#he's got his apron on and everything man knows how to live

[ghostsangel]

he might not be your man, but he is the right man

simon “ghost” riley x married!reader (based off this reblog comment i got on my last oneshot)

tags/warnings: mdni, unprotected sex, breeding kink, spitting, infidelity (your marriage sucks), overstimulation, reader is plus-size

Your marriage isn’t the best.

You’ve fallen out of love with your husband—and he is a good man. As good as he can be, anyway. You’re not sure when the neglect from him started, but he hardly touches you anymore. A kiss and a cuddle here and there, but nothing more. It’s been about a year and a half since the two of you have slept together.

To say you are touch deprived is an understatement.

Maybe he didn’t like your body anymore—after three kids, you don’t look the same as you did when you got married. Stretch marks cover your apron belly, a scar on the skin from the c-section when you had your second child. Instead of a sharp jawline, your face is round and soft, the double chin a prominent reminder that you’ll never look how you did six years ago. Your thick thighs hold stretch marks and jiggle when you walk, and your ass—let’s just say it’s a handful.

Despite the weight gain, you like your body. Love is a strong word, but you like it. It housed your three kids for nine months, your kids that you adore with your entire heart.

But something is missing.

Simon is an old friend. Your oldest friend, actually. The two of you have been friends since high school when you skipped classes together to smoke joints in his car. For a while, you had a massive crush on the tall, gruffly Englishman, but it faded when he left for military service right out of school and you met your husband.

Still, the two of you wrote letters when he was away and saw each other every time he came back from deployment. He grew from a lanky kid to a strong adult and all the while never stopped being your friend.

Of course, you invite him to everything. The kids’ birthday parties, New Year’s parties, Halloween, Christmas. Simon doesn’t have a family, so in truth, you became his surrogate family. The kids think of him as an uncle and go into a frenzy every time they see him—“Uncle Simon’s here! D’you think he’d give me a piggyback ride?”

He watches you from afar—not that you notice. He sees the unhappiness in your posture when he’s with you and your husband, the lifeless sort of emptiness hollowed out behind your gaze, but he says nothing. He knows you’ll talk to him about it when you’re ready, as much as it pains him to see his best friend hurting.

However, Simon can’t help but feel like whisking you away from your dumbass husband and showing you what being wanted really feels like. He may not be who you’re with now, but he’s the right guy—the guy you should’ve married instead of your husband.

Tonight, you sat in his living room, the two of you meeting up for a weekly friend’s night. He got back from deployment a few days ago, and this is a ritual the two of you have every time he returned.

You sip on a glass of wine—your drink of choice, dressed in a pair of shorts and a top. When you’re with Simon, you don’t feel as hesitant at showing your body—thick thighs and arms, fabric clinging to your belly. He’s known you for too long to care.

“How’s the husband?” Simon asks, eyes flicking to your face. He never wears the mask around you—and you can see his scars that run along his skin, etched into his features forever.

You shrug, sighing, hesitating. “He’s fine.”

Simon tilts his head to the side, taking a swig of his beer. His eyes scan over your expression before trailing down your body. He shifts on the couch, one hand resting on his thick thigh, legs spread.

“You okay? We’ve been friends for fuckin’ ages, doll. I can tell when you’re hidin’ somethin’.”

Your eyes flick to his, trying to ignore the warm feeling in the bottom of your tummy. It’s stupid—a subtle hint of concern from another human being makes your stomach flip.

“My marriage is sort of…crumbling,” you murmur, one of your thick thighs hitting his as you adjust on the couch.

His brows pull together and he sets his beer down on the coffee table. “Elaborate.” He doesn’t need you to—he knows what you’re going to say.

You drain your wine and grip the stem of the glass. “He just doesn’t…love me anymore, I don’t think. Doesn’t touch me or have sex with me. It’s been almost two years, Simon. I’m going insane.”

“Have you thought of leaving him?” He probes, resisting the urge to reach over and squeeze your plushy thighs and stomach.

“Yeah, but…it’s complicated with the kids.”

“Kids deserve to be raised in a home where there’s love,” Simon simply states.

His words make you look into his eyes, and you can see an underlying emotion there that you’ve never seen before from him. His fingers twitch, and for a moment, you’re certain he’s going to touch you. The thought makes heat flare between your thighs, setting your neglected cunt on fire.

You set the glass down and look back at him, shaking your head. “Pretty sure he’s fucking someone else. Probably that young girl from his work—she’s thin and pretty and—”

Simon’s hand reaches over to grip your thigh, cutting off your sentence. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes meet his again. His nostrils are flared, and he grips the fat of your thighs like you’re gonna vanish.

“You’re beautiful, doll. Always have been. A little more meat on your bones doesn’t mean you can’t get someone’s cock hard.”

His words stun you. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone call you beautiful in years—and it makes tears well in your eyes as you look at Simon. His eyes flick to your lips, and then his hand is on the back of your neck, tugging you to him.

Your lips meet his in a hungry kiss, lips moving together and tongues running along one another. He grips your waist and moves you like you weigh nothing, settling you on his wide lap. A fervent moan slips past your lips when his hard cock presses against your aching cunt, already soaked.

His big hand moves from the back of your neck to your ass, squeezing the flesh so hard, you’re sure it’ll bruise. His other hand runs down your side to slip under the hem of your shirt. His fingertips graze your stomach until they get to your chest, furiously working to tug the cups of your bra down.

“Get this off,” he mumbles against your lips, tugging your shirt over your head, his fingertips working at the clasp of your bra as soon as the shirt leaves his grip.

Your face flushes when he tosses the bra away, eyes drinking you in hungrily. His hands squeeze the flesh of your ass, a sharp slap echoing in the otherwise silent room when he spanks you. You whimper, and he chuckles before taking a nipple into his mouth and working it with his tongue.

Your back arches, a moan ripping past your lips as his tongue swirls over the neglected bud. Electricity jolts straight to your pussy, and it’s embarrassing to you that you’re already practically dripping for him and he’s barely touched you.

Your nails dig into his neck and he lets out a groan against your nipple before switching to the other side, tongue flicking quickly against the hardening peak. You hear a ripping sound and realize he’s ripped your shorts and panties clean off of you, and Simon grins against your skin as he tosses them to the floor.

His big hands spread your cheeks apart, one hand drifting between your legs to the apex of your thighs. He releases your nipple with a pop as his fingertips run through your soaked folds, the touch making you weak in the knees.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, love. Bet that shithead of a husband couldn’t get you as wet as me,” he murmurs against your skin, teeth nipping and biting up your chest as he speaks. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll show you how a real man should make you feel.”

His sentence is accentuated by a harsh suck on the skin of your neck, and your eyes roll back as you grind down on his hard cock. You want him so bad, it’s embarrassing, and you can’t help the whine when his tongue runs over the mark he just made and up your neck.

Simon pushes your back to the couch, his hips slotted between your legs as he kisses you again, hungry and needy. He’s dreamt of this for years—and he’s not going to waste his time now that he’s gotten it. The kiss is full of spit and tongues, him swallowing your moans as his fingers work at your clit.

Your legs jolt as he rubs in slow circles, back arching when he presses down a little harder. He smirks down at you, taking in your hooded eyes and open mouth, and he can’t help but use his other hand to grip your jaw. He holds your mouth open, letting his spit drip into your mouth before closing it for you.

Your eyes glaze over at the action, whining as you swallow and open your mouth again, almost like you’re ready for more. The sight alone makes his cock throb, and he slips two fingers into your neglected pussy.

The stretch is intense, but you welcome it as he fingers you, thumb rubbing your clit. His fingers curl and he grins as he feels you clench tightly around him.

“Gonna come already, love? That’s okay, go on. Got some making up to do, don’t I?”

The squelch of your pussy is lewd as he finger fucks you, the coil inside your tummy tightens as he stares into your eyes. His fingertips hold your head in place, making you look at him as he brings you to the edge.

Your back arches when you come, juices gushing from your throbbing cunt and onto Simon’s fingers. You whine nonsense, legs trembling as pleasure runs through you. Before you know what’s happening, your legs are over his shoulders and his fingers are replaced with his tongue.

Your hips jolt and you groan, trying to back away from him, but his large hands hold you in place. “Don’t fuckin’ run, sweetheart. You can take it.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue swirls over your throbbing clit, your eyes fluttering shut as the painful pleasure he’s bringing you. He ruts his hips against the couch as he eats you out, one hand on your belly, the other on your hip.

“Simon,” you gasp out as his tongue flicks quick strokes across your clit, legs still trembling as you feel your second orgasm build quickly. “Ple…I can’t…”

“You can,” he mumbles against your clit before diving back in, sucking and licking like a man starved.

He doesn’t stop when you cry out and come the second time, or the third. After the fourth, he kisses up your body, tongue trailing over your sweaty skin. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck before kissing you, gripping your waist and moving you to straddle him again.

His fingers work the zipper on his pants and he pulls his cock free, running his leaky tip along your wet, swollen folds. He breaks the kiss, staring into your eyes as he lines himself up with your pussy.

You slowly sink into his cock and you lean your head forward onto his shoulder, whimpering as he stretches and fills you up. His breathing is already ragged, soft moans filling your ears as you sit on him.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. This cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” He murmurs against your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he grips your hips.

You don’t have to do any work—he knows you’re tired. All you have to do is lean against him while he fucks into you from below, his thick cock stretching your walls and his tip hitting the spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

His hands spread your asscheeks apart as he ruts into you, the room filled with your moans and his breathy gasps. You never knew sex could feel this fucking good—it’s a new sensation to you.

“God, wanna fuck this pussy everyday,” Simon growls in your ear, one hand moving to your hair to tilt your head back. “Wanna fuck you in every position possible and fill you up till you’re pregnant with our baby.”

The thought makes your head spin, and you feel your breath stutter as your cunt clamps down around him. He grins against your ear, using the grip on your hair to tug your head back and look into your eyes.

“Yeah, you want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you so you can leave that pathetic man and be with me?” He asks, and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You nod, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, Simon, f-fuck—”

His smile widens and he thrusts up into you faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder. “I can do that, doll. Be a good little slut and take it for me, yeah?”

The look in his eyes—feral, protective, hungry—it’s enough to send you over the edge. Your pussy throbs around him and your vision goes white as your body shakes, screaming out Simon’s name as he continues to pound you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, fuck yeah, baby. Feels like heaven when you’re squeezin’ my cock like that,” he grunts out, thrusts becoming sloppier as he nears his orgasm. “Gonna fill this greedy cunt up.”

You gaze into his eyes, your own hooded and fucked out as you nod, whimpering out a “please” at his words. His lips crash into yours as he grunts and moans, hips stilling as he buries his thick cock inside you, throbbing as he spills ropes of cum inside your womb.

Simon pants in your ear, his fingers running up and down your back as he tries to collect himself. He grips your hips, cock still inside you, and you feel him smile.

“Gonna do that till your belly’s swollen with my baby, sweetheart.”

—————————————

see this oneshot’s companion here!

[a-hazbin-reader]

it's valentines day tommorrow- what's alastor gonna do for reader?

I totally forgot about Valentine's Day-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a cannibal, Alastor scaring people off

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor 100% forgets that it's Valentine's Day no matter how hard everyone tries to remind him

He can remember everything else important like birthdays, anniversaries, and other key events in your lives

But somehow, he manages to always forget Valentine's Day

He is so fucking smart but somehow so dumb at the same time, Rosie is the one who saves his ass every year

She literally plans it now, inviting him over the day before Valentine's Day

"So Alastor~ How are you going to spend Valentine's Day with Y/N tomorrow~?"

"How kind of you to ask-What was that now?"

"You forgot again. Didn't you."

Long awkward sip of tea

"You hopeless man, here's what you need to do..."

If it were anyone else then Alastor would be fucked but luckily he's tHe RaDiO dEmOn so he's able to scramble together something impressive

You'll never know he forgot

You wake up to your favorite flowers in your bed and all over the hotel, Niffty having a breakdown because she can't clean them up

Not Alastor standing in the kitchen with an apron on, cooking breakfast for the two of you

Kiss the cook? Don't mind if I do~

He won't accept any gifts from you until he's finished giving you the Valentine's Day you deserve

Mostly out of guilt over forgetting tho

After the most delicious breakfast you've had in awhile, he invites you out for a walk

He's shamelessly checking you out the entire morning, visibly approving of your outfit for the day

He takes you to one of the most beautiful and lush places in the pride ring that he can find, adoring the amazed look on your face

You almost feel like the two of you are a normal couple enjoying the day together, not two sinners in hell who are walking through faux earth scenery

If there's anybody else around then he scares them away so that you two can be alone and unbothered

Keeps an arm wrapped around you the entire walk, resting his head on yours because if he looks at you then he'll lose his mind

You just look so fucking cute rn

While it might just seem like a romantic walk, it's all a ruse to get you to a planetarium

Again, there's nobody there because Alastor wants privacy with his S/O

Because there's nobody there, Alastor took the liberty of decorating it in romantic lighting and getting more comfortable seating for the two of you

Seating might be the wrong word

The two of you end up snuggled together in a hammock, gazing up at stars that used to be familiar to you both

If you can name the stars and constellations then Alastor will happily listen while pulling you to his chest

Maybe you two feed each other snacks

"No, I'm not feeding you a finger, I love you, but I'm not touching that."

"You love me? How embarrassing that must be for you~"

"Still not feeding you that."

"Maybe I should eat you instead~"

KEEP IT PG YOU TWO

If you fall asleep then maybe he'll smooch your face a little bit until you wake back up

Maybe you're only pretending to be asleep

But the gifts don't stop there!

When you two leave, he takes you to the radio tower for a romantic dinner, and that shit is CANDLELIT

🕯 🍝 🕯

It is legitimately a lady and the tramp style dinner date with him doting on you the entire time

He's been a suave gentleman the entire day so far, doing everything he can to make you blush and swoon

But when you finally get the chance to give him your Valentine's Day gift, no matter what it is, he's genuinely flustered

Stares at it while blushing in silence for what feels like the longest time

"You got me this..? For me?"

"Who else would it be for?"

Not his tail wagging

Once he composes himself then he invites you to slow dance with him, holding you inappropriately close to him

Good thing you two are alone

Alastor is a fantastic dancer and a handsome man so that alone is enough to make you flustered

But slow dancing with him while he stares at you with that rare soft expression, with love in his eyes???

You're just a blushing puddle in his arms which is totally what he's going for, cooing at you sweetly

And he only makes it worse once he starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear throughout the entire dance, confessing everything he loves about you

Alastor legitimately has his breath taken away when he looks at your face afterward

You look so grateful for all that he's done for you today, but he still feels guilty for forgetting in the first place

When he thinks of your gift then he only feels worse, cupping your cheek gently

"Y/N...I have something to confess to you..."

"This is all last minute because you forgot about Valentine's Day?"

*shocked Pikachu face*

"...how did you know? Did Rosie tell you?"

"Alastor...darling...baby..."

Not your hand pulling on his cheek before giving it a few condescending pats

"You forget every year~"

Oh yeah

"But you always make it the perfect day~"

Brags about what you said to him the next day with Rosie, not at all noticing how done she looks with him

Hnnnng!! I love this man

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (3)

When your mother is sent screenshots of your tweets, you lie & claim that it was an inside joke between you & your boyfriend. @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.730

Warning: dirty talk, simp jungkook once again, oral (f/m receiving) face riding, 69, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation kink, submissive reader, dom jungkook, slight jealous and possessive jungkook, but like we love this jungkook,

“Never knew you lived alone.” you say as your eyes scan around the clean, spacious apartment. 

“I’ve invited you over plenty of times.” Jungkook closes the door behind him, takes off his shoes and makes his way towards his kitchen. “You always shot me down.”

You follow him into the kitchen with a roll of your eyes, sitting on the island to watch him take out the fresh food he just bought today for dinner. “Who knows what you’d do to me if I stayed here.”

“Exactly what you beg me to do when we’re at your house.” Jungkook sends you a smile before turning away from you.

Jungkook had a point, you’re sad to say.

Jungkook begins to cook, wrapping a black apron around his torso tightly as he does so. You laugh at how persistent he is, your stomach churning with unknown feelings - you refuse to believe it’s because you like him more than a fuck buddy.

The phone call you got from your mother was an embarrassing one. She called you non-stop, and when you finally answered, you were left completely worried about what in the world she could be in such a rush to speak about.

Your tweets were not what was on your mind when you answered. She had told you that she was sent a screenshot - you blame your brother and his treacherous ways; who else would it be? “Are you prostituting yourself?” your mother’s disappointed voice asks over the phone and a side of you wants to laugh. Maybe in a way this could be prostitution - but you and Jungkook had a form of relationship. You were close friends, you’d say, often hanging out together even outside of sex - so you didn’t consider it prostitution. Just maybe a favor for a favor.

“No, of course not!” was your response, completely flushed with hot embarrassment. “Who told you about twitter? How did you find it…?” 

What made your mother stop ranting was you exclaiming that Jungkook - or the “horny boy who comments on your posts” as she puts it - was your boyfriend and everything you were tweeting was just an inside joke between the two of you - a joke she obviously didn’t get.

When you made an obvious lie to your mother, she was skeptical. You never mentioned any boyfriends before and it was news to her. She wanted to meet Jungkook, already telling your father about the embarrassing tweets and what “the new generation are doing on their social media platforms” that he didn’t care about. 

So, this is how you and Jungkook found yourself in his apartment - a rather spacious, clean and overall nice apartment - with him cooking dinner for you, himself and your parents. Once viewing your tweet, he had called you instantly, declaring that he was going to be the best fake boyfriend your mother ever met.

“Smells good.” you murmur after about 30 minutes, looking up from your phone.

Jungkook knits his brows and chuckles. “Does it?” he asks. “I had to bring out the fine china for my in-laws.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re pushing it.” you quip.

Jungkook lowers the fire and turns towards you. His apron is slightly messy, but it only meant that he was a good chef. He places his hands onto the table, your eyes catching the way his veins pulse. 

“I’m serious.” Jungkook says. “There’s no going back from this now. We mind as well start thinking about marriage.”

You raise a brow and tilt your head. 

“I mean,” Jungkook taps his fingers onto the island table. “after I woo your mother and show her how amazing I am, there’ll be no other man who’s going to have that love in her heart.”

You begin to laugh at Jungkook’s words - even if he did have a point. Jungkook would be the type of person your mother would want for you to date - which made the fake dating aspect more comical for you. 

“You’re laughing now,” Jungkook smirks, leaning forward to capture your lips in a quick, off guard, peck. His soft lips shut you up and leave you wanting more. “but I’ll be having the last laugh when she invites me to all the holiday dinners.”

You lick your lips, attempting to not let Jungkook see you flustered. “Is that so?” you decide to humor the man. “You’ll put yourself through humiliation even when I do find a boyfriend?”

Jungkook’s eyes are right on yours, starting with a serious expression. Slowly, his smirk turns into a thin line and then you begin to feel as though you crossed a line with him - maybe even hurt his feelings in a way.

Jungkook pokes his tongue through his cheek, but then he tilts his head once more and gives you that toothy grin. “Sure. You’ll keep seeing me at these holiday dinners or get-togethers because your mother will love me so much, I'll basically be part of the family.” 

Jungkook turns away, turning off the stove. His eyes darted to the clock hanging high on the wall, there was another 30 minutes until your parents would arrive. 

“You’ll still sit on my face even if you did bring a boyfriend around. And I’ll make you cum each time.”

Jungkook’s words catch you by surprise, but it leaves you hot nonetheless. His eyes are staring right through you once more - he knows what he’s doing and you hate it - hate that he knows what he could do to you with just his words.

“That sounds absurd that you think I would keep you around even if I did have a boyfriend.” you  quip, challenging him. 

“But you will.” Jungkook retorts all too quickly. “You’ll do nothing but have that” Jungkook raises a hand and does air quotations. “boyfriend running away.”

You’re taken aback, but before you can respond, Jungkook does.” When you realize that only I have the patience to handle that spoiled princess bitchy attitude you portray, it’ll make things easier for the both of us.” he shrugs. “Until then, I’ll let you live out this fantasy of a fake boyfriend coming around.”

Jungkook waits for you to respond to him with petty remarks. He doesn’t tell you, but he enjoys the petty debates you and he share - maybe because each time it ends with you sitting on his face. 

You don’t speak, and Jungkook knows yet again, he has you beat. 

“You want to sit on my face?” Jungkook questions with a raised brow after a few moments of a silent staring battle.

You nod, and now the both of you are scurrying to his bedroom - his leading the way. Jungkook doesn’t botter shutting the door, there was limited time he had. He’s already pulling at your pants when he enters the room.

Jungkook lays down upon his bed just as your pants fall. “Just push them aside.” he says in a hurry. “Cute.” he murmurs at the pastel lavender underwear you wore - they were velvet and soft. “Are these new?”

You position yourself above Jungkook’s lips and nod your head. “You should know. It was your credit card that was swiped.” 

Jungkook snorts but nods. “I don’t check where you go when I give you my card.” he begins to kiss your inner thighs.

“This is why Jimin hates me.” you giggle, biting your lip. “Spending all your money on me while he has to fight for hulu again.”

Jungkook places a kiss on your clit. “I’m not fucking Jimin.” is all he says before diving into your clit. His tongue begins to lick between your folds and now your back is arching.

Jungkook licks your clit like a man starved, determined to make you cum. His hands rub your thighs encouragingly like he usually does, wanting you to get enough pleasure as you could. 

You begin to rock your hips against his tongue, biting your lips. You could never say no to Jungkook offering to pleasure you - he does it so often now that it becomes a part of your weekly routine.

“You’re holding back.” Jungkook muffled words hit your ears. His finger slides between your panties, pushing them aside so he has more access to lick upon your clit. Just as you open your eyes to look at Jungkook, he lifts you up slightly to spit onto your clit, just to lap it up entirely, along with the arousal you provided him. 

“S-Stop doing that.” you murmur, but even you can’t help but moan. Jungkook understands your body right now, only knowing his perverted actions would cause you to buckle your hips against his tongue even harder.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, just lies and watches as your face contorts with pleasure. His hand roams your bare thighs until he reaches your ass. He rubs it gently, a slight encouragement for you to get your high off. 

With each thrust of your clit upon his tongue, Jungkook feels himself grow hard - but this wasn’t about him. He enjoyed pleasuring you, truly - even when you did nothing for him in return. Watching you knowing that he had you this way was worth it. 

Jungkook willingly slurps and groans onto your clit, his hands now squeezing your ass. “If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.” you say, and Jungkook does it even harder, a look in his eyes that tells you “that’s the point”.

‘F-Fuck.” you lift yourself from Jungkook’s tongue against his wishes.

“You didn’t cum yet.” Jungkook pushes you back down against his tongue, preparing himself when you speak.

“I know you’re hard.” you turn yourself around so you’re facing his erect cock. His sweats appear tight when you know they aren’t, but that’s due to his hardened cock.”Wanna cum in my mouth?”

Jungkook groans. He doesn’t answer, just dives back onto your clit. He has a firm grasp against you, ensuring you don’t move away from him this time. 

You don’t waste any more time, hands roughly tugging out Jungkook’s cock. It springs out and you wrap your mouth against the tip, sucking it just know you know Jungkook likes it.  Your nails dig into his thighs as your head bobs up and down, sucking him in deeper each time.

Jungkook’s fully moaning now into your clit, hips thrusting to meet your warm mouth. He doesn’t understand fully how you do this to him each time - there was never a dull moment with you. Sex each time only became better and better; he never wanted it to end.

“I-I don’t think I can let you cum in my mouth.” you say, popping Jungkook’s cock from your swollen lips. Your tongue licks up the shaft of it before you kiss the tip. “Please, just fuck me.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. When Jungkook wanted to, he could easily throw you around like a ragdoll. You’re grateful that the man with such stamina and strength never fully displays it unless you wanted him to.

“We only have about five minutes.” Jungkook centers himself at your entrance, enthralled at how amazing your ass appeared arched for him - no matter how many times you blessed him with such a view. 

“Maybe then, fuck…” Jungkook begins to enter you, your pussy immediately clenching around him. “...you have five minutes to fuck me like you mean it then.”

Fuck you Jungkook does. His thrusts are completely brutal, both hands firmly against you. His left is on your hips while his right is pressing your back against his mattress. The sounds of skin slapping echoes off of his walls, the neighbors would surely know about this one.

“Your pussy’s so wet for me, baby.” Jungkook grunts, eyes bouncing between the arch of your back to the way you were creaming his cock. “And to think you thought about having a boyfriend that wasn’t me.”

You knew Jungkook wasn’t going to let that down, but you were far too into his dick to care about what he was saying to fuel his ego - Jungkook did this constantly. “No one could fuck you as good as me” he’d say. “Your pussy was made for my cock.” was another. Your favorite was his praises towards you. “You look so beautiful taking me.” or “You ride it so good, baby.”

Jungkook’s right hand reaches for your neck, hoisting you up. His cock goes even deeper and now you’re unable to suppress your whimpers. “You know no one else can deal with you like I can.”

Jungkook’s lips press open mouth kisses against the nape of your neck. 

“I know.” you whimper, submitting to Jungkook like he wants. 

It’s amazing to think how different the two of you were while intimate. Jungkook appeared like the submissive type to others, always doting on you (even if there wasn’t an actual label on the “relationship") while you appeared dominant and demanding. But when Jungkook was in the mood (with your consent, of course) it was like a switch turned in his brain, and he wanted (needed) you to know that you were his.

“Exactly.” Jungkook chuckles. He’s hitting your spot with each thrust, not letting go of your neck. “I think you just enjoy being a bitch.”

You clench around him at the degrading word, Jungkook notices. 

“You enjoy teasing me, saying how you’d give my pussy away to someone else.”

“I-I’m about to cum!” you wail, eyes clenched shut. It was Jungkook’s fault - fuck him and his good dick and his dirty words. Maybe you were into a little bit of degrading and maybe even a little masochism - you were already submissive to Jungkook. You had to fight back agreeing with the man and telling him that it was his pussy; you would never hear the end of it if you did.

“I bet.” Jungkook retorts smugly. “You love it when I treat you like a whore off the street, huh?” Jungkook shakes his head, squeezing your neck a little harder. “I’ll fuck you however you’d like, Y/N, because deep inside, you know you’re my girl. You aren’t going anywhere.”

You cum on the spot, his words truly getting to you now. Jungkook allows you to fall into his pillows as he continues to pound inside of you. His thrusts are sloppy, and he knows even he has little time left until he cums. 

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, pondering that maybe he has gone a little too hard on you - but then you turn your head slightly to face him and you give him those eyes. The same eyes he can never say no to.

Jungkook cums deep inside of you, twitching. He’s hissing, his eyes fluttering at the sensational feeling. There was nothing better than getting to cum inside of you - it felt more intimate than pulling out (even if he did enjoy coating you with his cum).

Jungkook takes a few deep breaths before pulling out of you. It was times like this he wished he could capture the moment - you completely fucked out with his cum dripping out of you. It’s the sick satisfaction he often thinks of when he’s alone - that you allowed him to do this to you when you are known as the closed off girl with the resting (beautiful) bitch face.

Jungkook places your panties back to cover you, lightly tapping it. “I’ll be saving that for later.” he sighs in satisfaction. “You okay? I wasn't too rough, right?”

You sigh deeply. It takes you a moment to turn but when you do, you nod. 

Jungkook gives you a wide smile. “Okay. Get up. They’ll be here soon.” Jungkook tells you. “We can’t have them knowing I fucked the shit out of you.”

Your eyes widened but you couldn’t help but laugh. You hide your face with your hands. “I’m so sleepy, though.”

Jungkook grasps your hands, placing a kiss on both of them. “We have the whole weekend to sleep in.” he says, and it’s then you remembered you agreed to spending the weekend with Jungkook, him insisting that after dinner he can just drive you back to your home and pack a bag. “And I have the whole weekend to show you just how much you are my girl.”

Jungkook sends a wink your way and you can’t help but roll your eyes, even if the pits of your stomach are churning and your body feels hot.

Series Masterlist

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

[princessbrunette]

okok line cook jj who is absolutely obsessed with the new doe eyed pretty smile waitress. she’s always so nice and patient with the crew even if they’re behind, getting yelled at ect. they flirt and she always gets all blushy and shy, and he just loves it. one day she ends up in the kitchen teary eyed and covered in coffee from an angry customer and jj just looses his shit cause his girl is obviously upset and even possibly hurt and how dare they.

this anon had my tummy hurting and everything like omg i love it sm .

he’d fall for you as soon as he’d lay eyes on you.

jj definitely didn’t have a type and his track history was living proof— however, with all the girls he’d hooked up with in the past they tended to be a little on the sassier side, confident, bites back and can handle the loud mouth that belongs to none other than the man himself— but he’d never felt deeply for any of them, happy to part ways with them when the fun was all over. you however, you were something else entirely.

it was like watching a baby deer trying to learn how to walk when you were brought into the restaurant as the new waitress hire. clearly you’d had no idea just how busy the beachside restaurant got, but you’d tried to adapt quickly. for the first few weeks you were skittish, dropping the occasional plate, tripping over extended legs from tables and forgetting a couple of orders — but surely enough the customers took a liking to you anyway. of course they did, you were adorable, polite, pretty and young — you could have set the place on fire and your manager would probably have let you off with a slap on the wrist.

jj was dead set on getting to know you, hell— he’d even consider himself your guide, befriending you and helping you out whenever he could. he’d have your order ready first everytime, greeting you with a wink that flustered you as he’d carefully hand you the plate and watch you shuffle off to find the corresponding table. he’d gently manoeuvre you out the way with hands on your hips when he needs to get behind you in the busy kitchen on chaotic shifts, smirking to himself at the way you get all doe eyed and embarrassed whenever he did it. it never took much to fluster you, and your sweetness had apparently been just what JJ had craved.

he noticed you started to come to him for everything, and it made his heart swell with pride. toeing nervously into the kitchen during a quieter shift, not many of the staff around that evening. “excuse me, jj?” he remembers your polite voice calling from behind him as he chops some bell peppers. he’s wiping his hands on his apron as he glances over his shoulder at you before turning around fully, giving you his full attention.

“yeah?” he breathes, almost silenced by how pretty you are.

“sorry to disturb you but theres some guys arguing really loud in the restaurant and i think they’re gonna fight and the security guy isn’t in today… dont really know what to do…” you shrug, clammy hands subconsciously playing with your work uniform. he could tell whatever had happened out there has made you uncomfortable, not a fan of confrontation or big scary men yelling. he’s quick to nod, tossing the dish-cloth he was about to wipe the surface with over his shoulder and placing a hand on your arm, looking down at you reassuringly.

“hey, you’re good, i’ll handle it, yeah?” he nods, brushing past you briskly and out the kitchen doors into the restaurant. it was night time, so the restaurant overlooking the beach only had a few customers dotted around eating their meals, equally disturbed by the loud quarrel the two seemingly tipsy men were having. you follow him to the door, watching him saunter out toward them without a care in the world. you liked that about jj, he wasn’t scared of nothing.

“alright ladies, pack it up. go kiss n’make up somewhere else, bein’ waaay too loud and i don’t think these people paid for dinner and a show.” he waves them off, the two men standing at their table having their argument.

“stay outta this kid, i ain’t going nowhere ‘til he gives me what he owes me!” one of them barks back, slamming his fist down on the table making you jump as the cutlery clatters. JJ doesn’t flinch in the slightest, stepping up closer.

“yeah, i wasn’t asking. you’re disturbing my waitress and quite frankly you’re pissing me off, so again, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” you pushed down the way ‘my waitress’ made you feel, knowing he was likely just throwing it out there without meaning.

“you think i give a fuck ‘bout how ‘ya waitress feels? we’re doing business here. why don’t you go back to the kitchen, huh?” the other man waves him off, and you see his eyes flutter in irritation a little at the mention of you. he locks his eyes on the man, oddly calm and steps closer, staring him down.

“i’m not askin’ again. leave.” JJ warns.

“or what, blondie?”

“or I beat the shit out of you and your little friend.”

you were happy your manager wasn’t in that evening, because JJ would have gotten in lots of trouble. like that one day, a few weeks later during an afternoon shift, patrons from the nearby golf course having swarmed in for their lunch. JJ had been chatting away with another cook in the kitchen at his post, laughing and swatting eachother with the dish rags when the doors swung open, making him double take when he’d clocked on that it was you. your eyes didn’t find his with a bright smile and fluttery eyelashes like they always did, in fact you didn’t look at him at all. upon further inspection, your uniform was drenched with brown liquid, assumably coffee even dripping from the ends of your hair. your bottom lip wobbled as you headed toward the cloakroom through the back.

JJ’s smile fell off his face and he chased after you, skidding to a stop infront of you as he places both hands on your shoulders.

“hey, hey what happened out there?” he speaks gently, gentler than you hear him speak with the other cooks anyway.

“some guys coffee was cold, so— so he dumped it on me. i’ll be fine, just— just need to change my clothes and go and clean up the mess out there and—” youre wiping your tears off your cheeks, mortified, and when you open your eyes again JJ’s no longer right there, the only sign of his existence being the sight of the kitchen door swinging. you curiously follow, standing in the doorway like you did last time. his eyes had scanned the room, quickly honing in on the older, sweaty Kook in an ugly polo loudly complaining about the ‘help’ with a puddle of coffee beside his table.

he didn’t think, striding over, lips pressed in a firm line. he grabs the man by his collar and yanks him with such a force out of his seat that his chair tips back and falls, skidding along the polished wooden floor. gasps ring around the restaurant, an imaginary spotlight shining on the blonde as he grips the man with white knuckles, looking down his nose at the flailing Kook struggling to get his footing.

“you think it’s okay to humiliate my waitress, huh? you think that shits all sweet? someone oughta teach you—” he’s hissing between grit teeth with a trembling voice when the security guard runs over to tear him off.

“maybank.” the officer warns with a knowing tone and JJ lets the man go, not without shoving him back by the chest first, a spiteful, quick adrenaline fuelled laugh leaving him as he did so.

“yeah, nah, we’re all good. get this asshat out of here though.” he backs off, letting the guard escort the shaken man away to the exit, probably profusely apologising on JJ’s behalf. he pants, watching him leave before looking around at the entire restaurants eyes on him, staring in shock. he scratches his cheek before holding up his hand. “hope y’all are enjoying the food.” he calls out, making eye contact with your manager who stands leaning against the bar with her arms crossed, shaking her head at him. he swears under his breath, before storming back toward the kitchen, not even glancing at you as he storms past you, knowing he’s in trouble.

he heads towards the staff cloakroom, yanking his apron off and beginning to punch the code into his locker, clearly deciding the best way to deal with this was to take off. you follow him, standing in the doorway.

“jj, you shouldn’t have done that.” you scold him softly, watching him screw up his apron and stuff it into his locker, rooting around for his stuff.

“yeah, well i did, so…” he doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, still out of breath with a noncommittal tone.

“you’re… you’re gonna get in trouble. i don’t want you to get fired.”

he suddenly turns to you when you approach at his side. “you think i want that either?” he snaps before softening, seeing the way your eyes widened in hurt confusion. “i’m sorry. i… i just don’t like how these assholes get to roam around and do what they want. they can direct all that shit towards me, i don’t care, i can take it…” he takes off his backwards hat, raking his hands through his hair. “but… but not you! they don’t get to talk to you like that. someone’s gotta show them, you know?” he rants and you soften, stepping closer.

“thank you.” is all you say, pressing your hands to his shoulders and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. you offer him a small smile, before turning around and heading back toward the door. you turn before you leave, his body still twisted towards you as he watches you in awe, suddenly a lot calmer. “no one’s made me feel safe like you do, jj.” you state before heading away.

he sighs, turning back toward his locker and leaning his forehead against the cool metal, screwing his eyes shut for a moment just breathing. when he turns back around, you’re gone, replaced by the disapproving glare of your manager.

“you wanna talk about what just happened?” she tilts her head.

“well, no— but i feel like i don’t really have a choice.” he forces a fake smile. it was gonna be a long day for jj.

[lizzy019]

𝒞𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝓁?

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Plus-size Fem!Reader

cw -> insecurities, tough-love, oral (sixty nine), but a sweet ending :)

Word Count -> 1.4K

As a plus-size girlie, I genuinely wish I could get this, but no man likes a girl with stomach fat and it’s KILLING MEEE

This blasted mirror, you thought to yourself.

Hands scooping up your protruding apron belly with a sad expression, you look at yourself disapprovingly in the mirror as tears well up in your eyes.

Ugly, ugly, ugly! Your mind chanted in disregard of your mental health.

You didn’t care if people said, “Oh, but you have boobs!” or “Oh, but you have a full ass!” It wasn't about that anymore, you just wanted to feel pretty again. Like that young teenager who had no care for their looks, just getting good grades in school to finally have that dream job.

Now your job has you cooped up in your home all day, stress eating until you feel guilty and crying about it. It was pathetic.

You were pathetic.

Sniffles escaped you as you hid yourself in the baggiest clothing you had, frowning when you could still see the fat in your arms and the face fat that made you look old.

A knock at the apartment’s front door had you quickly wiping your tears in a hurry, trying to fix your breaths as you exited your room to go see who it was.

Opening the door to the apartment, you’re met with the familiar white skull mask and stocky body that you’d swooned over the first time you saw him.

“Simon!” You smiled, gently hugging him and allowing him inside. After months, he was safe and back home.

“Hey, luv. You gained weight?” He responded, dropping his duffel bag and eyeing you closely.

You winced at those words.

“Are you high or somethin’? Why’re your eyes all red and puffy?” He asked.

This had you freeze up, giving a nervous chuckle as you played with the hem of your sweatshirt.

“No no, I’m not high, I promise. Just tired.” You lied as smooth as you could, gesturing to the kitchen for him to go and get food.

Even if Ghost could tell you were lying from the way your body language was all closed off, he didn’t wanna dig and hurt you. So he just trudged to the kitchen for food and let you be.

The rest of your evening was spent in the bathroom, eyeing the laxatives you bought to thin yourself out with skepticism. While you wanted to take them, you didn’t know how they’d make your system react.

A waste of money, you thought to yourself.

But working out was a waste of time when bills had to be paid and the house needed cleaning, or family needed help, or groceries had to be done.

It was all too much, and you found yourself silently beginning to sob again.

Hands holding the disgusting fat at your abdomen, you curled up on the tiled floors and weeped. How could Simon deal with you? How could he want to be proud of you? Was he lying? Pitying you?

Ghost could hear the sounds from the living room, but he paid no mind to it. You never handled crying in front of others well anyway.

11:30 at night, Simon stripped bare in front of you as you hesitated strongly to take off your own clothing.

You felt bad for so many reasons, the two most severe ones being that you were scared he’d judge you and make cruel jokes about the pounds you’d gained, but also not taking your clothes off and making him upset or frustrated.

Ghost’s hands didn’t even let you choose, your shirt came off within a few seconds and so did your pants and panties.

Mortification crossed you instantly, and you wished you could run back into the bathroom, lock yourself away and rot. It’s the only thing you could do better than stuffing your face full of food.

Ghost got into position, and you felt awful when he got on top of you instead of you usually getting on top of him.

Flimsy cock at your mouth, you gently put it into your lips and began to work on what he’d pleaded for upon return. His own mouth attached itself to your core, but you weren’t wet. You couldn't focus on enjoying the pleasure when everything else was pulling you away from it.

Regardless, everything kept going, even your mortification which refused to leave. You were just too self-conscious, too fearful of his true reaction and anxiety creeping up because he hasn't said anything about it yet.

Once Ghost was good and hard, he moved once again into a missionary position and grabbed some lube and a condom, rolling the latex on first before lubing up your entrance. His tip pressed your core before a sharp thrust was executed.

Only a soft whimper exited you from it, and this really gave Ghost the sign that something was up.

“Luv, what the fuck is up with you t’day? You’re actin’ all reticent and timid for no goddamn reason. Or is there a reason that you’re just not informin’ me of?” He asked harshly, his expression not visible through the dark fabric covering his face.

His question made you think hard. Should you tell him? Would he laugh at you? Simon wasn't exactly an understanding person, and he never comforted anyone properly. With a shaky sigh, you shrugged.

“You said it yourself earlier, I gained weight. I tried not to, but I don’t have time anymore to be physically active asides small walks, it’s pissing me off and I understand if you think it’s not as attractive anymore-”

“Who the fuck told you that I said somethin’ as stupid and jacked up as that? Holy shit, is that all you were pissin’ yourself over? A few extra pounds?” He almost raised his voice, almost.

Reluctantly, you nodded your head and winced a bit.

He sighed heavily, his hands coming to pin down your wrists as he gently kissed your cheek. You were confused, what was happening here?

“Luv, you don’t gotta worry about my preference on your body. You’re you, you took me in and loved me in a way no one else chose to, I’m not in it for your body, I’m in it for you.”

This made your eyes water out joyful tears, this wasn’t something you heard on a regular basis, much less from someone who was way out of your league.

You gave a soft nod, and this made him fully begin to thrust into your core. That was what made you erupt in little moans, you just needed to be properly consoled.

Simon however, was going absolutely feral for the little jiggle in your tummy, the bouncing of your breasts, and the way your thighs happily squished against the mattress’ fabric.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. Takin’ it so well, you like it? You like how my cock’s stretching this tight lil’ cunt open? Yeah, yeah you do.” He smiled softly under his mask, lightly degrading you with praise built in as he answered for you.

You were too blissed out to have even heard it.

A climax was nearing, and he moved himself into a mating press to violently assault your dripping cunt while pinning your soft body down against his.

“Simon! Gonna cum..!” You mewled out, hands clasping his shoulders before you finally spasmed and seized just to release all over his hard length.

This alone had him gasping for air, his thrusts heavy and desperate as he kissed all down your neck, sucking the skin to make hickies, before he couldn't continue it anymore.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming- shit!” He moaned out, ceasing all movements to fully release into the condom.

Huffs were the only thing you two heard for a good few moments, taking off his mask in totality to show his full submission to your trust.

Those pretty brown eyes and blonde lashes, lovely scarred cheeks and little amount of blonde stubble on his jaw and chin. Chapped lips and pinky nose. He was handsome, you felt like he could get any woman if he tried.

“Stupid British.” You teased, kissing his lips innocently before you two moved to get under the blankets to rest.

Ghost’s hands came to rub the pudge of your stomach, eyes soft as he looked at it with adoration.

“You’re like a cinnamon roll.” He murmured.

“Cinnamon roll?!” You exclaimed, laughing and kissing his cheek. “You goof.”

Ghost chuckled dryly, kissing your forehead before pulling the blanket to cover your shoulders to stay warm.

“Sleep well, cinnabon.”

[kuroppiii]

     day by day ᵕ̈           husband!timeskip!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : little moments from your ⋮⋮  daily life with your silly little husband

📋 content         ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮         ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛         ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱         ♡ # ~700 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ this is like word vomit but pleaseee he plagues my mind , i ' m clawing at the walls of my enclosure ( not proofread !! ) ”

um yeah so congrats to timeskip!kuroo for being able to live his best life

an even greater life with you in it, of course

because although he swaggers along in his little suit and tie handing out his card willy-nilly to god knows who all day,,,

you bet your sweet ass he’s got a picture of you in his wallet

and that wallet is constantly getting whipped out around the office as he looks at your smiling face

looking longingly and with a little lovestruck sigh

(he’s so dramatic)

he has your drink order on lock and will pick it up coming back from work

but he is the type to take a “sip” out of your cup in exchange

(half your drink’s gone after that 🙁)

he “needs help” tying his tie like every other morning

“y/n love of my life can you help me with this”

it was cute

like the first couple times

maybe not so much at the twentieth time

at this point you just tell him to do it himself so you don’t have to get out of your bed bc you know what he’s trying to do

"have you ever considered trying a clip-on tie, tetsu?"

but granted, whenever you do cave, it’s impossible to miss in the corner of your eye the way his eyes are filled with pure unadulterated admiration as he watches you tie the stupid tie

(it was never about the tie)

(he just needs to look at you before he has to go the work where he can’t look at you like this until he comes home later that night)

and sometimes when he gets home he really tries to take up making dinner some nights to give you a break

he even wears a little apron (your apron) over the wife pleaser and boxers he’s so accustomed to changing into upon arriving home

(really not necessary but you two watched the bear together one night and he’s really just trying to get into it with the apron)

he looks ridiculous but you hate to admit you find it so adorable

"can someone get me a fucking sharpie, that fucking works!!!"

"i'm sorry for cursing at you babe, i don't even need a sharpie, i was just saying the thing from the thing–"

the best he can do is like cold noodles or the occasional steak dinner which really aren’t that bad when those are on the dinner menu!!!

when it comes to everything else? well... yeah he’s better off without the apron

but make him lunch for the office? oh he’ll propose to you a second time right then and there next to your fridge

put the cute character cutouts in there too, as if he cares what his coworkers might say bc anything you touch is gold to him no matter what

“ok but where are your guys’ carrot flowers, huh? don’t eat your veggies? have you ever considered that what you should actually be concerned about, is that you’re not eating as balanced of meals as i am every day?”

part of me wants to say when all is said and done, you two share a bottle of wine or smth under the night sky together to wind down

but honestly i don’t think a moment with this man necessarily calls for being a little buzzed like that

he makes you laugh simply by how he talks about his day, and with his little comments and reactions to whatever you may tell him about yours

"some people may wonder how he got demoted from a coordinator position–but y/n, honey, if you saw the way he parallel parks on the street outside our office, you would agree he's very much lacking in the skill of coordination."

"wow, i can't believe she treated you that way. and you're sure she knows the 'h' in 'hr' stands for 'human', right? because she sure isn't acting like a good one."

"😧 ..."

it’s like your home becomes your own personal comedy-club to round off yet another day with the love of your life

with the sounds of both of your laughter mingling together in a solemn late-night harmony only ever truly appreciated by the both of you

and when you two finally head to bed

his arm can’t help but snake its way around your waist

"g'night my love..."

pulling you close and breathing in your scent as you both get lulled away into a deep sleep

all to repeat everything again the next morning <3

[chaussetteblanche]

Could you write a boyfriend!Kit Connor headcannon? Like what it's like to date kit? I just thought that would be rlly cute (^·^)

thanks so much for requesting !! kinda went off, don’t know how long this is :)

boyfriend!Kit headcannon

- right so i just think that kit would be so boyfriend

- like big sweaters

- gives amazing hugs, where you enter a soft, warm and safe world of clean cotton and sweet kisses

- would hug you so tight every time, wouldn’t ever want to let go

- definitely makes stupid jokes like

- “babe what’s this sweater made of ?”

- “i dunno, cotton ?”

- “no, it’s made of boyfriend material, babe,”

- you’d always laugh, of course

- and he’s just to caring and attentive

- had a bad day ? he’s at your door with take out, ready to spend the evening cuddling and listening to you rant

- period-related cramps ? man is RUNNING, i’m talking Usain Bolt shit, to the pharmacy and buying half the stock of pain killers, pads, tampons before getting you anything you crave

- sick ? he’s got a day off work before you know it, will not let you get out of bed, will spoon-feed you chicken broth and won’t leave your side

- he’s not afraid of you getting him sick, he’s almost never sick

- immune system is UP

- he’ll definitely get you to help him rehearse his lines for any upcoming movies or shows

- loves watching you change voices and facial expressions when you help him

- if you two live together, he’s not taking ANY of the gender roles shit

- man is cleaning up after himself and after you, everything is fair in your household

- he respects your boundaries, your work or your studies

- loves cooking with you but when you don’t, you take turns cooking and cleaning

- ain’t no way IN HELL he’s leaving you to do all the housework

- plus he thinks he looks damn good in that pink apron you have lying around in your closet

- if you’re not living together, he’s still helping out as much as he can

- he’s definitely a little scared of bugs but if you are too, he’ll take it upon himself to get them out of the house

- will NEVER kill a bug

- like sure they’re ugly and you don’t want them inside but that’s not a reason to kill then

- “you can’t just go about offing people just ‘cause they’re ugly can you ? same with bugs, innit ?”

- if you’re not scared of bugs, he’s happily hopping on a chair and waiting for you to get it out

- there have been multiple times where you both spotted a very big spider and just collectively agreed to leave the apartment and come back a few hours later, hoping it would be out of sight

- loves sleeping besides you

- will hog the covers

- like will roll up in them like a burrito

- you have to put blood, sweat and tears into every single inch of duvet you get after he’s rolled up, it’s a real struggle because my man is ASLEEP

- def snores a bit

- not like a loud, grizzly bear snore

- but more like a slightly heavy breathing

- but you don’t mind, it lulls you to sleep

- he fckin loooves the rain and the wind and the snow

- just lives for winter

- as much as he loves the summer (cause you’ll wear less clothes) his favourite is definitely the winter

- you’ll spend most of your time together laughing

- like he’s so funny and unhinged sometimes

- loooves to tease you

- about anything really

- expect anything that he notices you get insecure or vexed about, he’s really sensitive as to not hurt you in any way

- but if you mispronounce a word once, it’s coming up in every single conversation for days

- if he’s taller than you he’ll tease you about your height and will purposefully stand close to you to make you feel smaller

- if he’s smaller than you, he’ll definitely use you as something to lean on

- loves touching you all the time

- a hand on the thigh is usually his go to

- but when you’re walking maybe he’ll have his hand in your back pocket or around your shoulders

- loves kissing you, everywhere

- lips and forehead are his go to, but your temples and your nose he also likes to kiss

- he’s not too big on PDA, but will make sure people know you’re together by, as stated above, touching you in some way

- gives the most intoxicating kisses

- like you need a second to gather yourself after most of his kisses

- neck kisses omggg

- you know that scene in heartstopper when he’s “recharging” on charlie

- def does that every time he sees you + neck kisses

- doesn’t really get jealous because he trusts you more than anyone but will definitely get annoyed if someone isn’t taking the hint

- let’s say someone’s hitting on you at the bar, and you’re been very that you aren’t interested but they’re still insisting, he will come up to you, wrap his arms around you and give you the loudest, sloppiest and dirtiest kiss ever right in front of that person

- will then strike up a conversation, completely ignoring the other person, and will wait for them to leave

- is so invested in your life like everything you do is so interesting to him

- you learnt something in school ? tell him about it. you saw someone you hadn’t seen in a while ? tell him about it. started a new show or a new book ? tell him about it.

- man wants to know EVERYTHING there is to know about you

- he definitely remembers every single you thing you tell him in detail

- you’ll tell him about your favourite kind of salad one day and literal months later, he’ll come back with groceries and will have bought that specific kind of salad

- “i didn’t know you liked this kind of salad,”

- “never had it before, but it’s your favourite, so i bought it,”

- GAH melting

- also communication KING

- like we see in heartstopper, he says all the important shit and i feel like he’d be the same in real life

- you’ve been acting distant ? he’s gently asking you about it, has he done something ? he notices you’ve been stressed, are there any reasons ? he notices you’re not eating much ? is anything troubling you ? frowning at yourself in the mirror ? he’s making sure your alright and feeling beautiful

- overall i just think he’d be so sweet and attentive

- just the best boyfriend ever

- so kit if you read this and wanna correct me on anything, i’d gladly spend a few weeks (months, years, lifetimes) as your girlfriend to write a more realistic version

- i’m serious

- call me

- please

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown' - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Two

(photo credit: me [@honeysickledream])

warnings/tags: F!reader, no use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of reader, reader is a healer and midwife, this is set in a very vague ‘middle ages’ time, forced/arranged marriage, some angst, slow burn (heavy emphasis on slow for this entire series), miscommunication, relationship issues, relationship doubts, no smut this time around (again) but still minors DNI, brief mentions of: pregnancy (side character), childbirth and recovery (same side character gives birth off screen) | that's all, I think, but if I missed anything, lmk!

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: You had married Simon four months ago, the whole thing some stupid forced arrangement. You had left everything you knew behind to live with Simon in his cabin a few miles out from his hometown. You weren't sure you could classify your relationship as a marriage, or even say truthfully that you lived with him because he wasn't around very often. Some part of you hopes things improve, but you're not unwillingly to do what you can to live the life you'd originally planned for.

a/n: a bit shorter than the first part, but that's what I get for procrastinating my first paper of the semester. i have to get my procrastination under wraps (they say after not doing so while in undergrad)

<- Prev. Part | Next Part ->

The walk to town seemed further today. For every step you took, the dirt path seemed to stretch another mile. You’d been up since a little after midnight, deciding to be productive with your time instead of wallowing in your bed, fuming. Four loaves had been baked, the open hearth cleaned of ash and the wood replenished for today’s use. Clean sheets had been folded and put away, a chore you had been putting off since you first hung the linens on the line, and the shelves in the larder had been dusted for the first time in well over a month. You’d even fetched water for Simon’s bath after your own, leaving them before the clean hearth to heat at his leisure. When he was around, he often fetched his own water, but you’d felt the need to do it for him today. Maybe it had been your guilt for how you acted last night that led you to the kind task. A small, silent apology. A show of care, awareness. You supposed it was another sign of guilt when you’d left a little before he woke, still on edge from his return and not wishing to subject him to any more crankiness. No, you decided to bottle up your crankiness in case someone got on your bad side, like the nosy or overly-opinionated family members your patients seemed to have in spades. The south portcullis had just finished rising as the town came into view and the woods were left behind. All but the western portcullis were left closed during the night, though you weren’t sure why. The early risers were already on the streets, the town relatively quiet, a few businesses open and preparing for customers. The baker, a sweet man with a perpetually red nose and an apron that always seemed to have a new flower embroidered on the hem by his daughter, was displaying his fresh loaves with the usual remarkable precision. Across the road, the butcher and his apprentices—his twin sons—were laying out fresh hides on the racks beside their shop. A mother exited her home, flanked by her small army of sleepy children who all had their own ways to grump at her for getting them ready for the day. An elderly couple you’d gotten to know well these last four months, both regularly needing new pots pepper pastes and lavender, barely poultices for their joint pains, were slowly walking their usual route. When they waved to you, you waved back and gave them a warm smile. They had been married for ages, had a gaggle of children who each had gaggles of their own. Their oldest son and his family had moved back to the town a few weeks ago to be close to the aging couple and you saw them often when you did your house-visits. Nice enough folks, the oldest son and his family, and they always made sure to stay out of the way when you went about your business. The son had even tried to give you some extra coin for tending to his parents, which you kindly declined, telling him that you charged the same for everyone, no ifs, ands or buts about it. You turned down narrow road and made your way to the fifth door on the left, rapping your knuckles against the faded red door three times. Today was a one patient day, the other healers and midwives in the town tending to your usual patients as well as their own, and for good reason. The woman who answered was sweaty and out of breath, teeth clenched. You glanced to her gravid belly and gave her a sympathetic look. Apparently your suggested methods of inducing labor had worked, and by the tension in her shoulders and the exhaustion in her eyes, early labor had been going on for quite some time, and the likelihood of a quick transition to active labor now that you were here, was slim. ***

The late afternoon had been greeted by the sweet wails of a newborn, and those stopped outside the home, waiting with bated breath for babe’s arrival, broke out in cheers and song. Once the mother and babe were clean and situated, you began the second part of your duties as midwife: tending to the home for an easier transition. You sent the dirtied sheets and the mother’s shroud to a laundress paid for with the money from your skirt pocket, then prepared a light meal for the family since such excitement and tension could cause a heavy meal to not sit properly. After the new mother’s husband returned, and your final check for her and the babe’s health was completed, you took your payment, stuffed your messed apron into your medical bag and left. As was your tradition following a successful delivery, you popped into the bakery and ordered a small fruit tart. You ate it slowly as you stood outside and watched as the evening crowds began to form as the sky turned a sweet mixture of lilac and peony. The tart was flaky, the sugar on top not yet dissolved, and the fruit inside had just the right amount of tang. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure: Simon. Simon? Your heart painfully skipped a beat as your eyes followed him as he went to the butcher’s. You finished the rest of your tart quickly and dusted your hands off as you wove through the crowds to catch up to him. Seeing him in town was a first, you were nearly sure of that. And you were entirely sure that it was him when you peered through the window of the butcher’s shop, catching the eye of the butcher himself, his twin sons, and finally Simon whose brows rose slowly at you. There was a passing of coin and scribbled-on parchment, then Simon headed right for the door. Right for you. You quickly pushed away from the window and turned to face the crowds of people as if nothing had happened at all. Except it had, and you were sure you were about to be given a plethora of strange looks by Simon. Yet he didn’t give you a strange look. He did search your face, though, then looked you up and down. His eyes lingered on your torso, noting the absence of your apron, you supposed. “Done for the day?” he asked. You nodded. “I only had one patient today, and I’m thankful for that.” You chewed your cheek as you stood there beside him, the two of you looking towards the townspeople who didn’t pay either of you any mind. You looked down and noticed the basket in his left hand, the list inside it, and the money in your skirt pocket seemed to suddenly weigh a ton. Your mind wandered to the flimsy floorboard in your bedroom, the one by your door that you pried up almost every day, and what was underneath it. Money. Most of the money you earned from your profession went into the satchel hidden under the floorboard. A failsafe, an escape plan in case you couldn’t bear to remain in the marriage. “Are you headed to the market?” you asked before you could stop yourself. There was an opportunity lurking if he was. When he nodded, you followed suit. “I’ll come along,” you told him. “Maybe we could talk, too?”

[noroi1000]

Feeling Warm

Gojo (in toxic relationship) x maid reader

Words: 8k

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, his girlfriend abuse y/n. NSFW

Gojo's toxic girl name is Chloe. I don't mean to offend anyone with this.

Summary: You've been working for Gojo as a maid for two years now. His girlfriend recently showed up. But it was obvious how she used him.However, she did not accept that he broke up with her.He was looking for someone nice and sweet. On your example.You can't buy love, but you can buy fake love.He wanted someone to love him. So could you at least pretend and give him that fake love?

You couldn't do that.

You looked at the girl who clearly showed dislike for you.

You looked at your employer with whom you have been living for two years. He looked at you too.

You felt your wet coat soaking your apron that you were wearing.

Actually, it was your job to do household chores for your employers.

Cleaning, cooking, washing clothes. It's something you do.

Actually, Gojo-san is paying you what he shouldn't be paying. Because maid services are not that expensive. And he pays you more than he should.

Perhaps because he wanted you to be at his house all day when he was at home.

You don't know why he wanted it.

Once every two days when he was gone, you would come and clean his whole house.

And also on the day he was coming, you were there too, cooking him food and giving him a bath.

Sometimes he would ask you to give him a little massage when he was really tired.

He paid you that much, so you didn't say no to him.

Besides, you're not surprised that he asks if you can stay with him since he lives alone in such a big house.

It's like he's paying you extra for your company.

You could even do it without his money. After all, you've known him for two years.

But it's not like you don't need the money...

You get so much out of your monthly salary... You could buy yourself a new house, or even go to work by car instead of taking the bus or train.

But you help your family financially. You have younger siblings and you do not come from a rich family.

You want to support your parents, so you send them some money. Every month.

You leave as much as you need.

One day Gojo asked you how you are at home. Or should he pay you more because he noticed that the maid's salary is small. You told him that he pays you more than he should anyway. Because it was true.

He earns so much... He's so rich. Maybe that's why he thinks you don't make enough money.

He offered you more for an hourly rate, but you refused. You can't take money to sit in his house. It wouldn't be fair. And you're not that kind of person.

If you were doing more, or had much more work, you would have accepted a raise from him. However, you didn't do that much. He already gave you one raise because you got new responsibilities when he trusted you more.

You had the keys to his house. Besides, it took a while for him to let you come into his house when he wasn't there.

You knew he wasn't trusting easily. It wasn't bad.

Besides, you couldn't rob him... He was too nice a man for you.

You washed his clothes, you arranged it, you cleaned every corner of his house. You cooked him whatever he wanted.

You also took care of the garden on his estate.

You did everything right.

You took a job as his maid because you were looking for a job. And you were out of luck. Nothing was possible in your area. And sometimes you missed it because someone else was ahead of you.

In your family, your aunt works as a housewife for rich people.

At her suggestion, you wanted to do the same. If you knew how to cook and also did housework well, why not.

You put an ad in the paper because you didn't know anywhere else.

And a week later you got a call from your current employer.

He reportedly saw your ad in the newspaper while his friend was reading it. He needed someone to take care of his house because he is often busy. So he thought to talk to you.

You were very shy at your first interview. Because your employer was to be a young and very handsome man. He smiled at you, and even paid for your coffee when you met at the coffee shop.

You thought because of how nervous she was, he wouldn't give you the job. However, at the end of your meeting, he said that if you want, he will gladly hire you.

You wore different clothes at his house, and your apron was always there.

You were so tense when you finished something and you were afraid he wouldn't like it.

But he never complained.

You had the hardest time with his clothes and baths.

Because he asked you for all this.

You had problems in the beginning. You were afraid to ruin his very expensive clothes. You were ashamed to arrange his underwear...

You were even more ashamed when he asked you to wash his back while he was taking a bath in the bathtub.

He didn't seem ashamed or anything.

And when he saw your red face, he smiled.

His eyes were magical...

You don't know why, but it was.

The longer you were there, the better you got.

Even though you still blushed when he went shirtless or only in a towel, asking if you could give him a massage because his back hurts.

And your little hands on his muscular back were always something else.

You've been watching massage tutorials online. So you managed to make him relax.

You knew he was a stranger to you, but you couldn't do anything when you saw the lipstick stains on his shirt.

He was just your employer. a free man. You were not for yourself. you were nobody. You were just someone who cleaned and cooked for him.

He had his life. He was a young man. Of course he had needs. And since you haven't heard of him having a girlfriend, he must have met his needs somehow.

Your employer was a young playboy...

Someone whose charm made you feel something.

He was nice to you. He was handsome. He had a sense of humor. Besides, you, like no one else, got to know his childish behavior. And also that he is sometimes spoiled and doesn't care what other people feel. It was probably something others didn't see in him.

However, the real Gojo Satoru was someone who had goofy, irritating behavior. Who laughed at danger and people. Who immediately said what he thought. He was painfully honest.

So you understand why he didn't have a girlfriend or wife. Because it was better to leave the house, pick up some willing girl and then come home.

He once told you that all the women he knows closely say they would never want to be with him. They don't like his behavior.

He told you that as a joke.

And you answered him kindly.

„You're not that bad. If that's your character, you should look for someone who will accept you for who you are. I don't think you're as bad as others make you out to be."

He thanked you for the advice.

And then you noticed that he started looking for a girlfriend.

It was a year later when you met him.

You found out you fell in love with him...

Really...

Your employer was someone who was your type...

At first you thought he was serious and thoughtful. Someone mentally very adult who spends a lot of time at work.

And you got an adult child. Hell of a handsome and rich teacher (?) who is addicted to sweets and eats a lot, and acts childish despite his sometimes scary aura when he's serious.

You don't know if he's just a teacher or someone else as well. But you also don't know why his wardrobe has blindfolds and sunglasses that are so black you can't see anything.

You just don't know much about him.

And you guess you'll never know...

You're just his maid.

And he has a different taste in women...

He wouldn't want a girl whose job is to look after someone else's house.

Plus, you definitely look different than his girlfriend he has now.

Well, Chloe showed up four months ago. Their relationship was different than it is now. Well, Gojo hasn't changed. She has changed.

He, following your advice, was himself.

You couldn't have your crush, so you wanted to help him. You're too shy to tell him that. So you wanted to let go.

Ever since he first met her in the city until he finally brought her home.

And they've been a couple ever since.

He seemed pleased.

But she often told him to stop doing things.

When he asked you if you could bake him a cake, she forbade you, telling him that he can't because if he eats that much he'll get fat and she doesn't want to show up at the beach with a fat boy.

She didn't like some of his behavior. And you knew he was him then. the real him.

She often got annoyed when he played with her.

Until he, too, began to get annoyed with the way she behaved.

Completely different from the beginning.

At first she was nice and even sweet.

Now she was a real bitch.

She practically did not smile at him, sometimes she would come to his house to sit with him for a while.

He understood that she was working.

But at some point he found out that she quit her job.

She even wanted to move in with him, but he said it would be better for her to stay at her house because he is often away.

She didn't like it.

They were still a couple, but their relationship was strained.

They ignored each other. They quarreled often. And it ended up that when he started to get off balance, she ran away in fear, only to come back the next day.

For her there was a rule: sex fixes everything.

And yet she couldn't give him much.

Often her phone rang while they were fucking. She never said who was calling her, but she pushed him away and took the phone to his dressing room to talk.

And those moments that should have been a pleasure for them passed.

It's not like he was hurt. He didn't care. But he also had his needs.

And he complained later, even saying it to you while you were cooking.

Sometimes also when she had finished, she wouldn't let him come because she felt tired.

You often witnessed their quarrels.

They weren't that close after all.

He thought he finally found a nice girl.

However, that was not the case.

He hoped to find love, but he failed.

There was no love between them.

But he sometimes thought it was his fault.

You noticed that he really cares about others.

He was worried that he had done something wrong.

But she just wasn't accepted the way he is.

He also saw his account statements. Well, he let her use his credit card once or twice. And then she was just pulling it out of his wallet.

You witnessed it too.

She was probably transferring money from his account to hers. Because there was no way he would give her access to his account.

She forbade him to behave as he naturally behaved.

So over time, he noticed that she was bragging about him in front of her friends. And that she has new, fashionable and expensive clothes.

For "stolen" money from him.

Throughout the month this is going on, he's been trying to be calm.

Because he thought maybe he could do something to fix what he broke.

You were afraid to speak up, but at some point you got over it and told him it wasn't his fault.

Because it wasn't.

He didn't want it to turn out to be because of him. He really liked Chloe. But that was in the beginning.

She was sweet, kind and caring. Completely different from what she is now.

She didn't like you from the beginning. Perhaps because you were closer to your employer.

But she didn't even want to remember your name from the beginning.

She thought he should have a better maid because you often make mistakes.

But he didn't listen to her.

You didn't answer and apologized. You didn't want to be the cause of their quarrel.

She who hates you. And he who always stands by your side.

Would it be the same now?

"I've told you many times to call before you come here. You can't just walk into my house without asking, you know?"

"I didn't come in here. Your maid opened the door for me. At least she was useful for something after all..." She snarled throwing her wet coat at you. "Hang it up on the hanger, but gently. It's new. I don't want anything to break. Or better yet, dry it while you're here. I guess that's your job."

You caught the coat correctly, which helped your apron.

"Why are you looking at me? I don't pay to stand and do nothing." she said waving her hand at you.

"Sorry..." you grunted and walked away, walking towards the laundry room at home.

"You don't pay her. I do it." he said as you disappeared down the hall.

"But she's our cleaner."

"She's not a cleaner."

"So what is she doing? I believe she's here to clean your loo and wash your pants."

"She's supposed to be here. Unlike you." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

She put her purse on the kitchen table.

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

"Don't talk to me like that."

"What's going on? Something happened?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Don't pretend to be worried."

"But I–"

"Just shut up and get out of my house."

"This is our home." She interjected.

"You don't live here and you won't live here."

"Don't you love me? Satoru, we're a couple–."

"So maybe it's time to end it, don't you think?"

"Wha–" she moaned.

You've heard everything that's going on there.

"You're a total bitch who thinks she can take advantage of me and I won't know it. You think you can play with me? Don't make me laugh!"

She walked over to him and placed her hand on his cheek.

He moved away.

He only knew one thing.

That he shouldn't hit her.

Because then she'll make him an even worse monster than she is.

"Get out of my house and don't come back. These are my last words." He growled pointing to the front door.

"Satoru, I think you had a bad day at work. I'll come another time, okay?"

"No! Get the fuck out of my house and don't come back! I'm sick of how much you interfere in my life. Doesn't suit you? get the fuck out. You will not use me for your image. And I won't be with a bitch like you. Also, how's your next boyfriend?"

"You have a fever?"

"Just leave."

she snorted.

"Fine... I'll see you when you're feeling better..." She turned around and started adjusting her high heels. "Servant! My coat!"

Recently, Gojo asked you for one thing...

Don't listen to this person...

"What a bitch! How can you have a maid like that?! She doesn't even come when I call her! I don't want you to have a maid like that! It's not worth anything! How can you still pay her?!"

Her words hurt you.

This happened every time they argued.

She must have said something bad about you. She always put you down.

Is it because you're a maid?

After all, Gojo doesn't treat you like she does...

You really wonder how much longer this poor man will have to deal with her.

He frowned as he walked towards the door behind which you were standing.

"(y/n)." he called softly before entering.

He looked sadly at the fact that you were standing with your coat in your hands in front of the clothes dryer. One hand rubbed your eyes.

I'm sure you must have been sad to see her push you around so much.

"(y/n), give it to me." he said walking closer to you.

He gripped the clothes roughly, crumpling it.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to dry it." you said quickly.

"It's okay." He said smiling slightly at you.

He put his hand on your head.

"I'm going to get rid of that bitch. Don't worry."

You only left the laundry room after you heard the front door slam.

He sighed resignedly.

Even with curses he didn't have the same problem as with her...

What a life with this woman...

If she knew what he did every day, she would run away from him as soon as possible.

If she knew about all the "creatures" he had killed.

After all, his job is to kill curses and ghosts. And also curse users. And some curses can have feelings.

Besides, even something trying to kill him has more feelings than she does.

"Toxic bitch..." he spat out.

He really didn't want her to come here anymore. She just ruins the rest of his day.

Besides, their relationship was destroyed about three weeks ago.

And she still thinks they're fine.

And he constantly comes or invites him somewhere. Even if she's not welcome here.

He honestly told her that he was breaking up with her.

And she came back the next day, trying to convince him that nothing had happened.

He was just a boy with money and good looks to her. Nothing else mattered to her.

And he wasn't as spoiled as she was.

He has heard many times how her friends envy her such a handsome boy. So tall.

And that he has so much money.

He was walking benefits to her.

And he noticed it the moment she showed her true nature.

Sweet and innocent at first.

Then a toxic whore trying to make him crazy.

Plus, she was also taking it out on you. Punishing you for doing your job perfectly.

You were supposed to work for him, not her.

you work for him. Not for her.

So you don't have to listen to her. Especially now that she's nothing to him.

You stood behind him, staring at the back of his head.

His shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily.

He turned to look at you.

"I don't know how many more times I have to tell her we're not together." He laughed and took a few steps closer to you. "I hate fake people."

You looked at him questioningly.

He placed his hands on your shoulders.

"It's good that I can count on you. You're not fake."

You looked at him with brighter eyes.

He was so observant of people.

He even recognized fake love.

While he tries to take care of her and she wants to use him.

"I hope you don't take what she says personally."

"... It's fine... I know she wants to make my life miserable..." you replied with a very small smile.

It was sad that you always have to listen to them argue. And also some screams will always go at you.

"You were right," he suddenly said with his trademark smile. "I should look for someone who will accept me. Even though this sentence at the very beginning seemed so sad to me, now I see that it is sooo true~."

He didn't know if he should keep looking or stop. After all, he could live as he had before. Without someone like that.

And you...

You accept it, don't you?

Scratching the back of his neck slightly, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

You looked at him with a slight blush.

He met you two years ago, and he never once saw you change.

You are still the same.

You don't want money because you reject raises.

You live your life according to your morals.

Not like Chloe.

You're not like her.

You are sweet and caring. Nice and soft. You are always there to help him or to do something. You are doing what you are supposed to do.

Bypassing what you would have to do for you.

Being in his house, you live work.

And he knew your house was in a small block and also that you lived alone.

This job for him is your way of earning a living because you only work for him.

He could pay you even more. For being with him and helping him stay mentally healthy.

Because if you hadn't been there when they were arguing, he would have done something other than scream.

But having you there stops him.

And he doesn't regret what he chose.

He knew that keeping you working for Him no longer would be a bad choice.

It was the perfect choice.

For a man like him. For someone who is considered an anomaly and a monster among sorcerers. Someone who cannot be killed. Someone you can't get rid of.

Someone who cannot be deceived and taken advantage of. Because he is smarter and stronger.

No ideals. However, he needed something to distract him from his work.

Since death, which he sees almost every day.

Especially as a special grade sorcerer.

You didn't know he was a sorcerer, and you didn't need to know.

You might think he's kinky because he has blindfolds.

But even the fact that you sometimes thought he was a weirdo was something that felt good to him.

He needed peace. The warmth of the house. A soft feeling. He needed support and love.

Something to distract him from the constant killing.

Something nice.

Seeing your face has become a daily routine for him.

And when you're gone, he worries.

You care for him. You give him what he needs.

Nice feeling.

In return, he pays you to work in his house.

Even though you give him that feeling of your own free will.

"Dinner time is approaching. Would you like something special to eat?" You asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

It was weird when he was standing in front of you staring at your face with his hand on the back of your neck. And he never took his eyes off you once.

You weren't even sure if he blinked.

It was a moment of longer seconds.

But he's never looked at you like that.

It was a look he didn't look at Chloe. As if he was thinking hard about something.

He won't fire you, will he?

You tried to break the atmosphere by asking him about dinner.

You cook for him often, so you know his culinary tastes.

He will eat practically anything.

But you don't serve him alcohol because he doesn't like it.

Even though he always has a few bottles of sweet wine in the pantry, he never drinks it.

This is where it lies if guests come to visit him.

And his guests are most often his students, who are minors.

So they drink tea, coffee, water or juice.

The wine will probably stay there for a long time.

The only thing he'll take with the alcohol is cake. But there is one condition - it cannot be felt strongly. Because according to Him, the bitter, pungent taste spoils the sweetness.

So it's simple. You bake him cakes that have nothing to do with alcohol. Same with other food.

You are not a professional cook, but by using recipes from the Internet you manage to cook something.

Let him tell you anything now...

Just to distract you from the way he looks at you.

You feel guilty about his arguments with his girlfriend.

No. She is his ex-girlfriend.

He broke up with her over the phone because she kept running away from the subject.

But she still thinks they are together.

He does not want to. So he shows it straight to her.

Oh god... You really don't want you to be the reason they broke up.

What finally happens is that he takes your side and they argue...

Always been like that.

Every time she insulted you, he took your side.

You must repay him somehow.

"...Will you make an onigiri for me?" He asked suddenly.

Now you don't know if he was thinking about this or something else...

"Of course. Would you like something right inside?" you asked, adjusting your apron.

"... I'm relying on you." He said with a smile, winking at you.

Then he adjusted his glasses on his nose.

You only know one thing about these glasses...

That he has really sensitive eyesight and apparently his eyes hurt when they are not covered.

you understand it. Someone has sensitive hearing, smell. He has a sensitive eye.

And those glasses suit him too.

"I'll take a bath and come. oh! Could you make a little more and pack for me for work tomorrow?"

"Yes." you answered.

"I have one student who loves onigiri. I'd like to give them some too." He said with a smile.

How can someone as caring as him not find someone good?

"You have a wet apron on." He said as his smile faded slightly. He pointed to the white fabric on your body.

"Oh, that's nothing. I'm going to cook anyway." You waved your hand slightly. "Prepare a bath for you, Gojo-san?"

"I'll take a quick shower and be back." He said as he started to walk away.

This man deserves more than he gets from life...

He has no family, many of his friends are gone...

Others, despite being his friends, are also sometimes annoyed.

Why does a nice man like him only get so much?

He's rich, but you don't think he cares about his wealth.

He is content with the simplest things. Homemade food, little things. Even if he likes some expensive clothes.

The people he dated always had something of the artifice.

The women he dated.

He didn't have much emotion to show...

And he didn't want to open up to anyone.

Then why does his mood change so much when he talks to you?

                            "I'm stupid." He laughed from sitting on the floor of the large shower, a smile on his lips as his eyes were closed.

Feeling the warm water run through his hair and over his skin.

"To you, I'm probably a goddamn playboy who fucks everything I like..."

Even though he said it out loud with a smile and a soft chuckle, there was a little pain in his voice.

Because it was true.

He didn't trust people. He didn't get into relationships. He simply provided an outlet for his needs.

But he also needs trust...

Someone will trust him, but he will not completely trust anyone.

You spend your days at his house and you're not a lying person. You only lie about what's wrong with you.

It's up to you to work for him.

He trusted you.

You will probably never share his feelings because you know him. You know what kind of man he is. You know what he really is. And he's probably not your ideal man.

Money is important in life...

People pay to receive affection...

So maybe he could also pay you to give him some affection?

He wanted home warmth, security and love.

Pleasant moments. Not only sexual pleasure. He wanted pleasant moments spent with a smile on his face.

Maybe if he paid you more and asked for even a fake relationship, maybe you'd agree?

He's happy to come home from work when he knows you're there, waiting for him with lunch.

With the relaxing sight of your smile.

It's easy to say you're friends.

But he would like you to be at his house all the time. When he wanted a feeling of warmth.

He was able to provide you with everything you need.

Everyone would ever give in to money... He wanted you to do it too, and maybe you'd accept money from him to pretend you love him...

There's also a chance you won't agree.

His cunning made his shower last even longer.

He didn't know there was a scene he should know about.

"Chloe-san? I didn't think you'd come back—" You said as the girl pushed the door open to go inside.

Her boots and coat were dripping with water and mud from the rain outside.

"Shut up. Where is Satoru?" She cut you off and gave you the coat again to hang it up.

"Takes a bath." you answered normally.

"No difference. What are you doing for dinner?" She replied indifferently, taking a seat at the table and pulling out her phone.

"Gojo-san asked for onigiri."

"That's disgusting... I want a fresh Parisian roll." she growled.

"Gojo-san wants an onigiri." You replied directly.

"Tch... I really don't understand why he keeps you here if you can't follow simple instructions! He's probably paying you to be his fuckhole. I can't believe he fell so low...

Does she really think you're here as a prostitute?

"I'm doing what Gojo-san asked me to do. Since he asked me to cook it, I'll do it."

"Fine! Make me some jasmine tea!"

You sighed and turned on the electric kettle, poured dried jasmine into the jug, then poured boiling water over it to make it brew.

You poured the tea into the cup you handed her.

She immediately took it into her mouth, suddenly spitting it out at you.

"You're stupid?! It's too hot!" She said standing up.

She put her fingers to her lips.

"It's tea-"

"Shut up! You can't even do that right! Who sane gives hot tea to drink!"

You gave her freshly brewed tea... I wonder why it was hot.

Maybe because you brewed it freshly.

It's not your fault she wanted to drink it right away.

Neither the Gojo nor you drink anything warm immediately after brewing, and you wait until it cools down.

And if she wants the tea to be at the right temperature right away, she demands the impossible.

"I don't want it. Take it!"

She took the plate with the cup in her hand, and instead of giving it to you gently, she handed it to you quickly and let go, causing the tea to spill over your hands.

Reflexively, to avoid more burns, you dropped it through your sore fingers, and the drink spilled onto your apron and your sleeves. Caused a brief sting, but the clothes protected your skin. Luckily it wasn't boiling water, it was hot water.

It wasn't that hot because it had cooled down a bit in the jug. But that doesn't change the fact that your hands are burning.

The cup fell to the floor shattering.

You held your red hands, and you knew she was about to scream.

But before she could, you heard a voice.

"What's going on here?"

"Satoru! Your maid gave me too hot tea! And she even dropped a cup!" She shouted pointing at you.

"It's normal for the tea to be hot at first. And I also know that what you say is not entirely true. Besides, you weren't supposed to come back here." He said, adjusting the towel around his neck.

He looked at you and your little tears in your eyes. The skin after the burn hurts.

He walked over to you and looked at your wet sleeves and apron.

He gently grabbed your reddened hands, and placing his hand on your back, he gently pulled you towards the kitchen which was right next to you, as she sat at the island kitchen table, and he turned on the cool water, gently sliding your hands under the stream.

He stood next to you, holding your smaller hands on top of his, and watched the pain in your face slowly disappear. Just like redness on the skin.

It's lucky that tea didn't hurt you enough to cause severe burns.

"She's so clumsy. You should cut her salary for that."

"I should throw you out of here now."

"What?"

"You weren't supposed to come back here."

"I came to tell you that we're not going to my cousin's party in two. I ordered us matching outfits. The package will arrive here tomorrow. When you have it, let me know." She said standing next to the chair. "Don't deal with her. The floor is dirty. Let her clean it up."

"Nobody's going to listen to you." He told her and turned off the water. "Besides, we broke up two weeks ago."

"I don't accept breaking up over the phone. It's like it doesn't exist." She looked at her nails.

He chuckled, drying your hands.

"Except for the past two weeks, I've been telling you the same thing every time we see each other. I'm not your boyfriend and I regret that I ever was."

"You can't break up with me."

"I can't. Because I already did."

"Without me you have nothing. My friends are important people."

"your friends are. And you are nobody. Do you seriously think I have nothing? Look around." He chuckled sarcastically.

A Gojo saying such things while laughing is ghastly.

"I don't want to see you in my house any longer. I don't want to see your fake face one more time. We understand each other?"

"You're so–!" She started to speak but he interrupted her.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Get out of here before you find out something you shouldn't know."

His aura was intimidating.

Even you felt a chill hit when he said that.

Some strange energy hit you.

you shivered.

"You know what... Fuck this bitch as long as you want! I do not care! There are so many other better men than you in the world!"

"You finally understood that we're not a couple! Congratulations!" He put his hand over his eyes, laughing like a madman.

Then, seeing his behavior, she left.

He was glad he would never see her again.

"Gojo-san..." you said and looked at him.

His hand was still holding yours.

He looked at you with warm eyes and his crazy smile changed to a gentle one.

"Call me Satoru. Like I told you before."

"I'm just your maid. I-"

"You're closer to me than that fucking bitch was. And you talk to me like we're strangers."

"Sorry..."

"You have nothing to apologize for." he said laying his head on yours. Gently and comfortingly hugging you.

"Dinner will be delayed. And I broke a cup."

"I know it's her fault. Don't worry."

"But-."

He interrupted you.

"Go to my dressing room and get some clean clothes, okay?"

"I'll be home soon anyway. I'll cook you dinner and be back–."

"Nope..." he said firmly.

"I should take care of you, so let me take care of you. Why don't you stay here today?"

"I'm not sure..."

"I'll pay extra for night work."

"I have nothing to do. Unless you want me to do something else. Besides, I don't want any more money. You're paying me too much for a few hours a day anyway."

"Is that important?" he asked.

You thought he was ignoring you, but he was clearly listening to what you were saying.

You take your job seriously and honestly...

Your deal was different than what he wanted to do now.

"So stay as my guest. Take clothes from my wardrobe and feel at home. Because this is your second home, isn't it?"

You nodded.

After all, he was right.

You'll wash his clothes later and everything will be as before.

You went to his room.

He meanwhile grabbed a broom and picked up the broken glass from the floor.

When you came back, you were wearing his gray T-shirt that he wore when he was at home.

Your apron was dirty and you had to start cooking. So you took a T-shirt that you know isn't new.

What would happen if you ruined his expensive T-shirt?

He watched you go to the kitchen.

He saw you weren't wearing new pants.

You told him your pants weren't dirty.

His phone rang and he told you right away it was from his job.

You started making the onigiri the way he wanted.

You had some more work ahead of you because he wanted to take some for the students.

That's why you prepared more rice and other ingredients.

He didn't come back to the kitchen after someone called, and you're guessing he's still talking. Someone calls him often.

But you did your job anyway.

You prepared everything as it was supposed to be, packing the excess into boxes.

You left some for him and waited for him to come back.

According to what you had, you ate with him. So you took two onigiri while eating this.

He still hasn't come back.

It was getting late...

You started washing the dishes you used to prepare the food.

As you were rinsing your plate, very suddenly you felt and saw his hands wrap around your waist.

A common thing when he wanted to tease you or scare you.

He appeared in front of you without a sound.

"How are your hands?" he asked as he watched you wipe the plate and set it aside.

"I'm fine. It's not hurt." you replied while continuing your work.

He was a man of no barriers and often invaded your private space when you became friends.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." You smiled. It's nice that he cares about you. "The onigiri for you for dinner are in the fridge. I didn't know when you were coming to eat."

"And you?"

"I already ate. I wanted to wait for you, but you didn't come. So substantial. I made about 20 extra."

"Thanks."

He was kind of quiet now... It was a different behavior than usual.

He didn't show you his face.

"Is everything OK?" you asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah..."

You felt something was wrong.

He wasn't sad about what happened. For those three weeks they often quarreled when she suddenly came when he didn't want to see her.

Now it was different.

Maybe he was sorry that she hurt you?

So yes, hot tea on the skin is definitely painful. But not that much.

It was quiet, and he suddenly reached for the faucet, turning off the water as you rinsed the next plate.

You turned your head to the side, looking at the side of his face.

He wasn't smiling. Which only showed that he didn't do it for fun.

"I was looking for someone sweet and nice because I'm used to the way you treat me." He said suddenly.

"Huh?" You groaned as you felt the heat on your cheeks and in your chest.

"I forgot that I don't need to look for someone like this. Because I can have a person close to me who is a perfect match for these characteristics. You are sweet and kind. And it's because of you that I want to feel it. I want to know that there is someone like that with me. Sweet and nice. Why should I look when the perfect person is already next to me?

"I–" you blushed.

"I'll pay you. Double salary. Triple. I'll pay you whatever you want."

You widened your eyes. You didn't know what to say at all.

"I'll give you what you want. For you to be with me as you are now, but in a relationship."

Love can't be bought...

He knew about it.

But he also knew he could pay you to be with him. As it has been for two years.

He paid you because that's how you worked.

It won't be a real relationship, but he'll know then that he's coming back to the warmth of home. To someone who will be waiting for him there.

Even if you don't fall in love with him that way.

Love cannot be bought.

But you can buy fake love.

You may not love him, but he wants you to at least pretend to love him.

That you at least treat him as if you were in love with him.

So he could live the lie he arranged to find what he was looking for.

Since there is no one who can love him for who he is, he can at least make someone pretend to love him.

It was hard for him to say it before, but he fell in love with you.

But he can't force you to love him.

That's why he wanted the person he loved to at least pretend to love him. It would be better than living in a relationship that would never work out.

"... Satoru, I..."

"I'll pay you to be with me..."

Everyone needs money.

You too.

But you don't want to accept that kind of money from him...

Not like this...

You heard the desperation in his voice.

You could never accept such an offer...

Not so...

You don't want to make money off of him by giving him a fake relationship...

You don't want to give him a fake relationship for making him pay you a lot...

You can't do this to him...

He is someone who was close to you... But you didn't want it that way.

"...I can't...I can't like this..."

His grip on your waist lessened.

"I'm sorry..." he said. "I'm sorry I even suggested it... I could have guessed you'd say no... You're not the kind of person who would do anything for money..."

He suddenly turned you to him, and you saw his sad face.

Tears welled up in your eyes just seeing him.

But he suddenly grabbed you and picked you up, placing you on the kitchen counter next to the sink.

"At least let me be with you as much as I want. For this one moment..."

Before you could react, his lips were pressed against yours.

He expected you to push him away. That you hit him.

But you stay still.

Without moving.

You let him kiss you.

And as he pulled away, he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

"Oh no... I'm sorry... It was so sudden... Please don't cry, I don't want you to cry. It's my fault... I didn't mean to impose anything on you." He said quickly and started wiping away your peacefully flowing tears.

With his hands on your cheeks, he thought he was the worst person...

He shouldn't have done that...

"Forget I did that... that I said that..."

"...No..." You placed your hands over his, with a soft whisper. "I won't forget what you did..."

"I..." he began, but didn't say anything until his next words came out. So a long while later. "I don't know what love is... I never knew. But I'd like to tell you that I love you... Because that's probably what I feel for you..."

Her eyes widened at what he said. He tightened his fingers on his hands and your lips turned into a slight smile.

But still a crying smile.

"(y/n)..."

"I never expected to hear those words from you..."

"I know I suck... I know my character is fucking not what you to like... But don't let me live in suspense. Just honestly tell me that you don't want me around."

He was used to not having anyone close to him.

He probably also experienced it when someone told him that they did not love him.

He's already suffered a loss. So he's probably going to be heartbroken now too.

"Just tell me and I'll try to make everything back to how it used to be..." He rested his forehead against yours.

"Why can't you just shut up..." You cried.

You grabbed his neck holding him and put your mouth on his.

He opened your mouth with his, feeling the sign that you let him.

And he connected your lips more demandingly than gently.

He pulled away, keeping his tongue slightly sticking out, watching your tongues connect with a thin string of saliva.

You lowered your head, hiding your red face.

"To means..." he said.

You had your hands on his shoulders.

"...Don't ask me if I'll be with you for money no more! If I can do it for free...!"

His eyes lit up when he heard that.

And then he moved closer to you, hugging you.

A strange weight fell from his chest.

And let you cry your tears on his shoulder.

You didn't know when, but you found yourself in his bedroom.

And he was there to lie down gently on the bed.

And pin you to the mattress with my hands next to your head. Still keeping your thighs on his hips like when you were sitting on the kitchen counter.

He opened your mouth with his thumb, using his tongue to play with yours.

His other hand reached for your stomach, pulling the hem of his shirt up against your body.

"Can I?"

It was the first time he could say he had sex.

Before, he was just fucking.

Today it was different.

The way he gently held your body as his hips hit yours as he stood behind you.

Your hands on the bed so you don't fall.

Your hand sometimes grabs the hand that held your waist before he wrapped his forearm around you.

He then held you upright, letting your hand rest on his hand on your waist and the other placed on his hip as he continued to move his hips like that.

Quickly but gently.

Making you crumble beneath him as his tip digs into your cervix.

You've never seen him naked in such an exposed way.

You never touched him the way you touch him now.

You've never felt the way his big cock straightens your insides, carving his shape into you.

You're supposed to wrap it perfectly, because you'll be doing it more often.

In your house. So here.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against the bed. You looked down and saw moisture running down your thighs. The combination of your juices with his saliva when he made you orgasm for the first time.

He was experienced. You noticed it. But he didn't get tired of the soft way you moaned and shivered under him. Letting him use your body.

He wanted you to do that for him endlessly.

You never knew your employer had such a big dick.

You couldn't even think about the fact that he had other women in bed before you.

But none of them were with him like you are.

That day you were fired from your job.

At your own request.

Because you wouldn't be able to take money from him since what you're doing is for both of you.

Just like what you're doing now.

Your Clit was swollen as he reached out to rub you.

Adding a little more to the moans.

His bangs were combed to one side as his hair was sticky with sweat.

He didn't want to end it quickly.

He wanted to enjoy your first time together as long as he could.

So he took his time.

He was firm in pounding your hips, but he wasn't doing it to please him.

He always wanted to please him, and by the way the partner he had then.

And now, he wanted to give you pleasure. So he pushed with his hips to hit those points that make you moan the loudest.

He pressed his hips against you to see how well you held him and tightened inside.

To move his cock inside you again later.

To also pull it out and then put it back inside you, watching your pussy expand as much to take it in.

But you took it so well.

Every part of your body was perfectly made to fit his body.

Any mark on your skin, any blemish, it didn't matter. Because your whole body suited him.

Something that doesn't lie. It's not fake. It's not artificial...

It is not possible to buy with money.

Especially when you fell on the bed with your ass up while his cock was still embedded in you. You fell as he momentarily let go of you to shove his length into you as he slid out.

Teasing your sensitive points and clitoris, you clenched on him as you received an orgasm that took the strength from your legs. And he didn't catch you before you lay on the bed, just sticking your ass out to him. Because you felt the constant pleasure coming from his thick length inside you.

He wanted more.

He wanted to know you were his.

Right now and you will.

Pulling his cock slowly out of your thirsty hole, he gently lifted you up, positioning your body on your back, head below the pillows.

He placed your hips on his thighs, slapping the tip against your sensitive clit several times.

Before he pushed himself into you, reaching a new low. Your calves on his biceps as he pushed at a fast pace.

You looked at him with hazy eyes. Sensitive.

But you didn't tell him to stop.

You didn't want him to stop. Not when it's so good...

He kissed you almost all the time. His thrusts became sloppy.

His hands around you as he thrusts into you like there's no end to it.

As he made low grunts into your mouth, and low moans.

Filling your mouth with it the same way it filled your pussy.

He felt warm. Inside and outside.

He didn't want to give away the wonderful feeling of warmth you gave him and you are giving him even more now.

[banzaitaka]

Is it you, or your lover?

An arrangement of questions focusing on your relationship, asking which one of you has the particular habit.

Characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Doppo Kunikida, Jun‘ichiro Tanizaki, Osamu Dazai, Ranpo Edogawa, Yukichi Fukuzawa

No pronouns, gendered terms or description of body used for reader.

Bungou Stray Dogs_Masterlist

Atsushi Nakajima

Who is the cuddliest? -> You are. Atsushi is not used to physical affection, and is hesitant to initiate it. When ARE you supposed to initiate? How do you know the other person is fine with it? It‘s a mystery to him. You bet he will get flustered when you snuggle up to him, soon melting into your touch. He loves it, so please don‘t stop.

Who makes the bed? -> He does. After living on the street for weeks, he really appreciates everything he has. From the roof over his head, to the clean socks on his feet. So naturally he takes good care of them, which includes making the bed every morning.

Who wakes up first? -> He does. Even if you‘re an early riser or need to be somewhere early in the morning, Atsushi tends to be awake before you. You often wake up to the smell of food, and the sight of your boyfriend in an apron, wishing you a good morning with a tired, yet sweet, smile.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> He does. Atsushi doesn‘t typically listen to music much, but when he does he picks some random songs he discovered through the radio. It‘s a mix of the newest hits and the oldest songs known to man, simply because those are the only ones he knows.

Who is more protective? -> You are. Atsushi is more confused or concerned than protective, unless it‘s obvious danger. In the heat of battle, he makes sure there is not a scratch on you. Otherwise, he is very chill. It is you who steps up more and sends a glare to people, or objects for that matter, that might harm or inconvenience him.

Who sings more in the shower? -> You do. His showers are as quiet as can be. It‘s his time to wash away the tension in his muscles that had built up over the day. His showers take up to 10 minutes at most, too. Atsushi loves listening to your little shower concerts, though. Every sign of you enjoying yourself is a reason for him to smile.

Who cries more during movies? -> He does. Atsushi gets emotionally invested in characters quickly. Wether it‘s sad, happy, or scary, he feels with the characters. Especially to those mistreated by others, or those who remind him of the people close to him.

Who spends the most while out shopping? -> You do. Money is very valuable in this economy. Thus, Atsushi doesn‘t spend much on things that aren‘t the essentials. He spends the least money on clothes, and the most money on food. When he accompanies you when you go shopping, he might tear up at the bill. It‘s you paying, but it still hurts to see. So long as you budget well, he is not concerned in the end.

Who kisses more roughly? -> You do. He‘s never been in a relationship before and had yet to experience his first kiss before you two got together. You lead the kisses, and he is happy to follow, mirroring your movements to the best of his ability, careful not to hurt you.

»»----------►

Doppo Kunikida

Who is the cuddliest? -> You are. Doppo isn‘t big on physical affection. While he appreciates recieving it, he himself prefers showing his love through acts of service. He tends to leave a few minutes of room in his schedule, in case you feel like cuddling.

Who makes the bed? -> He does. Doppo is a very organized and clean man. Making the bed is a part of his daily routine, and he will NOT skip it. He does expect you to help though. You slept in that bed too, so it is only right for you to take care of your side.

Who wakes up first? -> He does. He is an early-riser through and through. By the time you wake up, he most likely already got himself ready. You better get up early if you want to see his hair loose and disheveled. Doppo would gladly wake you up when he does if you ask him to, so long as you don‘t tell him the real reason.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> He does. Weird based on modern standards, that is. Despite being only 22 years old, Doppo appreciates the old classics. Some of which you don‘t even recognize. Sometimes you catch him listen to unidentifiable sounds…The amount of times Osamu has tricked him into listening to “this amazing, economy critical song“ is hilarious. Doppo doesn‘t seem to learn.

Who is more protective? -> He is. Doppo keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Keeping you safe is one of his jobs as your lover. And that counts twice with the kinds of people he has to keep up with on a daily basis. Everyday he does his best to protect you from their influence.

Who sings more in the shower? -> You do. As much as it saddens me to say this, but he doesn‘t sing. Much less in the shower. He only does the stuff he got into the shower for, gets out and is done with it. You can sing if you want, but don‘t let it distract you.

Who cries more during movies? -> You do. It takes a lot for him to cry over fiction, it would have to hit very close to heart for him to tear up. He‘s not one to judge others for crying at a movie, though.

Who spends the most while out shopping? -> You do. Doppo is an experienced coupon-guy. He always makes sure he finds the stuff he needs at the lowest price without the quality being effected. And he also only buys the items on his list, nothing else. There is a strict budget he set, and he will not go over it even slightly.

Who kisses more roughly? -> He does. Sometimes Doppo doesn‘t even notice it when you two kiss. The feeling of your lips numbs that certain part of his brain, and causes him to act more according to his feelings and desires, and less logically and calculated. That can result in him getting a little rough with his kisses. It‘s not a bad thing, though. His kisses are amazing.

»»----------►

Jun’ichiro Tanizaki

Who is the cuddliest? -> You are. Jun’ichiro is very low-key when showing his affection, and prefers to do it with words of affirmations or small, thoughtful gestures. He's more used to being clung to than the other way around.

Who makes the bed? -> He does. The last one to leave the bed makes the bed. You two use that as motivation to get up, and he ends up doing it the most. He is very groggy and grumpy in the morning. As responsible as he is, the first half hour of being awake is filled with grumbling and "I don’t wanna"s.

Who wakes up first? -> You do. Wether you actually have to get up early or not, his alarm for work wakes you. And more effectively than it does Jun'ichiro. So even if it’s not by a lot, you are the first with your eyes open.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> You do. Jun’ichiro has real good music taste by modern standards. He already made you a ton of playlists for different occasions and moods. You rarely don’t listen to one of those playlists anymore.

Who is more protective? -> He is. You and Naomi are his entire world. The smallest insult towards you has his eyebrow twitching. He's going berserk if you’re being harassed or threatened in any way. And you know he'll keep you safe. Always.

Who sings more in the shower? -> He does. And it’s really cute. It’s more a mumbling and humming, you wouldn’t be able to understand a word even if you listened closely. He just likes to fill the void with a little melody.

Who cries more during movies? -> You do. Jun’ichiro isn’t emotional enough to cry over fiction easily. He's more focused on the story and the world- and character building, anyway. Sometimes it needs a little heartbreak to tell a good story. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a little sad, because he is.

Who spends the most while out shopping? -> He does. Jun’ichiro himself doesn’t need much material possessions to be happy, but he sure loves spoiling you. Be it little trinkets, something that made him think of you, snacks he knows you like,… Imagining your face lighting up with joy is motivation enough to get any of those for you. It can be any and every day too, getting you a little gift doesn’t have to be connected to a special day.

Who kisses more roughly? -> You do. He is the opposite of rough. Sometimes he even asks you to calm down a little. Poor guy is overwhelmed and needs a breather. If you give him a little time to prepare, he will gladly indulge your wilder side.

»»----------►

Osamu Dazai

Who is the cuddliest? -> He is. Osamu has been deprived for so long, he says he has the right to sprawl over you whenever he wants. While it seems like his usual shenanigans, in actuality he wants to savor every touch, feel your warmth as often and as long as he possibly can. You are the holder of his heart, he loves you. A day without having his arms around you for even just a second is a tragic one indeed.

Who makes the bed? -> You do. He doesn‘t see the point of making the bed. Your shared bedroom isn‘t some kind of hotel that must look tidy for the next people. It is your space, and he personally doesn‘t mind it looking a little messy. The two of you push and pull the pillows and blanket to your liking in the evening anyway.

Who wakes up first? -> He does. Osamu typically doesn‘t sleep much. Lounge around and take a nap or two, yes, but he does that at the office. Gazing at your sleeping face in the morning is his caffeine for the day, and he can‘t get that when you‘re first to wake up, right? Also, waking you up comes with a bunch of fun possibilities. Most of which are only fun for him, not you.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> He does. Most people would think it‘s weird, anyway. His favorites are about the feeling of depression, being overwhelmed, burnt out, mourning. Sometimes it‘s nice to have your feelings put into words for you. Among those are a few fun ones sprinkled in. Some old classics too. If you scroll through his playlist, you might see something like this: Numb Little Bug(Em Beihold), Body(MotherMother), CPR x Misery(Remix), Memories(Maroon 5)-

Who is more protective? -> He is. Wether it‘s a real danger or something minor, like a bypass insult, he‘s got you. Just don‘t worry, he‘s going to take care of this. You will never see him angry during those situations. The last thing he wants is for you to worry, so he masks any worry with his usual goofy and sassy behavior. That is a rare accurance either way, Osamu makes sure you don‘t even get in that type of situation in the first place.

Who sings more in the shower? -> He does. Shower time is a time to relax, and a time to relax is a time to sing. Simple as that. He sings loud enough to hear himself properly over the rushing water, which is decently loud. You can hear this first-class concert from nearly everwhere within your home.

Who cries more during movies? -> You do. Osamu has seen things far worse than whatever is playing on the TV. So unless it‘s something that triggers real heart shattering memories, he is not going to cry. And even then, it‘s a single tear. You won‘t be able to notice. When it‘s you tearing up, he is quick to pull you against him and stroke your head. He shushes you gently as he comforts you like someone would a baby. It is all for fun, of course. And he wouldn‘t feel hurt if you started hitting him for being an ass. In fact, he‘d chuckle.

Who spends the most while out shopping? -> You do. Osamu is not above letting you spend your money on things he was supposed to pay for. Oops- It seems like he lost his wallet while drifting across the river, again. He does have some errands to run though! You wouldn‘t mind paying, right? He promises to repay you one way or another!

Who kisses more roughly? -> He does. The roughness comes with the playfulness he loves to kiss you with. Doesn‘t mean he doesn‘t love the way you seem to shiver when he gets a little more rough with his kissing. Because, oh boy, does he love it. Besides being playful, he also likes being flirty and pull all those cute reactions out of you. If you try to do the same to him, then the fight is on. He might let you win, but only because he loves you so much.

»»----------►

Ranpo Edogawa

Who is the cuddliest? -> He is. Ranpo is a clingy little gremlin. Munching on snacks while cuddled up to you in your lap is his favorite way to pass the time, for sure. You‘re so warm and soft and have just the right size for him. It‘s wise to plan ahead, since he will not let you go any time soon. Ranpo would get real whiny and pouty if you even try. Don‘t worry though! He‘s going to share his snacks with you if you ask nicely.

Who makes the bed? -> You do. He couldn‘t care less if the bed is made or not. You‘re very happy it‘s free of crumbs and wrappers at least.

Who wakes up first? -> You do. Cuddling makes him all drowsy, and of course cuddling you is what he does when sleeping with you. From when you fall asleep to when you wake up, he has his arms wrapped around your torso and his head either on your chest or in the crook of your neck. It would take a lot of willpower to get himself to leave the comfort you provide him so early in the day. Luckily, he isn‘t heavy, so it’s fairly easy for you to get out of bed once you manage to sit up.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> He does. Ranpo listens to everything that gives him a happy feel. From Baby Shark to Starship, so long as it‘s got a good vibe, it‘s in his playlist.

Who is more protective? -> You are. He simply knows too much, there is no need to be protective. He is really chill. It‘s you who tends to act like a bodyguard, you have to, because Ranpo keeps getting into risky situations. He himself deducts he‘s safe, but you don‘t know that. He sure isn‘t safe from your fist after every risky endeavor you save him from.

Who sings more in the shower? -> You do. Bold of you to assume he showers. It‘s baths all the way. With bubbles and rubber ducks. Ranpo begs you to either join him or at least talk to him through the open bathroom door, otherwise he gets bored before he even washes himself. He is also the type to make fun of those who sing under the shower, so watch out.

Who cries more during movies? -> You do. Ranpo has figured out the plot in mere minutes, nothing can surprise him and nothing can shake him up enough to make him cry. And while he isn‘t mean about people crying at fiction, he doesn‘t really understand it either. You do realize this isn‘t real, right? Of course you do, but still! Watching movies with him is a real mood-killer. I suggest Comedies.

Who spends more while out shopping? -> He does. The amount of snacks he consumes daily ought to bring a heavy bill. Sometimes you wonder how he can even afford it. It really is a good thing he is so good at his job, and thus have a steady income to support his little addiction.

Who kisses more roughly? -> You do. Ranpo is nothing but soft with you. Even when he gets playful, his kisses stay soft, smooching you all over your face until he gets his fill. When you go more rough on him, he turns into a puddle, face bright red from the feeling. Nothing beats the taste of your lips, and it shows.

»»----------►

Yukichi Fukuzawa

Who is the cuddliest? -> You are. Physical affection is not his choice of love language. So long as you are within the comfort of your home, he doesn‘t have any problems, even if you get real clingy. Yukichi thinks you‘re really cute like this, but he doesn‘t want others to see.

Who makes the bed? -> He does. You two have found a good way to split daily tasks equally. While you make breakfast, he makes the bed. There is no complaining. And if you‘d like to switch it up, he‘ll gladly do so. It doesn‘t matter to him, if you aren‘t good at making a bed. Yukichi just hopes the food he makes is to your liking.

Who wakes up first? -> He does. Yukichi wakes up real early to get some morning practice in, as he doesn‘t have the time to do so at any other point of the day. He is way too busy with paperwork for that. Every morning he makes sure not to wake you while he gets out of bed and out to your backyard. After he‘s done and took a quick shower, he comes back and gently wakes you.

Who has the weirdest taste in music? -> He does. He is into traditional music, which might be considered weird by most. His knowledge of more modern music is very limited, as he doesn‘t normally consider looking them up. You are free to introduce him to your favorites, though. Music can be a way to express someones thoughts and feelings, thus it can tell a lot about you. And what kind of lover would he be to disregard you expressing something as valuable as that?

Who is more protective? -> He is. Yukichi wants you to be safe, always. He‘s taught you many ways to protect yourself when he‘s not there to do it for you. And when you two are together, you can consider him as your scary dog privilege. Because even though he doesn‘t look scary at a glance, he is very tall and muscular, and can send a nasty death glare if he wanted to. There is no way someone would dare to try anything while he is around. And if there was, he is quick to pull you behind him and deal with the situation swiftly. The sooner this is over, the sooner you are safe.

Who sings more in the shower? -> You do. You will never catch this man sing. Not ever. He‘s simply too embarrassed to do so. Humming is another story, but that is reserved for quiet times on your porch while looking at the stars. Yukichi likes listening to you sing under the shower, it‘s very sweet to him, how you are comfortable to risk him hear the echo of your voice.

Who cries more during movies? -> You do. Yukichi does get emotionally invested in characters, he simply doesn‘t cry. It takes a lot to get him there. When he notices you tearing up, he places a hand on your knee and draws little patterns on it.

Who spends more while out shopping? -> He does. Yukichi has everything he could ever want, so besides essentials, he rarely buys anything that peeks his interest. The occasional gift doesn‘t leave a huge dent on his wallet, but the moment he is set on spoiling you during a shopping trip, he will not hesitate. He could wait for hours on end for you to pick up and try on clothes, fill the shopping cart with snacks, toys, crafting materials,…anything you like. He knows it‘s not a waste of money when it‘s spent on you.

Who kisses more roughly? -> You do. Yukichi prefers going for your preferences when kissing, so he let‘s you take the lead unless you ask for him to do it. His touch is so soft, you‘d think he‘s scared to break you if he isn‘t careful. You‘re his little angel, and he will make sure you feel it.

[becsabillion4]

take it out on me (carmen berzatto x reader)

so this is my first time posting a fic of mine on tumblr since i was 14 and i'm slightly terrified by the formatting but i posted this on ao3 yesterday and someone told me to post here too (<3) so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy the thought of getting pounded by carmy in the walk-in

pairing : carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary : Carmy is having a terrible service, and you're sure some time in the walk-in will help him cool off (although it gets hotter in there than you might think).

word count : 4,410

tags: SMUT, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, ending with soft carmy which makes it all okay, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and also this is NOT an advert for safe sex, it is merely a fantasy i have been playing with since my own days as a waitress and carmy has helped me to realise it. also i'm obsessed and i know y'all degenerates won't send help so instead i ask that you send me asks so i can write more about this wonderful man

Disorienting. Overwhelming. Stressful, painful, unrelenting. Burning your hand hard enough for it to stick to the pan, hard enough that you know on the way to the sink it’s too late, that you’ll bear the scar of that mistake for the rest of your life. Knives slicing always so close to your skin, living on the point of pain, focus trained so hard on the blade you can’t even blink. Shouting, screaming, the place could be on fire, and you wouldn’t look up from the art you’re creating. Flames licking at your apron. Beautiful.

Kitchens are the prison and the heart of a chef, and the one at The Bear is currently the pride and the bane of your life. Plating up your one billionth focaccia of the evening as Marcus rushes by holding a tray of cannolis aloft, you try to tune out Sydney shouting instructions to the new servers, trying to drill something, anything, into their panicked, under-developed skulls. 

But none of this worries you. What worries you is the ominous, creeping silence from the station to your right, where you know Carmy is cooking up not only the best food you’ve ever tasted, but an internal storm that is going to be unleashed any, second, now-

“Chefs! Where the fuck is my garnish? Tina, are you dead? ‘Cos you need to wake the fuck back up.”

Tina is already by Carmy’s side with the garnish, but the damage is done. She doesn’t bristle at his words, but shoots you a worried look as she slides by, murmuring, “Sorry, Chefs. Behind.”

Since you started working at The Bear six months back, you’ve witnessed a rare few Carmy outbursts, and you know everyone feels the same way when they happen. It’s like the moment you miss a step on familiar stairs, stomach lurching and fear sweeping through your body. Carmy is this kitchen, and his boiling point is the moment things tend to spin out of control. 

And yet, Tina’s reaction is everyone’s; disappointment in herself, instant forgiveness because she knows Carmy is doing everything he can for this team. Last week, after you and Sydney spent the evening getting wasted on her couch, she’d confessed to you how hard Carmy took his notorious opening night failure, and how he’s been struggling to make up for it since then. And it’s been working; his kindness, patience, and passion for elevating those around him have always outshone the occasional harsh word during service.

But this service is just bad. It’s been bad since 5AM, when you got here to take in the delivery and found out that the grapes needed for the welcome broth had somehow been left off of the order. It’s been bad since Marcus ruined three batches of cannolis in a row, and when Sydney tried to touch his shoulder and ask him what was going on, he stormed out. Since Sydney snapped at Richie for singing Taylor Swift badly during family. The hundred little underlying frissons of tension that normally dissipate as soon as service rolls around have congealed today, like oil in balsamic vinegar, rubbing together but refusing to meld into the team you know everyone can be.

And you know Carmy can feel it. His anger is a physical thing beside you, like standing next to a hot pan with too much oil in it and just waiting for it to start spitting at you. Knowing you have to keep stirring it anyway.

“Four top, two steak, one bucatini, one fish,” Sydney rattles off, and everyone responds “Yes, Chef!” a little too loud.

“Can I get some hands for this focaccia,” you shout through the din, pushing the two boards forward, but nobody responds. “Hands, please, get these off my station before I eat ‘em!” you call, trying to bring some levity to the atmosphere before-

“Hands, fuckin’ hands, Chefs, FUCK!” Carmy explodes, appearing by your side so suddenly you almost jump. His hands hover over the foccacia boards like he wants to adjust something on them, fix something, but you know as well as he does that they’re perfect already.

And of course, this just makes things worse.

Carmy properly looks up for the first time, straightening out of the “chef about to have an aneurysm over plating this fish” posture and into his “everyone here is about to get fucked” pose. “These are good to go, why are we not? Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Go fuck yourselves-” one of the new waitresses approaches with trembling hands and Carmy pushes the boards at her, disgusted, almost taking them over the edge of the pass, “-all of you, what is the point of any of us being here if nothing is leaving the fucking kitchen!”

“Carm, it’s okay, they’re going out,” you can’t help cutting in, but you should know better than to try to soothe a wild animal. Carmy doesn’t say anything, turns back to plating up his fish, but his beautiful artist’s hands, which you often find yourself trying to draw in the margins of inventory checks, are shaking now. You’ve never seen him this bad. The whole kitchen waits on a knife edge. You glance up, watching the waitress leave with your focaccia, and have a brief but fervent desire to be her as the doors swing her out of this hellhole.

The fish is beautiful as Carmy puts the finishing touches to it. A server steps up to take it as other dishes for the same table coalesce at the front of stations, all elegant, all perfect, all more than worthy of the restaurant’s Michelin star.

Carmy is completely still. Staring. And you know it’s too late.

Plunging his fist down, he crushes the fish into sea-scented pulp. The shells of oysters, hand-selected, crack into broken-mirror shards; the sauce is peppered with shoddy scraps of lobster tail.

It’s still not enough for Carmy, as he picks up the plate and sends it spinning into the back wall, narrowly missing Sweeps’ head. “ Shit, ” Carmy mutters, turning back to his station and searching for more things to destroy. You watch him contemplate the knives, and you can’t stay out of it any longer.

“Carmy. Chef. Carmy,” you say as you reach out to grab his muscled arm, pulling him round to face you. You can feel the tension corded deep under his skin, see the sheen of sweat coating his tattoos. Normally, any skin contact with him sends your brain into overdrive, but you can’t afford to be anything but calm right now.

His eyes are wild, but you watch him steadily, and he watches you straight back. You’re not sure why, but the moment reminds you of how you felt on those rare occasions he invited you and Syd over to brainstorm new recipes in his cramped kitchen. Especially that time Sydney couldn’t make it, and you were midway through describing your idea for a yuzu-infused scallops course to him - “with maybe, like, a garnish of broccoli just absolutely smothered in hollandaise” - when he reached forward, tucked a scrap of hair behind your ear, and the very idea of food whisked straight out of your head - but you still felt hungry. And whilst he’d tried out your broccoli idea over and over again that night, you found yourself blushing every time he passed you a spoon to taste it. 

You never could get that dish right. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t separate the flavours from the curious look in his eyes, the way he drank in your ideas, absorbed them before he responded, how his eyes tracked every thought that crossed your face.

Now here you are again, staring at that measured, thoughtful man turned savage, and you wonder if you have the guts to do what you’ve been thinking about doing for a while.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur beneath the clatter of plates behind you, just for him. You don’t look away even when you hear something shatter. You move your hand from his arm, up over his shoulder, push your palm into the curve of his neck and hold it there. 

Then you wait, feel his shoulders jumping up and down with his rapid breathing. Wait until he leans into it a little, chasing your solidity, and it’s all the response you need.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Sydney, you got this?” You ask, never taking your eyes from Carmy’s face, worried that if you do, you’ll lose whatever grip you have on him right now.

“Yes, Chef,” she replies, and you feel her edge round the side of Carmy to put another fish on rapid fire. He catches her eye as she passes, and brings his hand up to his chest, rubbing it once in what has become the team’s official way to apologise during service. She responds in kind, and he lets you drag him off the station, past the others shooting him worried looks, straight into the walk-in.

You shut the door carefully, recalling the stories of Carmy’s previous imprisonment. It’s still securely closed, giving you both some calm and privacy to cool off.

Except cooling off is not really what you have in mind.

You turn to see Carmy slumped in the corner, curled in on himself and running his hands through his already-chaotic hair. He stands again suddenly, bracing his hands on the wall behind him as if to remind himself they exist.

“Carmy.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry, I just need a second. It’s just, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was thinking about doing something with ceviche, but I couldn’t figure out what fish would work best, and then that sorta spiralled into a panic attack which kept me up whisking eggs for something until three, and then-” You watch his eyes darting over the shelves around him as he talks, and you realise he’s taking stock of what’s there. Even during a full-blown meltdown, he cannot stop working, stop thinking. He starts pacing.

“Carmy,” you say again as you try to catch his eye. He’s staring at some spare T-bones like they’ll explain to him whatever dish he was whisking eggs for last night. Fuck it. You grab his chin, tilt it until he has to look at you.

“D’you know the best way to calm down?”

“Lock yourself in the walk-in for three hours?” He’s trying to relieve some tension, but you have other ideas on how to handle that.

“Sex, Carmy.”

There. You’re terrified that you finally acknowledged it, finally confessed to what you’ve been thinking about for months, but thank God it’s out in the open. You’ve been blushing at his compliments on your food for far too long, ignoring how good he looks in a white tee for even longer. And today has been such a shitshow it can’t possibly get any worse by admitting to this too.

You wait for Carmy to shut it down, laugh it off, maybe even fire you, but he just looks shellshocked. Then again, that is his default look.

“I, um…” He rubs a hand over his forehead, glances up at you almost shyly. “I mean, um. What?”

“Listen, you’re fucking up service. You’re distracted, tired, stressed beyond belief. I want to help you, and I won’t pretend it’s just out of the goodness of my own heart. I’ve been interested in you for a while, Carmy. You can take that or leave it or kick me out of this walk-in if you want, but I’m here. I want to help you work through things, through all this anger. And…I want you to know you can take it out on me. And maybe even feel better at the same time.”

Carmy is flushed, and you’re all out of words. You kind of wish he was still looking at the T-bones.

“We, uh, we can’t.” Carmy leans back on a freezer for support, crossing his arms in a pose you normally associate with him working something out in his head, deciding what a dish is missing or what it needs to take it up a notch. “I mean, not now. Not here, at least. And I don’t know, we work together. I’m your boss. It’s not a good idea.” He reaches a hand round to his back, starts massaging the strain away there. It’s an especially effective position as he doesn’t have to look at you as he does it, as he says, “Sorry.”

You shrug a little, smile. Try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep it professional, or as professional as you can get in a kitchen. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Get some sleep, Chef.”

You turn to go, hoping that stirring and slicing and plating up will shake off the embarrassment currently burning through to your bones.

But you don’t live to regret the offer as Carmy grabs your arm, spins you and shoves you hard enough into the walk-in door that it rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, everything okay in there Chefs?” you hear Marcus call, and it’s a reality check you absolutely don’t want right now. Carmy doesn’t even seem to have heard him, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, shoulder as your body arches into the feeling. You’ve had one too many fantasies about this walk-in since you started, but the actual feeling doesn’t begin to touch the dream.

“Yeah, all good Chef!” You manage to reply, but you barely get the ‘Chef’ out before Carmy’s lips slide over yours, pushing, demanding entry as his body keeps you pressed up against the door. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, is all you have time to think between kisses.

There is no room or time for playing around. Carmy needs this, and you intend to provide, but you’re damn sure getting everything you can out of it just in case it never happens again. One of your hands curls deep into his hair, pulling his head back as your teeth click together in the ferocity of the kiss. You swear you can taste blood, but neither one of you pulls back, the saltiness only urging you on. Your other hand is busy loosening his belt, and you tug it hard to pull the silver prong free of the leather, hard enough that his hips jerk forward into yours and you moan, long and low.

Gravity suddenly spins on its axis as Carmy lifts you, turns and drops you down onto the freezer Fak installed last week. And for once in your life, thank you, Fak. The movement seems to shake Carmy out of it for a second, and he pulls back, hesitates. A hand curves around your cheek, and you can feel an apology coming, see the reticence forming in his eyes. And honestly, fuck that.

You hook fingers through his belt loops, dragging him closer and then using them to tug his trousers down. You’re not gentle as you reach into his underwear, wrap a hand around his cock, and you can tell that’s what he needs as he hisses, his head drifting back.

Removing his hand from your cheek, you guide it slowly down to your neck. His head snaps up, and there’s a darkness, a need, that wasn’t there before as you move your hand slowly, torturously, down his length.

“Hey,” you whisper, reluctant to interrupt the low grunts spilling from him with each of your movements. “I’m not going to break.”

You squeeze his fingers around your throat a little tighter, and it’s this that has him surging forward, messy mouths pressing together again and everything condensing into a rippling, burning, rightness as the fingers of his other hand shove themselves between your legs.

He lingers there for a moment, breaths short and sharp in your ear as he breaks free from your kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, I would clean up the mess you’re making all over my freezer, Chef.”

“My apologies, Chef,” you pant, the sweetness of the apology marred slightly by your fingers tugging hard through his curls. Then you’re pushing up his white shirt at the back, reveling in the heat of him, the muscles straining under your touch. “What’s my punishment?”

Carmy hesitates, then withdraws his fingers from you slowly, and it feels like the calm before the storm. One hand is still pressed loosely around your neck as he brings the other up to your face, runs the edge of his still-wet fingers over your lips. Asking or demanding, you don’t know, but you’re happy to comply. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue behind them, and when you slide your mouth over his fingers, taste yourself on him, he closes them in momentary bliss. And it’s so beautiful to see that you can’t resist pulling him in to share.

A Michelin-star chef with one of the most sophisticated palates on the planet. A renowned food critic once wrote of him, “In my next life, I’d like to be just one of the taste buds in Carmen Berzatto’s mouth.” And here he is, savouring you, tongue searching out every corner of your mouth as if he wants to figure out each and every component of your taste. Add the recipe of you to his menu, and make it every night.

You’re both done waiting, and the clock is ticking. You can faintly hear Sydney calling orders through the wall, although she sounds steadier now. You don’t know whether anyone out there knows what you’re doing, but a rampaging elephant couldn’t stop Sydney when she’s on a roll.

Carmy pulls you closer to the freezer’s edge, jeans and underwear falling to his ankles and suddenly he is right there, and-

“Oh, fuck,” is all you can say as he pushes forward in one swift, animal movement. And oh, pain flickers down your spine as he slides almost free of you and thrusts back, relentless, and this is exactly what you signed up for.

“ Fuck ,” he echoes, hand sliding down your neck to settle over your racing heart. “Fuck, you…I don’t know how you do this to me,” he pants, and you try to keep your moaning down so you can hear as words spill from him, “When you come in with your hair down before a shift, when you - ah - when you borrow my knife and I see you using it all service, when you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. Shit. You drive me crazy on purpose, and you wanna know what the worst part is?”

You can’t breathe, let alone answer him.

“The worst part is I eat that shit up every time, ” he snarls, punctuating every word with a short, sharp thrust.

This is the animal you saw tonight, spitting curses, destroying his own food, all sharp edges and uncompromising will. Grunting as he bottoms out inside you, fingers clenched around your upper thigh hard enough to bruise, littering bites over your neck as if your colleagues aren’t an unlocked door away.

But the animal isn’t the end of Carmen Berzatto. There is more to him than the bear, and you intend to remind him of that before you’re through.

“Look around you,” you pant as he thrusts again, harder, sweeter, and you have to get this out before you tip over the edge. So you risk bringing the hand you were using to support yourself forward to turn his chin towards the walk-in’s walls, to beyond them, to the restaurant hard at work and the satisfied diners metres away who have no idea what’s going on in here, and fuck if that doesn’t make it all the more delicious. “Look what you made. Look who you are.” You watch his flushed face, hope he understands the praise, but you can’t hold on anymore to see your words land.

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, Carmy,” is all you manage to choke out as every muscle in your body lights up, tenses and releases in a flood so strong you wonder if you’ll ever surface, and if you even want to.

Carmy fucks forward into you twice more, and his head drops onto your shoulder as he groans, shudders, relaxes fully for what may be the first time in his life.

You stroke a hand over his head, pull him closer. You’re not quite sure when this stopped being a no-holds-barred quickie and became a quiet, intense embrace, but it feels right. All the desperation, the keyed-up energy, is gone from him. And if he never wants anything more than that, even though the idea is more than a little disappointing, you can take consolation from the fact that you at least managed to stop a raging Carmy in his tracks.

Although it is a little quiet.

“Carmy?” You ask, hesitant to break the silence. Thankfully, it still sounds like it’s all bustle outside. You wonder how long you’ve been in here, and try not to think about how you’re going to emerge with any shred of dignity intact.

Carmy pulls back, and you can’t define the look on his face, but it worries you. His eyes shine slightly, and his gaze skips across your face, down your body, not holding your stare.

“Are you okay?” You ask, praying this isn’t about to get really awkward really quick. The man’s still inside you, for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah. I, um, I should be asking you that.” Carmy’s hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing in randomly as if to check for bruises. He tilts his head to look under your chin, as if to check he hasn’t caused any permanent damage to your neck. “Jesus. Are you alright? I’m sorry, that was rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” You don’t know what to do to reassure him, so opt for two big thumbs up. “See? Voice working and everything.”

Carmy chuckles unevenly, takes a careful step back, and you try not to consider how empty you feel and how cold and slippery the freezer now is underneath you. You hop off, catching yourself on the side when you realise just how shaky your legs are. When you glance up at Carmy, he’s just staring at you, which is, frankly, unnerving.

“Do I look that bad?” you ask, pulling your hair out of what’s left of a ponytail to start again.

“No. No, I’m just…I’m just taking you in.” The raw honesty in his eyes pins you in place for a moment. But of course, Richie shouts “ Cousin!” before you can read into it too much.

There is a moment of panicked dressing and clean-up, a nod to each other to confirm you both look relatively sane and not totally fucked (even though you doubt it), and then a collective deep breath as you push open the door of the walk-in.

You don’t catch anyone’s eye for a second as you head to your station, Carmy’s presence like an open flame behind you.

“Corner. Corner. Behind, sorry Chefs,” you call as you slide back into place. Two quick glances calm you; one at the clock - seventeen minutes - and one at Sydney, who doesn’t look like she’s about to throw up and only has three tickets in front of her. You spare a final one for Fak in his position by the door, who you are positive would be grinning gleefully if he, or anyone else in the kitchen, knew what just went down in the walk-in.

“What do you need, Syd?” you ask, picking up the familiar back-and-forth of the kitchen again with some relief.

Carmy is quiet, focused, for the last half hour of service, but you can’t keep your mind clear. As soon as last orders are sent out, you slink to the back for a cigarette, hoping the smoke will at least wipe out your brain fog. It does the exact opposite. When you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. You exhale, waving the smoke away as the words churn through your brain. I eat that shit up every time.

“Hey,” you hear, and you’re almost thankful to speak to the real him just to distract yourself from thinking about earlier.

“Hey.” You offer him a smoke, and he takes it, sinking onto the step next to you. The brush of his leg against yours is a lot more comforting than you expect it to be, relaxing a secretly worried part of you.

He takes a long drag, the kind of drag you only take when it’s been a shitshow of a day. “I just want to say I’m-”

“Sorry? It’s okay. It doesn’t have to happen again,” you finish for him. It hurts less that way.

“What? No.” He looks at you until you reluctantly meet his gaze. “Not for that. I’m not sorry about that.” He lets that hang there for a second, holds your eye. “But I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier. Nobody deserves to be around that, and…I want you to know I’m working on it. I wanna be…I wanna be good at this.” It’s a stilted apology as he thinks through every line, and it feels all the more sincere for it.

“That’s okay. I know. We all know.” You reach a hand out to touch his arm, and after a second, he lowers his head to rest on his knee, although his face is still turned towards you. You see his eyes flicker from your hand on his arm to your face.

“Although that wasn’t exactly how I expected that to go by the way,” he says after a moment.

You don’t try to pretend you don’t know what he’s referring to. “What, in the walk-in?”

“Oh, no, I’ve thought about it in the walk-in.” You ignore a pulse of feeling at his casual confession, at the idea that he’s thought about you. “I just didn’t imagine it so…heated, I guess.” Carmy raises his head again, traces a finger along your hand where it rests on his arm until you shiver. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

You hesitate for a second before replying. Before extending the branch. “Well, I’m sure there’ll be other times, Chef.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to watch his thoughts flickering there, watch as the fog clears, the idea forms, and he says, “Yeah. Next time.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

wow guys thank you for reading i pray through the act of writing this that my jeremy allen white obsession will calm the fuck down, but i fear i've made it worse

if you'd like to keep up with me on ao3, you can find me here and please do send me any comments or feedback or prompt ideas, i would love to hear them <33 thank you!!

[ljz002-world]

Verdun and Somme, Part 1

“Have you heard the news Tommy?”, Michael asked as he stood besides his cousin in front of the Canal. “What news Michael”, Thomas asked rather coldly, starring into the distance with a grim look painting his features as his hands were in the pockets of his pants. Michael had his arms crossed over his broad chest. “A girl arrived on the trains this morning.” “And? A lot of people arrive on the trains.” “A German girl.” “So? Germany lost the war, its people want a live worth living. They have better chances outside of their own country.” “A girl that claims to know you.” “A lot of people claim to know me.” “She said she’s here to kill you. Bold words considering that she’s in the heart of your city. You control all of Birmingham and Small Heath. Nothing happens without you knowing, no person steps foot into Birmingham without you knowing. She’s been claiming to want to kill you since she’s set foot on English soil. And until now, nobody lived this long while claiming to want your death. What are you planning?” “During war-times I did things I’m not proud of Michael. I did dark things, very dark things.” “So you’ll let her go around, possibly armed to kill you?” “If I die, I die. I could drop dead any given second Michael, if she’s wanting to kill me then I want to know why I’ve done to make her curse me through several countries.”

“So we shouldn’t deal with her?” “No.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ here?”, Harry asked as he saw the girl stepping through the doors of the Garrison, “I’m looking for work. Are you in need of a barmaid?” “The last one didn’t end so well-“ “Am I the last barmaid you had? No.” “Look, all I’m saying is that working here in Small Heath is dangerous on its own but here in the Garrison? You must be suicidal.” “I have nothing to lose, if I get killed I might as well with a few pounds in my pockets.” Harry smiled to himself, “You’re brave, I could use some help around here, just gotta talk with the owner first.” “You’re not the owner?” “Not anymore. This shack here belongs to the Blinders.” “The Blinders?”

Y/N was working behind the bar, pouring drinks, mostly beer and whiskey as the windows for the snub opened a young man around her age faced her, taken aback by seeing her he took a minute to compose himself. “What can I bring you?”, she asked, rolling her r quite heavily as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Whiskey, scotch.” “How many glasses?”, she asked as she grabbed the bottle and faced the young man before grabbing the glasses, “Seven.” “Seven glasses, then you’ll need two bottles”, Y/N spoke with a small smile as she grabbed a second bottle of the whiskey before placing them by the window-sill as Harry spoke up behind her, “Don’t worry charging them. It’s on the house.” Y/N nodded as she gave the boy behind the window a small nod, “Have fun.”

“Who’s that?”, John asked, opening one of the whiskey bottles as Michael had sat everything down onto their table, “Seems like a new barmaid”, Michael answered and Arthur nodded, “She came in today, asked Harry for a job. He told me she was persistent about it.”

“What’s her name?”, Michael asked Arthur who had already emptied his glass of whiskey, going for a second one, “Y/N or something like that.” “Y/N doesn’t sound particularly English. Where’s she from?” “Germany, I’m assuming”, Arthur answered Thomas’ questions and the second oldest Shelby looked at Michael who had stilled. “You think that’s her Michael?” “You tell me Tommy, you know who enters your city.” “The bloody hells going on?”, Scudboat asked as he glanced at his boss. “We’ve got a little German lady in Small Heath swearing she’ll kill me”, Thomas spoke nonchalantly as he lit himself a cigarette, John spoke up after wiping his nose, “And we’re just … not doing anything  ‘bout it?” “Why would we?”, Thomas asked, “She won’t kill me, how many people have tried to kill me now?” “Too many”, Arthur stated coldly and Thomas nodded, “And how many have succeeded?” At the silence in the snub Thomas took his whiskey glass into his hands, “Exactly.” “Still, the only two women in all of Birmingham daring to threaten you are aunt Pol and Ada”, Finn said, “It should stay like that. Only family, we should at least find that lady and give her a little scare.” “If you find her”, Thomas said calmly, “But where would be the fun in that, eh?”

A bit later the same girl entered the snub to take one of the whiskey bottles away, it was empty, the second one half-way empty, “Need more whiskey? Or beer?” “Whiskey, irish”, Thomas said sternly as he eyed the girl up and down, she wore her hair so that it covered the upper half of her right ear, the side-pony-tail flowing barely over her shoulder. “I’ll take a beer.” Scudboat said and Isaiah nodded, “Me too.” “Should I just bring a bucket?” “Do that”, Arthur said to the girl who gave a small smile and left the snub before entering it again roughly ten minutes later with the bucket of beer and the bottle of whiskey, “Apologies for the delay gentlemen, it’s a bit overflowing out there. Game day.”

“Are you German?”, John asked Y/N who stilled in her actions before looking at him with wide eyes, “The r gives me away, eh?” “Partially”, John stated, “Which part of Germany are you from?” “Austria”, the girl said with a small smile, “Not exactly Germany but-“ “But Austria fought against the British”, Thomas interrupted the girl who gave a shy nod, “But we lost, so who cares?”

“Did you lose someone in the war?”, Arthur asked, “Father, brother, uncle, cousins?” Y/N gave him a sad smile, “I never knew my father or my mother, or brother. I grew up with my uncle, and even he only took me in because I was his blood.” “Why’d you move here?”, Thomas asked and the girl quirked and eyebrow, “Is this an interrogation? I’m supposed to tell you all about me but don’t even know your name. Unfair.” Thomas just lit himself another cigarette, “Thomas Shelby. Those three over there are me brothers, Arthur the oldest, John my younger brother and Finn our baby brother. Then we’ve got Michael, he’s my cousin and Isaiah is Finn and Michael’s friend and my employee, Scudboat is one of my best employees. You know us now. So answer my question.” “I moved here for a better future. My uncle kicked me out when I turned eighteen, he’s a scientist, I’m not too interested in science, learnt just to make him happy.”

Y/N gave the men a smile before leaving the snub again, she couldn’t bear being in the same room as that man, as Thomas Shelby, but he hadn’t recognized her.

[juniperss]

Okay you just did a headcanon request for a reader who bakes and I love Darry! I would literally die if you could do another one of the same prompt but with more detail on Darry’s portion if that makes sense? I know you only do headcanons right now so I’ll take what I can get lol 😆. Thanks!!!

Chocolate Kisses (Darry x The Baker Reader)

oh I'm so glad you liked the previous headcanons!!! reading this message had me grinning from ear to ear, thank you! and absolutely you can have some more Baker x Darry, because anon, I love him too! I was originally just gonna write headcanons for this, but then I got carried away and it suddenly turned into an actual oneshot.......so...oops? Word Count: 797 (good lord) A/N: uh shifting POV, she/her pronouns used Song Inspo

“Five more minutes, I think.”

Darry Curtis can’t remember the last time he was alone with a girl in the house. And not just any girl but a girl who had him feel the way that you do. It’s surreal, watching you move around the tiny kitchen with such familiarity, carrying armfuls of ingredients to the pantry. This isn’t the first time you’ve been over to the Curtis House, but it is the first time that the two of you have had any semblance of privacy and Darry is trying hard not to choke on the reality that he has you all to himself. If it hadn’t been for Soda agreeing to drag Ponyboy and the rest of the greasers out to the movies for the night this never would’ve happened. 

There’s a chocolate cake in the oven and the scent of cocoa filling the kitchen tells you that it's just about done. It wasn’t your recipe, this one was all Darry, and you had been content to watch him bake it himself until he’d looped an arm around your waist and pulled you off the counter to help. You turn in a small circle looking for something and catch his eyes on you. “What?”

“You can’t bake anything without gettin’ it on your clothes can you?” 

He motions to the amount of flour and sugar covering the front of your shirt and you hurl the kitchen towel from your shoulder in his direction with an indigent snort and wry smile. “Says the man who doesn’t have an apron!”

The space that you two have been using is still dirty and there are distinct spots on the floor that betray the spilled ingredients from earlier in the evening. Darry grins at your use of his full name and reaches for your hand to pull you over to him, transferring a decent amount of the flour onto his black shirt. 

Instinctively your arms wrap around his shoulders, locking behind his neck, to stay close to him and balance yourself. There’s not been one time in your months of dating Darry that you haven’t felt most at home wrapped in his arms. You struggle to remind yourself of anything prior in your life that equals the amount of comfort you feel held safe against his chest. The steady beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath he takes. The smell of his aftershave. The way his rough hands take special care in the way they touch you. His fingers finding the skin of your lower back where your shirt has ridden up. Everything about being enveloped in him makes you feel secure. 

It’s almost too much to look at his face and into those eyes of his when you’re this close to him. He sees so much more than most people give him credit for and you know there’s no escaping his searching gaze. “I like having you here.” Darry states in a matter of fact manner as if he’s finally decided that’s how he felt. 

“Trapped in your kitchen?” 

“Well, that too.” His forehead comes to rest against yours and that all but secures you even closer to his body. You’re not complaining though and you let your eyes fall shut. Moments of quiet where your mind isn’t racing, where you have nowhere to be or anything to worry about, are so rare in both your lives that finding such a rarity together feels like something you need to hold onto.

You two breathe in and out together soaking in the heat exchanged between your bodies. And then you feel him shifting just enough to kiss you.

His lips are dry from his hours of working outside in the sun and he tastes like chocolate. Darry’s kisses are always heavy and full as if he needs to transfer all that love from his soul into them. He’s sending a message, telling you just how much you mean to him. You move your lips against his, much to Darry’s enjoyment, deepening the kiss blissfully unaware of the world outside. 

You could stay like this for hours and maybe you would’ve had time had decided to be kinder to you. But a cough, a snicker and a laugh break the two of you out of your embrace. You don’t need to turn around to know that it’s Sodapop and Ponyboy having come back from the movie. The heat is already rising in the back of your neck and your cheeks. Darry steps back with a sigh just as the timer for the oven chimes. “Who wants dessert?”

“I think some of us have already had ours.” Soda says with a grin spreading ear to ear and narrowly missing a lighthearted smack of the towel from Darry.

[sunflowergirl522]

New Watch

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Spiderperson!Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to your universe instead of his own after quitting.

Word Count: 1201

No use of Y/N and I didn’t really write his accent in all that much. There’ll probably be another part of how they met and readers whole backstory. Thinking it’ll be a miniseries because I love the spiderperson I created.

“Just for the record, I quit.” Hobie types in all too familiar numbers before backing into the portal and tossing his watch.

You’re in the middle of pouring water into the pan below the bread in the oven when the familiar sound of a portal opening in your living room greets your ears. A smile crosses your face as the heavy footsteps from your favorite Spider-Man variant make their way into the kitchen. You continue humming to yourself as you close the oven and remove your mitts and the steps stop meaning he’s probably leaning against the doorway instead of coming any farther in.

“Hey Hobie.” You turn around and focus your bright smile at him. He smiles at seeing the state you’re in, taking in your apron on top of your brown cami and floral print skirt and the flour smeared on your face. It only fades when he spots the bruise on your cheek from earlier that morning.

“What happened ‘ere, Turtle dove?” He crosses the room and cradles your face tilting it up so he can get a better look while softly brushing it with his thumb. 

“It’s nothing, really. Just had a run in with Man-wolf this morning, I got a gnarly slash in my side too which finally stopped bleeding a couple hours ago.” Hobie huffs out his displeasure, as much as your universe is the prettiest he’s seen, you sure have some of the more monstrous villains. Your hand holds onto the one caressing the bruise and you turn to place a kiss on his palm. “I’m okay though. How’s everything at the society?”

“I quit.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal before walking past you and starting to go through your junk drawer. “Where’d you put that da-” He gets cut off as he glitches.

“Jesus Christ Hobie, you got rid of your watch?!” You rip the apron off before rushing off to your bedroom in a panic. “You shouldn’t have come here without it, you know how dangerous this cell decay stuff is. You should’ve gone back to your own universe instead.” You pull out the day pass he stole and stashed here about a month ago from your bedside table while you go on about how dangerous it is that he came here instead of going home.

“Had to come see you, fill you in.” Hobie comes up behind you plucking it from your hands and sliding it on. “Besides, knew you had one o’ these lying around.”

“Hobie this is serious, you gotta go home.” You go to open up a portal to send him home when he snatches your own watch from your wrist.

“Nah.” His hands go into his vest pockets before he turns and heads back towards your kitchen.

“Nah?” You follow shortly after finding him sitting at your kitchen island. His chaos of changing colors clashes with the pastel surroundings of your cottage and it was almost jarring to see the first few times but has since become one of your favorite sights. “What do you mean ‘nah’?”

“Pix, as cute as you are when you’re mother henning me, you should stop and come sit with me while I explain.” He dangles your chunky green sweater in one hand while his other pulls out bits and bobs from his pockets.

“Fine.” You sigh while grabbing the sweater and folding your wings against your back from where they spread out in your worry. 

“Remember that kid Miles I told you Gwendy talks about?” He starts as you sit down next to him. You hum your confirmation because while you still haven’t met Gwen he’s brought up her mentioning Miles a few times. As he continues catching you up on Spot and Miles following Gwen through a portal into Pav’s dimension he works on putting all the bits and bobs together. Once he has the screen together you realize what he’s making.

“Woah, hold on. Are you making your own watch?” You interrupt his story just as he’s getting ready to tell you about how Miguel just about lost his mind and snag the work in progress out of his hand.

“Ay, been nicking parts for it for a while now.” He leans on the counter watching as you turn what he has together around in your hands, studying it.

“Babe, this is cool and all but why wouldn’t you just hack into your old watch and take the tracker out of it?” He’s about to respond when you eye the small spikes in front of him. “Oh, I see. You just wanna make it punk rock to fit your whole vibe.” He rolls his eyes and takes it from your hands. 

“It’s the principle of the thing. Why continue to use something given to me when I can stick it to the man and make my own?” He looks back over to find you nodding because you get it. “When’s your bread supposed to be done?”

“Probably soon.” You hum and turn your head to look at the oven timer over your shoulder. “You care if I start cleaning my mess while you work?” 

“Better get on with it love.” You smile and kiss his cheek before getting up. 

The two of you work in silence for a while. With you cleaning and taking the bread out of the oven when it went off and him putting together the watch. Every so often he’d fiddle with your spider society watch to make sure he’s putting it together properly. Each time you passed by him you’d either give his shoulder or arm a squeeze or place a kiss wherever you could reach, his cheek, his shoulder, his head, sometimes he’d turn his head so you could get his lips. By the time dishes are done and your countertops are all clean the bread’s cooled down and his watch is complete.

“So if it’s done what’s with all the extra pieces?” 

“Gonna drop this one off for Gwen for if it don’t work out then come back and make my own.” He stands and puts in Earth 65 for the destination. “I’ll be in and out, back in five minutes tops.”

“Alright, you might as well take my watch apart and make me one when you get back. Miguel already doesn’t care much for me and the feelings pretty mutual. And I don’t wanna be a part of his little club if I’ll be stuck going on missions with Ben.” You cringe at the idea of having to go on another mission with him. The last couple of times you’ve been forced to have been borderline torture.

“Have I told you I love ya’ lately?” His arm drapes around your shoulder and he leans down to be nose to nose with you.“Hmm, you may be lacking there.” You can’t help but tease him to see the smile he always gets on his face when you do. “I love you too. Go drop the watch off and when you come back I’ll make dinner while you work.” “See you in a minute, love.” He gives you a kiss before opening up a portal and stepping backwards through it.

Marvel Taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @neenieweenie @fluffy-bnny @bunnyweasley23 @chaoticevilbakugo @trikigirl271 @chxosunbound @bigpoppajes @alienoutlet @mazerunnerrose @20fandomfangirl @goldylions @literally-a-ferret @angelgirl45367 @supraveng

Everything Taglist: @matchamunson @bubsonnobx​ @practicalghost​ @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke @m00nkn1ghts

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Sweet

Summary: You were in charge of the bakery of Jackson, baking all day long with a little help from Ellie. What you didn't know is that Joel Miller had a sweet tooth. And let's just say even the funghi apocalypse did not change saying: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food, a little making out, that once scene with the sugar from gone girl but it's Joel

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified for new fic updated

You enjoyed these quiet moments when the small community of Jackson was still asleep. The sun wasn’t even up as you walked the familiar way from your small house on the edges of town towards the town centre. 

You still couldn’t believe how surreal living here was, after years of living scared on the road, even though you had been here for almost a year now. 

You felt safe here, and that was the biggest luxury you could have since the outbreak. 

Maria had found you hiding in an abandoned lodge hours from here, nearly delirious from hunger and hydration. 

You don’t remember how you got here exactly, you just remember waking up in what you learned later was the town's jail with Maria watching you like a hawk. 

Apparently you had fought them pretty wildly when they found you and you only had Tommy Miller to thank for them not killing you. What he saw in you was a question you still asked yourself.

But Maria noticed that she did not have to worry about you pretty quickly. And when her husband learned that you used to help in your fathers bakery before the Outbreak… Well let’s just say the empty building next to the bar had been renovated within three weeks to make room for a bakery and you had been baking everything from bread to sweets ever since then. 

Your days didn’t have to start so early. But you cherished the quiet, the alone time you got whenever you walked through town before everyone woke up. 

Ever since you started baking for the town all kinds of ingredients and appliances showed up whenever patrol was out on a run. You had your usual baked goods and pastries you made for the daily with ingredients you always had on stock. If someone wanted something special you did that too. You’d never forget last year when Tommy had brought you fresh strawberries to make four cakes with it. 

By now you had a little garden at your home with all fresh fruits. Even a peach and an apple tree was slowly growing in your yard. Okay, it wasn’t even up to your hip but it was getting there and in the meantime you could count on Tommy Miller’s sweet tooth to bring you whatever he found when he was scouting outside of the walls. 

Your little bakery was quiet, the radio playing some Queen CD you had found in the library as you kneaded some dough to make some new loafs of bread. Humming along you jumped when the door flew open with a yelled “Good Morning.”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head, a smile sneaking to your face before Ellie even walked towards the back to find you. 

“Jesus kid, one day you are going to give me a heart attack,” you scolded her. She stuck her tongue out towards you as she grabbed her apron. 

“You’re late,” you said. 

“I know. But I have a good reason!” she grinned and you only noticed the bag she was carrying now. 

You tilted your head to the side, narrowing your eyes with a smile playing around your lips. 

“Joel got back in back late yesterday and I tried cooking for him.”

“So you were late because you were putting the fire out from burning down the kitchen?” you teased.

She gasped, her eyes widening in mock offence. 

“Rude. But I’ll let it slide. I didn’t burn the food. Well, not much but Joel brought me some new comics to read and I kinda forgot the time.”

“That’s the good reason?” you asked. You began to cut the dough and form some loafs. 

She shook her head, beginning to unload the bag. 

The first thing you saw seemed to be cream cheese. 

“Had to pick that up from the farm,” she explained. “That’s why I was late.”

“Okay…” you nodded. 

She pulled another three big bags with what looked like a brownish powder. 

“Joel found this and said I had to talk you into making… Cinnamon… rolls?”

You gasped. Rubbing your hands off your apron you walked over to her, opening the bag and the familiar scent of cinnamon hitting your nose. 

“How did he even… Wait, Joel told you to talk me into making cinnamon rolls?” you asked surprised. 

“Yup.”

“Joel Miller?” you checked. She nodded again. 

“Huh okay,” you nodded, surprised. 

Of course you knew Joel Miller. Not just because he was the new main attraction (pun intended) of the town, no he could almost compete Tommy on the first place of Jackson’s biggest sweet tooth. Not that you would know about it if it wasn’t for Ellie telling you that basically everything she took home after helping you was almost inhaled immediately by Joel. 

You hadn’t met him in person very often yet. Ellie and Joel had been in Jackson for almost two months now and he was busy helping out wherever he could. He had a skillset that was very valuable in times like these. 

One day Tommy had brought Ellie with him, introducing you to her and she… she never really left. On weekends she helped you out in the morning like today, while during the week she hung out with you after school. If she wasn’t here, she was with Joel. 

Which made you not really knowing much about the man a little strange. He only had been to the bakery once, probably to make sure you weren’t a bad influence on his kid (though you would say it was very much Ellie who was the bad influence here, not that you would say that out loud). 

You had met him at Maria’s birthday party only two weeks ago where he kept in the back and nursed a bottle of beer until leaving quietly without saying goodbye to anyone. 

You knew Maria was not his biggest fan, though the question of why has not been answered yet. Not that you had a right to know in any way. 

To you he seemed like a man hardened by the world you all were living in. He’d protect his family until his last breath. Ellie only ever had great things to say about him (apart from moaning about him making her do daily chores around the house like every teenager) and Tommy seemed even happier since Joel was in Jackson. 

Of course you saw the way people looked at him, you weren’t blind. 

He was tall and had broad shoulders, the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen, leaving not only you to daydream about those arms and hands and what he could do with them. 

“So, Cinnamon rolls?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her, your nose still inhaling the scent.

“Yes. God, it must be at least 20 years since I’ve had some.”

You grabbed two of the packages, putting them away. 

“We gotta finish those loafs of bread first. Then we can start on the rolls.”

“Can we do a whole tin of these cinnamon rolls for Joel?” Ellie asked, walking back to join you at the counter after she had washed her hands. 

“Sure. I don’t see why not,” you shrugged, rolling the dough to form more loafs of bread. 

“Cause it’s his birthday and Tommy said he hates his birthday, cause ya know it’s outbreak day and…. Well stuff happened there…. And I… I want him to be a little happy?” she said and you nodded. 

Outbreak day was bad for everyone. It was the day you lost your whole family. You had just turned 26 and had been visiting home for a week after moving away for a job. You were at your father’s bakery, finishing icing for a wedding cake for the next day when your father attacked you. 

You had killed him in tears to save your own life and nothing had ever been the same ever since. 

“I already said it’s okay, Ellie. Come on. Let’s bake the best cinnamon rolls of the apocalypse,” you joked and she giggled. 

You ended up not only making four loads of cinnamon rolls that were gone the moment word got out you had made them, but also a little vanilla sponge cake with cinnamon frosting, helping Ellie to carry the cake and one load of cinnamon rolls home. 

She insisted it was okay for you to come home with her, she couldn’t carry it on her own anyway. 

Opening the door, she yelled for Joel immediately and you chuckled as you followed her inside and into the kitchen. 

It only took a moment before you heard footsteps and Joel Miller walked into the kitchen. And what a sight to behold he was. Wearing dark sweatpants and a thin white shirt, his hair unkempt. You had the suspicion that he had just woken up from a nap. His eyes found yours first, confusion washing over his face before he looked behind you to find Ellie.

“Look what we made you!” Ellie said proudly, revealing the little cake with one single pink birthday candle on top of it which she had lit. 

A genuine smile sneaked on his face as he slowly walked over to the table where Ellie had set the cake down. 

“For me?” he asked and Ellie nodded eagerly. 

“You gotta blow out the candle if you still can, old man,” she winked at him and he huffed a laugh, his head turning towards you for a second.

“Make a wish,” you said with a smile and he nodded before he blew the candle out. 

“Taste the frosting! I didn’t know anything could taste so fucking good,” Ellie pushed a spoon into his hand and he shook his head with a smile as he sat down. 

“I should go,” you said and Ellie looked at you with wide eyes, as if she only just remembered you were still there. 

“Noooo come on. You gotta stay. Enjoy our hard work and eat a piece of cake,” she grabbed another spoon and walked over to you, grabbing you hand and pulling you with her towards the table. 

“Yeah. Stay. Can’t let you leave without having a taste of your hard work,” Joel said and gave you a small smile. 

You took a deep breath, his eyes not leaving yours as you finally nodded and sat down next to him. 

“Plates?” he asked. 

“And have me clean the dishes again? Fuck no dude. Dig in,” Ellie said and you chuckled at the expression of pure defeat on Joel’s face before he sighed and dug his spoon into the cake. 

Joel became a frequent fixture in your life after that day. 

He picked Ellie up after her shift at the bakery and made suggestions about how to improve the bakery. He suggested having some place to sit outside to enjoy a piece of cake in the sun.

“You know, like a coffee shop before the outbreak,” he says with a far away expression on his face, as if he was thinking about something in particular. 

A week later there was a bench outside of the bakery with a small table, built by him and for you. You thanked him with a peach pie and a kiss to his cheek that had him hide a blush. 

Him and Tommy even brought an espresso machine into your bakery that they intended to fix. How they would provide coffee beans for their espresso was beyond you, but you knew if the Miller brothers wanted something, they would find a way to get it. 

Ellie started to spend even more time with you. 

She would visit you at home and help with your little garden. When you walked her home after Joel would have dinner ready more than once, inviting you to join them. And who were you to say no?

There were little touches when you passed by. His hands brushing over your arms, your back, your waist. Whenever you were looking for him, his eyes would already be on you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

It was interesting seeing how different he was in his home in comparison to outside in town. 

He’d walk you home after dinner, so he knew you’d make it back safe even though both of you knew you were perfectly safe anytime in Jackson. 

Joel seemed to look for reasons to spend time with you, and you were not complaining. At all. 

It had been many many years since you were interested in someone and someone in you and you were enjoying having the attention of Joel Miller. 

He’d hug you good night, telling you to be safe and that he’s looking forward to seeing you the next day. 

Spending time with him became your new favourite thing, and you were pretty sure Joel liked it too.

Yet you felt like something was holding him back. 

And you’d learn about it weeks later, after he had invited you for dinner, for your first official date. 

You learned about his daughter who was killed on outbreak day. About how he lost a part of himself that only started to come back after he had allowed himself to care for Ellie. You learned about Tess and how he regretted never being brave enough to tell her how he felt about her before she died. 

“I’m scared that once I allow myself to care about someone, they will be taken from me,” he whispered as you sat in his arms, your back against his chest as you shared a glass of wine in front of the fireplace.

“I think we’re all scared Joel,” you said, your hands on top of his. 

“How couldn’t we be? Fucking funghi took over and ended the world as we knew it before. But that’s the thing. We don’t know how long we live. And I probably sound like a shitty  motivational speaker but it’d be a shame not to live every day like it could be the last. To not tell the people you care about how you feel about them,” you said and felt him pull you even closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. 

You had fallen asleep not long after, waking up early the next morning when Joel had to leave for patrol. 

His eyes had lingered on your lips as he told you to stay however long you wanted, before he kissed your forehead and helped you up on the couch where you fell asleep again. 

You were late in the bakery that day, thankful for Sean who had joined the community a week before who was already finished with all the baked goods for the day when you finally made your way to the bakery at noon. 

You thanked him, sending him home early before you got behind the counter and started decorating some cookies he had made for a kid's birthday the next day. 

The sun was setting when the door opened and Joel walked in. He smiled at you and you offered him a cookie which he took, moaning when he tasted it. 

“Got something for ya,” he said and you noticed the bag he was holding. Interested, you walked over to him as he held it up. 

“What is it?” you asked with big eyes. 

“Found a plum tree on the new route today,” he said and you grinned. 

“You got me plums?” you grinned and he nodded. 

God you wanted to kiss him so badly. 

You were startled when you heard a crack, Joel’s arm wrapping around your middle protectively, shoving you behind him before either of you knew what was happening, your head whipping to the side just in time to see the cupboard behind you on the wall crash down on the counter, your eyes widening when one of the bags of powdery sugar you had made the week before opened and seemed to cloud the whole room in a white cloud of sugar. 

You turned your head to look up at Joel, eyes widened with shock, a giggle fighting its way out of you. Joel was still looking at the damage behind you before his eyes were on you when you laughed. 

“I might have to file a complaint against the carpenter that hung those,” you hummed and Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“You better.”

“It was your brother,” you said. 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Of course it was. Gonna fix that up myself for ya, darling,” he said. You smiled, only now noticing that his arm was still wrapped around you. You turned, stepping around him so that you were facing him. Carefully your hand reached out, your fingers rubbing over his temple, where you only noticed now some sugar was sticking to his skin. He hummed, his eyes closing for a moment as you swiped it away, bringing it to your lips. Licking them clean. 

“You have sugar all over you too,” he whispered and you sucked your bottom lip in, hiding your smile as his warm brown eyes took in every little inch of your face. He tilted his head a little, one of his hands coming up, two of his fingers rubbing over your cheek before he rubbed them over your lips.

Sugar, he was rubbing sugar over your lips.

Your lips parted as he tilted your chin up. 

“Always wondered if you taste as sweet as I imagined,” he hummed before he closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. 

You melted against him, your hands running up his back until your fingers were in his hair as you guided him down towards you. 

Joel hummed against your lips as he slowly walked you back until your back hit the counter. Parting from your lips he looked at you with dark eyes, before he helped you up on the counter, your legs crossing behind him as he stepped between them. 

“Dreamed so long about this,” he brushed his nose over yours and you smiled. 

“Me too,” you hummed, playing with his hair as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek. 

He kissed you again, his lips moving against yours, making you dizzy. His hand slipped under your shirt, making you shiver as his fingers slowly ran up your spine. 

You parted your lips for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you were both out of breath. You could feel him hard against your core, his hips moving just right against your clit, making you moan against his lips.

The door behind you opened and you both froze. Slowly you tilted your head to the side, finding Tommy grinning widely at you both. 

“I’m just gonna take his and…” he helped himself to two cupcakes and turned around, walking back towards the door. 

He stopped, stepping to the side to turn off the lights, giving you a wink before he closed the door behind him. 

You let your head fall against Joel’s shoulder as you both laughed. 

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that,” he sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled. 

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” he said and you looked up at him. He kissed you again, both of his hands now on your ass as he rolled his hips against you.

“Lead the way,” you whispered against his lips, shrieking when he picked you up from the counter and carried you towards the door.