simon's words. "Thought you might like it. Makes your life easier, and 'ers." He pops open the register and starts filtering through the bills, replacing the larger value ones with smaller ones.
"You don't think I'm capable of runnin' a bar and helping you waitress at the same time?"
"No, but I think you'd be better off if you didn't have to run so much. She's brought in so much business as it is, your workload's gotten heavier."
Simon huffs. "Ya just want to separate us, hm? Want 'er all to yourself." He jokes, grabbing another glass and buffing it.
Price shrugs. "And if I am?" He says, giving him a side glance.
Ghost slows his ministrations, turning his head to his captain. They both stare at each other for a moment, Simon with his slightly angry, slightly questioning glare, and Price with his unwavering eyes. Simon wants to tell him to back down, that you're his - but he can't say that, because you aren't his. He wants you to be. But he doesn't know how to make it happen without letting his walls down.
Price chuckles, turning back to the register to continue swapping bills. "Y'know, if you want to say somethin' you'd best say it." He comments, snapping the drawer shut. "Missed opportunities often come from miscommunication."
He leaves Simon at the bar, heading towards the stairs with his money folder. You jog down the steps and nearly crash into him - he quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you out of the way before you can collide with him. You throw a "sorry!" over your shoulder as you carry an armful of various fruits, leaving Price chuckling as he ascends the stairs to the office.
"The oranges up there aren't looking too great." You chirp, dumping the fruit onto his workspace. A few lemons and limes roll onto the floor, and you bend down to chase them. Simon watches you, a bit miffed at how unaware you were of the situation. What do you think of Price? Do you like him? Would you flirt with him as much as you do with Simon?
You return with the escaped fruit. "I can run to Sevvy's store and grab some for tonight, if you want? The ones upstairs are looking a bit pruney."
"Are you actually gonna use that thing?"
"Huh?" You look at him with confusion written on your face. "What thing?"
"The stool." He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. "'S a bit demeaning, don'tcha think?"
You paused, watching him move the fruit to the side and grab a plastic cutting board. "I mean... he bought it, and I wouldn't have to bug you so much. If I spray paint it black or something, it won't look that ridiculous."
He nods. "Hm."
"I used it to grab the fruit."
"That's interestin'." He mumbles, slicing through an orange. You were right, they have seen better days.
He turns to pop open the register and hands you some bills. "Go get a few oranges, no more than ten. Order should be comin' in tomorrow."
You smile and take the money, stuffing it in your back pocket. With a few hours remaining before the restaurant opens, you go through the kitchen, grab your jacket, and head out the back.
Simon's back to chopping fruit and dumping it into a small bin, bitterly thinking over what Price had said. It's a stool. Price got it to help you and himself. It was a thoughtful purchase. But it's not just that. However unserious this is to Price, he's trying to rile Simon up. He's treating you like the last slice of cake in the tin - Price would like to have it, but he knows Simon's groveling for it. He's forcing Simon to ask for what he wants, and the bartender doesn't like that one bit. Normally, it wouldn't be something that irks him so easily - but this is you we're talking about. Not just anything. You. He wants to grab Price by the collar and throw him into next week with how he's trying to wedge between you and Simon - but he doesn't like having a weakness. He'll keep his cool for now. He'll make a move... eventually.
For now, the only aggressive side he'll present is passive.
Price leaves late that night, somewhere between two and three in the morning. He's beat, spending most of the night between helping you run food and drinks, and fifo-ing the pantry and overflow rooms. He's planning for a day off - of course, after he goes to the bank and comes back here to pay everyone. He's jealous of Simon, who's already upstairs for the night - he wishes he only had a short trip to the third floor before he could crash into his bed. Rather, he has to trek a hefty number of blocks home through the dark streets. He's more worried about going to bed at a decent hour than walking around at night with a bag full of money - people usually steer clear of him when they see his stature.
He locks the back door behind him, puffing out a foggy breath into the frigid air. It's only getting colder - he'll have to break out his cloves and scarf soon. The beanie won't be enough. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other holding a small bag of trash from the office. He mentally ticks off what he needs to do this week as he grabs the garbage bins, dragging them behind him and towards the street for the trucks to empty in the morning. He pushes them against the store front, taking the lid off and dropping the light trash bag inside.
The loud thunk makes him do a double take. Did he throw away something important? He lifts the bag once again, and a disappointed expression falls upon his face. The colorful kiddie stool he bought for you is there, pieces snapped apart and shoved deep into the bin. Simon didn't even try to hide it underneath the other bags. It's almost like he left it there for Price to catch.
He sighs, dropping the bag and placing the lid back. He trudged down the sidewalk towards his home - he's not too upset by it. He had a feeling Ghost was sinking his teeth into you, and frankly, it's gotten to the point where Price is afraid of what the man might do if someone else tries to take you away. But damn, if his ex-lieutenant's going to make a move, he'd better make a fucking move. For your sake, if not his own.
He pulls his phone from his pocked and shoots Simon a quick, blunt message.
You're paying me back for that.
#bartender ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost#ghost cod#cod x reader#call of duty
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I loved the recent "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" imagine....what about...
Calling your boyfriend husband on ACCIDENT? 😍🤭
By the time that I'm actually getting around to this, "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" is now no longer recent. Oops! Sorry! (If you want to read that imagine you can find it here.) But is it really an accident? I feel like it could honestly be both, but the accident factor would make the whole thing so much cuter!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, brief alcohol, suggestive themes, established relationship
Word Count: 800
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
“Can you help me, John?”
“Yeah, love. Give me a minute.”
The counter top is covered in groceries. It’s the first big day in the new apartment with John. The two of you have been dating for a few years now, but this is the first time you’ve properly lived together.
John comes around the corner in nothing but a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sweaty from building furniture.
“There’s ice cream. Don’t want it to melt.”
“Course.” He gives you a quick kiss before digging through the bags, removing items as he goes.
The two of you work seamlessly, putting away all the groceries quickly.
“Give me a kiss.”
John grins, and goes in for a tooth-achingly sweet one.
“Thanks, hubby.”
The word is out without thought. You don’t even realize you’ve said it until John blinks, a bit startled.
“Hubby?”
You don’t know what to say. You’re staring at him, a bit flustered.
But John smiles. He leans in, stealing another kiss. “You want to marry me?”
“Do you want to marry me?” you counter.
“You proposing?” teases John.
“Stop answering my question with a question.”
John chuckles and pulls you close. “Wifey sounds good on you.”
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“The husband will love this!”
Husband slips out naturally, as if you and Kyle have always been together. The two of you have been dating for years, but there is no marriage. There isn’t even an engagement. But Kyle isn’t around to hear the slip up—at least, you don’t think so.
The store assistant smiles. “Happy to help,” she says brightly before walking away.
You exhale slowly, and turn around, nearly smacking into Kyle.
“Holy shit,” you say, placing your hand on your chest. “You startled me.”
Kyle has a smirk on his face with arms crossed over his chest. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“That I swore?” you ask, perplexed.
“No,” he laughs. “You called me your husband.”
Oh shit.
“You heard that?”
Kyle leans in as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I did.”
“And?” you prompt, trying to brush this off as nothing.
Kyle shrugs. “Think I like it.”
You blink. “You like it.”
Kyle glances around but there isn’t anyone nearby. He takes a step into your space, lowering his head as if to kiss you. “Say it again.”
You lick your lips. “Husband.”
“Again.”
“Husband.”
Kyle closes the distance, stealing a kiss.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Across the pub, your boyfriend is ordering drinks at the bar.
The two of you are enjoying a free weekend. They are few since Simon is always working—always off on some mission.
What isn’t all that nice is the woman talking to Simon at the bar. He’s politely ignoring her, but she clearly cannot take a hint. She’s smiling at Simon like she wants to climb him. Plus, you’re feeling bold. You have a few drinks in you at this point. The liquor is hot. It is poison.
And you’re ready to strike. Show some fangs.
You stride toward the bar, shoving yourself between the woman and Simon. Wrapping your arms around Simon’s waist, you snuggle up to him.
“Hello, husband,” you croon.
Simon’s mouth quirks with amusement as the woman behind you snorts and makes a flippant remark.
Going up on your toes, you reach for a kiss, and Simon obliges. It is slow. Wet. Way too intimate for such a public setting. You kiss him like you’re starved.
When the two of you part, the woman is gone.
Simon’s hand dives, grabbing your ass in a possessive hold. “Husband?”
“It slipped.”
“Sure it did, love,” laughs Simon.
John "Soap" MacTavish
“This is John. My husband.”
Husband.
The word slips out and you’re not able to draw it back. You can’t correct yourself. Not in front of your peers. You’ve fumbled this completely.
Johnny’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline, his gaze pointed as he glances at you. But he doesn’t correct you either, and you decide to roll with it.
“That’s lovely,” replies your boss. “How long have you two been married?”
This is a new job. It’s the first company party you’re attending, and bringing a plus one is encouraged.
But you’re not able to answer. Johnny steps up and takes the lead.
“Newly,” he says, grinning like it’s true.
Your boss laughs. “That accent! My goodness. Scottish?”
“Aye. Born and bred.”
“How lovely.”
Johnny inclines his head. His hand delicately grabs your arm, pulling you in. “Pleasure meeting you.”
The two of you move on, but Johnny takes a turn, drawing you to the side, his head lowered.
“Husband?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
“It slipped out,” you mutter.
“Your coworkers are gonna think you’re a married woman.”
“I know.”
“Should make it official,” shrugs Johnny.
“What?”
He lightly bumps your shoulder with his own. “You heard me.”
taglist:
@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett
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@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky
@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos
@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez
@pearljamislife @ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @gingergirl06 @arrozyfrijoles23
#task force 141#task force 141 imagine#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x female reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fanfiction#cw: suggestive#cw: alcohol#task force 141 fic#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 fluff#simon riley#simon riley cod#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#captain john price x you#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x you#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick imagine#soap mactavish#kyle garrick cod#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish imagine#soap mactavish fanfic#price cod#simon riley imagine#john price cod
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I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦
fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
chill & kill: sim jaeyun
part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist
pairing: jake x afab!reader
word count: 6.4k
You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.
“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”
You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.
You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.
“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”
You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”
The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.
The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.
You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.
From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.
“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.
He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”
You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”
Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”
“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.
You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.
But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.
You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.
Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—
“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”
“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”
You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”
You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.
“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”
You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.
Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.
You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.
Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.
You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?
He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.
In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.
Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”
A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.
Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.
You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.
Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.
There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”
“Can I have the police report?”
Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”
You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”
Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”
Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”
Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”
You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.
“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”
Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”
You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”
Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.
You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.
Meaning he wasn’t home.
You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.
“Hello?”
“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”
—
You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.
You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”
Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”
You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.
“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”
Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”
You raised your brow, “Yeah?”
He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”
“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”
Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”
You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.
“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”
You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”
You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”
He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”
You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”
Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”
You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.
—
“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”
You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”
Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”
You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.
Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”
You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”
Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”
You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.
You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.
You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.
The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”
Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.
“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”
Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.
“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”
You swallowed, “Everything.”
Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”
“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”
Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”
“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.
He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”
“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”
Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”
You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”
He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”
“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.
“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”
“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”
Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”
You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.
Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”
It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.
“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.
You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.
You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.
“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.
You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.
He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”
Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.
“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.
Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”
“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”
Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”
From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.
He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.
Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.
You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.
You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”
Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”
You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”
He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”
You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”
His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.
You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”
“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”
The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.
Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”
You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”
“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”
Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.
Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”
You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”
Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”
“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.
“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”
“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”
Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.
“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”
He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.
And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.
“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.
You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”
“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”
A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.
“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”
You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“
“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”
Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.
“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”
Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.
“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.
You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.
Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.
He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.
“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”
You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.
He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.
What did you get yourself into?
— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez
#yeonzzzn asks#— 🔪 anon#jake bby#jake sim#sim jake#sim jaeyun#sim jake smut#sim jaeyun smut#enhypen#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#ghostface au#enhypen hard hours#yeonzzzn writing#ghostface!jake
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hiiii!! i love your stories sm thank you for taking your time to write them<3 can you do one of a miguelxreader where he has been playing video games allllll dayy and the reader just wants a little attention so they "tempt him" if you know what i mean🤭 and he ends up getting just a littlee hissy about it. it can continue on however you like ;)
anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3
-🪷
distracted.
gamer! miguel x f! reader
a/n: anon. first of all, thank you and second of all im sending u a sloppy forehead kiss bc this is such a delicious fucking idea i was literally feral to write this.
warnings: mdni. subspace, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, cockwarming, degradation, (but they’re in love and it’s discussed, i promise), aftercare.
“mig-gy,“ you whine tearfully, a culmination of the frustration you’ve been feeling all day. it started when you woke up with a warm, sticky feeling in between your legs; a dull ache settling in your gut and tugging at the edges of your thoughts ever since. miguel’d already been out of bed, and you’d found him in the living room in front of the tv, sitting in his pyjamas with a controller in his hand, barking orders into a headset.
and while you didn’t want to disturb him on one of the very few days he had to himself, you couldn’t help but feel…antsy. you’d been trying (and failing) to get his attention all day, barely met with hms and grunts as it were. which was how you found yourself changing into a pink lace slip, unable to meet your own eye at the reflection before you. your poor, overworked brain made you think it would be a good idea to try and - ahem- tempt him, but when it came to actually doing it, the thought made your face warm. another slew of miguel’s curses at the game made you jolt, and before you knew it, you were walking outside to make sure he was okay.
and he was, because of course. you, on the other hand, were standing half-naked in the living room at three pm while your boyfriend neglected to even look your way. you stood to the side, wringing your hands and waiting for him to look at you, but after a whole minute with you getting no attention whatsoever, you gave up and cleared your throat. miguel’s eyes flicked your way - victory! - for a bare second until he rolled them and turned back to the screen. which was also how you ended up here, whining from over his shoulder for him to acknowledge you.
he doesn’t, of course, not until you’re stood next to him pouting while looking down at him with dazed doe eyes, giving you away. miguel knew exactly what you needed and within seconds a harsh order to pause was being whispered into his headset, fingers flying over the comedically-small-for-him controller as his chair finally turned your way. swallowing pitifully, you squirm under the weight of his gaze before risking a glance up at him to find his eyes twinkling with amusement, brow raised in question.
“need you, migs.” your whispered confession only raises his brow impossibly higher, ghost of a smirk curving his lips before he’s turning away from you again. you’re frowning, half-stomping to stand between him and his screen before he wears his stupid headset again. desire winning against the shame brewing in you, you reach a hand out to his chest-
and his wrist circles yours, stopping you in your tracks. you’re staring shamelessly at the slant of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the light caught in his hair, gauging his reaction until his voice rings out:
“prove it.”
and you’re confused, too lost in the reliving the feeling of the way his nose bumped against your swollen clit as he ate you out for hours last week, responding with a meek “hm?” that has him huffing. he doesn’t even clarify, just clamps a hand on your shoulder and pushes so you’re on your knees, settling you with your head at crotch-level.
“prove that you need me.”
and then he’s gone, eyes glued to the screen again. you blink up at him from the floor, content to watch the muscles of his forearms flex as his fingers move on the controller, the vein jumping in his neck as his jaw clenches, the tension in his wide shoulders. startling, you realise that his his eyes are back on yours and twinkling with a challenge. right. proving it.
shuffling between his legs, you lay your head on his thigh and peer up at him. he’s looking away now, of course. you’d be happy to drool at the sight of him semi-hard through his fitted light gray sweatpants (am i projecting? i am projecting) for hours, especially when the fabric stretches just right to give you a barely-visible outline you can’t help but trace with your fingertips. which is exactly what you do without realising until his breath hitches ever so slightly, a muscle jumping in his thigh. fueled by the vindication, you start tracing patterns on him through his trousers, palming him ever so slightly until he’s bucking his hips into your hand oh-so-slightly. you’re too enchanted by the way he twitches against your fingers to realise how teasing your touch has been until you hear a half-whimper escape his lips, sending a jolt directly between your legs. pressing your thighs together in a futile effort to relieve yourself, you trail your fingers to his waistband and tug it down, reveling in the sharp intake of breath sounding from above you.
the sight of his tip flushed red makes your mouth water and your tongue darts to catch the precum beading at his slit before you can stop yourself; the sudden warmth making him jump under you. rocking back on your heels, you fumble to pump him with both hands - he’s just so fucking big you can barely touch the tip of your thumb and forefinger with your palm around him - before ducking down to lap lightly at his balls, slick with sweat. kitten licking the underside of his cock while pumping him slowly, you hear him loose a breath slowly before you feel the weight of his hand on your head. faster than you can blink, his fingers curl into your scalp and tug your head back, gaze thunderous when his eyes find yours. his fingers tap your cheek in silent command and your lips part on instinct, and then he’s pushing your head down between your legs, jaw aching at the sudden intrusion. ignoring your choked garbling, miguel rocks his hips into your mouth until your nose is buried in his happy trail and holds you there, tears spilling over your cheeks while you struggle to adjust. the second you struggle against his grip instinctually, his tsk tsk fills the room, mic clicking off before he strokes your hair, so at odds with the fact that he was holding you down with his cock in your mouth.
“thought you needed me, honey? where’d my good girl go?” and oh fuck, it’s the tone he’s using as if he’s amused by the sight of you all ruined for him that has something cramping between your legs, breath wet and clicking in your throat as you whine around him, your fists trembling where they rested on his thighs. ‘m right here, i’m your good girl and i need you so, so badly so please please please-
but it’s like he heard your internal monologue, because his gaze softens in moments, thumb sweeping across your damp cheek.
“lo sé, lo sé. mi buena niña. tómalo por mí, amor.” [i know, i know. my good girl. take it for me, my love.] and all your queasiness dissolves the second his fingers scrape over your jaw, your discomfort dissipating at the sound of his gentle murmur.
then he’s going back to his game, leaving you kneeling at his feet and gagging around him. every choke, cough or splutter is met with a quick glance at you; at your fingers curled on either side of your head to make sure you’re okay, not tapping out. you know if your eyes had even a hint of hesitancy in them he’d stop; his supposed mean demeanor melting to give way to the cuddly teddy bear he really is. but you’ve reverted entirely to a floaty, dazed headspace, where your thoughts feel blissfully hazy and just out of reach, and you can’t comprehend the thought of not being here, keeping him warm.
you don’t realise how much time has passed until miguel shifts forward, and the pins-and-needles in your legs make you whimper, gripping his thighs for support. miguel immediately cups your jaw, reaching his other hand to rip off his headphones and turn the game off entirely before pulling you off of him, wiping the drool off your lips and supporting your head as you splutter, his patience infinite when it came to taking care of you.
“háblame, princesa. ¿cómo te sientes, hm?” [talk to me, princess. how are you feeling, hm?]
still on your knees, you shift forward with tearful eyes; breath hitching at the bruises you can feel have formed already. you're barely stammering through "h-hurts, miggy" in a hoarse whisper before he's leaning down, wrapping an arm under your thigh and around your head, lifting you into his lap instantly. you tuck your face into his neck, reveling in the safety of his embrace as you catch your breath. he presses his lips to your forehead, stroking your head over and over while cooing praises to you. it takes a while, but before long you're pulling back, kissing his chin with a soft grin.
"there she is. there's my good girl. so perfect for me, aren’t you?" your shy nod makes him smile, fangs poking through in that endearing way that makes your heart hurt and the warmth blooming in your belly burn.
“can i have u now, migs?”
and oh, you sound so wrecked for him, how could he ever say no?
and if his team lost the game, well. that’s on them, isn’t it?
masterlist.
hello my loves, as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @party-hearses (hey gruv), @chiogarza, @jenispunk. message me to join my taglist. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel ohara#miguel#atsv miguel#dom miguel o'hara#miguel atsv smut#miguel o' hara fluff#miguel o' hara smut#miguel o' hara x reader#miguel o' hara x reader fluff#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader fluff#miguel ohara smut#miguel ohara x you#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel 2099#sm 2099#atsv#across the spider verse#atsv x reader#atsv x you
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stiles being head over heels for reader and reader is scotts sister so she’s off limits but stiles can’t contain himself
can be smut or fluff whatever you’d like !! 🤭🤭
I’M TOO HIGH FOR THIS [ stiles x fem!reader ]
desc. MIXING WEED WITH EMOTIONS IS THE BEST SOLUTION FOR YOU AND STILES
has : substance use (weed), very in character stiles, hidden relationship, underage? smoking (under 21), heavy making out, undertones of sexual intercourse.
the rain was heavy and so were your eyes. it’s been 28 hours since you’ve last heard from stiles. your face was a pure mix of puffy eyes, from sadness and not to mention smoking.
a few minutes ago, you had gotten a text from your brother, scott. he had mentioned that stiles would be on his way to your house, and to keep the doors unlocked because he had forgotten his key. it will be any minute now that he comes barging through the door, and pinning you against the wall. at least, that’s what you would hope would happen.
being lost in your own trance of thoughts helped guide you from hearing the knock of your front door. the knocks kept repeating until your gaze turned away from the phone in your hand to the large door. you slowly moved up and off the couch, and slight pattered to the door. you couldn’t tell if the knocking was in your head, or really happening until the door slammed open.
you fell with someone’s body laid upon you. you started to giggle as he fell off of you. your head was in the clouds as you picked yourself up only to see stiles sprawled out on the floor. you could not stop giggling as he held out his hand for you to help him up. as soon as you gave him your hand, he pulled you back down on top of him.
stiles made you smile deeply as his arms wrapped around your body. he gave you a quick kiss, and then pushed you lightly off of him. your butt hit the floor as you started to laugh once again. “are you high?”, stiles questioned jokingly. “would that be a bad thing?”, you snickered. “oh god you are high.”, he laughed.
“do you have anymore weed?”, he asked. your face went from a giggly expression, to straight serious. “stiles stilinski, getting high for the first time?”, you questioned. “i mean, maybe, i just, i really wanna know how it is”, he stuttered. you smiled, “okay then, i have a cart for your first time. a joint or a blunt would get you too high”, you spoke.
you pushed yourself up off the ground, and lazily walked to your room. your hand grabbed the knob of the desk, and pulled it open. hidden in a bag was a few joints, and your cart with a battery. you pulled out the cart and headed back to the front door where stiles was still sitting.
“come on, get up stilinski”, you laughed. he got up off the floor, and took your free hand. you guys headed to the couch, and stiles immediately grabbed the remote for the tv. you gave him a smirk, “what? you just wanna watch star wars while high?” he squeezed your hand while they were still interlinked. he used the remote to put on hulu, and headed to the star wars section.
you twisted the cartridge onto the battery and clicked it 5 times to turn it on. you handed it straight to stiles as he was focused on the tv. you were nervous how stiles would react, but was also excited to see how he would act. “how do i even do this?”, he laughed. you grabbed it back from him and held it up to your mouth. you placed the cart between your lips, held the button and sucked in for about 7 seconds.
you did a quick ghost, and stiles looked very impressed. “okay, now your turn”, you said while handing it back over to him. the effects of your high were heightened as it hit you. you looked over at stiles and saw him hitting it, once he blew it out he started to cough. he hit it for a pretty long time, longer than any person would on their first time.
you already knew that stiles would be blasted, but you didn’t know to what extent. his coughing lasted about 30 seconds, but then wore off. your mind started to head in different places as you stared into the tv. soon, you felt yourself being shook by stiles, he had been calling your name as you zoned out. “y/n, i think it’s hitting”, he said calmly. his eyes were low, and seemed to be red in the low light.
“it feels like.. space”, he spoke. you guys both laughed in sync. stiles had felt like the world was spinning, just a bit. you were in some kind of trance as stiles was staring into the star wars universe on tv. you scooted closer to him as his eyes were placed on the tv. your hand slowly felt on his thighs, running up and down. he slowly turned his head to look at you, and started to nervously laugh. you went up to his ear, and whispered, “maybe we should play some music.”
your head was pulled away and he nodded. you grabbed the remote and changed the tv to spotify. your high playlist was on the recommended, so you placed that on right away. the first song to play was ‘She by Tyler, The Creator’. stiles gaze was placed upon the tv still, but you wanted to distract him. you grabbed his face for him to look at you. he smiled while seeing your sly smirk.
“sti, i want to do something”, you said while starting to feel some type of way. your body started to feel on fire as he nodded. he placed your body down onto the longer part of the couch. he then placed his body on top of yours, all while you leaned in to kiss him. the kiss was powerful, making you both feel even more horny that you have been. his dick got hard quickly as you grinded into the kiss. his tongue battled for dominance with yours, and he quickly overpowered you.
while feeling this way, it felt like you guys were in a dream. you could never have imagined making out with stiles stilinski while being high. after all, you were scotts younger sister, and he was stiles stilinski. tingles went all throughout your body as stiles hands found his way to your ass. ever since you guys took those dab hits, you were on each-other more than ever.
he slightly squeezed your ass and you whimpered into the kiss. you ran your hands up and down his back, making large scratch marks. he felt your nails dig into him which caused a load groan to emerge from his soul. he had been waiting for the chance to get you alone after his non-stop hanging out sessions with scott. you broke away from the kiss for a second, “sti, please take my shirt off.”
he got off you for a quick second, and grabbed the hem of your shirt. he lifted it off of you, which exposed your light pink bra. “can i?”, you motioned nodding to his shirt. “of course baby”, he smirked. stiles placed your hands on the hem of it and guided them to take the shirt off. his bare skin being exposed left you feeling in heaven. his abs we’re slightly creasing at the center, and his body was perfect.
you layed back down upon the couch. grabbing him by his shoulders, you pulled him down for skin-to-skin contact. your legs were now wrapped around his waist so that you could feel his boner poking through his pants. stiles looked at you for a moment, staring into your eyes, then smashed his lips on yours.
his lips detached from yours, and headed to your exposed neck. stiles fluttered light kisses all around your collarbone, and chest. he started to suck at the most delicate places, placing small love bites. he looked up at you through his long lashes and smirked at your expression. your face was in a state of bliss at the feeling. his body, to your body felt amazing. the high heightened all emotions by ten percent.
at once, the door slammed open. “stiles, y/n, i’m home!”, yelled scott. in an instant, you grabbed your shirt to cover yourself. “what the hell is going on in here?”, scott growled. stiles looked at you, you saw from the corner of your eye. you made quick eye contact with stiles, but then looked at scott. “and why the fuck does it smell like weed?”. you looked back and stiles, and smirked.
#stiles x reader#stiles stilinksi fanfiction#teen wolf#stiles stilinksi imagine#stiles x you#stiles stilinksi x reader#stiles stilinski blurb#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf x reader#teen wolf x y/n#dylan o’brien x you#dylan o’brien x reader#dylan o’brien#dylan obrien smut#dylan obrien#stiles stilinksi smut#stiles stilinski headcanon#stiles teen wolf
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Imma drop some WhiteRaven Rockstar Au lore here lol:
Basically Annabel Lee and Lenore are both part of rival bands. Lenore’s band “The Ravenheads” (Duke, Pluto, Eulalie, Berenice) are up-and-coming stars while Annabel Lee’s band “Ghost Bride” (Prospero, Montresor, Will) are considered the face of rock music.
So their bands HATE eachother.
And oh yeah, Lenore and Annabel Lee may or may not have some unresolved history??
I’m thinking childhood friends to lover to enemies to forbidden lovers 🤭🤭
Ask any me any questions about this AU if you like!! (I’m literally making this up as I go)
#annabel lee nevermore#nevermore#lenore nevermore#nevermore fanart#berenice nevermore#pluto nevermore#duke nevermore#nevermore academy
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little hot things he does - mw2 men & cod: ghosts men
overview: what the title says! little hot things he does. :)
pairing: mw2 men & cod: ghosts men x gender neutral reader, romantic
genre: fluff, spice?
a/n: i saw somebody make something like this a while ago, and I thought i'd make one for our gorgeous men ahahah 😭
x When you two are walking in public, especially in crowded places, he sets his hand on your lower back and guides you as you walk, keeping you close to him.
simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, john price, phillip graves, horangi, logan walker, thomas merrick
x Instead of saying “Yes?” or “Yeah?” when you ask him a question, he says “Hm?” or “Mhm?” <3
könig, john price, keegan russ, logan walker
x He places his hand on the back of the passenger seat’s headrest when he reverses his car and looks back/behind him. 🤭
simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick, phillip graves, könig, horangi, david "hesh" walker, alex "ajax" johnson
x He leans on the doorframe, like a lot. He does it by instinct! It doesn’t matter if he’s resting his shoulder on the side of the doorframe or if his hands grab the top of the frame - he just leans on it a ton.
simon "ghost" riley, john price, alejandro vargas, elias "scarecrow" walker, thomas merrick, david "hesh" walker
x When he speaks to you, he gives you his undivided attention, his gaze so intense you can feel your heart in your throat. His eyes don’t move from yours, even if yours wander around.
simon “ghost” riley, john "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, könig, logan walker, keegan russ, elias "scarecrow" walker
#call of duty#modern warfare 2#mw2 x reader#mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#price x reader#gaz x reader#alejandro vargas#mw2 horangi#mw2 könig#könig x reader#call of duty ghosts#keegan russ x reader#keegan russ#hesh x reader#david hesh walker x reader#logan walker x reader#keegan p russ#cod ghosts#call of duty ghosts x reader#mw2 fanfic#modern warfare 2 x reader#elias walker x reader#thomas merrick x reader
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!!!!!!!!! MISS YOU. 🥺🥰💋
Miss you toooooo! 🩵
Even if we're literally talking right now 😂
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OMG OMG OMG HEAR ME OUT PLEASE! What if Simon/Ghost comes back home from deployment and is really stressed, annoyed and angry from a mission. He’s left alone with his oldest daughter in the house and has this horrible fight with his oldest daughter and I mean like screaming because the oldest daughter can’t find her shirt and he refuses to help until finally she blurts “I hate you” to him out of the heat of the fight…CAN THIS SOMEHOW END WITH MAJOR FLUFF BETWEEN THE TWO?! If it’s too much just ignore me❤️❤️ Thank you, I love your work🤭🤭
{✧} hello beautiful anon, you have seemingly given me life? banged this out in around an hour. if it seems like it only took an hour, please ignore that or i’ll drown myself in a loch. hope i’ve done your ask justice? thank you for asking for angst, that’s probably why it got done so fast 💀
taglist | masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info
↳ no warnings | 1.2k | dad!simon
It was quiet in the house. Just quiet enough for Simon to process what had just happened in the last 48 hours — yet not quiet enough for his ears to ring from constant gunfire. It was a happy medium, alone bar his oldest who jogged up and downstairs at record paces. Flipping the living room upside down, and the pile of clean washing on the bottom stair was tossed to the floor in a desperate attempt to find her shirt.
He was sitting on the sofa, head leant back, eyes shut only to hear her scuffling around. “Where’s my shirt?” She penetrated his happy silence, stood in front of him with arms dropped to her sides in a teenage palava. “Where did you put it?”
Simon gave her a noise between a sigh and a hum, craning his neck to look up at her. “What?” He unintentionally spat, his normal tone of voice as sharp as ever. “I ‘aven’t touched your shirt.” Eyes locked to the pile of recently ironed clothes tossed to the floor by the stairs. “They’ll be in that fucking pile you’ve chucked around and walked past ten times.”
“Well, they’re obviously not.” She groaned.
Simon shrugged, standing up to stack this morning’s breakfast dishes. “What do you want me to do?” He shook his head at her, taking the plates to the kitchen with her trailing behind him. “I can’t magic it, can I? It’ll be wherever you’ve left it.”
“It’s not. That’s the point. You’ve moved it.” She had genetically taken his frown, sporting it straight back to him when he had turned around to take something from the table.
“Oh, have I?” He mumbled nonchalantly, loading the dishes into the sink with loud clatters. “Get those mugs from your room.”
“No, I'm looking for the shirt.” Her tone matched his, stubbornly kicking her foot against the chair leg to get his attention. “Can you check mum's stuff?”
“You can.” He turned around, a dish towel balled between his hands with a nod toward the stairs.
Simon's moods were hard to distinguish. The primary reason being: he always seemed to be in some sort of disparity. So even when he’d come back from a particularly challenging mission, one that had asked too much from him or went horrifically wrong, he would almost always be the same as he usually was. Blunt, sarcastic and seemingly uncaring.
You had learned to tell the difference but your daughters knew none the wiser. Leading to unknowingly provoking yet valid questions like, “What is wrong with you.”
“Nothing. Get the mugs.”
“You never help with shit.” She scoffed, turning on her heel to stomp upstairs and Simon’s jaw ticked. Head tilted to the side, palms leaning either side of the sink with a step back to hang his head between his shoulders.
Having a teenage girl was the route of many headaches for Simon. Not particularly because of her, but for the natural way where everything revolves around them for an extended amount of years. Everything is embarrassing, if not first regarded as useless. And as far as Simon was concerned he fell somewhere between the two in her radar.
“Don’t start with that.” He’d said once she had slammed the mugs down on the table behind him, his back was still toward her.
“Well it’s fucking—“
“I mean it.”
“It’s true you’re never here!” She shrilled. “You never do anything, you’re always angry and never help.” A beat. “You don’t even talk to us, dad.” She paused, undoubtedly eyeing him for any sort of reaction. “It’s fucked, you’re fucked.”
He turned to take the mugs, eyes avoiding hers although his jaw was tense. “And you can’t even have a conversation.” She laughed though it held no comedy. “You’ll just snap like you always do.”
“I snap because it’s hard to switch between work and home— here.” He turned around, his daughter shying from his broad frame and low voice. Refraining from asking about Simon’s work was the one thing you had instructed all three of your kids not to do. Although, naturally it became a target point for arguments with him. A real low blow, the best and most critical hit you could land on him was his absence from home due to work.
Bonus points if you added all he had missed, the first steps, the first words. It was a lot. But it was not there to be thrown back in his face, not as often as it was anyway. “You don’t even want to be here.”
He shifted in his position, placing hands behind his head at her confrontation. “All of this because of that shirt.” His words directly combated hers, hitting them backward and stopping them from landing anywhere near him. Effectively avoiding her statement.
“When’s the last time you hugged me, dad?” She said calmly yet loudly, metaphorically shattering glass over his head.
It had been weeks, months at worst.
His silence was telling, hands dropped down to his sides in defeat. As usual, he couldn’t find the words so she had jumped for her turn and jab one more time.
“I hate you. I hate you for that, so bad.” It came as a whisper and by that point, the kitchen had fallen quiet too. Occasional sniffs and the rubbing of the odd tear turned her face red, Simon cleared his throat.
It only highlighted her point in that he stood still. Though, it wasn’t fair to point a finger and say it was his own fault he was that way, emotional warmth and touch just weren’t in his niche range of abilities. His thumb drew imperfect circles on the kitchen counter, staring at her with any and all outward apology he could muster.
“I didn’t mean that.” She mumbled first, embarrassingly shifting her weight to the other foot while looking up to the ceiling, eyes darting left to right as if to hold back any more upset. She was a lot like Simon that way, although not at all.
“I know.” He replied softly, taking a closing step toward her and placing his hand on the back of her head to pull her to his chest. “I don’t mean to be like this, you know that.” The silence made him look down to gain a nod in response, her gaze zoning out to the kitchen window as he smoothed out her hair.
Simon was never good with words, so he always took to actions that felt even more foreign but they at least allowed for the substitution of his appeasements. “Sorry for swearing at you.” She mumbled, melting into his broad chest.
“Someone has to put me in my place.” The vibration of the words rippled in his chest and she pulled back only to look down at the floor. “You’re a lot like me, you know.” He poked at her ribs, provoking an unwilling laugh that then turned into a smile. “A lot.”
She shrugged, pushing his hands away after they had wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, alright.” Her frown was feigned.
“I promise you.” He turned to continue the dishes, looking back to her over his shoulder. “And your shirt is on the line.” He nodded out the window, watching as she gasped and ran outside like he had found gold.
simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov
as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pays me on the head every now and then.
this is unedited.
#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod mw fanfiction#ghost mw2#simon riley#simon ghost riley headcanons#ghost headcanons#ghost call of duty#cod mw ghost#dad!simon
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how tartaglia reacts when you're drunk and don't recognize him
tartaglia x gn!reader
sfw, drunk reader, angst, some fluff, reader has been hurt in prev relationships
A/N: i don't usually post stuff like this hehe, idk what changed my mind to!! hope you enjoy🤭
You had told him if you didn't come home before 2, he should probably come pick you up.
"Hey, you're here!" Hu Tao beams at Tartaglia.
"Thanks for watching them," he grins and gestures to you sitting at the counter.
"Yeah, dude, of course."
Tartaglia stares at you for a little while. He still can't get over how pretty you are, the curve of your nose, the ways your eyes kiss in the corners. Your hair looks surprisingly neat for someone who's drunk. Your expression is distant, finger trailing along the edge of the glass. You seem to be drinking vodka? He thought you didn't like vodka.
Sliding an arm around your shoulders, he leans to whisper in your ear, "Hey, pretty, you ready to go?"
You leap back into the present.
Looking puzzled, you push his arm off of you, saying, "Please don't call me that."
He blinks, a ghost of a smile still on his face. "Haha... what?"
Their faces mirror each other in confusion.
"I'm not going home with you, I have a boyfriend," you say, turning back to the half filled glass.
It clicks in Tartgalia's head, and a teasing grin forms. "A boyfriend, huh? Can I fight him for you?"
"You'd lose," you reply flatly, deadpan.
Dropping himself into the seat next to you and propping up his cheek, he says, "Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."
He watches his lover's expression brighten, like you forgot the entire exchange that just happened.
"Oh, he's the sweetest," you gush immediately. "And he makes me laugh so much, and he's so lively and good with people, but he's so hardworking and stubborn and, ugh, he's so beautiful. How is it possible to be so beautiful?"
His heart is about to explode all over Hu Tao's kitchen counter. His mind can't believe it, he's the reason your face is a beautiful, dreamy, rambling mess.
And you're not done. "I don't deserve him," you say, "I wish I could do something for him, but he always says I don't have to."
Because you don't have to, my dove, Tartaglia thinks. You're doing more than enough already.
Your expression suddenly snaps. "Shit. I'm a terrible person. I need to go home."
Tartaglia snaps out of his own trance in alarm. "Why?"
"He's at home now, and I'm out here getting wasted." You rub your face and search for your bag and phone.
"Woah, hey, you're drunk," he holds you by the shoulders, "I'm taking you home."
"Just because you're literally gorgeous doesn't mean you get to touch and take home random people!" You smack his hands off of you, again. Tartaglia's not sure if he should cry or laugh.
You cover your mouth in surprise at your own words. "Holy fuck, I'm a terrible person," you whisper. "Am I allowed to call someone who isn't my boyfriend gorgeous?"
He's convinced alcohol makes your brain overthink twice as fast as it usually does.
He also thinks it's a dumb question. Have I given them the impression they can't speak their mind?
He thinks it's okay. "Of course you are," he tells you instead, frowning. "He's not a good boyfriend if you have to be allowed to do something."
"No, he's a great boyfriend!" you say instantly. "I just-" You cut yourself off with a sigh and chew on your fingernail. There's a loud thumping in his heart as he waits for you to continue.
"I never know about these things," you say finally. "I feel like he never really tells me how he truly feels. I don't know if there's something I do that actually bothers him. And I'm..." You rub your nose bridge. "I'm scared to ask."
Tartaglia is quiet for a long moment. What he has cleverly deduced from this is that his lover is scared of him. All pride he'd felt earlier from making you swoon is now replaced by a sick feeling of self hatred.
"Maybe there's just nothing you do that really bothers him," he suggests softly, trying to lighten the mood.
Your expression turns glum. Fuck, was that the wrong thing to say? He mentally kicks himself.
"That can't be right," you sigh. "When I have nightmares, he always wakes up to comfort me. I'm pretty sure that pisses him off. And he always says it's okay too, but-" you blink rapidly, like blinking away tears. Tag winces.
"But then he... he takes longer in the shower, adds more caffeine to his coffee. And- and he'll eat less of the breakfast I make him."
"Oh," he says smartly, running out of things to say. He should've paid more attention to the little things, knowing that of course you would.
You shake your head and squeeze your slightly glassy eyes shut. After mumbling to yourself, "stop oversharing to strangers" twice, you put the cork back in the vodka bottle and set your glass in Hu's sink after pouring it down the drain.
"Anyway," you turn to him when you're done, "goodnight, I guess. Thanks for listening?"
"I'll walk you home," he offers again, softly.
You hesitate. Of course you hesitate.
"You're drunk," he reminds you. "I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind as long as you get home safe."
You give in. You let him put his coat around your shoulders, but you don't put your hands through the sleeves.
Halfway home, you just stop walking.
"Love?" Tag tilts his head at you. "Darling, what's wrong?"
You blink a few times. "Tartaglia?"
He grins. "Yes, hi. You recognize me now?"
You blink again. Then a smile starts to spread, and you forget the reason for your daze. You put your arms into the sleeves of his coat. "Yes," you say sheepishly. "Hey, you."
A hand is held out for him to hold.
Their talk can wait for next morning.
sorry if tartaglia is a little ooc! thank you for reading 🫶 might post a part two where he comforts you about it?
#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x y/n#tartaglia x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x you#childe x reader#childe x you#tartaglia#genshin angst#x reader
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How boynextdoor (legal line) would react to u being too shy to ask for sexy time 🤭 super love ur work btw!!!
Boy Next Door When You're Too Shy To Ask 🔞
CW: Cussing by me, NSFW works, Got a little too into it with some members…, nicknames(princess, my love, honey) let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Hehe, thank you babes for the compliment and the request! I hope you like it! (Content under the line!)
WC: 537
Jaehyun
Jaehyun is a clueless baby. Okay, he will not understand that you're needy. So you being shy and needy with him is a nightmare for you. In y’alls relationship Jaehyun is usually the one to initiate things first. But when you’re the one whos needy you find it physically difficult to verbalize that you want him. So you start becoming more clingy than usual hoping he’ll pick up on it. Unfortunately for you he doesn’t…not until you sit on his lap and start grinding on him that he notices. He would let out little giggles and coo at how cute you are.
Sungho
Is quick to pick up that you’re horny. This man knows you like the back of his hand okay, as soon as you start slowly distancing yourself from him but also burning holes in his back from your stares. He will flex his muscles just to see you clench your thighs together. Unlike Taesan however he will go to you and ask in a low loving yet teasing voice if you need anything. He knows you struggle asking for things, but that’s why he’s there, to help his little baby who's too dumb to use their words.
Riwoo
Will question it, he would pick up on it but would second guess himself ya know?, like he doesn’t want to assume anything and make a move scaring you. But when you sit on his thigh and hide your face in his chest and whine he could’ve sworn his heart would bust out of his chest from how adorable you were. He would wrap his arms around you and massage your hips. “Yes my love?” he would be so giddy about this, his baby? Wanting him? But too shy to ask? Omo, he would become hard so quickly, mans madly in love with you and you having this behavior would make him fall even more.
Taesan
A LITTLE SHIT (I say this with love), like Sungho he will pick up so fucking quickly, but instead of approaching you he will act as if everything was normal. But he would also tease you a little by flexing his muscles, resting his hand on your thigh, the placement being a little too close to where you need him. He will wait until you come crawling to him whining like the pathetic bitch in heat you are. He will smirk and grab your face, hooking his thumb into your lip “I don’t know what you want unless you say it princess”. He will make you say it one way or another.
Leehan
I see Leehan as a mixture of Sungho and Taesan tbh. However I am a firm believer of Leehan having a corruption kink, so you being all shy and too embarrassed to ask for him gets him turned on far beyond belief. He won’t even waist to attach his lips onto yours, his hands traveling up and down your thigh, asking questions like “where do you want me honey?” his fingers just barely ghosting over your clothed heat “here? Do you need me here baby?”. God you beautiful whimpers and whines paired with your teary eyes has his inner demons scratching away his soft dom barrier.
#auntiefaye🧚🏻♀️#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor hard thoughts#myeong jaehyun smut#taesan smut#riwoo smut#sungho smut#leehan smut#boynextdoor hard hours#boynextdoor smut
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forget me not | ii
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader
AU: non-idol | supernatural
Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party?
Word Count: 7.7K
Warnings: swearing, allusions to self disappearing, mentions of ghosts and the unliving
Fic Masterlist
a/n: ngl, I teared up writing this chapter. poll results were also incorporated into the plot 🤭
The sun was setting behind the outfield, casting a golden hue over the empty baseball diamond. You sat on the bleachers with your journal in hand, taking in the post-practice calm of the field, as you waited for Yunho.
Fall had arrived, bringing with it crisp weather, cozy sweaters, and the start of your final year of high school. In the soft light, you focused intently on your sketchbook, your pencil moving deftly across the pages. You were engrossed in capturing the essence of a black cat in various poses—the cat’s form, rendered in fluid lines and delicate shading, seemed to come to life on the page.
“You know black cats are bad luck,” Yunho chuckled, his voice warm and teasing as he leaned closer to peer at your sketches. His tone carried a light-heartedness that matched the playful glint in his eyes.
You glanced up, catching his gaze with a smile. “They’re just little guys,” you pouted, brow furrowing in mock frustration.
“How was your meeting with the counselor?” he asked, gaze drifting over the field he loved so much. The question carried a note of genuine curiosity, and his eyes, shaded by the brim of his cap, held a look of earnest concern.
You shrugged. “It was okay,” the words drifted out as you turned back to the sketches. “Just a lot to think about. What did you tell her?”
Yunho hummed thoughtfully. “Told her I’m going to hit up the Tigers and build a winning team.” His voice was filled with a quiet determination, the kind that comes from years of dreaming and planning.
“But of course,” you snorted. There was something comforting about Yunho’s single-minded devotion to the sport, a constant in a world that felt increasingly uncertain as graduation loomed closer.
“It’s a long shot, but I’m willing to work for it.” His eyes lit up with a spark of determination, the same spark that had driven him to countless early morning practices and late-night games. You’d seen firsthand how much effort Yunho put into everything he did, how deeply he cared about his teammates and the sport itself. There was no doubt in your mind that he could make his dream a reality.
Yunho’s gaze softened as he turned to you, his expression sincere.
“Did you explore any career options with her?”
You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirl in your chest. “Not really. I’ve got some ideas, but nothing’s set in stone.”
“What about art? Or photography? You’re a great photographer and you’re always sketching in your journal.”
A small smile played on your lips as you considered his words. “Yeah, but I’d probably hate it if I made a career out of it,” you sighed, closing the leather-bound book with a soft thud. There was a truth in that statement you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The idea of turning your art into a career felt like it would strip away the joy and freedom that came with creating something purely for yourself.
But now, as you stood on the brink of a new chapter in your life, you realized how much you had relied on Yunho. His presence had been a constant, a safety net that you had come to depend on. The thought of making decisions without his input was daunting, and you felt a pang of anxiety at the prospect.
Yunho’s brow furrowed slightly, and he seemed to weigh your words carefully before responding. “I get that. But whatever you choose, just make sure it’s something that makes you happy. That’s what really matters.”
The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Yunho stood up, offering you a hand.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice breaking the peaceful silence, but not disturbing the tranquility of the moment.
You looked up at him, taking in the sight of his relaxed posture, the way his cap sat slightly askew on his head, and the easy smile that always seemed to come so naturally to him. There was something reassuring about Yunho, a steadiness that made even the quietest of moments feel meaningful.
“Yeah,” you replied softly, slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm and steady, and as he helped you to your feet, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of ease wash over you.
“Where are we going for dinner?” he asked, picking up his bag.
“How about that little place by the river? The one with the outdoor seating?” you suggested, glancing up at him.
Yunho’s face brightened at your suggestion, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Perfect. I’ve been craving their chicken skewers.”
“What can I say? I know what you like,” you grinned, bumping your shoulder into his.
You drifted away from Yunho, your steps slow and aimless, as if the ground beneath you had shifted in a way that left you unmoored. The path ahead was shrouded in darkness, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to stretch out toward you, mocking your loneliness.
The cold breeze stung your cheeks, mingling with the tears that you couldn’t hold back any longer. You wiped at them hastily, but more kept coming, each one a reminder of how much tonight had hurt. The heartbreak was overwhelming. It wasn’t just the loss of your best friend; it was the loss of a part of yourself.
Sixteen years. You’d grown up together, sharing secrets, dreams, and fears. Yunho was there for you when you felt like the world was too much to handle, offering a shoulder to cry on and words of encouragement that always seemed to make things better.
You thought back to one of those moments, a memory that stood out vividly despite the passage of time. You were eleven, and the world felt like it was crumbling around you. Your dog had passed away, and the weight of it was too much for your young heart to bear.
You called Yunho right away, your voice breaking as you tried to hold back the tears. You didn’t need to explain; he just knew. Within minutes, he was at your house, breathless from running across the street. He wrapped a lanky arm around your shoulder the entire time you cried, hoping he could shield you from the pain that was tearing you apart.
Or the time you got a ‘C’ on your first big exam in university. You were devastated, convinced that you weren’t good enough, that you would never succeed. The weight of disappointment was crushing, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had let everyone down, including yourself.
He dragged you out of your dorm that day, refusing to let you wallow in self-pity. Despite your protests, he insisted you needed a change of scenery. You spent the afternoon at the art museum, wandering through the quiet halls filled with the vibrant colors and intricate details of the paintings and sculptures. The silence of the museum was a balm to your frazzled nerves, allowing you to lose yourself in the art, if only for a little while.
But Yunho, being Yunho, couldn’t let you leave without doing something more to lift your spirits. As you were about to head out, he steered you toward the gift shop, his eyes bright with an idea he hadn’t yet shared. You half-heartedly browsed the shelves, not really in the mood to buy anything, but Yunho seemed determined.
“Wait here,” he said, flashing you a quick smile before disappearing behind a display of postcards. Moments later, he returned, his hands hidden behind his back, a mischievous grin on his face.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and despite your skepticism, you complied, hearing the faint rustle of a small bag.
“Okay, open them,” Yunho’s voice was filled with barely contained excitement. When you did, you found him holding out a small, carefully wrapped package, tied with a simple ribbon. “This is for you.”
You unwrapped the gift, your heart swelling as you revealed a figurine of a golden retriever. The dog’s playful expression, with eyes full of joy, instantly brought a smile to your face. It was so perfectly Yunho—loyal, dependable, always bringing a bit of sunshine into your life, even when things seemed bleak.
As you felt a lump in your throat, tears began to well up in your eyes. You couldn’t hold them back and immediately started sobbing, drawing attention from onlookers. It was such a small thing, a simple gesture, but it meant everything to you in that moment. The figurine was more than just a gift; it was a symbol of Yunho’s unwavering friendship and his ability to understand you in ways no one else could. Through your tears, you managed to smile at him, grateful for his presence and the comfort he brought into your life.
How could someone who once knew you so intimately now feel so distant, so unreachable? It was as if you were looking into the eyes of a stranger, and the realization was like a knife to the heart. You were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, trying to make sense of a world where your best friend had become your greatest adversary.
Stopping at the edge of the river’s walkway, you watched the water move steadily, its surface deceptively calm. You longed for that same tranquility, that same sense of direction. Instead, you felt lost, adrift in a sea of emotions you couldn’t navigate. The cold night air wrapped around you like a shroud, beckoning you into its deceptively calm waters.
“Sad… Sad…”
It was hypnotic. Shadows danced along the water’s edge, and you could almost hear the whispers of spirits wandering through the night. Their presence was palpable, a chilling reminder of the unseen forces at play. The river pulsed with an otherworldly energy, drawing you closer, tempting you to step into its depths and join the spectral procession.
The spirits seemed to take notice of you, drawn to the sorrow that weighed heavily on your heart. They circled closer, their ethereal forms flickering in the moonlight. You felt their cold, ghastly fingers brush against your skin, feeding off your anguish, growing stronger with each passing moment. They were inviting you to surrender to the darkness, to become one with the night.
“Hungry… hungry… ” they murmured, their words merging into a single, chilling plea. It was as if they were lured by the raw, unfiltered emotion, driven by an insatiable hunger that could only be sated by consuming your sorrow.
The weight of grief, loss, and betrayal from someone you loved suffocated you, pressing down on your chest like a vice. You looked around, desperate for some sign of relief, but the ghosts were relentless. Their forms circled you, their murmurs growing louder, more insistent. The despair you felt seemed to feed their hunger, making their presence even more intense, more invasive.
“Give in…” one spirit whispered directly into your ear, its cold breath sending another shiver down your spine. “Let us take it… let us take the pain…”
Desperation clawed at you, and you tried to push them away, but your hands passed through their ghastly bodies. The more you struggled, the more they seemed to tighten their grip, as if they were trying to pull you into their world, to make you one of them. The night air seemed to close in around you, the darkness growing heavier with each breath you took.
“Scatter,” a voice commanded, deep and resonant, cutting through the night like a blade. The spirits, who had been swirling around you with growing hunger, recoiled in sudden fear. Their flickering forms dimmed and began to dissolve into the shadows, retreating from the voice’s commanding presence.
You gasped, as if surfacing from the depths of the sea for the first time, and blinked, the voice shattering the spell that had held you captive. The oppressive chill and haunting whispers began to recede, replaced by a strange, unsettling calm. You looked around, trying to grasp what had just happened, your heart still pounding from the encounter.
The figure’s presence was both terrifying and oddly comforting, a paradox that left you feeling simultaneously alarmed and relieved. His silhouette was sharp and defined against the dim moonlight, and though his face was partially concealed beneath a deep, shadowy hood, there was no mistaking the sheer authority he commanded.
“Brave of you to be roaming near my realm, mortal.”
You blinked, disoriented by the strangeness of the encounter. It felt like you had stumbled into a scene from a dream, and your mind scrambled to make sense of it. With a flicker of rational thought cutting through the haze of confusion, you spun on your heel and bolted, your footsteps pounding against the pavement in a frantic rhythm.
“I’ve been eaten by ghosts, I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead,” you panicked as your feet pounded against the pavement in a full-on sprint.
“You’re not dead,” the figure’s voice was smooth and unnervingly calm, laced with a hint of amusement. He materialized before you in a swirl of black mist, his sudden appearance silent and startling. Your heart skipped a beat as you skidded to a halt, eyes wide with panic. He stood there, smirking, clearly relishing your bewilderment.
Without a second thought, you turned and ran again, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The cityscape blurred around you as you darted through the park and vaulted over obstacles, your mind a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline. You could hear the figure’s footsteps behind you, a steady, unhurried pace that only heightened your terror.
You glanced over your shoulder, your heart sinking as you saw him gaining on you effortlessly. You rounded a corner sharply, nearly losing your balance as you bumped into him. Panic surged through you, a cold sweat breaking out as your mind scrambled for an escape route. Fuck fuck fuck. You swallowed hard, trying to mask your fear.
“What do you want from me?” The words slipped out, more out of desperation than defiance. The surreal nature of the situation was twisting your emotions into a knot, leaving you uncertain whether to be angry, terrified, or something in between.
He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. “I was curious about what could have triggered a feeding frenzy among the ghosts.”
You felt a chill run down your spine. “So I have been eaten alive by the ghosts,” you muttered.
He paused, his gaze steady and deliberate as he chose his words carefully. “No. When the veil between the worlds is thin and the energies of the living and the dead are in flux, spirits are drawn to heightened emotions,” he explained, his voice holding a note of measured calm. “That’s why you were being swarmed earlier. And for the last time, you’re not dead.”
“Now that I think of it, being eaten by ghosts sounds better than the bullshit and humiliation I just went through,” you spat with an edge of bitterness.
The fight with Yunho was still fresh, the sting of it cutting deep, and the bitterness in your words was impossible to hide. Every memory of your friendship now felt like a cruel reminder of your naivety, and the humiliation of being deceived cut deeper than any physical wound.
The figure studied you intently, his gaze piercing through the darkness, as if he could see into the very depths of your soul. “You have a strong desire to disappear,” he said, his voice low and measured.
From the corner of his eye, a small black cat appeared and found purchase underneath a streetlamp, its onyx eyes staring intently at the stranger, urging him to wrap up whatever business he was conducting with you.
“Is it that obvious?” you asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice. You felt exposed under his scrutiny, as if he had laid bare your deepest fears and desires.
He stepped closer, his presence nearly overwhelming. “I can sense it within you,” he said, his voice a blend of solemnity and intrigue. “The shadows that cling to your heart and a yearning to disappear from the pain and humiliation that haunt you. But…”
“But?” you prompted, as you tried to grasp the meaning of his words.
The cat flicked its tail with an air of impatience, its gaze fixed on you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. The small creature seemed to radiate an aura of quiet authority, as if it, too, was a part of this mysterious world that was slowly unraveling before you.
“But it seems,” he began, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “you’ve captured the attention of more than just the ghosts tonight.”
You could feel the weight of his words, the implications swirling in your mind like a storm. “What are you saying?” you asked, your voice barely steady, dread and curiosity pulling at you.
Without a sound, the cat began to walk away from the waterfront, its sleek form gliding through the shadows as if it were a part of them. The man gestured subtly encouraging you to follow.
“I suggest you see where this leads.”
You followed the black cat as it led you through the dimly lit streets. The air around you shimmered with an otherworldly energy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being guided by something far greater than mere chance.
The cat paused in front of an unassuming door, its facade a curious blend of traditional and contemporary styles. The door was adorned with a delicate flowery overhang, its intricate designs seeming to shift subtly as if alive. With a soft meow, it pawed at the door, encouraging you to open it.
So you do.
The realm seemed to breathe with life, its atmosphere humming with a quiet, almost magical energy that seeped into your very bones. The walls pulsed with a soft, rhythmic glow, as if the shop itself were sentient, aware of your presence. Every corner of this enchanting realm was meticulously crafted to evoke wonder, from the collection of curios on the shelves to the hanging flowerfield above you.
“Seonghwa, you bastard, you’re late— Oh?” The voice was sharp and accusatory, cutting through the ambiance.
Your gaze shifted to the source of the voice. There stood a vibrant and enigmatic stranger, his presence striking in brightly colored robes and glinting jewelry that shimmered with every subtle movement. He was a living embodiment of the mystical realm he presided over–captivating in his otherworldly grace.
As your eyes met, the shopkeeper studied you, sensing the heaviness in your heart, the weight of whatever burden you carried. It was clear that you were barely holding it together, your composure a fragile mask meant to shield you from further vulnerability.
“Seonghwa”, the shadowy figure, followed behind, seeming unfazed by the rebuke. There was a subtle ease in his movements, a confidence that suggested he was entirely at home in this strange and wondrous place.
“Your traveler has arrived,” Seonghwa announced with a casual nonchalance, as if his presence was a matter of routine rather than a potential disruption. His tone was light, almost amused, adding an air of detached amusement to the situation.
“Welcome traveler. I must apologize, it seems Lord Death and his ghosts gave you quite the scare,” His gaze flicked towards his friend, and a scowl of mild irritation crossed his features. “Please call me Hongjoong. I am the keeper of the Astral Emporium,” he bowed, turning his attention back to you.
“Astral Emporium?” you echoed, the name lingering on your tongue with a sense of wonder. Your eyes wandered over the shop’s interior, taking in the gilded spines of ancient texts and the array of artifacts that seemed to shimmer with hidden magic.
Hongjoong nodded. “The shop exists in a realm between the supernatural and the living, responding to the energy of your desires, known as wishes. Think of wishes as the hidden yearnings of your heart, and this place has the power to bring them to life.”
“You bring wishes to life? As in, you grant them?”
“In a sense,” Hongjoong replied, his voice carrying a playful lilt that softened the gravity of his words. “To have a wish granted, you must offer something of equal value in return. This realm operates on a principle of balance—the universe demands equilibrium.”
You glanced down at the little black cat that had guided you here. Its fur was soft and comforting beneath your fingers, and its gentle purr seemed to blend with the quiet, expectant atmosphere of the shop. The cat leaned into your touch, clearly content with the affection. You tapped your finger gently on its nose, trying to think through the implications.
“Do I have to make a decision tonight?” you asked, a note of urgency in your voice. The least you could do is say goodbye to your parents and figure out how you were going to pay for your wish.
Hongjoong’s expression softened, and he looked at you with understanding. “No. The shop has already revealed itself to you, and you may make your wish whenever you are ready,” he said with a reassuring smile. “However, I encourage travelers to take their time. Once a wish is granted, it cannot be undone.”
You nodded, feeling the weight of the impending decision settle heavily upon you. The quiet, almost palpable presence of the choice lingered in the air like a delicate mist. Your heart pounded as you contemplated the gravity of the situation, the stakes higher than you had ever imagined.
You eyed the golden retriever statue Yunho had given you your freshman year. Its calm expression remained unchanged, frozen in time. As you picked it up and ran your fingers over the smooth, cool surface, it served as a reminder of the past—one you were now trying to reconcile with the present.
Scrolling through your contacts, your finger hovered over Yunho’s name. The thought of reaching out, of trying to bridge the gap, was tempting, but the fear of what you might find on the other side held you back. What if you needed him? What if he needed you? The questions swirled in your head, making it hard to think clearly.
You sighed, setting the statue back on the shelf. It felt like a relic from another life, one where your best friend was a constant presence. The memories were bittersweet, filled with laughter and shared dreams, but also with the pain of growing apart.
Yunho stood at the window, his face pressed against the cool glass, watching with wide eyes as the moving truck rumbled to a stop across the street. The hum of activity and the clatter of boxes spilling onto the driveway filled the air. He bounced on his toes, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Mom, there’s a moving truck across the street!” Yunho exclaimed, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. He pointed out the window, his eyes following the movers who were already hard at work.
His mother, busy in the kitchen, wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked over to join him. She peered out the window, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Looks like we’re getting new neighbors,” she said, her tone warm and welcoming.
Yunho’s mind raced with possibilities. Would there be kids his age? Maybe someone who liked sports as much as he did? He imagined all the games they could play together, the adventures they could have. The thought made his heart race with anticipation.
Outside, the movers were unloading furniture: a large, comfy-looking couch, a dining table with matching chairs, and a tall bookshelf that Yunho imagined would be filled with interesting books and knick-knacks. He watched as a family car pulled up behind the truck, and a woman stepped out, followed by a girl about his age.
Yunho’s face fell as he saw you step out of the car. “Aw, it’s a girl!” he exclaimed, his excitement clearly dampened.
“Yunho, it doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl. What’s important is that you’re welcoming a new neighbor.”
His cheeks reddened slightly as he looked up at his mom. “But I thought it’d be someone I could play baseball with.”
His mother knelt down to his level, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You never know, Yunho. She might like baseball too, or maybe she has other fun games to share. Why don’t you give her a chance?”
Yunho sighed but nodded, his curiosity piqued despite his initial disappointment. He watched as you helped your parents carry boxes into the house. You seemed about his age, with a friendly smile and an air of confidence that intrigued him.
“Why don’t you go over and say hello?” his mother suggested, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors.”
Gathering his courage, Yunho took a deep breath and walked over, but not without looking both ways before crossing the street. “Hi!” he called out, trying to muster up his enthusiasm again. “I’m Yunho. Do you want to play with me later?”
You looked up from the box you were carrying, a surprised but friendly smile spreading across your face. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you replied, setting the box down. “I’m six. Um, what do you like to do?”
Yunho’s initial nervousness began to fade as he saw your welcoming expression. “I like baseball. And I’m six too,” he said, his excitement returning. “Do you like baseball?”
You nodded enthusiastically, “Maybe we can play together here,” you exclaimed, pointing to your backyard. “My backyard is really big!”
Yunho’s heart soared, feeling a sense of relief and happiness. He had been worried about making a new friend, but it seemed like things were going to work out just fine. He couldn’t wait to show you around the neighborhood and introduce you to his favorite spots.
“Mom, Y/N likes baseball too!” Yunho called out as he ran back to his house. His mother smiled, watching her son’s excitement. He froze suddenly realizing he forgot something.
“I forgot to ask her about her favorite team!” he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with eagerness. He had clearly been so caught up in the excitement of meeting his new neighbor that he had overlooked this important detail.
His mother chuckled softly, sensing the genuine enthusiasm in her son’s voice. “Well, it sounds like you have something to look forward to next time you see her. Maybe you can invite her over for a game or something.”
Yunho nodded vigorously, already imagining the fun of discussing baseball with his new friend. He dashed back to the window, peering out to catch another glimpse of you, hoping for a chance to continue your budding friendship.
Your life had largely revolved around Yunho, with him at the center of everything you did. Your world seemed to orbit around his presence, to the point you were deeply entangled in the expectations and dreams you had placed on him.
“Pathetic.” That was one of the words Yunho had used to describe you, a word that echoed in your mind with a cruel sense of truth. As Yunho moved on with his life—dating Haewon, expanding his circle of friends, and pursuing new opportunities—you remained as you were: unmoving, uncertain of what kind of future you would have without him.
Then came your literal brush with Lord Death himself and Hongjoong. The experience sparked something within you. You found yourself irresistibly drawn to the mysteries of this otherworldly realm, feeling an intense, almost primal urge to be a part of it. It was as if the brush with the supernatural had unlocked a deep-seated desire to break free from the constraints of your old life.
You opened your contacts again, your finger hovering over Yunho’s name. You hesitated, feeling the gravity of what you were about to do.
Taking a deep breath, you pressed the delete button. Yunho’s name vanished from your contacts, leaving an empty space where he used to be. It felt like a small act, but the weight of it hit you immediately, a reminder that some doors, once shut, could never be reopened.
A soft meow from outside your window drew your attention. Pulling back the curtain, you see the little black cat perched on the ledge—the same one that had first guided you to the emporium. The cat’s eyes shimmered with a curious intelligence, locking onto yours as it stretched its small, agile body and began to paw at the window.
With a gentle push, you opened the window, and the cat trotted inside with an air of casual confidence. You crouched down, your fingers instinctively reaching out to caress its velvety fur.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, scratching behind its ears. “You’re quite a ways from home.”
“The ordinary rules of reality don’t apply to me.”
You blinked in disbelief, your mind struggling to process the extraordinary claim. “You– You can talk!?” The words escaped your lips in a stammer, your astonishment palpable. The notion that a cat could converse was something straight out of a fairy tale, and yet here it was, happening right before your eyes.
“Indeed,” it said with a gentle purr that seemed almost amused. “Master created me to assist with managing the shop while he’s away. I am a familiar, with the ability to traverse between realms. I can come and go as I please.”
Your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to absorb the cat’s matter-of-fact response. “But if you’re here, then who’s–”
“Master is, obviously,” the cat interrupted, its tail flicking lazily. “But when he isn’t, I’m there.”
“And where does he go?” you asked, your voice edged with curiosity. The cat’s nonchalant demeanor contrasted sharply with the gravity of your question.
The cat’s demeanor shifted to something softer, almost wistful. “Master Hongjoong is a powerful sorcerer. His duties often take him beyond the confines of this realm.
Sometimes he’s negotiating peace between warring factions, other times he’s retrieving lost artifacts of immense power.”
“While he’s away, I watch over the shop and keep things in order,” it continued, its voice carrying a note of quiet resignation. “It’s a lonely task at times, but it’s necessary for the travelers who come through looking to have their wishes granted.”
You noticed the subtle strain in the cat’s voice, the way its eyes reflected a deep solitude.
“It sounds like you have a very important role,” you said gently, hoping to offer some comfort. The depth of the familiar’s responsibilities became clearer to you, and with it, a newfound respect.
“I’m certain your master appreciates everything you do,” you added, your voice filled with sincerity.
The cat’s eyes, still reflecting that subtle loneliness, brightened slightly at your words. “Thank you,” it said softly.
You reached down and gently scratched behind its ears, hoping to offer a bit of solace. “Ah, I don’t know what to call you,” you said gently, realizing you hadn’t yet asked for the cat’s name.
“Wooyoung,” the cat replied, the name rolling off its tongue with a sense of pride. “Master Hongjoong gave it to me.”
“And what about you?” Wooyoung continued, its gaze curious and attentive. “You didn’t give us your name yesterday.”
“I’m Y/N,” you replied, your voice carrying a bit of warmth and a hint of vulnerability. The exchange felt like a small but significant step towards understanding this strange new world you had found yourself in.
As Wooyoung settled comfortably in your lap, purring softly, you found yourself contemplating the implications of your conversation. The idea of disappearing into the emporium’s enigmatic realm began to seem increasingly appealing. Perhaps this magical world, with its mysteries and hidden depths, was exactly where you needed to be.
“Have you heard from Y/N?” Yunho asked, his voice strained and laced with worry.
Haewon looked up from her phone, her face mirroring his growing alarm. “No, I haven’t,” she replied, her brows knitting together as she struggled to grasp the gravity of the situation. “Did something happen?”
“Her dad called me this morning,” he said, his voice tight. “He hasn’t heard from her in a couple of days. She hasn’t posted on her socials, and she’s not responding to texts. I think the cops are going to do a wellness check. I’m going to meet them there.”
Haewon’s worry deepened, her heart sinking as the implications of Yunho’s words settled in. “That’s not like her at all,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Y/N is always so reliable. If she’s gone silent for this long, something must be seriously wrong. She would never just disappear like this.”
Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair. His gaze dropped to the floor as he wrestled with a surge of guilt. The fight he’d had with you, the way it had spiraled after Sungjae’s humiliating display at his apartment, weighed heavily on him. He could still see the hurt in your eyes, the way you stormed out and dumped your journal, leaving behind a trail of unresolved emotions.
He hadn’t reached out, thinking it might be best to give you some time to cool off. After all, you always came back. But now, as the days dragged on without a word from you, each passing moment felt like a missed opportunity to mend the rift he had caused.
“You don’t think it was because of Sungjae, do you?” Haewon asked. “You know he didn’t mean to say those things. He was drunk.”
But he did. Yunho knew, deep down, that the words Sungjae had spoken were hurtful and that they had contributed to the mess of emotions you were feeling. But there was a darker truth he couldn’t ignore: he had not only allowed Sungjae’s actions to influence the situation but had also failed to stand up for you and make amends.
“There’s always an excuse for Sungjae,” he suddenly snapped, his voice sharp and edged with anger. “It’s always ‘he didn’t mean it,’ ‘he was drunk,’ as if that makes his words any less hurtful. It’s like you’re just brushing it off!”
Haewon’s expression hardened, her patience wearing thin. “I know you and Sungjae don’t get along, but right now, focusing on him won’t help Y/N. We need to find out what’s going on with her,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.
“You don’t get it, Haewon! Sungjae crossed the line and no one said anything! He fucking humiliated her in front of everyone!”
They made her feel worthless, and I stood by and did nothing. I should have defended her. I should have been there for her, is what Yunho wanted to say.
“And what good does yelling at me do, Yunho? You think I don’t care? You think I’m not worried about Y/N? She’s my friend too!”
“You’re always defending him! Why can’t you see how much damage he’s done?”
“Standing here arguing isn’t going to help her!”
Yunho’s eyes burned with intensity. “Fine. You stay here and make excuses for Sungjae. I’m going over to Y/N’s.”
With that, Yunho turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving Haewon standing there, her heart pounding with fear. She knew he was right about one thing: they needed to find you, and fast. But the rift between them felt wider than ever, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much deeper conflict.
As you approached the shop, the familiar, otherworldly ambiance enveloped you once more. The air was thick with the scent of ancient incense and jasmine, a blend that always made you feel both curious and comforted.
The door creaked open, and a soft, melodic chime rang out, greeting you with its gentle tinkle, like a whisper from another world.
Making your way further into the shop, you caught the faintest whisper of hushed voices. You slowed your steps, moving quietly to avoid intruding on what sounded like a private conversation. The shop was a labyrinth of towering shelves, each filled with enchanted curiosities that seemed to hum with their own secret lives.
You noticed that Hongjoong’s expression was serious, his brow furrowed in concentration, while Seonghwa listened intently, his eyes reflecting the gravity of their discussion.
“The Auroran Empire is preparing for a major offensive against Wonderland. It’s not just about territory anymore; their queen has officially lost her mind,” he said, his voice low and tense.
“She wants to bring about a new era of dominance,” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “But in her madness, she’s likely to destroy everything in her path. Her decisions are unpredictable and increasingly violent. Wonderland won’t just be facing a military assault; they’ll be up against an unpredictable force of destruction.”
“Dragons against dragons,” Seonghwa murmured, referring to the legendary beasts often associated with said realm. “The collateral damage could be catastrophic.”
Seonghwa’s expression grew serious as he met Hongjoong’s gaze. “You’re going to have to leave for quite some time, aren’t you? If this is escalating to such extremes, there will be a need for intervention, and it won’t be a quick affair.”
“Let me take over the shop,” you said, stepping out from the shadows. Your voice was steady, though your heart raced with the weight of your request. The air crackled with the energy of the emporium, and you could feel the gravity of the moment settling in.
Hongjoong looked up, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Hello to you too, traveler,” he said, though the casual greeting did little to mask the seriousness underlying his words.
“Wooyoung told me your powers take you elsewhere,” you said, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions beneath. “If I take over the shop, you can continue to fulfill your duties in other realms while I manage things here.”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered your proposal. “This place,” he began, his voice soft but firm, “is where the threads of many worlds converge. It’s about understanding the intricate balance that holds these realms together.”
You followed closely as Hongjoong started walking through the aisles of the emporium. Each step echoed softly in the vast space filled with enchanted artifacts and mystical relics.
“I understand the gravity of this responsibility,” you said, matching his pace and keeping your voice firm. “I might not have your experience, but I’m willing to learn,” you continued your plea.
Hongjoong stopped abruptly and turned to face you, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and skepticism. His expression was stern, the weight of your request clearly pressing on him.
“It’s a significant responsibility, one that requires dedication and resilience. I’m not going to hand it over to a human—”
“Aren’t you a human as well?” you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration. The retort slipped out before you could stop it, and the sharpness of your words echoed through the shop.
Hongjoong’s eyes widened in surprise, and he crossed his arms defensively, his posture rigid. “That doesn’t matter,” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by your response. “My situation is different—”
Seonghwa, who had been quietly observing the tense exchange, decided to interject as he trailed behind you. “She has a point. Wonderland is asking you to intervene on their behalf. The situation is escalating, and having someone reliable at the shop would be crucial.”
“No,” Hongjoong replied sharply, continuing his stride through the labyrinthine aisles of the shop, his frustration evident in his quickened pace. “The emporium is a nexus of power that requires a deep understanding and connection. It’s not something you can just hand over to anyone.”
“Then take my memories,” you blurted out, your voice trembling with urgency. “If you’re worried about my ability to handle the shop, erase my memories of everything but the basics of running this place. Make me a blank slate so I can focus entirely on managing the emporium.”
Hongjoong halted abruptly, turning to face you with a mixture of shock and contemplation. His eyes searched your face, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of your offer. Seonghwa, too, looked intrigued by the unexpected proposal.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Hongjoong gritted, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of frustration. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. “That’s a drastic measure. You’re willing to give up everything for this?” He gestured broadly to the surroundings, the air thick with the hum of ancient magic.
You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. “At first, I just wanted to disappear,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “My life had become a tangled mess of unfulfilled expectations and unresolved emotions. It didn’t matter what happened to me as long as I was…gone.”
You took a deep breath, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes with newfound determination. “But then, I realized something important. I didn’t have a purpose, and I was uncertain about my future. I thought about the night I came here, and it made me see that I wasn’t just trying to escape from something; I was searching for something to move towards.”
Hongjoong studied you intently, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Seonghwa, meanwhile, shifted his weight thoughtfully, clearly processing the significance of your words.
“I’ve spent so long feeling adrift,” you continued, your voice filled with conviction. “But now I see that the emporium is an opportunity to find and fulfill my purpose.”
Hongjoong’s gaze remained piercing, yet the softness in his eyes deepened, reflecting empathy and understanding. He took a moment to absorb your words, the weight of your request settling over him. His expression softened further, and he nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.
“Is that your wish?” he asked, his voice gentle yet carrying the gravity of the moment.
“Yes,” you confirmed, your voice carrying a blend of certainty and resolve. “That is my wish.”
“Mom?”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before your mother’s voice came through, warm and concerned. “Y/N? What’s the matter? You sound a bit off.”
“Nothing, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though a catch in your throat betrayed the weight of your emotions. “I just wanted to call and see how you and Dad are doing.”
Your mother’s voice softened further, her concern evident as she sensed the underlying sadness. “We’re doing well. It’s been a quiet day. Your father’s been busy with his garden—he’s finally getting those tomatoes to grow—and we’re just taking a break now. How about you? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, though the words felt hollow and insubstantial. “I just… wanted to check in before I go back to studying. I also think I might have found an opportunity worth pursuing.”
“That’s great, honey! I’m glad you’re staying on top of things,” your mother replied, her voice filled with pride. “Just remember to take care of yourself, okay? Don’t push too hard.”
“I won’t,” you promised, though the truth was far more complicated than you could ever explain in a single phone call.
As you spoke, a tear slipped down your cheek, betraying the sadness and relief you felt. It was a small release, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that had been simmering just beneath the surface.
“Mom,” you said, your voice softer now, the vulnerability creeping in despite your best efforts to hide it. “I just want you to know that I love you and Dad.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, the kind that only comes when someone is processing something unexpected. “We love you too, Y/N. I’m happy you called. If there’s anything you need or want to talk about, we’re here for you.”
“I know,” you whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, letting the comfort of her words wash over you, even as the weight of your own decisions pressed down harder. “I love you both.”
“We love you too. Take care of yourself.”
You ended the call, the weight of the conversation lingering as a poignant reminder of the ties that bound you to your family. Their love and support were a comforting anchor, grounding you as you prepared to navigate the irreversible course ahead.
“Traveler?” you called out, your voice soft yet clear, cutting through the haze of the man’s thoughts. You stepped closer, concern etched into your features as you reached out to him. “Is everything all right?”
The man blinked, pulled back into the present by the sound of your voice. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to respond. His mind was still tangled in the web of what-ifs and should-haves, but the look in your eyes—steady, patient—reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this moment.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he struggled to form a coherent thought. “I… I’d like some time to think about what I want to wish for,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his tone, one that spoke of the doubts and fears he’d been carrying for far too long.
You nodded, your expression softening as you stepped closer, your hand nearly reaching his. “Take all the time you need,” you reassured gently. “The shop exists outside of time and welcomes those it chooses. You’re welcome to come and go until you’re ready to decide.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. The weight of making a wish, of deciding on something so significant, had been overwhelming, but your presence made it feel more manageable. “It helps to know that I can come back when I’m ready.”
He looked at you–there was no judgment in your gaze, no expectation—just a quiet understanding that allowed him to breathe a little easier.
“I’m Yunho, by the way,” he added softly, as if sharing his name was a small but significant step toward reconnecting with you—at least this version of you. The corners of his lips lifted in a faint but genuine smile, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Yunho,” you repeated. The way you said his name was like a delicate thread, fragile and precious. It felt as though each syllable was an attempt to capture something fleeting, a moment of intimacy slipping through your fingers, yet cherished all the same.
<< i | iii >>
taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds
#ateez#ateez fanfic#jeong yunho#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#yunho x you#ateez fic#modern au#ateez au#magic au#yunho#ateez imagines#yunho angst#forget me not#supernatural au
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just an assistant - l.n
Warnings: Angst, ghosting, swearing
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader
A/N - y’all are gonna hate me tehe 🤭
Lando was starting to see you as more than ‘just an assistant
And it was well and truly bugging him. You woke up, from your bed, and decided to change into your outfit, a simply, tight white sleeved top and grey joggers, along with some white trainers. The thoughts and sound of Lando from last night, the sound of your name on his lips….you couldn’t forget it.
You’d be psycho not to. You were distracted as you made his toast, the bread coming out a lot darker than you’d hoped, not burnt, but definitely over cooked. Shit. You spread the butter anyways, silently hoping Lando wouldn’t notice as you put the plate down on the table beside him. He noticed, obviously.
Lando was a picky eater, you knew that, but surprisingly, he said nothing, eating the toast anyways, and trying not to spit it out. Your next mistake was when he asked you to the clean his simulator rig, and you’d accidentally knocked over your bucket of soapy water, and it had flooded onto the bottom, luckily not getting any wires.
“Y/N, what the hell?!” Lando exclaimed when he walked in, seeing the little puddle under his face seat. “I-,” you started, but he interrupted this. “God…just try not to mess everything up,” he snapped. This wasn’t like you. This wasn’t like you at all, you never made mistakes.
What had happened to the Y/N he knew? And then the thoughts started flooding in for Lando. Had you…maybe heard him last night? Had he been caught red handed? Did you hear the way he groaned your name? Or how his mind went into overdrive when the sweet, sweet sound of your name left his lips?
He had to talk to you. Lando just had to. To make sure, that his worst fears were not confirmed, and you were having an off day, or something. You tried to avoid him as much as possible, every time you saw his face, images of him between your legs, pressing kisses to your stomach, his lips trailing down past your hips, down your legs, his lips pressing right to your-
“Y/N,”. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of your own name, not a moan this time, but a colder, sterner tone, as you looked up from the floor you were scrubbing, your hand wrapped tightly round the sponge. You’d look pretty holding something else. Lando mentally scolded himself for the dirty thought, shaking it away as he stared down at you.
Look great on your knees. Enough! This was getting out of hand, and way too far. Lando couldn’t be thinking these things about you, you were supposed to be just an assistant. You were nothing more and meant nothing more to Lando than the person who cleaned up after him and did work and shit. That was your purpose.
“Get up,” he said, his voice commanding yet showing no emotion. You did what he said, trying to push the images out your mind as you looked to him, cheeks tinged slightly pink. “I have a question,” he said, trying to hide the waver in his voice as he looked anywhere but your face, his eyes roving from the floor, to your hands, to your chest, to the wall, to your chest, to the floor, to your chest, to your shoes, to your chest.
Ah. This was getting a bit repetitive. “When did you go to bed?” Lando said, choosing his words carefully. Well shit. “10pm,” you responded simply. It was the time you had GONE to bed, but not necessarily slept…
“Don’t give me that,” Lando said, his voice raising to a snarl. “When did you go to sleep?” he asked, immediately becoming defensive. “Around 11,” you said. You had fallen asleep at 11, but you had just woken up a few times during the night. “Did you wake up during the night?” Lando said, leaning forwards. “A bit,” you saw, cheeks red, as his eyes widened.
“Why’d you ask?” you added, a sudden burst of confidence in your voice. “No reason,” he said quickly, “just wanted to see why you were slacking,”. So you had heard. Shit. Lando ignored you the rest of the day, leaving you to your tasks, and not bringing any girls home that night, instead dealing with himself in the bathroom.
finish the jobs on the list, y/n, I’m out for the day.
That was what the note on the kitchen counter read when you came downstairs, Lando nowhere in sight. He’d gone out, that was reasonable, but he’d usually told you before, at least the day before he’d leave. The list was long enough to keep you preoccupied and you did the work, well enough, when your phone dinged, a message from your friend, Eryn, flashing on the screen.
Eryn: heyyyyy, isn’t that dude u work for’s name Lando Norris or something
You frowned at the sudden message, you’d told her you had a job and mention Lando a few times, but didn’t say anything more. You responded with a 👍 as the three bubbles appeared once more, before she sent you a link. ‘Lando Norris spotted with mystery girl on at a restaurant - could it be his assistant, Y/N Y/L/N?’
You stared at the image of the article. She looked very much like you - incredibly beautiful, of course, and quite similar, but not enough to be as pretty as you. But thanks to the blurry photo, she happened to look exactly like you. There were loads of articles about you and Lando supposedly at some restaurant together, your eyes wide.
Ah shit.
A/N - meow
#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris#lando x reader#f1#lando norris smut#just an assistant
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sometimes you gotta improvise, right?
older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader
side note: eddie x reader have been sneaking around for about two & half months at this point so 🤭
it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.
your brother was on to you.
he’d noticed something was up with you for a few weeks, but he chose to say nothing until now. despite how careful you and eddie were, sid was far more observant than either of you gave him credit for.
eddie had been over with the rest of the corroded coffin guys for a listening party. metallic’s newest album had come out a few days prior, and they all wanted to be able to listen to it together.
while they were all stationed in your family basement, you were laid out on your bed watching a movie. your family video had finally gotten some copies of ghost, and you couldn’t wait to rent out the first copy after your afternoon shift wrapped up.
the august heat still hasn’t subsided, and the stuffy air in your room had you feeling a little restless. so you paused your movie and wandered down to the basement in search of a cold snack. and maybe part of you just wanted to have an excuse to see your boyfriend.
when you first wandered down the stairs, they hardly acknowledged you. the five of them too enthralled in listening to the unforgiven to notice your presence.
everyone besides eddie, he always noticed you.
you meet his lingering gaze with a shy grin before you open the chest freezer, reaching inside to pull out some freezee pops. and your brother finally takes notice of you then.
“so, mouse. when’s that boyfriend of yours coming for dinner?” sid asks casually, and your whole body tenses up.
you grip the cold treat tightly in your fist, turning to face your brother with a look of feigned confusion.
“what boyfriend?”
your brother just rolls his eyes, “the one i heard sneaking out your window last night.”
you can see the slightly panicked look on eddie’s face from your peripheral but you don’t dare look at him now.
“i really don’t know what you’re talking about, sid.”
while he was merely curious before, now he’s starting to get angry.
“come on, i know you’ve got some secret boyfriend you aren’t telling me about,” sid huffs, eyeing the side of your neck suspiciously.
“and if those hickeys are anything to go by—”
“steve!” you blurt suddenly, before your brother has a chance to question you further.
“huh?”
“i’m seeing steve harrington.”
it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and sid just stares at you in shock. he didn’t exactly know who to expect, but his high school rival wasn’t one of them. you can feel eddie glaring daggers into the side of your head, but you really can’t worry about that right now.
you were just praying that sid would buy your lie for the time being. at least until you and eddie could discuss how you were going to to go about telling him. so you weren’t exactly thinking of the ramifications of what said lie would bring.
but the next words that leave his mouth has panic filling your chest.
“well— harrington’s a dead man.”
#the freak writes 🫧#my series: it’s a recipe for disaster 🫧#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x fem reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson au#eddie munson fanfic#brothers best friend!eddie munson
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Cream
Cream (Milk)
pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
word count: 2.9k
warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, oral, titty sucking and titty fucking, (lactation kink), implied breeding kink, squirting, etc.
summary: Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -
author's note: ummm … so this sequel had me questioning my life choices. like i do not know what possessed me to take it this far lol so you better blow it up like you did with ‘Milk’ 🤭 anyways, i hope you like it <3 xoxo the wordy peach
It begins with: “You’ll never guess what they’re playing at movie night,”
You look at Joel, a single eyebrow raised. Joel wolfishly grins, his brown eyes sparkling, “Austin Powers and the Spy Who Shagged Me,”
He watches as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Joel can’t believe you don’t remember the conversation from last week, the one that had you confessing to him that you felt like one of those fembots from the aforementioned movie. He steps closer, head dipping to your ear, whispering: “Machine gun titties,”
That’s all it takes for you to remember. And it has your cheeks flushing pink. Sheepishly, you smile at him. But, of course, the cock block herself pipes up: “The spy who what?”
Ellie, you spunky little shithead. You love her to death. You never want her to grow up. But lately, she’s been ruining your alone time with Joel. You know she just wants to be a part of the family, and she is. It never even crossed your mind to think otherwise. She’s the daughter you never had. Sometimes you wish she’d just go and make friends that aren’t you or Joel.
You look at Joel, waiting for him to answer. But Joel is expectantly gazing at you. A playful smirk ghosts across his lips. He thinks it’s your duty to explain the birds, the bees, and everything between them to Ellie. Of course, she knows most of it. But she questions absolutely everything. Just yesterday, you had the unfortunate experience of explaining anal to her; Joel walked out of the house when she asked and didn’t return until later.
You poke a finger into Joel’s chest, hissing at him, “It’s your turn,”
His face goes slack before he gives you a sullen look. He pouts those luscious lips of his, “But darlin'….”
“Don't darlin' me, mister. You owe me for yesterday,”
Joel continues to pout but eventually relents. He turns to Ellie with a face void of any emotion: “It’s a classic movie from the 2000s,”
“Yeah, but what does shagged mean?” Ellie asks. Her eyes look between you and Joel, waiting for an answer. Joel grows uncomfortable. He’s never been one to talk about this kind of stuff.
“Yeah, Joel. What does shagged mean?” You ask.
“It- it… it means…” Joel stutters and stumbles over the words. His face is turning pink. He looks flustered as he searches for the right thing to say. You’re enjoying him floundering around. In one great, big breath, Joel spills out: “It’s a British slang term for intercourse,”
Ellie blinks at him several times as she repeats what Joel just said to her. She starts chuckling, “Shagged means sex?!” Ellie turns into a mess of laughter. She’s clutching her sides. It’s not that funny. But you like watching her have fun. It brings back the innocence and reminds you of childhood. You were young when the movie came out, and the world was ravaged by fungus a few years after. So you cherish this moment of hilarity. You rub your tummy and smile at how much fun you will have raising this new baby with Joel and Ellie -
You don’t make it to movie night because you’re busy with the nursery, and the thought of walking all the way to town hall makes you cringe. You don’t like going anywhere unless it is essential. You make Joel and Ellie do everything for you. There are still some things you do yourself.
You insist Joel and Ellie go. Ellie doesn’t fight it (she’s so excited to watch a piece of history), but Joel grumbles about it. He wants to stay and help. By helping, Joel means he wants to milk you. He can’t stop helping you, and it’s the only thing on his mind - Joel swears he even dreams about it now. However, there hasn’t been a single moment for him to help you. Tommy has Joel doing everything and anything, and between his brother and Ellie, Joel hasn’t had time for his new hobby.
So, after he drops Ellie off at the movie (making sure that she is settled and making sure that Tommy will bring her home after), Joel leaves and makes his way back to you. He wants to spend every free minute with you, but more importantly, this is the perfect opportunity to do what he’s been dreaming of without any interruptions. Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -
You hear him before you see him, and then you feel him. His arms wrap around your body, and he presses his chest into your back. You sink into the warmth, eyes closing and throat humming. His hands briefly touch your stomach before they find their rightful place. Joel cups your tits, placing each of them into his hands, and marvels at the heaviness. So full of his special cream.
“They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?” Joel murmurs. His cock is already hard and straining inside his pants. Hell, on the walk home, the prospect of milking you had him almost cumming right then and there.
“They’re definitely heavier,” Joel adds as he squeezes them. He notices you aren’t wearing a bra, and with one simple motion, he has his shirt on the floor (the only one that fits you). You’re facing him now, chest and belly exposed. The sight of you has him losing it. Joel feels happy and excited, and everything in between that. Joel can’t believe that you're his, and he’s yours. Nor can he believe his eyes because your tits are definitely bigger, and your nipples are already dewy with that milky nectar he loves so much.
Joel groans, latches his mouth onto your right side, and starts suckling like a starved man. Your nipple is already stiff and responsive, and you feel the sensation of milk rushing through to meet your partner’s greedy tongue. His hand expertly kneads the pillowy flesh, expressing even more of the sweet cream that has him hard as a rock. Joel starts to breathe deeper and sucks harder, causing you to moan.
Your fingers comb through Joel’s hair, and you hold him there because the pleasure of having Joel drain your tits is undeniable; in fact, the more Joel sucks and licks your nipple, the more your arousal grows. You have to remind him, “Joel…. We have less than ninety minutes -”
He grunts in response and moves his mouth to the other side he’s been neglecting. The feeling is indescribable, and you relish it. The relief Joel is giving you is insurmountable. But it also has you growing impatient with him. Your core is aching for his cock, and your hands travel over his body. You feel his muscles, thick and robust, beneath the plaid shirt. You need him now.
“Joel,” Your hand drops to the bulge in his jeans, and you gently rub it with purpose. The friction makes Joel groan, finally lifting his head from your tits. His eyes are filled with a dazy lustiness that makes you fumble with your words. Still, it doesn’t matter because Joel is suddenly pressing his lips against yours and kissing you with an ardour that makes you forget everything you are about to say.
You taste the substance that has Joel acting ravenous. It reminds you of cereal milk because it’s so sweet. You part from his lips, whispering, “Can I taste you now?”
He doesn’t have time to answer because you’re already lowering yourself to your knees, planting them on the ground in front of Joel. With one hand, you pop open the buttons of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Roughly, you tug at the opening and watch as his thick, luscious cock springs free from its confines. At the sight of it, you lick your lips. Your fingers wrap around his length and slide over his stiffness. The movement makes Joel shiver, and when your lips finally touch his cock, a groan escapes from his throat.
Joel has been so concerned about making you feel good that he forgot to consider himself. Suddenly, you thrust him inside your mouth while twisting your hand down his cock. He quickly fills your mouth, and his hand grasps your hair in hopes of controlling you. However, he’s fine with letting you have your way right now. It’s been a while since you had the opportunity to please him; Joel loves how the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you’re so adept at sucking him off that his length doesn’t make you gag anymore -
Expertly, you glide your mouth from the hilt to the tip of Joel’s cock, coating it in your saliva. Joel���s eyes nearly roll into his head because it feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing he can tell you because he’s almost lost his mind from the bliss of your mouth sheathing his cock. You don’t stop until Joel gasps for air and asks you to stop.
“Babe, babe, babe,” His voice is husky, and he roughly pulls on your hair. You gasp and gaze up at him with a thick string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Joel quivers at the sight and has to remember what he will say. You wait patiently. Obediently.
Breathlessly, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck you here? Or…”
Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Here,”
Joel doesn’t need to be told twice and is quick to shed his jeans before he starts to help you. You lean forward onto the palm of your hands and watch as Joel goes behind and begins to slide off the sweatpants you’re always wearing. Not that Joel minds. He knows it’s the only thing that fits you because you remind him every damn day. Once the sweatpants are off, he tosses them to the side and stares lovingly at your ass. It’s so round and perky and panty-less. He’s genuinely surprised, and it makes him smile.
He caresses your fleshy cheeks, asking, “Is this for me?”
Joel can’t see your face but can tell you are blushing. Sheepishly, you admit, “As soon as you left, I took them off - for easy access,”
“Oh, darlin’,” He swoons, “You’re so sweet to think of me,”
Joel pries your sweet cheeks apart and buries his face, his tongue immediately swirling around your puckered asshole. Mewls spill forth from your mouth, and you wiggle your hips, trying to splay them apart because your body needs more. Joel’s tongue slithers down, lapping the juice practically pouring out of your needy, swollen cunt. He licks and sucks with wild abandon, groaning at your deliciousness. He doesn’t stop until you are begging him, “Joel, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock, please. Oh god, fuck me, already!”
He removes his mouth from your exterior and replaces it with his cock. He rubs and rubs his bulbous crown between your molten wetness, gliding it back and forth until it’s coated with your slickness. When he thinks it’s enough, he pushes into your tight cunt. At first, your channel is resistant. But slowly, your velvety walls happily start devouring Joel’s cock until his entire length basks in the warmth.
You are gasping at the sensation of being stretched out. It’s almost too much in this position, and a small rock of Joel’s hips gives way to your first orgasm. Your vision swirls as a wave of ecstasy comes crashing through. Your fingers grip the carpet as your cunt swells and clenches his cock. Your back arches as you cry out, “Fuck, Joel,”
Immediately, he stops, thinking he has hurt you or the baby. Panic-stricken, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“N-n-nothing,” You stutter out, attempting to catch your breath. Your lungs greedily suck in the air, saturated with the smell of sex. You tell him, “You made me cum,”
“Already?” He murmurs and devilishly thinks about the five times he made you cum last week. Joel rocks his hips again, and you whimper at the movement. At a glacial pace, Joel pulls out before sliding back in and burying his cock to the hilt. You’re gripping the carpet and moaning like crazy. He’s sure the neighbours can hear you, which drives Joel forward. He wants them to know how good he is at fucking you.
Joel grabs your hips, nails sinking into the fleshy bits, and plows in and out of your pussy. He’s pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in, ensuring you feel every inch of his girthy length. Your body is rocking beneath his, tits swaying like udders. You reach between your legs to touch your clit. It’s pulsating and yearning to be touched. You gingerly circle it, knowing a light touch is enough to send you over the edge. And you’re right because, within seconds, your second orgasm is rolling through.
You wail, “Joel, Joel, Joel,” but Joel doesn’t stop this time. He continues to youthfully spear your pussy and watches as your creamy juices coat his cock. Vigorously, you rub your clit because a third orgasm is imminent. Your back arches and your hips are high in the air, and Joel stops, pulling out completely, to watch as your pussy trembles with another orgasm. Your thighs are dripping with your juices, and his name still spills out of your mouth. Repeatedly.
His hand squeezes your hip, “Mmm, darlin’. That’s your third one - should we slow down? Don’t want to hurt -”
“Need more,” You interrupt him, “Need to cum more, Joel,”
Joel shakes his head, “Darlin’,'' He knows you aren’t thinking straight, driven to recklessness because of the pure ecstasy that has raptured your body. You turn over, laying on your back. You splay your legs apart, and your pussy glistens in the light. It’s so swollen, so puffy. Your hand is back, and your fingers are working your clit. But from this angle, it’s a little more challenging because of your protruding belly. And it’s making you frustrated. Especially because Joel is just watching, not helping.
“Joel,” You growl, “Fuck me,”
A single eyebrow of his shoots up, and you begrudgingly mutter, “Please,”
Much to your surprise, Joel moves. However, instead, he hovers above your chest and settles his cock in the valley of your tits. His hands squeeze them, and the milk for his unborn child sprays out, sprinkling across your chest and hitting his cock. At first, Joel goes slow, his cock passing between your tits. It’s a different kind of friction and holy hell… it feels good. His cock, slippery with your juices and milk, has him gliding through your breasts with ease. He grips harder and fucks your tits faster, rocking his hips back and forth.
As he slips in and out, he milks your bountiful breasts in the process. He does it until you are soaked. He’s breathing hard, and his balls are tightening. He’s close, so fucking close. But he doesn’t want to finish like this because he knows you want more orgasms, and who is he to deny his pregnant partner? You have been carrying his baby for months, and it hasn’t been easy. And Joel knows that once the baby is born, you won’t be able to have sex for weeks. Not until you’re healed. So, why not let you live a little?
He pulls his cock out of your cleavage and moves his face to yours, kissing you passionately. His tongue swirls and mingles with yours before he shifts down. Joel latches his mouth around your nipple and practically inhales a gulp of cream into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow and comes back up, kissing you again. Messily, Joel washes your mouth with your milk. It’s sweet and warm, and it’s fucking kinky as hell. It has you moaning into Joel’s mouth. He moans back, letting you know he loves every moment of it too.
As he continues to kiss you, Joel reaches down and takes his cock, sliding it over your puffy and sensitive lips before pressing it into your velvet channel. Your body welcomes him, and your mouth drops, gasping as you effortlessly fit his entire length . Once more, Joel explores your warm depths with a vigorous youthfulness. His flesh is clapping yours over and over until you are yelling his name over and over. Your hands are gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin.
“Mmm, Joel, mmm, Joel, gonna cum, Joel, mmm - fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your eyes roll back, and an unwavering fourth climax raptures your body. A euphoric release rolls across your body, and you undulate beneath Joel. He watches as your belly quivers, and he feels your cunt trying to expel him, and when he does finally pull out, a massive bolt of liquid escapes - he realizes you’re squirting. Something he’s only heard rumours about. He’s astonished by the amount of liquid that is coming out and by how long your orgasm is lasting.
Meanwhile, you are gasping for air, lungs greedily gulping it down. You have no idea what happened; all you know is it’s a big wet mess down there. You’re gazing at Joel, cock-drunk. Orgasm-drunk. Your brain is buzzing with satisfaction. Your fixation on cumming has been satiated. However, your partner is still rock hard. He still needs to cum, and he’s more eager than ever before. He shoves his cock back in, and the molten wetness has his cock quivering as his climax punches through, pushing him over the edge.
He doesn't warn you. He doesn’t have to - the damage is done. You’re reaping what he sowed. Joel shoots his seed as far into you as possible with a single thrust. His hands touch your belly, caressing the soft skin, and he pushes his cock even deeper, where he empties the rest of his balls. When he pulls out, his cum mixed with yours oozes out from your crease and pools onto the carpet beneath you.
You dare to smile up at him, murmuring: “Thank you, Daddy,”
#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#thewordypeach#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlof smut#freaks only <3#the wordy peach#thewordypeachwrites#wpw
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