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captain-hawks · 2 months ago

Note

matsukawa + mark him? >:33

KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT.

matsukawa issei x reader — 2k, suggestive, marking, hickeys, kissing, friends to lovers, seijoh 4 banter

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Matsukawa groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrubbing a hand down his face.

He takes a peek over at you where you’re sitting beside him cross-legged on Oikawa’s living room floor, back against the couch, as if to say, please back me up here.

You shrug, looking at Hanamaki. “I mean Mattsun hates her, it’s not like we have to worry about him relapsing back into the most toxic relationship of his life because she just so happens to be going to the same party as us tonight.”

Makki groans loudly, placing his drink on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. Iwaizumi glances up from scrolling through his phone, brow raised.

“That’s not the problem,” Makki sighs, tracing a finger through the wet ring of condensation left behind on the table’s surface from the last time that he moved his can.

Oikawa smacks his hand, and Makki mutters something under his breath before pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe it up, and Iwaizumi barely glances his way as he flicks a coaster toward him.

“I’m not going to talk to her,” Matsukawa adds, reaching over to pick a piece of lint off of your top.

Fingers threading into his pale pink tresses, Makki glares at him. “That’s my point. You’re going to ignore her all night—rightfully so, she’s an evil witch and I will disown you if you so much as think about making her my girlfriend in-law again—”

Iwaizumi cuts him off, “What the fuck is a girlfriend in-law?”

Matsukawa blinks, “I don’t think that’s how you use that word—”

“ANYWAY, you’re going to ignore her, and she’s going to spend all night stalking around the perimeter of our group like a bloodthirsty wolf—”

“I need you to stop finding a way to insert a Twilight reference into every conversation—” Iwaizumi mutters.

“How the fuck is that Twilight? Can everyone stop interrupting me? Mattsun, for fuck’s sake. She cornered me outside the bathroom at Yahaba’s last time and spent twenty minutes trying to Sherlock Holmes her way into finding out where your dick’s been lately…” He trails off, eyes going wide as he turns to look at you.

Your heart rocks violently in your chest at the implication, and you valiantly fight the urge to cast an accusing glance Oikawa’s way.

Because he’s the only one that knows you’re in love with Mattsun.

And if he told Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi told Makki and now Makki’s about to—

You’re going to be sick.

Probably.

Maybe.

Not right here though, because throwing up on Oikawa’s new shag carpet (despite the fact that it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen) inches away from Mattsun’s feet would make this the most mortifying moment of your life.

(Not that it won’t be a record-breaking runner-up either way.)

Iwaizumi speaks up suddenly, a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face. “She was always paranoid that the two of you were hooking up.”

You steal a quick glance Oikawa’s way, and he subtly shakes his head.

He didn’t say anything.

He might be insufferable most days, but you’ve been friends with him longer than anyone else in this room, and he knows what this secret means to you—

But still, Iwaizumi’s statement is news to you. It’s completely and entirely false and nothing more than a headline from your pathetic reoccurring dreams.

And it’s dizzying, the way your chest lurches as it sinks in.

Mattsun coughs.

“She what?” you squeak out.

Makki’s answering grin is downright predatory.

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting in front of Matsukawa trying to stave off the flood of warmth that blooms in your gut under the steady weight of his gaze. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes briefly darting somewhere beyond your shoulder—probably to look at Hanamaki.

“We have to leave soon, chop chop.” Speak of the fucking devil.

You swallow as your throat goes impossibly dry. “Can’t we just like, hold hands?” you ask the pink-haired imp.

“Holding hands is easy, a fool’s errand,” he sighs dramatically. Like he’s reading a goddamn Shakespearean monologue. “A trashy hickey is forever.”

“A week, two tops,” Iwaizumi corrects him in a bored tone.

Oikawa sounds downright gleeful as he asks, “How would you know, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi grunts something back, but you don’t hear him over the sound of Mattsun’s voice. “You don’t have to—”

Makki huffs in annoyance, throwing the small metal tab from his drink can at him, and Matsukawa catches it without looking.

“She’s going to see the two of you together at the party, and she’s going to see the big, sexy, dirty hickey on Mattsun’s neck like a big, obnoxious billboard—”

“I know a big, obnoxious billboard alright,” Mattsun mutters, only loud enough so that you can hear, and you snort.

“—and she’s going to finally accept the fact that our dear, precious Issei wants nothing to do with her wicked, scheming ways, because he’s actually madly, deeply, passionately in love with—”

Mattsun’s head jerks up, eyes a little wide, but you don’t have time to contemplate the look that crosses his face when Makki’s suddenly cut off. Turning your head slightly, you catch sight of Oikawa tackling him to the ground.

Iwaizumi sighs, staring at them with all the interest of a man watching two bugs fighting in the dirt before returning his attention to his phone.

You look at Matsukawa again, taking the inner edge of your bottom lip between your teeth. “Where should I….”

He breathes in slowly, eyes searching yours for a moment before he tips his head slightly, baring the left side of his neck. And if that’s not enough to have sweat collecting in the center of your palms, you momentarily forget how to breathe when he spreads his legs, silently beckoning you to slip between them.

Warmth slides down your spine at how unnervingly natural it feels to crawl between Matsukawa’s legs, to put something into practice that you’ve unfortunately imagined more times and in more ways than you can count.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder why you didn’t just remain sitting beside him, why you didn’t just lean in sideways and carry this out in a far more platonic position—

But then his hand brushes somewhere in the vicinity of your outer thigh, and all you can smell is the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and suddenly you find that your lips are hovering barely three inches away from the smooth expanse of skin that makes up the side of his neck.

And Mattsun mistakes your hesitation for something else, a warm laugh rumbling in his chest and brushing down your spine. “Bite as hard as you want, I like it rough.”

You know he’s joking.

He’s trying to lighten the moment, to make you laugh.

To stave off the awkward hesitation that’s probably written across every facet of your body language.

—but all it does is turn the heat churning in your gut positively molten as his words confirm something you already had a feeling was true.

(Something that has your thigh muscles instinctively trembling as you fight the urge to squeeze them together at the thought.)

Matsukawa tenses beneath you for a moment when your lips meet his neck, and you stiffen in turn, waiting for the inevitable regret, the unrequited rejection…

His hand slides up your nape, cupping the back of your head in a way that he likely thinks is reassuring (in a way that’s going to probably ruin you forever after this.)

“Just do it,” he encourages you.

So you do.

And you don’t mean to get so into it.

But there’s a starved, unreasonable part of your brain that takes over when you start to bite and suck at Matsukawa’s neck, alternating between rolling his skin between your lips and teeth and running your tongue over it after.

Every other bit of uncertainty fades into background noise when you feel Matsukawa react. When his shoulders go pliant, when his head tilts even more to the side—baring himself to you even further. When you swear you feel him push down on your head like he wants you to go harder.

When his free arm wraps around your waist and clutches your hip.

When his thighs press against you, caging you in (and there’s a delirious, faraway laugh that bubbles up in the back of your head as you imagine that he’s holding you there, that he doesn’t want you to stop).

When you bite and suck and lick and—

—and he fucking groans.

“Should we really be watching—” you think you hear Oikawa ask from somewhere behind you, followed by a yelp from him and a grunt from Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa’s exhale is downright ragged when you pull back slightly to observe your work, fingers clutching his shirt in an attempt to hide the way your hands are trembling.

“Should I—” you start, more than a little breathless and not exactly sure what you even intend to ask as you stare down at the bruise that’s already blooming against his skin.

Something possessive yawns awake inside of you, and you try to suppress the full-body shiver that dances down your nerves like spider silk.

Matsukawa stares at you for a beat, chest rising and falling, and he looks—

He tilts his head the other way. “Just in case,” he explains, his voice like gravel.

This time, you hear the sound of footsteps padding across the floor and the patio door sliding open, and the room goes quiet other than the sound of your breathing as you press your lips to the opposite side of Matsukawa’s neck.

He inhales sharply, and you momentarily find yourself lost to the pull of gravity as he fully reclines with his back against the carpet and pulls you directly on top of him.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you realize that you’re now fully straddling Mattsun, fingers somehow finding their way in his dark, messy curls as you mouth at his skin in an attempt to match your first canvas. One of his large hands slides across your lower back, and scorching heat blooms through your shirt under the deceiving weight of his touch.

He breathes out your name, the sound reverberating in your eardrums alongside the sound of rushing blood, and he cups your cheek as you stare down at him, faces scant centimeters apart.

Your eyes dart to his lips, to the way they’re parted slightly, and it takes everything in your power not to wholly collapse into him like a dying star taking its last brilliant breath when his thumb carefully strokes the hinge of your jaw.

He glances at your mouth in turn.

“I don’t think that’ll leave a mark—” you weakly start to joke.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You swallow. “I guess we should test it out, just to see…”

Matsukawa stares up at you. “Do you want to?” It’s a loaded question.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Your lips have barely finished forming the word before Matsukawa flips you over without warning and pins you beneath him on the carpet, his mouth crashing into yours.

You’re oddly thankful for the plush embrace of Oikawa’s ugly carpet as you sink into it, trapped between the multi-color fibers and the all-encompassing warmth of everywhere Matsukawa’s body is flush with yours.

An embarrassingly needy sound crawls up your throat when his tongue darts across the seam of your lips before slipping into your mouth to deepen the kiss. You unconsciously start to card your fingers through his soft hair and he groans into your mouth in turn, leaving a sticky trail of saliva between your lips with each slick, hungry kiss he presses to them.

“Hey, we should probably get go—” the patio door slides open, and Makki’s voice floats into the room.

Iwaizumi barks something at him, and the door slams shut, cutting off the sound of their bickering as Oikawa laughs.

But you can hardly hear it—

Mattsun’s lips slow against yours, and he pulls back slightly, only to lean back in and press another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Hi,” he says.

You blink up at him, reaching a hand up to rest against his jaw, your thumb just barely skirting his bottom lip. He gently bites the tip of it.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu #dee writes #noun/verb drabbles #seijoh 4

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favefandomimagines · 9 days ago

Text

Fracture Lines (f.l)

Summary: Dr. Santos starts suspecting Frank's addiction and goes to a senior resident she thought she could trust; Frank's girlfriend

Request: @cosmicwintr would love to read some angst where santos approaches reader about langdon stealing not realising that they're together🙏🙏 obviously only if it interests you ☺️

AN: Kind of short but didn't want to draw it out too much!

The emergency room at PTMC was a constant hum of movement. It was controlled chaos, the kind Dr. Frank Langdon had mastered.

Tall, dark-haired, and sharp-jawed, Frank moved with the intensity of someone who knew exactly what he was doing—and wasn’t interested in anyone questioning him.

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, a brilliant trauma physician in her own right, watched Frank from across the nurses’ station, noting the twitch in his jaw and the way he clenched and unclenched his fists.

He was doing that thing again, where he paced between beds like a lion in a cage, agitation seeping off him like sweat. She’d noticed it more and more lately. The tension. The mood swings. And now, with the arrival of Dr. Trinity Santos, everything seemed to be coming to a head.

Santos had been a hurricane since she set foot in the ER that morning. She was all energy, confidence, and bravado wrapped in fresh scrubs and too many opinions.

Within her first hour, she’d tried to insert a central line in a patient who just needed fluids, called for a chest tube on someone with mild pneumothorax, and tried to rush ahead of Frank to intubate a trauma patient. It was the kind of behavior that didn’t just toe the line—it obliterated it.

Frank had been professional. Until he wasn’t.

Y/N didn’t hear what he said. The words had come sharp, fast, and low—but the tone was unmistakable. Enough that every head in the ER turned, including hers. Santos had blinked, frozen for a second, and then backed away without a word. Then Robby pulled Frank away.

Ten minutes later, Y/N found him in the hallway, hands gripping the edge of a gurney like it was the only thing holding him together.

"You want to tell me what that was about earlier?" she asked. "What was about?" Frank questioned.

Y/N looked at him increduously. "What you said to Santos, Frank." Her tone sharp.

Frank exhaled, not looking at her. "She was making calls without clearing it with us or Robby, Y/N. She's arrogant, cocky, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing."

"Maybe all of that is true. Maybe she doesn't know what she's doing. But you do. And you know that was out of line."

Frank turned to face her, eyes shadowed and tired. "I know. I just…"

"You what?" Y/N stepped closer. "You lose it on the new intern? In front of the entire ER? Frank, that’s not you. You don’t snap like that."

He didn’t answer, just shook his head and pushed past her.

Y/N stood there for a moment longer, her stomach tight.

Later that afternoon, in a lull between traumas, Y/N sat charting at a corner workstation when Santos appeared.

"Dr. Y/L/N," she said softly.

Y/N glanced up. "What's up?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Y/N nodded, still typing.

"Have you noticed anything...off about Dr. Langdon?"

Y/N’s fingers paused mid-keystroke. She looked up slowly. "Like what?"

Santos checked their surroundings, leaning in. "He’s been...jittery. Avoiding eye contact. I was trying to give a patient some benzos and I couldn't get the cap off. It was like it was resealed."

Y/N sat back, stunned. "Are you accusing Dr. Langdon of stealing drugs?"

Santos looked torn but determined. "I didn’t know who else to go to. I haven’t told anyone else yet. But if something is going on and no one says anything…"

Y/N cut her off. "Look, Santos, you’re a great doctor. I see a lot of potential in you. I understand what you're trying to do here. But going around accusing Dr. Langdon of something this serious? That’s a fast track to a ruined career. For him and you."

"Dr. Y/L/N, I understand. But something is off. I didn’t know who else to tell."

Y/N’s expression turned stoic. "Dr. Langdon is my boyfriend. You didn't know that, but now you do. That doesn't make me blind to his faults, it actually makes me hyperaware of them. But this is your first day. And unless you're sure of what you're accusing, you'd better keep this to yourself."

Y/N watched her eyes grow wide and her face ashen. She just accused Y/N's boyfriend of stealing drugs from the hospital...to her face. Santos felt like she wanted to melt into the floor and pretend the conversation never happened. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep or cause problems."

Y/N softened, just a little. "You don’t need to apologize. Just be 1000% sure."

The rest of the shift moved in a blur. Frank was quieter than usual, withdrawn. Y/N watched him like she was seeing him for the first time. His hand trembled when he signed off on a chart. He flinched at the overhead page. He winced when someone slammed a cabinet.

Was it stress?

Or something more?

At home that night, she found him on the balcony, both hands resting tightly on the railing. The city lights flickered below, but Frank looked like he was a million miles away.

"Rough day?" she asked.

He nodded but didn’t speak.

She stepped beside him, wrapping her arms around herself. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

They stood in silence for a while.

Y/N looked at his profile, searching for the man she knew. But now she saw something different. The darkness under his eyes. The stiffness in his posture. The secrets curled beneath his skin.

She wanted to ask.

She wanted to scream.

But instead, she leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the lights.

Her mind was racing. Do I confront him? Do I dig? Do I destroy this bubble we’ve built?

Or do I let it go?

She didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

And maybe she never would.

#imagine #imagines #the pitt imagine #the pitt #frank langdon imagine #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon

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moonrisecherub · 1 month ago

Text

atta girl | emily prentiss x reader

summary: you and emily try a new way to use your strap-on.

tags: smut (18+, mdni!), fem!non-bau!reader, top!emily, established relationship, mommy kink (sorry, not sorry), nipple play, vaginal fingering, strap-on use, no use of y/n, second person

word count: 1.3k

a/n: regular text size and capitalization under the cut. the premise of this was inspired by a tik tok i saw by @/siliconeslinger and the title is a twist on atta boy by red velvet :)

cross-posted on ao3

Sex with Emily was always amazing. The first time the two of you slept together, something had just clicked. Even though there was still much to learn about each other, that was part of the fun. Every day, you discovered something new about the other person. And every day, your affection grew.

Emily had been away on a case for nearly a week, leaving you with way too much free time on your hands. On this particular night, you had been scrolling on your phone when you came across a video explaining an alternate way to use a strap-on.

Your thighs clenched at the thought of trying this with Emily, and you filed away the idea for her return.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A few days later, the team had finally wrapped up their case. It was getting late, but you couldn’t fall asleep knowing that Emily would be getting home soon.

So, instead of going to sleep—as you probably should have—you prepared for your girlfriend’s return.

First, you took a nice, steamy shower with your favourite body wash and scrub. Then, you put on your best nightwear and lit a candle before settling into bed with a book while you waited (im)patiently for Emily’s arrival.

Finally, you heard the front door open and some rustling in the entrance of the apartment. Soon enough, Emily appeared in the doorway. She looked exhausted, but the second her eyes landed on you, they were lit with a spark reserved only for you.

“Sweetheart,” she started as she made her way over to the bedside, “you didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I know,” you replied, “but I wanted to.”

Emily took your face into her hand, stroking the skin of your cheek softly.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

At that, you giggled slightly, but you were soon silenced by her lips on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, but you deepened it quickly, perhaps due to all your pent-up energy. The book you’d been reading was soon discarded, and your hands made their way into your girlfriend’s silver locks. You hummed at the feeling of her tongue on yours, happy to know that she was just as hungry for you as you were for her.

Soon, however, Emily pulled away—albeit hesitantly.

“Honey, we should both get some sleep,” she said softly, “don’t you think?”

You shook your head, a pout forming on your lips and your eyes pleading.

“Oh? Does my girl have something else on her mind?”

You nodded in response.

“Words, honey.”

“Y-yes.”

A pause. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“There she is.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

In a flurry of mouths on necks and shoulders, and hands just about everywhere else, you soon found yourselves naked under the soft covers of the bed.

With her lips latched snuggly around your nipple, Emily’s hand wandered down until her fingers reached your warmth. She moaned around your nipple, surprised at just how wet you were, which in turn sent a jolt through your body.

With urgency—but still tenderness—she gathered your wetness before inserting a finger into your entrance. You gasped at the feeling of her already beginning to thrust the digit in and out, curling it upwards as well. Already, you were beginning to shake.

She released her mouth from your nipple. “Oh, baby,” she cooed, “missed me, huh?”

You nodded, entranced by her low, but dulcet tone. Her slight teasing seemed to do something to you, as you clenched around her finger—which didn’t go unnoticed.

Just when you thought you might get to cum, she pulled out, and you felt yourself clenching around nothing. You whined at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together as you looked at her.

Her lips curled up. “We’re just getting started here.”

And maybe it was a blessing in disguise, because as she got up to get the strap, you remembered your little idea.

Soon, she joined you back on the bed, kneeling beside you as she adjusted the harness.

“Em?”

She paused her adjustments, looking up at you.

“Do you think you could put the ring a bit lower? Apparently, it, uh, makes it feel better.”

“Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, “Sure, why not?”

Once she had repositioned the ring and inserted the dildo, she got some lube from the bedside table.

“Hand.” She instructed.

When you stretched your hand out, she poured the lube into your palm, and you immediately knew what to do. Emily inched closer, and you wrapped your hand around the strap, spreading the lube along its length. This, all while maintaining eye contact with her.

Once satisfied, you laid down on your back, and she followed you down. Carefully, she swiped the strap through your folds a few times before putting it into the hilt in one fell swoop.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed immediately at the feeling.

Already, you could feel the difference in depth due to that small change in angle. In contrast to the intensity you were feeling, Emily stroked your forehead softly, waiting for the go-ahead to start thrusting.

“I’m ready,” you rasped out.

Without delay, Emily pulled back out before pushing in even harder this time. She set a brutal pace, with each stroke hitting you so deeply you were nearly seeing stars. Feeling the need to be closer, you wrapped your legs around her waist, bringing her down further. She was now close enough to capture your lips in a somewhat messy kiss, but the way her lips moved freely against yours just added fuel to fire.

You moaned into her mouth, feeling yourself getting close already. But then, she pulled back, slowing her thrusts slightly.

“On your hands and knees for me, sweetheart,” she ordered.

And you followed her orders quickly, getting into position and arching your back just how she liked it. You looked back to see Emily eyeing you like you had hung the moon and stars.

“Look so pretty like this for me, baby,” she said softly, “you ready for me?”

“Always ready for you, mommy.”

With that, she pushed back into you with no hesitation, resuming the pace she had set previously. This time, however, the position you were in led to the strap hitting your sweet spot better than ever.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined as she kept up the pace, “feels so good.”

“That’s it, baby,” Emily said in a surprisingly steady voice, “can I go faster?”

“Yes! Please!”

And before you knew it, you were actually seeing stars because of how well she was fucking you. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, and deftly brought your hand to your pussy, a finger immediately circling your clit.

“Atta girl,” Emily encouraged you, “gonna cum for me?”

You couldn’t get any words out at that point, opting to moan out instead. She got the message though, and kept thrusting at the same angle and pace.

With one final stroke, you were falling apart. You shut your eyes as you reached your peak, an explosion of colours dancing behind your eyelids. Emily fucked you through it, words of praise adding to your pleasure.

When you finally came down from your high, you collapsed onto the bed. Emily pulled out gently, all while holding your waist, a thumb stroking your side to ground you.

She disappeared from the room for a moment, coming back with a warm washcloth and cleaning the excess lube from your centre. This simultaneously brought you back down to Earth.

When she was done cleaning you up and had discarded the cloth, Emily came to lay next to you. Almost instinctively, you lay your head on her chest—her heartbeat comforting you.

“How’re you feeling?” Emily asked after a stretch of silence, hand now stroking your back.

“Mmm, good,” you all but moaned, “really good.”

She giggled softly, amused by your dazed demeanour.

Not long after, the two of you dozed off, bodies entangled and hearts warm.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss smut

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chimielie · 2 months ago

Text

send flowers to my funeral

summary: Matsukawa x Reader. happy birthday FREAK

word count: 924

cw: no minors pls 🙏 suggestive content (scene starts immediately after mattsun and reader have finished having sex), no gendered terms or genitalia are mentioned but reader is pretty clearly. how do i put this delicately. getting fucked by him on the regular, fwb to lovers

a/n: my apologies for the incorrect characterization (mattsun and makki have a coffee table which is frankly unrealistic). also i insert a completely random rarepair headcanon with no context and then don’t expand at all

"My back hurts," you moan. "Get off me."

"One second," Issei says, his naked chest warm as his big body blankets you. "I'm tired."

"You're tired?" You can't even twist your neck up to look at him. You hope your tone betrays your incredulity.

"Well, I was the one doing all the work," he says, and you gasp indignantly.

"No, actually, get off of me!" You say. "All you have to do is," you back your hips up into his, where you're still connected. He groans, and you lose your train of thought for a split second. "You think those acrobatics are easy?"

"It was a mutual effort," he cedes. "Hey—"

"No," you say, aggravated. "I'm sore."

He shifts slightly, one thick forearm braced next to your head. You're bent over the arm of the couch, forehead almost touching the cushions. You say: "Okay, after I shower."

Showering together is one of those things you don't do, like kissing or staying the night. You'd put up emotional guards when you started doing whatever it is you and Issei do.

They hadn't worked, like, at all.

In the shower, you don't play music, just scrub yourself down and prod the red marks he'd left behind. On the hips, the chest, the ass. You never take long, afraid to use up his hot water or reveal something you don't mean to vis-à-vis the affinity for love songs you've developed.

After you've left the shower and the both of you drip water all over his covers, he puts the sheets in the laundry and pulls you back onto the couch, really on the couch this time, his feet up on the arm, his arms around you.

"It's my birthday today," he says suddenly, and you jolt. You hadn't known that. "My friends and I are gonna go for dinner. Come with?"

You stare at him with wide eyes.

"You should've told me, I would've been nicer to you," you say, still trying to wrap your head around the question he'd asked you.

"You're plenty nice to me," he laughs, "what are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" You parrot. "Do your friends even know about me?"

"'Course," you feel one shoulder move in a shrug beneath you. "I told them about the time you faxed nudes to the mortuary.”

You’d been particularly proud of that feat, right up until he’d called you and you’d heard it in his very voice that you wouldn’t be walking the next day.

“Wow, I had no idea that was what made me stand out,” you laugh. “I don’t have any plans tonight, anyway. How many others have you invited?”

“Oh, it’s just the guys from high school,” he shrugs. “Kawa and Iwa always have some other volleyball addict strapped to their backs, so there’ll probably be a couple more, but I don’t really like parties.”

Issei is the most low-maintenance guy you know. You admire his ability to go with the flow, to let life wash over him and appreciate the ride.

“No, I meant how many of the others,” you gesture to yourself, a tiny movement. “Like me?”

“You’re the only person who’ll be there that I’ve had sex with, if that’s what you mean,” there’s a little smile on his face, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Crazy.”

“Didn’t you and Iwaizumi have a thing for a while?” You point out.

“Hooking up once in high school is not the same as having a thing,” he insists. His heartbeat is speeding up under your palm, you notice. Funny. “You and Iwaizumi, then. That’s it.”

“Huh.” You say, and then are quiet for a while. “Matsukawa, forgive me for asking—if this is weird—what are we?”

“I hate that you only call me Issei in bed,” he says.

“I called you that on the couch, like, an hour ago.”

“You know what I mean, don’t be difficult.”

“I am difficult,” you say. “I’m high-maintenance and I’m too much work for someone easygoing like you.”

“I like working on you,” he says, pinching your arm. “I like that you try to be low-maintenance ‘cause you think that’s what I want and you still take up half my day when you’re here and all my mind when you’re not.”

Your lips part, blown off-kilter by his sincerity.

“I think I’m trying to ask you to be official,” he finishes, “but I think I’m fucking it up.”

“You’re not,” you laugh, “don’t worry. I was just going to die if you asked me to come meet all your friends just as the one who faxed you nudes.”

“If you died, I’d do your funeral for free,” he promises. “Oh, shit! That’s what I forgot.”

He shoves you away rather unceremoniously and you struggle to catch your breath on the couch in the few seconds he’s gone.

Issei comes back, a cluster of flowers bundled in one hand, his hair sticking up on one side from lying on the couch. You’ve never seen something so handsome.

You sit up and kiss him before you think about it, his lips soft and warm and a little chapped under yours. For all the time you’ve spent with him, it has the same clumsy charm as any first kiss with someone new, the sparking romance as metal strikes against itself. His cheeks are hot under your hands when you pull away.

“It should’ve been me giving you a birthday gift,” you say softly. “Thank you, Issei.”

(The two of you are late to dinner.)

#shorts!#haikyuu!! x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #i’m posting this at work with my last percentage of battery can you hear me can anyone h #matsukawa x reader #mattsun x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa x reader fluff #mattsun x reader fluff

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miniseokminnies · 30 days ago

Text

record store day —- c.hs

⭑.ᐟ pairing: chwe hansol (vernon) x fem!reader ⭑.ᐟ theme: acquaintances to lovers, idiots to lovers, record store employee!vernon ⭑.ᐟ w/c: 2.7k ⭑.ᐟ warnings: kissing, awkward reader, awkward vernon, lots of instagram dms ⭑.ᐟ a/n: happy record store day babies! this is based off something that happened to me last year hehe (over dramatized of course) shoutout to my lovely betas @lovetaroandtaemin and @seungkw1 ⭑.ᐟ notice: this blog is intended for 18+ ONLY all ageless and minor blogs will be blocked. i do not condone my work being run through ai in any capacity. my work is my own.

“What?!” You shriek at your phone screen. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” You shove your phone into the face of the man sitting behind the counter.

“I can’t see what you’re talking about when the screen is so close to my face,” he deadpans.

“Live Bowie?” You flop back onto the beanbag chair with a grunt. “You’ll get these in?” You mutter, loud enough for him to hear you.

“On Record Store Day, yeah.” He moves to change the record on the turntable behind the counter. 218 Records is where you spend your days off. You can’t remember when it started but it’s been like this for the better part of a year. Vernon, the employee who runs the social media, is always working when you’re here. Sometimes you’re not convinced there are even any other employees here.

“V,” you spring to your feet again, “you have to save me one, I have to work on Saturday!”

“Oh no,” he holds his hands up, “I can’t do that, boss’ll have my ass, heartzvinyl”

V, the single letter he uses to sign off all his comments on the store’s instagram, and heartzvinyl the instagram handle you made when you were still in high school and just starting off your collection. The first names you knew each other by, which seemed to stick. You had thought about changing your username to something less cringey, but the way Vernon’s voice sounds saying it deterred you from that. You might not ever change it at this rate. Once you graduated high school and started buying more vinyl, with your own money, you found 218 Records, and their instagram. The small lowercase v’s started popping up in their comments back to customers around the same time.

You slam your head onto the counter in front of Vernon, and groan loudly. He looked around for other customers to assist, anything to get himself away from your dramatics. You roll your head to the side to look up at him.

“C’mon, V!” You cry, “I’m your most loyal customer! I’m here, like, everyday!”

“Mark is also here most days,” he reminds you, finally changing out the vinyl, filling the store with a new sound.

“Fine!” You stand up straight. “I’ll just come after work, like a normie!”

Your Saturday shifts typically drag, but not like this. Everytime you dare to glance at the clock on the wall opposite of the counter, only five minutes have passed since the last time. You bounce on the balls of your feet as some snooty woman rattles off the worst coffee order you have ever heard.

After she inserts her card into the machine you turn to give the cup with her order on it to the other barista. Just get through this rush and you can rush over to 218 before they close. There are eight more customers in the lobby. The coffee shop doesn’t close for another 45 minutes but 218 is open for another 30 after that, without traffic you’ll get there five minutes before.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” Your coworker asks you as you rush through the closing routine. You shake your head, trying to evade her line of questioning. “It’s that record store, isn’t it? Today’s some big thing right?”

“Record Store Day, yeah,” you scrub the inside of the blender, “They got an exclusive I really want in my collection, it isn’t about Vernon.”

“I never said anything about him, Y/N.” She smiles widely, thinking she’s found out some juicy gossip. You feel your cheeks heat up, realizing she didn’t say anything about Vernon, just his store.

“Oh, well…”

“Go, I’ll finish up.” She laughs.

“Really?” You perk up. She nods and shoos you toward the door. “I owe you one, oh my God!” You scramble to the back to grab your bag and fly out of the shop.

The parking lot at 218 Records is suspiciously empty when you arrive 25 minutes later. You climb out of your car and immediately spot Vernon sitting in a grassy spot a small ways from the entrance of the store. He sees you soon after and waves you over.

“Hey,” he offers, “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“But I’m still too late, judging by the fact that Jihoon let you come out and smoke.” You sit down next to him on the grass. He passes you his joint.

“Sorry, heartzvinyl,” you take the joint and take a hit, “the Bowie vinyls went real fast.” He leans back on his hands and watches you smoke. You exhale slowly.

“I figured they would.” Vernon watches the smoke fall from your lips. He thinks it’s pretty. You let the silence hang in the air for a while. You hand the joint back to him. He starts to wonder when he started thinking the way you smoke was prettier than anyone he’s ever seen, or when he started thinking about how risking his job might’ve been worth it if it meant you not moping here on the lawn. He’s not sure if he cares when it started.

“Hey,” he bumps your shoulder with his, “Jihoon said our stock was lower than he expected.” You look over at him with wide eyes, he thinks about kissing you. “We might get late stock, do you want me to keep you updated?”

“You’d do that for me, V?” You whisper. He shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess I would.”

Monday April 14

heartzvinyl [1:46 pm]: hi! just wondering if there has been any additional record store day

stock delivered?

218records.ny [1:55 pm]: nothing yet. -v

Tuesday April 15

heartzvinyl [3:12 pm]: hi me again!! anything new in stock?

218records.ny [3:33 pm]: new ethel cain vinyls (both colors), but no, not the vinyl you’re in search of. -v

Wednesday April 16

218records.ny [10:13 am]: nothing new today. -v

heartzvinyl [11:32 am]: ? i hadn’t even asked yet ???

218records.ny [11:40 am]: yeah but you were going to :) -v

You stare at the smiley face. Has he ever used that before? You scroll up in the conversation, past the messages from this week. There are a few scattered smiley faces, how have you never noticed before? Furthermore, why do these emoticons make you feel a bit giddy? Surely he uses them with everyone, it doesn’t mean anything. Then again, would Vernon keep someone else this up to date on the stock in the store?

Thursday April 17

heartzvinyl [2:19 pm]: hi there! any updates on rsd?

218records.ny [4:45 pm]: Hi! What exactly are you looking for? We haven’t gotten any additional stock, but I can check if what you’re looking for is still here! -Jihoon

heartzvinyl [4:56 pm]: oh hey jihoon !! i’m in search of the live ready set go bowie lp, i think vernon said it sold pretty fast on saturday

218records.ny [6:15 pm]: Yeah unfortunately those did fly off the shelf. Sorry! -Jihoon

You sigh at your phone, you know you’ll be lucky if they get more stock, but that doesn’t stop the empty feeling in your gut at Jihoon’s message. He has never answered your dms to the page before either, where is Vernon?

You toss your phone onto your bed, no use worrying, everyone has their days off. You pad across the floor of your bedroom over to your shelves of vinyl. Running your finger across all the spines you stop at one of the first vinyls Vernon recommended to you – Ginger by Brockhampton. You slide it out of the shelf and carefully place it into the turntable. Placing the needle the guitar intro fills the stillness of the room.

You smile, remembering how uniquely Vernon his recommendation was. Vernon is always himself, especially when people ask him for advice. You like to hang out in the store on your off days because of this, watching him navigate customer requests and questions was interesting to you, almost like doing a character study in a way.

Falling back onto your bed you close your eyes and listen until the music slowly lulls you to sleep.

Friday April 18

218records.ny [9:35 am]: INCOMING CALL

You swatted around your duvet for your phone. The ringtone was unfamiliar. Finally grabbing onto it you realized it was because someone was calling you on Instagram. You didn’t even know you could make phone calls on instagram.

“Um…hello?” You rub your eyes.

“Finally,” Vernon’s voice crackles on the other end, “Get over here, we got it, heartzvinyl.”

“Really?” You jump up. “Are you fucking with me, V?”

“God, no, why would I do that?” You could hear him grinning, “Just get over here before someone else does!”

By 10 am you’re busting through the front door of 218 Records. Your entrance is less than graceful and has everyone in the store looking in your direction. Lucky for you it’s 10 am on a Friday so the only people here are Vernon, Jihoon, and of course Mark. You smile sheepishly as everyone, besides Vernon, goes back to what they were doing. Approaching the counter you try to look casual.

“Hey V,” you lean your arm on the counter.

“What are you doing?” He blinks at you.

“I don’t know,” you drop your hands to your sides. “I didn’t want you to think I only came for Bowie.”

“I told you to come for Bowie.” He points out. Without another word he turns around and retrieves what you have been waiting for all week. “You still want it?”

“Cut the shit, V.” You laugh, pulling out your card.

“Sheesh, heartzvinyl,” he scans the barcode, “I just had to be sure!” You watch as he carefully wraps the vinyl in plastic and places it in the paper bag. He hands it over to you and grins at you. “Enjoy it.” You smile back at him and awkwardly start side stepping toward the door.

“Well…I better go…” You trail off. He nods at you before his eyes grow wide, like he just remembered something.

“Wait,” he pulls a scrap of paper out of his pocket and rummages around the counter until he finds a pen. He scribbles something down and holds the paper out to you. “I, uh, I get outta here at 3 today, if you need someone to listen to the album with.” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. You take the paper and stare down at the handwriting.

“Vern…online…” You decode his chicken scratch, “is this your personal Instagram?” He nods. “You could just give me your number, you know?”

“Yeah I could,” he chuckles, “but this seems more our speed.” You smile at him.

“I have some errands to run, I’ll let you know.”

“Cool.”

Vernon watches you leave the store, feeling a little bit like an idiot. He has never had a way with words, so he thought that his instagram would be a fun way to be able to talk to you more, but now he feels like you think he’s weird. He chews on his bottom lip.

“Did you give her your Instagram?” Jihoon’s voice from behind him makes him jump. Vernon turns to see his boss casually leafing through the vinyls behind the counter.

“What?” He sputters, “oh..yeah I did.”

“Good, now you can stop flirting on the business account.”

You are laying facedown on your bedroom floor, it is 2:56 pm, and you lied about having errands to run. You have already looked through Vernon’s Instagram three times, which is not a hard feat considering he has four posts and two of them are pictures of the cats that live near the store. You let out a loud groan, trying to convince yourself that he wouldn’t have given you his account if he didn’t want to talk to you.

Friday April 18

heartzvinyl [2:58 pm]: hey v i think i would like if you came over after work :]

vernonline [3:03 pm]: send me the addy lol

You send Vernon your address and throw your phone across the room. Being nervous made no sense, it’s Vernon. But it’s Vernon in your space, the dynamic is bound to change. You jump up and begin to tidy up your room. The Bowie record stays in its brown paper bag.

Thirty minutes later there was a knock at your door. You felt your heartbeat pick up as you went to answer the door. Opening it, there’s Vernon. Headphones around his neck and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He gives a small wave when he sees you.

“Hey, come in,” you step aside so he can shuffle past you. He looks around your apartment and nods.

“Very you.” He states simply. For whatever reason this comment has heat settling in your cheeks. You lead him to your bedroom. Vernon walks a single circle around the small room, smiling at Ginger still in your record player. He takes a seat on the floor while you switch out the vinyls, returning Ginger to the shelf and carefully placing Bowie in the turntable. Music fills the room as you sit on the floor next to Vernon.

The two of you sit in silence for the first few songs before Vernon pulls out a small metal case. He opens it and pulls a joint out.

“Do you mind?” He asks. You shake your head. He puts the joint between his lips and brings the flame to the end. You watch him blow the smoke, filling your room with a haze. He passes it to you and you accept it, wanting to calm your nerves.

The last notes fade out and you sit in silence for a few moments. You stretch out your legs and look over at Vernon. His eyes were cloudy and heavy. He looks over at you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Do you want water or something?” You blurt out.

“Oh, uh, sure.” He flashes you a lopsided smile.

You scramble up and grab two glasses of water and return to your room. His hand wraps around the cool glass as you hold it out to him. You turn your attention to your collection, looking for what to put on next. Vernon stands up, knees popping on his way, and wanders toward your desk.

“Hey do you have a coaster, babe?” Vernon asks. Your eyes open wide, without looking at him you can picture the face he’s making. His brow is furrowed, his teeth clenched, he didn’t mean to say that.

“What did you call me?” You turn to him slowly. He has started looking at the ceiling, the glass of water clutched in his hand so tightly that if it was real glass you would be concerned he might break it.

“Nothing.” He muttered. You move past him to grab a coaster from the drawer of your desk and hold it out to him.

“You can call me babe, if you want.” He takes the coaster from your hand and hastily sets the water down on the desk. You stare at him, he stares back at you for several moments before he takes your face between his hands and presses his lips to yours.

It feels like fireworks are exploding in your stomach. He deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You grant access and he licks into your mouth.

“Is this okay?” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own.

“More than, V.” You chase his lips. He makes a small noise at his nickname and kisses you again. He backs you up until you bump against your bed. Without breaking the kiss you take a fistful of his shirt and pull him down onto the bed, on top of you. He cages you in with his arms and pulls away just slightly.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” He dips his head to kiss you again but he stops short, “is it okay that I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” All you can do is nod. “Awesome.” He smiles boyishly before connecting his lips to yours again. He thinks about why he never told you that you’re pretty when you smoke.

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kisses4spidey · 1 month ago

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ambush | ☆ミ p. parker

summary - you go to the rooftop of your apartment, a tired spider-man does too. and now you’re accidentally the only person who knows his identity.

genre - fluff, meet cute sorta, fem!nurse!reader x peter, both college-ish age, can be read as any peter but i imagined tasm!peter

warnings - revealed identities, swearing, peter being an idiot, drinking & underage drinking

w.c. - this is awkward… it ain’t that long tho.

a/n - second peter fic!!! hope you enjoy.

A carton of soju, a blanket, and a box of New York cheese pizza.

You thought that maybe going up there, onto the quiet unused rooftop with all of your guilty pleasures would fix it. Fix the stress building on your shoulders, the headache brewing between your eyebrows, the strain behind your eyes.

But it didn’t. Instead it made you question your life, why couldn’t life always be as carefree as pizza on a rooftop?

Why did you choose to be a nurse in a city where crime is a plague and superheroes put people in more danger than the villains.

Where you’ll be the one to stitch them up, insert IV’s, get them the blood they’ve lost, but the superheroes will always be the one to thank.

Thank you, Spider-man, for not letting the elevator land, but sending 10 people with whiplash to the hospital.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek. A wake up call, that’s what you needed.

Still in your light blue scrubs, you opened your first bottle of many with the intention to get drunk and probably fall asleep under the night sky. You wished there were stars up there, but alas you lived in the city where dreams were made of.

You lent against the entrance walls, facing the lowering sun with no worry of having any unwanted visitors. The apartments were mostly occupied by retired couples and families with kids way too young to be allowed at such heights. You sat there for around an hour, letting time pass you but feel equally guilty about how much time you were wasting.

You sighed through the tranquility, until a sudden thump was heard behind you, and a sudden man was slumped again the rooftop door.

His face was mostly hidden by messy, mousy brown hair, and his entire body was wrapped in what seemed to be some sort of… spider-man suit.

He clutched a mask in his hands, and your eyes widened as he turned his face towards you.

The man was equally as terrified.

“Oh my god!” You covered your mouth and jumped to your feet. Spider-man hurried to cover his face with his mask, and you were both left in silence.

You wiped your cheeks of any tears, suddenly aware of your appearance and situation. He was handsome, too bad you hated him.

“I already saw your face.” You faced Spider-man, eyes scanning his hidden features like it’s the last thing you’ll see. The boy tugged his mask off and puffed his cheeks, looking down in self-disappointment.

Spiderman gave up, “You can’t tell anyone.” His voice cracked slightly at the end but was surprisingly deep for how young he looked. You assumed he was your age, maybe a year younger.

You scoffed and exclaimed, “I can’t tell anyone? You just saw a nurse who pumps stomachs every day drink three bottles of beer in 50 minutes!”

His eyebrows lowered and he grinned, “I actually didn’t see that so you just exposed yourself.”

“Oh, you wanna talk about being exposed?” You huffed out your chest and stared at him.

The rooftop went silent. His eyes crawled over your face and you copied him. He had faint freckles, a stronger nose with a bump and long eyelashes. You felt the suited man’s stare like a shot of venom, a blush creeping onto the tips of your ears as he stretched the silence on.

“I’m Peter Parker.” He held his hand out, red suit stretching in a way you would only see from this close up.

“You’re insane, and digging your own hole here.” You kept your left hand by your side and your right hand in the pocket of your scrub’s shirt. Peter chuckled and walked closer to you, making you step back.

“Look, you already saw my face. You’re bound to see me again, especially since you’re a nurse and I’m a superhero.”

“Did you seriously just call yourself a superhero.”

“I own it, and I am not the one to be judged right now.”

“Oh a girl can’t have a few drinks after a 12 hour shift?”

He shrugged, “I guess not.”

“And it’s not like you make it any easier.” You mumble.

“What?” He asked, lowering his eyebrows. He didn’t know he had made beef with the medical system.

“Well, not just you but every “superhero”. You save people from imminent death, yes, but I don’t think you realise how many of them end up dying from the effects. Broken ribs that puncture lungs, permanent spinal damage, not to mention the mental toll being in the crossfire of those kinds of things. Also, everyone always says thank you to you guys, when it’s like. Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the Hulk could stitch your head back together so skillfully with those big ass hands! Also!-“ You stop. You’ve started rambling, talking the most you have in a long time.

He clenches his jaw, and nods.

It went silent again, you glanced down to your drinks sat on the concrete floor. "You're legal." You said as if you were confident about it. "I'm 20." He responded. "Close enough."

Both of you sat down, backs against the entrance wall, facing the sunset. He grabbed a drink as you picked up your half empty one, he opened his like it was a water bottle cap. Peter glanced down to your pizza box and quietly scoffed, "You don't eat the crust?" "Only weirdos do." You saw his hand grab two out the corner of your eye, and you turned to watch him take a large bite out of one. Mouth half full, he responded, "I guess I'm a weirdo then."

You scoff back and turn to face the nearly absent sun. He had been distracting you from your wallowing, and now the sun wasn't there to keep you awake. Maybe your plans of falling asleep up there was ruined, maybe-

"Why were you crying?" The question stuns you for a second. You don't exactly know how to respond, nobody ever asks you that. "Why do you care?" He swallowed the last of his second crust, "Because I'm your friendly neighbourhood spi-" You hold a pointer finger up and cringe, "Don't even finish that sentence." You sighed, "It's just work and I guess..." "Yeah?" He says quietly, wanting you to continue. "I don't have a lot of people to talk to."

Now that surprised him. You were so easy to talk to, to reason with, to have banter already (even if it was passive aggresive). He wouldn't have been surprised if you had multiple best friends trying to talk you into going to a party that night. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took another crust. "I guess you did try to make fun of me the second I got here-" "Oh I did not." You turn to see him grinning, obviously joking. Oh.

You cleared your throat and yearned to change the subject, "So, I guess being spiderman's pretty special, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." "You guess?" "Well, I mean, look at this." He raises his pointer finger and brings your attention to a slice of dried blood on his forehead. "Oh. How'd that happen?" "Simple bank robbery." He shrugged, taking a sip. "Simple." You nodded along, and it went silent again. Some pigeons landed on the concrete barriers that tilted their heads at the pair. A suited superhero, a slightly drunk nurse.

The sun was barely a slither now, the sky blue and orange at the rim. He muffles a chuckle under his breath. You turn to him with a glare.

He looks at you, and you gulp, "I thought you'd offer to clean it. Seeing as though you're a nurse." He motions to your scrubs.

You laugh mockingly, "I'm not taking a stranger into my apartment, even if they're a superhero, or know more than me than what I'd like."

"I sound like a friend." "What's my name, Peter Parker?" He faced you with his mouth slightly opened. And then closed it. He never asked. He took your crust, your beer, and your peace, but he didn't take down your name.

You started to speak, but a loud buzzing somewhere around Spiderman's body, and he sighed. The brunet stood up lazily and took the last swig of soju.

"Gotta go. What happens on this rooftop stays on this rooftop." He smiles, nearing the edge of the rooftop. Its nighttime now, his red suit starkly contrasting with the blue night sky. "Stay safe, don't drink and swing." You both nod at each other before he turns to face the ground. "Wait!"

You stood up, spiderman mask in hand. It was a weird elastic, plasticy metal that you had never felt before. You almost wanted to keep it. "Your mask." You threw it, and he caught it. "Nice throw." "Nice catch."

The tall hero leant off the rooftop, in a way that made your heart race with faux fear that you were also falling. He nods to you before he vanishes, and it looks like he’s trying to say thank you. And you smile, for the first time in many days.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #marvel fic

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fanaticsnail · 7 months ago

Text

Hair Pulling: Benn Beckman

Birthday Party Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600+

Themes: Benn Beckman x gn!reader, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, kink, hair pulling, insertion sex, oral sex, Sub!Beckman x Dom!reader. First-Mate x Barber.

Notes: It is @jintaka-hane's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy your beautiful day, and may Beckman getting his hair pulled spark some joy and illuminate your celebration. So much love for you 🖤

Sitting at your workstation, you began rolling and folding the fresh batch of towels you purchased from the town the Red-Force was currently docked at. The fluffy material felt so foreign in your hands after using your well-worn and crusted cloths for your crew for so long. You couldn’t wait to spoil your crewmates with the new fabric, truly relishing in your job when you were not called to arms in defense of your captain, Shanks.

As the crew barber, it was your job to ensure your crewmates kept themselves as neat and tidy as they desired to be. Whether it was maintaining a goatee, some shadowing on their cheeks, a suave manicured lip and chin, or a rugged scruffiness suited to their liking: you were to keep them in perfect order. Haircuts and styling was also in your repertoire, and you wore that title well.

There was only one member of your crew that had yet to seek out your services for himself. Keeping in the quiet, shearing his own cheeks in the morning, neck and chin littered with small nicks and cuts at after a morning scrub in the bathroom, was the broody first mate.

Hunched over the itinerary captain Shanks had curated for their departure, he leaned his hips on the railing with a scowl on his lips.

Placing down the last folded towel, you withdrew your straight razor and leather hanging strop from your satchel. Checking over your blade for any notches or cracks in need of honing, you blow gently on the silver side of the knife. Holding your blade steady, you gently glide the silver along the stretch, conforming to its curvature along the surface with little resistance.

Benn Beckman was a friend to you, truly enjoying your company in the still of the night when the crew slumbered. As first mate, it was his duty to keep his captain and crew safe. He was both the first and last line of defense for the redhead, and often had little time to dilly dally with his crew. In that quiet, you would often recall small moments traveling together on the seas. Your soft laughter marrying his whispered chuckles was music to the crew, putting them at ease while they slumbered.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not attracted to him. Sure, your Captain and the Doctor had their charm, but Benn Beckman: first mate and dutiful death dealer was where your eyes found their perch.

Being simply friends, you assumed he would have approached you by now to do your job on his features. Just a quick tidy of his jawline, trimming his graying locks, giving him a treatment for the sea-sprayed ends - but he never did. Not once. Not a single time.

Narrowing your eyes at him and pursing your lips, you examined his recklessness littering his cheeks with drying blood and crusted sores. Almost scowling at it, you were yet to notice the approach of your crewmate taking a seat in your chair.

“Hey Barber, got a spot for me in your station?” Yasopp queries with a smile in every word, “Can I have a quick tidy up?”

“Course you can, Sharpshooter,” you laugh with him, gently brushing off your chair and reaching for one of the freshly rolled towels. “It's what I'm here for. Just a shave, or rerolling your coils?”

“Just a shave for now. The dreads can wait,” he nodded his head and eagerly plonked himself down at your station. “I've never had a shave as near as yours before. Even when it grows back, it's more manageable.”

“Thank you, Yassop. Now just shut your eyes, lay back, and let me do what I need to do on you.”

“Aye, Barber.”

Watching from his position reclining against the wooden panels, Benn Beckman’s lips drew slack. The filter end of his cigarette lay glued to his lips while they parted in awe. Each glide of the blade over Yasopp’s skin coincided with a gentle tug or maneuver of his scalp to guide him to an appropriate repositioning.

“You're doing it again, Becks.”

Shanks plopped himself alongside the railing beside the first mate, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder in the process. Beckman let's put a soft grunt and continues glaring at the scene unfolding in front of him. You were halfway through the shave now, gently holding idle chatter between yourself and Yasopp while you tidy him up.

“I'm not doin’ nothin’, Cap,” Beckman grumbles, taking a hefty drag of his cigarette. Shanks chuckles, following his eyeline and darting his gaze between Yasopp and you together.

“Why don't you just go up and take a seat,” Shanks suggested as if it was the easiest course of action to take for the big guy, “You really messed up your general scruff. Looks like you angered a pather. Go on. After Yasopp, it's your turn.”

Beckman snaps his gaze over towards Shanks at the thought, blaring into him with his darkened eyes filled with rage.

“You know damn well how I feel about my hair gettin’ touched.” Beckman warned him, his voice hardened with a mixture of warning and confession laden within, “I don't want our barber to do it for me, because I know it'll change the way they see me. Don't wanna do it to them.”

“Just focus on something else, Becks.” Shanks offered in a tone of jesting, index and middle fingers on his right hand walking up his forearm, “You know? Not like you haven't thought of ‘em tugging your hair when you're alone in your quarters.”

Beckman sends Shanks a glare that he has only ever seen a handful of times, who in turn raises his hands defensively. With a small chuckle, Shanks backs away from the broody first mate with a playful smirk.

The gray-haired first mate continues to watch you as you finish your work on Yasopp, wiping off the sharpshooter’s face with a towel. Giving him a playful trace of your fingers along his jawline, you send him from your chair and begin to sanitize it for the next use.

Looking over from your point above the deck of the red force, you could've sworn you caught the first mate’s eyes as he gazed over from his recline against the rail. His thumb met the filter end of his cigarette and pressed it in a sizzle within his iron ashtray.

“Beckman?” you gather your courage to call over to him, finally refusing to let this little dance go on any longer, “Come and see me tomorrow, you hear? Need to fix up your razor, and I've got a balm for you to use tonight.”

Benn Beckman freezes in place, a static-like shudder frizzing from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Without much force, he apprehensively sighs out a little, “Aye, that I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you prepare a cube of solid ointment in a tin for him, hoping the balm would aid in the healing for a closer shave, and to halt any scarring or pore blockages from occurring and getting itchy.

The following day, Benn Beckman found himself in your chair. A dark cape was casually draped around his neck, tucked in a towel and buttoned at his collar. The aroma of aftershaves and foaming cleansers lingered as you massaged his prickly scruff with your fingertips.

He could barely focus on your conversation. Whichever topic that graced past your lips was white noise to him. While he often found himself easily lost in conversation with you, he was now wholeheartedly focussed on one thing, and one thing only.

Trying not to cum.

Your hands so easily maneuver his head around, skilled fingers cleaning up his face and ridding him of his spindles protruding from his chin. In his head, it was an eternal argument as to whether he was to tell you how worked up he was, and how long he had been without coupling with a partner, or simply ignore how you made him feel while wholeheartedly enjoying the experience.

He had been to barbers before, and none of them made him feel this worked up over a simple pampering. Paired with the fact he adored you, and he was lost completely to the feeling of your fingers on his skin.

“You want a trim while I'm at it?” he hears you ask. He hadn't had the heart to decline, sparing both himself and you or his shameful joy at the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes and uttered a soft, “yes,” while his cock twitched against the crotch of his pants.

“You have such pretty hair, Becks,” you compliment him in earnest, reaching for the woven band holding his locks within, “If you don't mind me saying, of course.”

“N-Not at all,” he stuttered out, wincing as your hands dragged down the tight coil and freeing his strands from their confines. You take his small flinch as discomfort, but it could not be further from his experience.

Beckman was trying not to picture how you would look straddling his face, guiding him by those skilled hands. Tugging and pulling harshly to have him pinpoint your bliss, having him consume your ecstasy with his vigorous and unrelenting mouth while you held onto his hair.

Carding your fingers through his salted and peppery strands, you found yourself cooing at the way each fistful felt in your hands. He was so pliant, listening to your wordless directions as you angled him to find an appropriate position. Scissors handled carefully to chop at the damaged ends, you continued humming out your praise at the first mate.

His pulse quickened and breath hitched at the way your words and actions truly moved him.

Where your lips curved out: “Your hair is so volumous, I can't get over how you manage to trap it in that band,” Beckman heard, “Your hair feels perfect in my hands, let me trap you in my lap and fuck you.”

Spilling out gentle praise and manageable instructions: “Move to the side, good job. Just like that, Becks,” Beckman’s mind morphed it into, “Fuck, you’re doing such a good job for me. Keep going, good boy.”

Each roll of his neck guided by a tug to his scalp, his eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes. His cock continued to twitch and move against his seams at every motion, everything occuring below the belt against his will. He hated himself for reacting like this, for hearing your voice guide him and move against his skull so easily.

At one more sensual tug, his voice entangled in his jugular and caused him to shudder his jaw. You halted your actions immediately, truly believing you had caused him discomfort.

“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, big guy?” Your concern was laden in your tone, only aiding in expanding his cock to a pulsating rod to pitch the tent in his pants.

“No, Darlin’, I'm alright,” he uttered with a breathy chuckle to follow, “Just not used to bein’ manhandled like this is all.”

“You're used to being in charge. I get it,” you chuckle down at him playfully, giving his hair a soft tug as you did with the others aboard your ship, “You're in my chair now, sweetheart. Gotta listen close to me, or I might accidentally pull on something I shouldn't.”

Both of you were surprised by the needy whine that fled from Beckman’s throat, your hands fleeing immediately from their grip on his hair and discarding your scissors in the tray beside you. You took a moment to steady yourself, your infatuation rising for him in your gut and swelling in need up to your throat. The way he moaned for you was pornographic, and your mind ran with that to a point where you personally had to halt your job to breathe through the feeling.

Beckman knows there's no disguising it now. He has a kink, and you had inadvertently made yourself subject to it by your actions. His mind was already attempting to accumulate an apology to you, thanking the stars that Shanks had conducted an away mission to enjoy a bar in town himself with the crew.

As you stepped towards him, he immediately drew his eyes to find your own. Expecting you to be peering into his soul, gaze filled with rage at the use of you pulling on his hair and fanning the flames of his lust, he saw your eyes immediately flung to his belt line.

Noticing your eyes draw down to his cock, shrouded by the dark covering laid on his lap, he was unsure as to where your mind found itself wandering.

“Benn Beckman,” you whispered softly, a softness rising in your tone. Reaching for the loose strand dangling over his eye, you tucked it behind your ear and purred at him, “You have a thing for hair-pulling, don't you?”

His apologies jumbled and merged into one large stuttery mess. His cheeks rose in hue and illuminance the longer he attempted to recover from your accusation. Each tumble and stutter he elected to present to you was met with a knowing and teasing look down your nose at him.

“Oh, Becks,” you cooed down at him, scrunching up your nose with a soft light in your eyes, “Is that why you haven't come to see me? Something as simple as a little tug on the ponytail gets you all hot and bothered?”

Beckman’s blush rose higher, his head practically seething with frustrated vapors. Just as he was about to open his mouth to growl at you for your comments, you hushed him with a few simple words.

“If you'd have told me about this earlier, we could've had some fun with it,” you shrugged, eyes immediately thereafter growing wide at your blazen disregard for indescression, “I-I mean, if you like me like that-... I mean… if you don't… I… I didn't-.”

“-Are you done with the cut?” Beckman immediately cut you off, his face no longer glaring with his uncertainty and fury.

“I… well, yes, sir,” you nodded, lips sucked into your mouth to stifle their quiver. Beckman reached up to the collar, tugging at the buttoned seam and releasing the cape from shrouding his broad body.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Just as simply as that conversation began, you found yourself with the broody first mate tangled in his sheets and crying out beneath him. Your legs were over his hips, your entrance stretched and molding to his shape the longer he split you open with his thick shaft. Slow and sultry drags of his cock within your body propelled you to a higher plane of bliss. He huffed and panted in the crease where your shoulder met your neck, whining out as you tugged on his freshly trimmed and manicured ponytail.

His hips grew staggered in their languid thrusts, feeling his enevitable release finally stampeding towards the finish line. Your own need was pooling in the pit of your stomach, swelling up and beginning to bloom in your chest. Your breaths came out in heady pants, and you reigned him towards his unravelment by pulling hard on the back of his hair.

“Cum for me, big boy,” you whisper needily, Beckman’s resolve shattering as he unleashed his pearlescent ropes of thick cum deep within you. Calls of your name on his tongue spur you into your own ecstasy, riding through the coursing waves as he buried himself down to the hilt within you.

Both you and Beckman were once again thankful that Shanks and the remainder of the Red Force crew had left you both in isolation to enjoy exploring Beckman's preference for having his hair pulled.

From then on, he was adamant on having only you shave his cheeks and trim his hair to keep him pretty. Even better were the times you did it naked, his cock nestled deep within you and being told to keep still so you don't make a mess of his handsome features with a straight razor and your scissors.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

🎶Happy birthday to me🎶.

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

#one piece #x reader #2024 birthday event #benn beckman #beckman #op beckman #benn beckman x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #x gn!reader #2024 birthday party

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revelboo · 6 months ago

Note

It was a happy day when I found this treasure trove of reader insert transformers fics <3 Thank you for writing these.

You mentioned that the idw/g1 wheeljack fic is currently your favourite, what a coincidence it also happens to be my current favourite :D I swear that mech is criminally under appreciated. If you still have the enthusiasm to write that one I would love to see more. I need to see the human reassure wheeljack that they are not going to just abandon him. Please he deserves the world :')

Oooh drama. Yes, please

Circuits and Wires Pt 4

IDW Wheeljack x Reader

• Bent over a project, he’s aware of you watching him. Also very aware that you’re sitting crosslegged much closer to what he’s working on than he’d like and the little clinking as you toy with the pin to the fire extinguisher in your lap is distracting him. It’s not because you don’t trust him, but because his latest doohickey just keeps overheating and catching on fire. And he almost suspects that you’re enjoying putting the fire out and then walking over to drag a new extinguisher closer from the pile.

• Honestly, you’d have given up after whatever that thing is had caught on fire the first three times, but that’s one of the things you like best about Wheeljack. No matter how many times he fails, he doesn’t get discouraged or give up. He just laughs it off, that low, rumbling sound warm as it spreads through you and he starts over. You like watching him work, hearing him try to explain stuff to you, talking like he’s certain you can understand even if you rarely do. And this experiment isn’t the explosive kind at least. “You’ve got it this time,” you say, smiling up at him when he glances your way. Those vocal indicator fins on his helmet flicker mauve before shifting back to their normal cheery blue.

• No matter how many times he fails, you just keep encouraging him and that spreads warm through him, twines about his spark as he pauses to reach and run the tip of a servo over your cheek and you rest your palm against him. Smiling and that little thing reminds him that this can’t last no matter how much he wants it to. But he can’t keep delaying, sooner or later you’re going to get hurt. “Been talking to a few bots,” he says, reluctantly breaking that contact when he just wants to pick you up, hold on to this. “I think Ratch might take you on. You could help out with little stuff he can’t easily get to.”

• Your breath catches as you stare up at him, trying to figure out what you did wrong. Why he doesn’t want you with him anymore. Probably because he has to worry about you getting hurt all the time, divide his time between his work and you. Maybe he’s grown to resent that. Shoulders slumping, you nod and twist your back on him, because you’re not about to start bawling about this even if his rejection hurts. “If I did something wrong, just tell me,” you say, hating how your voice hitches. “I’ll stop doing it.”

• The hurt in your voice surprises him. That you think he’s just annoyed with you and trying to pawn you off. “It’s not anything you did.” It’s him. How can you not understand that everyone else is right and he’s a walking disaster area? You can’t be just more collateral damage. “The lab isn’t safe for humans. Ratch can-“

• “I don’t want to stay with Ratchet,” you mutter, shoulders hunching and still refusing to look at him. Because you are crying now and you scrub at your face with the back of a hand, mortified and angry. “I like being with you.” You big, sweet idiot. Hiding your face in your hands when he walks around and resisting when he uses a servo to try and move your hands away. Giving up hiding the crying, you swat his servo and glare up at him, aware of how red and splotchy your face must be. The way he freezes, his vocal indicators an edgy yellow-green. “I want to stay.” Don’t make me leave, please.

• Oh. Your chin lifts even as tears roll down your cheeks, because he’s seriously misjudged how attached you are to him and it’s a surprise that warms him. Because you’re this upset about being separated from him and it does things to his spark. You really care this much about him? He’s reaching for you, servos closing around you to lift you and cradle you against the warm mesh of his neck. Shivering as you press your wet cheek against him, making that little, broken sound that hurts his spark. “I want you to stay, too,” he admits, even as worry eats at him. He can protect you, even from himself. He has to, because he can’t lose this.

My workplace’s theme for Halloween is 80s and one of my coworkers asked if I had any toys from that era or inspired by it. And I think I worried her when I just grinned like a crazy person and asked how much she needed, because I have TRANSFORMERS- and she accidentally gave me an excuse to share my nerdy stuff. Poor kid had that vaguely uncomfortable look people get when they realize they’ve just made a critical, possibly catastrophic error.

Maybe I made the error- a coworker just put on the Megatron helmet and went through the building loudly declaring that they’re Optimus Prime… I just don’t have the heart to correct them…

#idw wheeljack #wheeljack x reader #transformers x reader

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jazziejax · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐙

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Bad Boys AU! Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC & Bad Boys AU! Aaron Pierre x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A normal day for the FBI agents who bicker like a married couple is the first day of many odd ones for a rich and beautiful business woman. But let’s look into how they first met.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing…a lot, mentions of people’s races, descriptions of appearances, mentions of escorting, food wasting, I hope that’s all but let me know if I missed anything.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I have a lot planned for this Bad Boys AU, and I’m gonna love every second of it. That’s is if I get to wiring it all….we’ll see. I don’t want to poor anything but this could be a love triangle or… something polyamorous. UNEDITED AS OF RIGHT NOW!!!, I really wanted to get this out because I was so exited about what you guys thought, it’s 2:13 am. Also, this could be read as an ‘x reader’ I try to tray away from detailed descriptions. I just like to use names because it’s easier for me, I know you are all sick and tried of the self inserts and OC’s. It’s just easier for me to add a name :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4,282+

𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓

“Does this spaceship have any damn air in it?” The man from the passenger seat with his shades on asked, his voice muffled as he chewed on his burger. The sun was beating down on them through the small car and the heat was causing him to become irritable.

The taller and lighter man glanced over at him, his hand on the steering wheel as he leaned back in his expensive leather seats. “Quit worrying about my air and start worrying about that food in my car.” He said, glancing back at the road before looking back over at the hungry man over his own shades. “What is this having a picnic shit in my car?” He asked.

Kelvin sighed, pushing his shades up to rest on his head. “Please man, not right now, not today.” He said, annoyance clear on his tongue as he looked over at his partner. “I’m not getting any at home, don’t deny me this.” He spat before moving to take another bite of his burger. The light-skinned man couldn’t help the small amused grin that made its way into his face. “I mean, yeah, how could you when you still live with your mother.” He chortled. Kelvin snapped his head over to him, his eyes sharp. “I do not live with my mother!”

“Yes, you do. You live with your whole damn family!”

“I do not! I bought my family a big ass house and this economy is shit, okay?” Kelvin stated through slightly clenched teeth. “I can’t keep taking women back to my crappy ass apartment that I got on my crappy ass cop salary!” He continued as Aaron sped through the sunny city in the Florida heat. Unbeknownst to both of them, a car was in their trail.

Aaron was about to respond again before he got distracted by the huge bite Kelvin took from the burger and the fries he stuffed from his lap. He scrubbed his lip over at him. “Could you watch it with all that shit, alright?” Kelvin rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a grin as she chewed his food. After swallowing, he gave the man next to him a dead stare.

“Where are your cup holders?” He asked, disregarding what the man said as he looked around the small car. Aaron trained his eyes back on the road, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t have one.”

“The hell do you mean you don’t have one?” He asked, his face scrunched in pure befuddlement at what his friend was saying. “$80,000 for this car and you ain’t got no damn cup holders?”

“It’s $105,000 and this just happens to be one of the fastest production of cars on the planet,” Aaron told him confidently, speeding the old model sports car up on the road out of pure cockiness. “0-16 in four seconds, sweetie. It’s a limited edition.” He smirked.

“Limited?” Kelvin said. “You got damn right it’s limited. No cup holder, no back seat. This is a shiny duck with two chairs in it. And I guess that makes us the balls just dragging the fuck along, huh?” He hissed before he reached into his lap for some fries, but the fast car and his clumsy nature caused the fries to fall, falling out of the small carton box they were in. “Oh, damn.” He mumbled, shooting a glance at his driving friend. Aaron’s head quickly snapped over to him, looking between the spilled fries and his hungry partner. “Sorry.” Kelvin winced.

Aaron then quickly wrapped the sports car into the nearest sidewalk, parking the vehicle. He took his shades off, still looking between the food on his floor and the crevices in between with a sharp eye, and then back up at the quickly agitated man. “Get it up.” He said firmly. Kelvin scoffed, looking the man up and down as he held his half-eaten burger.

“Now I know you see I can’t get down there. There’s no place for me to sit anything with this shitty car of yours.” He spat. The pair were so caught up in their bickering that they still didn’t catch the car that’s been trailing them, park right when they did. “And you got a damn engineering floor up in here, my shit ain’t going down up in there.” He said, holding up his hand to show that it wouldn’t fit.

“You know what, I’m not your damn mama.” Aaron spat. “I shouldn’t be cleaning up after your filthy ass.” Kelvin immediately held his finger up to his face. “Keep my mother out of your mouth, A-A-Ron, I told you that.”

“Quit calling me that!”

“And watch my hand, okay?” Kelvin ignored him as he continued, moving to try and stuff his hand in between the seats. “It can barely get down there. And when it does, it gets stuck. And what does that make, you get this shit!” He chided, hosing up the same hand to show his now crooked and coned fingers, a small grinning his face. Aaron gave him a black stare, both of the men unbeknownst to the women coming down the sidewalk and the woman from behind them sent as a distraction.

“You gone get them fries,” Aaron told him.

And while they were absorbed within their world of car chat and being tailed, two women were walking down the street having a conversation of their own.

“Thanks again, Fab.” One of the women said, glancing next to her to see her friend licking away at the frozen cream treat in the sugar cone. “For the ice cream, I mean.” She mumbled, glancing back down her the pink ice cream she held in her fist. The other woman glanced over as she swept her fresh blow out from her face. “I told you it was no problem, Addy.” She shrugged before giving her double chocolate ice cream another lick, the Miami sun shining down on her bronze skin.

It was silent then, the pair listening to the sound of their shoes hitting the pavement, Addy’s kitten heels making small taps while Fabiola’s stilettos punted against the pavement in her tried strut. They enjoyed their treats under the blazing sun, ears tuned into the chirping grids, the sound of playing children, and the city life moving past them. The air was thick with tension, both of their thoughts filled with burning assumptions, unanswered questions, and overflowing uncertainty.

This was still new for them. All of it. Although Addison and Fabiola had been friends for a while, their new living situation was still a task to get around, and there were certain lines neither of them ever crossed. Knowing each other since junior year of college, most would say they were best friends with opposite personalities. Addy was an adrenaline junkie to her core. She spent most of her college time drinking and throwing ragers. She was known for her sweet personality and down with all the frats and sororities. And no matter how hard she partied, she never failed an exam. Essays might not have been her strongest suit but she was damn good with numbers.

Fabiola on the other hand was sort of the opposite. She had her fair share of nice times on campus but she wasn’t really a ‘people person’. Fabiola grew up as the youngest girl of three boys with a beautiful mother and a strict and traditional father. She was a bossy perfectionist with a small temper and a no-bullshit attitude. All that to say, she was spoiled rotten, and making friends didn’t come easy. She hadn’t had a consistent friend in her life up until college. Now, she wasn’t a complete loner, she had friends at school growing up, but she never went out of her way to hang out with any of them. She was focused on one thing and that was her career. After seeing her mom be a housewife for so long, she knew it was a life that she never wanted to live. So he had her group and stuck to them.

That was until she was almost failing trigonometry and everyone she knew was recommending the campus's famous engineering major, Addison Montez. They would meet in the library every Friday afternoon to study, and eventually Fab began to help Addy with her papers for history. They were studying friends until the oh-so-comfortable and relaxed Addison recommended they go out to a party instead of being trapped within the thick smell of old paper and stale wood. And after that homecoming rager that took place at the HBCU two miles out, let’s just say they were almost inseparable after that.

It’s been years since then though. Life got real for them quickly and it was hard to keep in touch. Fabiola went on to inherit most of the money of her father when he passed since two of her brothers ended up being absolute useless shits with no career and the eldest son ran the medical equipment company. All while her mother ran off to Switzerland to marry a rich white man who was also widowed. They all still kept in touch but things were a little odd now.

Addison’s life, on the other hand, went a little downhill. She was never able to her master's degree because she didn’t have the money to pay for college. Things got so stressful for her point that she had to drop out, which her folks were not happy about. She could only live in her small hometown in the middle of bun-fuck nowhere working at GoodWill for two years before she packed her things into her shit box of a car and ran. That’s how she ended up in Miami, in her little apartment now making more than she was at Goodwill, although life still wasn’t that great considering what she now did for money. And that didn’t last long because the building she lived in was sold and she now needed a place to crash until she collected more cash.

And after bumping into Fabiola at the lingerie store, things went from there. They were friends again after so long. Casual and lighthearted conversations filled their hearts pure.

But their forced proximity begged for more clarity.

Fabiola moved her brown leather bag to her other hand, slipping it into the cuff of her elbow as she continued to eat her ice cream, biting into the cone and then licking some of the cream that fell away from her deep red manicured nails. She then looked down at her outfit, making sure the dripping treat didn’t hit her nice sweater or her crisp white shirt under it. “Just say what you’re thinking Addison.” She said, not even looking over at her friend before going back to her ice cream once she saw her outfit was clear.

Addison glanced over at her, licking her ice cream at a slower pace as her mind became more closed with doubts. She had her arms crossed, her free hand against the hairs in her exposed arms, due to the black halter turtle neck she had on that matched her small black heels, all paired with simple jeans. “I just…you don’t know how much I appreciate you.” She said. Her words were met with a groan from Fabiola, the woman throwing her head back.

“Enough.” She said firmly, turning her head to her. “You’ve said thank you to me more than you’ve lived longer with me. And it’s been two weeks.”

“I know, I know,” Addy added in a dejected tone, only giving the strawberry-flavored dessert in her hand kitten licks. “It just really means a lot to me right now. You don’t even know how much.” She said, letting out a small sigh. Fabiola’s eyes flickered back at her at her mellow tone, taking in the woman’s lost stare and guarded form. She awkwardly pressed her lips together, her eyes flicking away since she found the cars passing on the street much more interesting than the emotionally charged atmosphere. She then gulped. “Just say what you really want to say.” She said, the words coming out firmer than she anticipated. She ignored it, however, her eyes still looking at anything but the woman next to her as they walked back to her car.

Addison glanced her way when she spoke, but was met with the woman tucking her shoulder-length blowout behind her ear. She gulped herself, pursing her lips as she looked away. “I…” She trailed off. “I just don’t think it’s best for me to say it in this environment. In the open.”

“I would rather you say it before we’re trapped in my car for the next twenty minutes until we make it back to my place.” Fabiola didn’t miss a beat, cutting her eyes at her from the corner. “No pressure but it might be more awkward for you.” She said, and before she could finish, she then realized why she didn’t have many friends. Feelings were never really her thing, and this sensitive subject that Addison was clearly going through wasn’t her forte at all.

Addison nodded at her words as she licked her lips, totally forgetting about the melting treat in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed. “Okay. I, um…. Okay…I…work for a Madam.” She added quickly after her stuttering spout, then ate the rest of her ice cream as quickly as she could. Fabiola turned her lips up at her, watching as the woman sucked the ice cream that was most just cream now, from the cone. Addison turned to her, seeing her disgusted face. “Okay, damn, no need for the look.” She spat.

Fabiola blinked. “No, that was for the way you ate the rest of that ice cream.” She added, giving her a sideways glance as she bit into her cone. “I don’t really care about that other thing.” She shrugged as she brought her gold wire shades down to cover her eyes, her hair blowing more in its free form with the wind in her strut. Addison’s brows shot out at that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged as she sped up some, seeing her car in the distance. “A check is a check, sweetie.” She said, flashing the girl a smirk and wink before licking at her ice cream again. They were coming upon her car, causing the woman to dig into her purse to find her keys with one hand. Addison blinked, shocked at her blasé attitude, and nodded her head as she followed after the woman. “Well, it’s not really a check.” She added with a small smirk. Fabiola glanced over at her, her arm still out as she dug into her purse to fetch her keys. “Well, money is still money.” She added, mocking annoyance with a smirk still on her lips as she found her keys. Addison grinned as well, watching as the woman stepped into the street to open her car door.

They paused however at the sound of commotion at the car behind them.

Back in the car, Kelvin and Aaron were still arguing.

“How imma get the damn fries, A-A-Ron?”

“Quit calling me that! Now look, this ain’t no got damn Denny’s, ain’t no eating in my car.” Aaron said before movement out of the windshield window caught his attention. His eyes were completely disregarding the woman in white, tilting his head to look around the planned distraction at the two women coming down the pavement.

“I wouldn’t be buying no shit from Denny’s anyway!” Kelvin continued, not paying attention to what the other man was staring at. “I don’t like the way we would’ve been treated.” He said before his eyes caught sight of the woman in white walking around the car. He looked the pale gorgeous woman in the short white dress up and down before glancing back at Aaron. “You weren’t worried about no damn fries anyway.” He snarked, looking the man up and down. “You all up in that.” He said. He then realized Aaron wasn’t all up in that white woman passing by, but the two beauties walking down the street. Kelvin glanced over, and it was like everything transformed into slow motion.

They watched as a woman in a grey suit practically strutted down the street. Her straight hair was touching her collarbones and belonged in the wind, her shades covering her eyes. She walked with a sense of authority and confidence, her equally attractive friend a few steps behind her, as she licked away at the chocolate ice cream in her hands.

“Damn.” Kelvin and Aaron said at the same time in the same breathy tone, tilting their heads as they looked the duo up and down, moving to the car in front of them.

They couldn’t admire her long before they were interrupted by the sight of guns entering their periphery.

“Get out of the car.” The scrawny white guy spat at Aaron. He glanced at the man before shaking his head with a sigh while Kelvin just dripped his.

“Damn.” He and Kelvin repeated. L

Kelvin looked the big burly man next to him up and down in disgust before his eyes went back to the gun lined at his face. “Now ain’t this some bullshit.” He spat. “The fuck is this?” Their attention was no longer on the women in front of them, but their attention was now on them.

“Me and my team, we’ve had a big week, so just get the fuck out of the car.” The white guy spat at them. Kelvin was too busy squinting his eyes against the sun as he looked out of the car at the large guy who held him at gunpoint. “Damn!” He said again, looking him up and down. “What you weigh in at, 350? I bet you a big Popeye chicken-eating son of bitch, ain’t you? Churches?” He asked causing Aaron to roll his eyes as he brought his hands up in surrender. “Hey, hey. Let’s chill.” He began when the man brought the gun closer.

Kelvin turned to his partner, his arms still down as he frowned. “Why do I always gotta get the big thick mothafuckas?” He tiffed. This only gained a reaction from the men who were robbing them. “Get the hell out of the car, now!” The white guy hissed as he moved to piped the door, causing the large guy to follow. Aaron and Kelvin were quick to exit, their hands raised. “Alright, alright, alright!” Kelvin yelled as he stepped out with his cup in his hand. He looked at the man in front of him while the other guy tried to lean Aaron against the car.

Fabiola and Addison looked back at the commotion, their mouths dropping at the sight of the robbery happening in front of them. Addison was quick to drop the soggy cone and move to the car, squatting down some in case things got wild but Fabiola was stuck, the rest of her cone in her mouth, scared to move in case the men’s guns turned their way. They stood there, just watching and listening.

“You know, now this is some funny shit,” Aaron said, his tone fed up as he held his hands up, glancing between the men that surround him.

“Shut up!” The small guy yelled. But Aaron just ignored him, looking at the angry man. “Let me tell you how bad a day you’re having. Right now you’re having a couple of FBI agents.” He stated. The shirt guy with sweat sliding down his face just looked at him. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m a stand-up comedian.” He added. “And I suck! That’s why I need your car.” He shouted through clenched teeth as he took a step closer.

“We’re dealing with a couple of cops and some lunatics out here,” Fabiola stared on with bated breath, not able to rip her eyes star from the scene.

“Hey, look!” Kelvin spoke up, still not having taken his eyes off the man in front of him. “I ain’t no Wesley Snipes, I just hang out with stupid ass friends that drive stupid ass cars that’s attract a lot mothafuckin’ attention!” He yelled, emphasizing his words every time he glanced back at said ‘stupid ass friend’, who now had a gun to his head. Aaron didn’t seem to care about any of that at the moment, his jaw downing at Kelvin’s statement.

“You know what? I need to jump over this car and smack you upside your peasy ass head, that’s what I need to do.”

This caused Kelvin to turn around, the men now facing each other as they disregarded the burglars who watched them. Fabiola furrowed her bed at them while Addison raised from her crouch position, less scared as she watched the so-called cops argue with guns to their backs. “A couple of lunatics as cops too.” She said, adding to what she heard Fabiola state. They watched as the men screamed at one another, the men with guns slightly backing off out of confusion and tension.

“Yeah, cause your ass was arguing over a stupid ass, mothafuckin, French fry!”

“It’s not about the French fry!”

“It’s a fry!”

“It’s about your lack of respect for other people's property!” Aaron screamed, pointing over at him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The scrawny man behind Aaron yelled.

“That shit is stupid!” Kelvin shouted back at Aaron. “Shut the fuck up!” The large dark-skinned man spoke up, pointing his gun at him. Kelvin’s head snapped back to him, face grimaced in pure anger. “Hold on! You hold the FUCK ON!” He yelled at him before turning back to argue. “Now you want some bad enough, come get some!” He added before quickly turning around and throwing his chocolate milkshake onto the large man, not missing a beat to kick him in the nuts and then rip the gun off his hips. All while Aaron simultaneously elbowed the man behind him in the face before then turning to sucker punch him, causing the perps to both hit the ground.

“You like that shit?!” Kelvin continued to yell, pointing his gun down at him. He moved around, kicking the gun far from the burglars' hands as he held his own to the man’s head. “Wesley Snipes, Passenger 57! Now give me a mothafuckin’ handy wipe!” He spat with a smirk, his glare on the large man.

Aaron let out a sigh as he pulled out his gun, pointing it down at the man who seemed to be concussed on the ground.

“Now let’s hear one of those jokes, bitch.” He spat. He heard w let out a large laugh from the other side of the car, causing him to glance over. He had a smirk of his own on his lips, green eyes relaxing in the sun. Their ultra-cool moment was interrupted by the sound of a car unlocking, causing both cops to look over at the two women from earlier staring at them.

Addison was quick to open her door, her eyes darting between the scene in front of her one last time. “Sick shit.” She said with a grin before entering the car. Fabiola still stood there, shocked as she looked between the two cops. It seemed as though the halt in the screaming caused her to snap out of her thoughts, leading her to blink. Her eyes moved over to the shorter man, who was dressed in a simple white tee and black dress pants, all high in his built figure. The hold of his chain, belt buckle, and other jewelry stood out against his brown skin. His shirt waves were smooth on his head and his cute face was sort of clean-shaven, her eyes attaching themselves to his stunning and plump lips.

“What she said.” She spoke up, nodding her head to the woman in the car. “That was…cool.” She nodded. Her sultry voice caused both men to tense up but quickly relaxed, the smooth sound unexpected to both of them. Her shades were also on, covering her eyes from telling them what she truly thought, and why she was still there speaking to them. Kelvin nodded his head at her, not hiding the way he looked her up and down. “Thanks.” He said, a small smirk making his way into his lips.

She nodded at him before her eyes then made their way to the man on the other side of the car. His figure was taller and larger, and although his suit was baggier, she could tell the muscles under it were strong and sculpted. His outfit was similar to Kevin’s, although his was grey and he had his blazer on. What caught her attention the most was his eyes, the bright and striking color of them held her captivated from the rest of his face. The icy blue irises looked back at her as her eyes gave his face a quick once over, admiring his large ears and nice goatee, and a sexy smolder on his lips.

“Nice car.” She added, nodding at the fancy Porsche that they surrounded. Aaron blinked, his eyes not leaving her face. He was caught in the way the hair blew the wind, framing her face perfectly. Though he only knew her for mere seconds, he hoped desperately that some unknown force would come in a swoop the glasses from her face to see her clearly. “Thank you. Porsche.” He said, snapping out of his quick start of thinking. His eyes then moved to the one she stood by, nodding his ear down to it. “What that?” He asked.

The pair could both see one of her brow arch at his question, a smirk making its way into her lips. “A Ferrari.” She said, placing her hand on her hip as she looked between the two of them. Aaron’s eyes widened as he stood straighter, looking between the car and the woman. “F512M. Nice right? I know.” He said, not even waiting for a response to her question that she answered herself before opening the door. She didn’t even give them one last glance before hopping into the nice grey car and pulling off, making sure to rev her nice engine.

Kelvin and Aaron stood there, guns still pinged at her knocked-out perps, watching the car as it quickly drove away from them. Kelvin seemed to relax without the woman in his vicinity, his shoulders dropping but his arms still raised to aim his gun. “We should get these guys…somewhere. I want ‘em the hell up outta my face.” He grumbled before moving to grab his phone and pager from the car to call down the local police. Aaron raised as well, his gaze moving from the sunset the woman drove off into, to the hot pavement the burglar laid on. “Forget them, this one’s probably dead. I wanna know who the hell that was.”

“Someone out of both of our leagues,” Kelvin added, his focus on the phone in his hands. Aaron jerked his head back, sending the man a dirty look. Before he could even begin an argument, Kelvin had already raised his finger, halting him. “Even for you Mr.Playboy. You don’t have a Ferrari.” He said before sending him a sarcastic smile and then turning away with the phone held up his ear.

Meanwhile, in the car, Fabiola had a grin on her face as she pushed her glasses back up into her hair. “Girl, them cops were fione!” She said, causing Addison to laugh. “You know, besides all the armed robbery stuff, that wasn’t a bad sight. I love to see some brothers in action.” She cheesed, letting out a laugh as she rethought the whole ordeal they witnessed.

“Yeah, they were pretty fine.” Addison nodded, dragging out the word pity as she grabbed the matinee she left in the woman’s dashboard. “And probably married. Brothas that cute can’t be single. Agents at that. And in that car? I know their women love them.”

“Mmhmm.” Fabiola hummed in agreement, a small smirk on her lips as she nodded her head. She then let out a scoff at a sudden thought. “Probably white women too.” She stated, causing Addison to let one out as well. “Let’s get off that.” Fabiola waved off with a quick roll of her eyes. She couldn’t dwell on the thought of those fine men being tired down so some non-sisters that couldn’t love them and understand like she could.

What the hell am I talking about? I don’t know them and I’m damn sure never gonna to see them again, get over it, girl. This is the adrenaline and sugar talking. She thought to herself.

“Why the hell don’t I know Miami was this crazy? I knew it was fun in the sun but damn, am I gonna get a gun pulled on me?”

“I’m this car in certain areas? Sista they might try to kidnap you for ransom.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

My tumblr is tripping, I don’t have a tag list for some reasons so if you want to be part of it, let me know, and pretend that Aaron has an American accent or I will make jokes on why a British man is apart of the United States FBI.

#jazziejax navigation #aaron pierre #kelvin harrison jr.#aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre x reader #kelvinharrisonjrfanfic #kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr x black!reader #kelvin harrison jr x reader #bad boys #will smith #martin lawrence #aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre x oc

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fuckitupfelix · 4 months ago

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hiii!!!! I hope ur day or afternoon or night is going grand, um i was hoping to request Jason Todd x male reader, where like theyre dating and Jason introduces him to the bat family and insert shenanigans with it ending with some fluffy interaction between the both of them, or whatever plot or trope u want to do. And if u dont want to or arent really feeling like writing for him im up for some Kyotani x sweet male reader on a date while the rest of Kyotani’s team spy to make sure things go alright for Kyotani. SORRY FOR THE LONG REQUEST I HOPE U HAVE A GOOD DAY AND TYSM IF U END UP TAKING THIS REQUEST I ALSO UNDERSTAND IF U DONT WANT TO DO IT

oh anon thank you # i heart jason todd 🙂‍↕️ def gonna write the kyotani one as well at some point too!! this might be potentially ooc >_<

running from family dinner

jason todd x male reader

wc: 0.7k

jason reluctantly brings you to the manor for dinner.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

How you got yourself in this situation, you have no clue. You're eating dinner in Wayne Manor, your boyfriend Jason seated next to you. Directly across from you sits Damian, who's seated next to Dick, Stephanie, and Cassandra. Barbara, Duke, and Tim sit to your right, and Bruce is seated at the head of the table. Jason rests his hand on your knee, gently rubbing the side with his thumb.

"We can leave whenever you want," Jason murmurs to you, though it feels like he's saying it more for his sake than for yours. You just let out a small huff of laughter, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

"I think I'll be fine, Jason. Thank you, though." You chuckle. You twirl some of your spaghetti onto your fork, acutely aware of how at least three other people at the table were staring you down.

Is it awkward having dinner with his family for the first time? Of course it is! Isn't it supposed to be nerve-wracking to meet your partner's very intimidating father? You tell yourself that this was a given, but it doesn't make you less nervous about how loud you're swallowing.

How did you put yourself into this situation, again?

It was about midday on a random Tuesday when you proposed the idea to Jason. You were sat on the couch in his apartment, trying to scrub a particularly nasty stain out of one of your shirts, and he was in the bathroom, getting out of the shower. It started with idle chatting about how you hadn't seen your family in a while and how you were planning on visiting them over the weekend. When you asked him if he was planning on visiting his family anytime soon, he laughed.

"It's a genuine question!" You scoff, crossing your arms. He just stares at you. Not exactly a blank look, but more of a confused, 'have you listened to anything I've ever said?' type of look.

"I know, that's why it's funny." He snorts, leaning back on the couch, his arm finding its way over your shoulders.

"So what, you've had no plans to go back to Wayne Manor, pay everyone a visit?" You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder. Then the idea strikes you.

Which brings you back to the present— Duke was trying to make conversation with you, a friendly smile on his face.

"So, how long have you two been dating?" He asks.

"A little more than a year, I think." You hum, placing your cutlery down. "A year and a half," Jason chimes in. You nod, smiling at Duke.

The conversation carries on with other mild pleasantries, other members of the family chiming in occasionally. By the time that there's a lull in conversation, Jason nudges you with his knee.

"(Name)." He whispers to you, though he hardly needs to; the table's conversation has broken off into multiple strands already, the others paying little mind to any sidebar conversations.

"Mhm?"

"Let's leave."

You let out a snort at that, raising an eyebrow. You knew he wasn't the biggest fan of Bruce, but you thought the dinner was going well!

"Are you sure?" You ask him quietly. "Please." With that, you nod, smiling slightly at the sigh of relief that leaves him.

Jason stands, rolling his shoulders back. "(Name) isn't feeling well. We're gonna head out now." He says, jutting a thumb towards the door.

"It was nice meeting you all," You add, smiling. You also stand, stepping back and following Jason out as he ignores the pointed look Bruce gives him.

Once the two of you are out the front door, coats on and bundled up all nicely, you make your way over to his motorcycle. Jason speaks up again.

"You wanna head home?" He asks, grabbing your helmet and passing it to you. He moves the grab his own, slipping it on his head.

"Yeah, sure. That wasn't too bad, right?" You hum, nudging him with your shoulder. He snorts, throwing a leg over his bike.

"Could've gone worse. I'll take it."

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! I'll try to write more this year I'm sorry guys >_<

divider by @/plutism !!

#(⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ lix writes !!#jason todd #jason todd x reader #batfam #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x you #dc x male reader #x male reader #mlm fanfic #gay fanfiction #x you #x reader #gay #male x male #male x reader #dc fluff

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 4 months ago

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okay sebastian reacting to mc learing gaelic for him. we know that he probably speaks it due to his parents and being Scottish i just imagine him reacting like that guy when his girlfriend

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAZlsjsy2mG/?igsh=MWp5NXo5OGJ6Z255cg==

Mo Chridhe | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Ancestry says I'm 0% Scottish but I did my best BAHAH

Words: ~1,700

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Established Relationship, Fluff, Very Fluffy

The soft rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees buzzing around the early blooms filled the courtyard, mingling with the distant chatter of students enjoying the newfound spring weather. You sat cross-legged on the cool stone bench, your Charms textbook open in your lap and a half-finished essay balancing precariously on your knee. The warm sunlight felt good against your skin, a welcome change after the long, dreary winter.

Sebastian, on the other hand, wasn’t paying any attention to his homework.

He lounged beside you, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench as if the very idea of studying offended him. His open Transfiguration book sat abandoned on the ground, pages fluttering slightly in the breeze. Instead of working, he was leaning in close, prodding at your quill with his finger like a bored cat trying to get a reaction.

“Come on,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, teasing lilt. “How many hours are you planning to spend on that essay? You’ve written enough to fill three scrolls already.”

“Two scrolls,” you corrected without looking up, deftly shifting your quill out of his reach. “And unlike you, I actually plan to finish my assignments before midnight.”

Sebastian let out a dramatic sigh and tilted his head back to squint at the sun, the soft curls of his hair catching the light. “The best ideas come to me under pressure.” He grinned, his gaze shifting to you. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “The only thing I’ve noticed is that you’re terrible at staying on task.”

“I’m excellent at staying on task,” he shot back, straightening up slightly. “And my current task is making sure you don’t spend the whole afternoon scribbling away when you could be enjoying this beautiful weather.”

You glanced up at him then, raising a skeptical brow. "Enjoying the beautiful weather, or entertaining you?"

“Both, obviously,” he said, flashing you that signature smirk—the one he knew was impossible to ignore.

You groaned and went back to your essay, refusing to let him distract you any further. But he didn’t seem to take the hint. Instead, he shifted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder with absolutely no regard for personal space, his woodsy scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

“What’s this one about, then?” he asked, his breath warm against your ear. “Another thrilling analysis of wand movements?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “It’s on advanced offensive charms,” you said. “And if you don’t let me focus, I will hex you with one.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your shoulder. “Advanced offensive charms? Why bother writing essays about them when I could just give you a live demonstration.” He lifted his wand and gave it a dramatic twirl, the tip sparking faintly.

You reached out, swiftly catching his wrist before he could attempt anything. "I've had enough detention his month because of your antics, thank you very much."

Sebastian made a show of pouting, his wand still poised in his hand. "Detention builds character, love. Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our last one—scrubbing those cauldrons gave us plenty of quality time together.”

You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking into a sly smile. "Oh, yes, nothing screams 'quality time' like scrubbing years of potion residue out of the bottom of old cauldrons. Truly romantic."

Sebastian grinned, his chin still resting comfortably on your shoulder. "You’re saying that now, but I distinctly remember you cornering me in the—"

"Alright, alright!" You cut him off, heat rising to your cheeks as you waved your quill at him in warning. "No need to revisit that memory in public, thank you!"

Sebastian’s grin only widened, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the matter? Embarrassed?” he teased, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who—”

“Sebastian,” you interrupted again, trying to keep your voice steady as you pointedly avoided his gaze.

Sebastian's grin turned wolfish as he tugged on your tie, pulling your face closer to his. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always made your stomach flip. "You know, you’re adorable when you’re flustered," he murmured, his breath brushing against your skin.

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest. Usually, when he got like this—bold, unrelenting, and utterly incorrigible—you'd be left scrambling for a retort, something, anything, to wipe that smirk off his face. But not today.

Today, you were prepared.

Ever since you'd overheard Sebastian mention, offhandedly, how his parents used to speak Gaelic when he was young, you’d been secretly learning the language. He’d spoken of it with an odd mix of nostalgia and melancholy, lamenting how rare it was to hear it anymore. That wistfulness had stayed with you, and you’d spent countless late nights practicing phrases in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him.

And now, with him leaning so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, you seized your opportunity.

You smiled sweetly, letting your fingers curl around the hand still gripping your tie. Then, in a voice as calm and steady as you could manage, you said, “Sguir dheth.”

Sebastian froze, his grip on your tie going slack as his eyes went wide. For a moment, he just blinked at you, completely thrown off. It was rare to see him so utterly speechless, and you relished every second of it.

“What did you just say?” he finally asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

You tilted your head innocently, your lips curving into a sly smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t recognize your own roots?”

He gawked at you, his expression cycling rapidly between shock, amazement, and something that looked like pride. “You—you’re speaking Gaelic?” he sputtered, his voice rising. Then, before you could respond, he sprang up from the bench, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re speaking Gaelic! You learned Gaelic!”

You leaned back, raising a brow at his sudden burst of energy. “A little bit.”

“For me?” he demanded, his grin splitting so wide it could’ve rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s. He dragged a hand through his hair, looking equal parts stunned and giddy. “I don’t believe it. You—you actually learned Gaelic. Do you have any idea how bloody amazing that is?”

You laughed, caught off guard by his sheer enthusiasm. “It’s not that big of a deal, Sebastian—”

“Not that big of a deal?” he interrupted, throwing his hands in the air as if you’d just said the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Are you mad? No one speaks it anymore! I don’t even speak it anymore! And you—Merlin, you—you just casually drop it on me like it’s nothing?!”

He sat back down beside you with a thud, his excitement undiminished. He leaned in close, his hands gripping your shoulders now as if to steady himself. “Say something else,” he demanded, his eyes alight with curiosity and joy. “Come on, anything!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, his boyish excitement infectious. “Tha thu nad amadán mòr,” you said, your tone teasing.

Sebastian’s jaw dropped, and then he burst into a loud, delighted laugh, throwing his head back as he practically doubled over. “You just called me an idiot!” he said, between wheezing laughs. “Unbelievable. You go through all the trouble of learning my ancestral language, and the first thing you do is insult me.”

“Seemed appropriate,” you said with a shrug, biting back a grin. “You make it so easy.”

Sebastian shook his head, still laughing as he pulled you into his chest. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended,” he said, still grinning.

“Just be flattered,” you said, your voice softer now. “You seemed so nostalgic when you mentioned it, and I thought… I don’t know. Maybe it would make you happy.”

He pulled back then, his teasing demeanor softening as his gaze searched yours. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You—you didn’t have to do this. Gaelic, Merlin. I’m never going to shut up about this.”

You searched his face, your breath hitching as your eyes caught the faint shimmer of unshed tears pooling in his. It was barely there—so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t been looking—but it struck you like a bolt. Sebastian’s usually self-assured confidence had softened, leaving behind something raw, unguarded, and achingly sincere.

Gently, you reached up, letting your fingers graze his cheek in a tender, grounding touch. “Of course I’d do this for you,” you murmured. “I’d do anything for you, mo chridhe.”

At that, a tear slipped free, trailing down Sebastian's cheek, though he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Merlin's beard,” he murmured, his voice muffled but filled with warmth. “How am I ever supposed to top this?”

You laughed softly, your arms winding around him in return as you rested your chin on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his grin returning through the lingering emotion. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his tone lighter now but no less genuine. “But first, I’m going to spend the rest of the day telling everyone who’ll listen that you learned Gaelic for me. Everyone.”

“Sebastian, no—”

“Oh, absolutely yes,” he said, his grin turning wicked. “And you’ll just have to live with it, mo chridhe.”

You groaned, but the fondness in your expression betrayed you. “Fine. But don’t expect me to bail you out when Ominis gets annoyed.”

“Worth it,” he said, pulling you close again and pressing his forehead against yours. “Completely worth it.”

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cherryrikis · 6 months ago

Text

LAST LOVERS ON THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN - 003 ! lipstick marks and coffee stains

PAIRING : producer riki x baker fem reader

SYNOPSIS: if it weren't for the two being on that last midnight train together, you would've never met. but when one person is wearing a white shirt while the other is holding a coffee cup without a lid, an accident is bound to happen. another 142 accidents later, and maybe riki would consider being your last love.

authors note - i keep inserting baseball into my works sorry

previous | masterlist | next

“just leave your shoes at the door.” you instructed riki, before allowing him to enter your apartment.

“cool, cool.” he replied with a nod.

you watched as he examined your home, glancing over every last picture frame and decorative throw pillow.

“it’s nice.” riki assured, as if he knew what you’re thinking. “very cozy. small, but cozy nonetheless. this definitely feels like a home.”

“do you.. do you not have a home?” you asked him hesitantly as he took a seat on the couch. “it sounds silly, i know. but the way you said it just had me thinking.”

riki smiled, letting out a soft laugh as he watched you struggle to find an excuse. “sorry, i know i kinda made it seem that way. its not that i don’t have a home, im just never home. most of the time i end up crashing at a friends place, or falling asleep in the studio.”

“this could be your home. i know it’s probably a little far, and even though we just met, you’re welcome anytime.” you comforted him with a small pat on the back. “now let me get that stain out.”

riki was sat on your bed, facing you with his legs crossed as you scrubbed at the stain.

“why are you scrubbing it before you wash it?” he asked curiously.

“pre-treating it. sometimes the washer doesn’t do a good enough job because it can set the stain in more.” you answered, briefly looking up.

you didn’t see it, but you felt and heard his presence slightly drift as riki got up to walk around your room.

he scanned the walls, and noticed a white shirt hanging by the bed. on one side, it had now faint lipstick marks in a small heart.

“what’s this?” riki questioned, pointing to it.

“oh that? it’s, uh.. old valentines gift for an ex. i was never able to give it to him, but it was too cute for me to throw away. so now its mine.” you explained with a shrug. not much too it.

“y/n?” “yeah?”

“can i spend the night? just ‘cause, you know. it’s late, and i’m sure we’re both tired. for the sake of convenience.”

you stared at him with your lips slightly apart, before they curled into a grin.

“what? what’s so funny?” riki pouted.

“of course you can spend the night you dummy. you probably won’t be getting this sweater back until tomorrow by the earliest anyway.” you rolled your eyes.

“i wouldn’t mind if you kept it.” he joked, before walking back to his original seat in front of you. riki watched as you continued scrubbing at the deep brown stain, until it eventually faded to a lighter shade.

“throw this into the washer for me, and you can sleep in my bed. i’ll take the couch.” you pointed your head in the direction of the laundry appliances.

“wait-” he paused. “why would you take the couch? it’s your house. you take the bed.”

“you’re my guest. unless you wanna share the bed?” you raised a brow teasingly, but he knew you were kidding.

“oh shut up, you’re just dying to make me look bad. how ‘bout i just sleep on the floor next to you?” riki pointed to the floor beneath you two.

“okay. but don’t complain if your back is hurting by the morning.” you joked as riki let out an annoyed sigh.

taglist ! @pshbites @r1kification @tasnemluvs @stvrriki @sirens-dreams @heartheejake @t0asterexe @ilovbeshotaro @prettiestgirlontheplanet @yourmyst4r @jiiyen @vixialuvs @ariluvssssss100 @mmurazz @sol3chu @who-tf-soddhi @domfikeluva @blvengene @tinyteezer @anqelkoz @theothernads @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @lanaonlydaughter

#k-films #en-diaries #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #nishimura riki #riki x reader #niki smau #enhypen niki

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

Text

Flirts

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: Your cousin's two friends are definitely flirting with you

You meet them at a party - although calling it a party is a bit of a stretch.

You meet them at a get-together. You let yourself into your house with your key and hang your jacket up on your hook, grabbing Patri's up from where she had thrown it on the floor and placing it on a hook as well.

You toe off your shoes and ignore the chatter from the living room in favour of grabbing a drink. You sigh deeply when you see the dishes in the sink.

"Patricia!" You yell," I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don't care if you're friends are here, but I need these dishes cleaned up tonight."

You can hear your cousin swear at the use of her name as well as quiet giggling from her teammates.

You linger in the doorway, arms crossed over your purple scrubs. "I mean it," You say firmly," They've been in the sink since last night."

"Yeah, Patri," Pina teases, nudging her with a foot," Go and clean up after yourself."

You roll your eyes. "You can help, Pina," You say," Seeing as I know you ate my leftovers last night."

The pair both huff but do as you say. Your eyes rove over the assembled football players. You recognise a few of them personally but some from only when you've seen them on tv.

They watch you in silence, some of them wide-eyed.

"How is Nala?"

Alexia's face lights up. "She is good. Better now that her fur has grown back!"

You let out a laugh. "Well, if she hadn't gotten gallstones then I wouldn't have had to shave her." You glance down at your phone, checking your calendar. "I'm still seeing her next week, right? To get her stitches removed?"

"Si," Alexia says," Gracias, y/n, for having her seen so quickly."

You shrug. "Well, when there's a dog as cute as Nala getting them seen quick is my first priority."

Alexia beams at you before saying to the rest of the group," This is Patri's cousin. She's a vet, the one that saved Nala. y/n, this is Ona, Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid. They all play for Barca."

"Of course," You roll your eyes," It's nice to meet you all." You move to leave but one of the girls on the sofa catches your wrist - Mapi, you think.

Her eyes shine with something you're not familiar with as she exchanges a look with Ingrid, whose lap she is sitting in. "You cannot stay?"

You glance at the clock, not exactly sure why you're entertaining this girl who's clearly in a relationship. "I have a surgery tomorrow."

Her girlfriend moves her head to look at you. "What kind of surgery?"

It's like they both knew how to draw you in, ready and incredibly willing to listen to you talk about the pulmonary stenosis you were correcting tomorrow.

At some point in the conversation, Mapi and Ingrid had separated, moving to different ends of the sofa until you were sandwiched between them. As you spoke, detailing the work you did as one of the few cardiothoracic veterinary specialists in Spain, Mapi's hand came to rest on your thigh and Ingrid propped her head up on her arm and used her hand to gently brush your hair out of your face.

Madre Mia.

They were flirting with you.

●～●～●～●～

You thought it was a one-night occurrence, the innocent flirting and the affectionate touches. You thought that they would remain Patri's teammates who you would occasionally see at games and far away from your actual life out of your cousin's spotlight.

But they start appearing everywhere.

Sometimes together.

Sometimes alone.

Ingrid at your favourite coffee place.

Mapi hanging around the park near your house.

Both of them 'bumping into you' while shopping.

It gets progressively more and more until your day is ruined by not seeing or hearing from them. It's completely seamless the way that they've inserted themselves into your lives.

You're sitting in the crowd at El Clásico when you start to realise that this might be a bit more serious than you originally thought.

You're introduced to Jana, Bruna and Frido as Alexia approaches, extremely happy to announce that Nala is much better than before.

"Oh, I know who you are," Frido replies," Mapi and Ingrid won't shut up about you. You're the vet."

You're a bit confused that Mapi and Ingrid have been talking about you to Frido, even more embarrassed when she reveals that you're all they ever talk about now - the fact that you've made it rich as a cardiothoracic specialist but still helped Nala with her gallbladder despite it making you little to no money compared to your usual work, the fact that you know all the secret backroads and hole in the wall shops around the city.

Everything and anything you've even mentioned in passing to them has been reported to Frido, who laughs slightly at your shell-shocked face.

"They're obsessed with you," She says," And I know for a fact that Patri's been helping them bump into you. You know, Mapi said that she was worried about asking Patri for your number."

Your cheeks colour. You hadn't realised that you meant so much to the couple, who seamlessly brought you into their orbit without even thinking much about it, seducing you into their lives with sweet words and soft touches.

Your mouth opens and closes for probably the whole of the match and it's not until you're let onto the field to congratulate your cousin and Pina, that you finally manage to gather your thoughts.

Mapi crashes into your back at speed, nearly bowling you over but Ingrid's already there, ready to catch you. You're pushed into her front and, with Mapi at your back, you're held hostage between them as they speak to you.

You don't exactly want to escape them though, content and happy between them.

"Bah!" Mapi complains when she pulls away and spies your Patri shirt. "Do you have to wear that?"

You laugh in disbelief as Ingrid moves to settle her arm around your shoulder while Mapi threads your fingers together. "She's my cousin. I think she would be upset if I didn't. Besides, what was I meant to wear up in the Barca box? White for Madrid?"

Both of them make a face.

"Or mine," Mapi says with a silly grin and a blown-out look in her eyes as if she's imagining it," Or Ingrid's. Actually, definitely Ingrid's. You'd look hot in her shirt."

Your cheeks flush - a regular occurrence when you're with the pair of them.

"I think yours," Ingrid replies," She would look equally as good in it." She winks at you. "But I wouldn't be opposed to you wearing mine either."

Your cheeks grow hotter and you bury your head in Ingrid's chest to try and hide your blush.

Mapi doesn't let you though. Her fingers capture your chin and she pulls you to face her. Ingrid rests her own chin on your shoulder and her hands go around your waist, securing you in place.

"Don't look away, amor," Mapi says and her voice drops to some form of purr that you're too busy overthinking to put a proper name to," We like to see when we make you all pretty and red."

"It's our favourite thing about you," Ingrid whispers in your ear and you have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying out in public," How you react when we hold you close and don't let go."

●～●～●～●～

You hide out in your house after that interaction, pacing up and down the halls like you're crazy, which completely freaks Patri out.

All those times, you had thought that it was a harmless game to them, flirting with you, buying you gifts, taking you out on things that we're most definitely dates now that you think about. You thought it was just them spicing up their relationship with each other, spoiling you to make the other jealous so they could go home and have epic sex - you almost shut down completely when you think about how good Mapi and Ingrid would be in bed.

But, clearly, your growing crush had been mutual and that's enough to make you go into a complete tailspin.

You don't see them for a few days anyway - travelling to Valencia to perform an open heart surgery on some philanthropist's poor dog. When you come home, it's with a very welcome stowaway.

"No," Patri gasps as she says you stroll in with Honey in your arms.

It turns out your new client (who also was so thankful for you saving his eldest dog's life) had gifted you one of the newest from his Shiba Inu's litter.

She was undoubtedly small, practically a runt but you fell in love with her the moment she climbed into your lap as you took a refreshment break after surgery and licked your nose.

"Si," You say to Patri, who is already taking pictures," Her name's Honey."

Patri's friends all end up coming over, cooing over Honey who takes it so well that you've got no worries about her socialisation.

That's when you next see Mapi and Ingrid.

Mapi walks up behind you, arm automatically around your waist. "You look good as a mama," She says as you both watch Alexia coo over your puppy," She'll be in great hands."

You grin. "Safest hands in Spain," You joke, lifting them up," If you go by my lack of complications after surgery."

Mapi rests one of her hands against your palm. Hers are bigger than yours, and rougher from days of lifting weights and doing pull-ups in the gym. Yours are softer by comparison, used to precision needlework and lightly holding a scalpel to make the tiniest of incisions.

"You have nice hands," She says after a moment and she watches your face redden. She leans in. "I wonder what else they're good at."

You catch the implication and an embarrassing squeak slips from your lips. Mapi grins like a wolf and pulls away, hand dropping but keeping an arm around your waist, pulling you into her body.

Ingrid appears in the next moment. She shares a tender kiss with Mapi and winks at you as they pull away.

"Motherhood suits you," She says, her accent causes something to stir within you," You're glowing."

You fix your eyes on Honey, who's running around trying to see who will give her treats next. "It's not like I was pregnant," You try to defend yourself but from the corner of your eye, Ingrid peels away from Mapi to join you at your other side. Her arm closes around your shoulder, fingers drawing patterns on the exposed skin of your arm.

"Hmm," She says dismissively of your statement," How was the surgery? Good? Seeing as you came home with a cutie like Honey."

"Rich guys are generally annoying but this one was pretty cool. He has a lot of animals but he cares deeply for them all." You frown. "I think he's keeping me on a retainer now. I didn't think you could do that for vets, just lawyers."

"You clearly seduced him, amor," Mapi says," You're good like that, getting people to fall for you."

Ingrid's tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Yes, she's very good at that."

●～●～●～●～

It all comes to a head just two weeks after El Clásico.

You've left Honey at a friend's house and Patri's dragged you out to a club with some of her friends.

You're completely sober though, Patri's only way home, but you still end up dancing.

Somewhere along the night, Mapi and Ingrid (equally as sober) join you.

You're sandwiched between them again - Ingrid at your back and Mapi at your front.

Ingrid's hands are on your waist so even if you wanted to fall out of their orbit, you can't.

Your dancing gets more and more sensual as time goes on until you catch Mapi's eyes.

She's grinning like she usually is when you're caught in Ingrid's grip - like a wolf. It happens in slow motion for you.

She leans forward, ever so slightly and your heart beats erratically in your chest. Your lips connect and fireworks go off in your brain. You move on instinct, kissing back and the guilt appears only as she pulls away.

Your eyes widen in alarm and you dart them towards Ingrid, an apology already on your tongue.

You had a crush on both of them, that's true, but kissing Mapi in front of her girlfriend was crossing a line that you shouldn't have crossed.

But Ingrid's grinning down at you and steals a kiss as well, flicking her tongue into your mouth with ease. Her hands move up to your face, leaving Mapi to hold onto your hips.

Your knees feel a little weak when she pulls away.

"You were right," Ingrid says to Mapi although her eyes are still on you," She does taste good."

The implications of that makes your heart skip a beat. They've been talking about you together, about how you react to them, about how you taste.

"You're so dense, amor," Mapi says to you as recognition of every interaction you've had with them suddenly starts to make perfect sense," So book smart, the best vet in the country but so dense. We've been flirting with you for months now."

"Since we saw you that night at Patri's," Ingrid continues," We just knew we had to have you." All those dates. All those little gifts." Her hand comes to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder. "We're gonna treat you so well, elskling. You just have to say yes."

"Gonna make you our girlfriend," Mapi says as open-mouthed kisses are pressed against the other side of your neck," Gonna take you home with us tonight, if you'll let us. Just say yes."

You don't even have to think about it.

"Yes."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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megwritesriddles · 7 months ago

Text

First Time for Everything ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Josh Futturman x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 8 - Pet Play. Josh is useless when it comes to women, so when his new coworker starts coming onto him very strongly, he's sure she must have an ulterior motive. Which she does, but not what he's expecting.

Tags: Pet play (not extreme), P in V, Protected sex, Oral sex (f receiving), Collar, Leash, Calling Josh puppy, Praise kink, Whimpering, Sub!Josh, Dom!Reader, Loser!Josh (obviously), Fluff, Josh is so excited to get laid it's crazy, Set before events of the show.

Word count: 3.9k

all fandom masterlist | misc. jhutch masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: This is probably the most out there kink I'll ever write, hopefully there is actually an audience for this in the Future Man fandom lol!! Vaguely inspired by the muzzle scene but there's no muzzling in this sorry!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Josh had never been good with girls. He knew it, everyone at the lab knew it, everyone at the game store knew it, hell, even his parents were aware how inept he was. It was humiliating, and it really didn’t help his chances with girls, to have them know he’s a loser before they even get to meet him, not that it wasn’t plainly obvious from his demeanour anyway. That’s why it’s so baffling to everyone in his life when you show up. You start as an intern at Kronish Laboratories, fresh out of college. He immediately finds you pretty, but he’s overheard the others telling you about him. He’s a loser, he’s probably a creep, he still lives with his parents at 23, do you want to grab a coffee sometime? All the other men at the facility are immediately flirting with you, so he just writes you off as someone to admire from afar. Until you make it a mission to insert yourself into his life, for whatever reason.

“Hey Josh,” you’ll greet him with a flirtatious tone in the staff room as you grab coffees for your superiors. He never gets used to it, waving back awkwardly. You just giggle and rest a hand on his arm. He’s sure this is all a prank being played against him. There is this odd predatory gleam in your eyes now and then as you talk to him. It’s like you want to chew him up and spit him out, and at this point, he might let you. Every suggestive remark you make drives him to the brink of insanity, his imagination becoming filled with all the things you suggest. His masturbatory fantasies become grounded in reality rather than Biotic Wars thanks to you. He even brags to his friends, keeping a lipstick mark from you on his cheek all day just so he could go show it off at the game store after work. You come sit by him in the cafeteria sometimes, talking to him and openly flirting with him. He so wishes he could flirt back, sweep you off your feet but he just can’t get the words out. Yet, despite all his pathetic responses, stumbling words and lack of reciprocation, you keep pressing. Being more and more forward with him every day, leaving him dizzy.

You sit across the table from him, tracing your fingers up and down his arm, sipping your favourite smoothie. He stares down at the table, eating silently, his eyes occasionally flickering to your fingers on his arm. He looks like he’s uncomfortable, and he is, but he loves it too and is glad that you don’t back off. He just needs some time, he’s really not used to this and you’re so beautiful. You tell him idly about one of the lab workers who has been very demanding, lamenting your position as intern.

“At least you’re not scrubbing toilets,” he laughs nervously. You purse your lips.

“Yeah, I suppose, you’re very resilient for doing what you do Josh,” you smile flirtatiously, tracing your fingers over his palm. The sensation tickles slightly and his fingers twitch. You know you’re laying it on a little thick, but Josh is so starved for this that he just smiles dopily.

“N-no, I mean, anyone could do it,”

“No… It takes a special, strong man, I think,” you grin, leaning a little closer. Flattery gets you everywhere with him, he bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something embarrassing. “You said something about your parents going away this weekend?” you urge, drawing circles on his wrist.

“Uh… yeah, they’re off to visit some friends of theirs,” he answers nervously. He still finds it odd that you casually bring up him living with his parents without a shred of judgement.

“I can come over then?” you suggest. His mouth falls open.

“Uh… what?”

“I can come over?” you bat your lashes enticingly.

“Yeah… I… why would you want-? But yeah definitely,” he stumbles over his words, blushing and feeling his brain buzzing. God he really needs to clean up, and take all his posters of Tiger down and–.

“Perfect, I have something fun for us to do,” you grin, winking. His entire body reacts, blood feeling hot. “I have a little present for you too,” you smile, reaching over the table to trace a finger down his neck. He doesn’t understand your implication, but his brain is conjuring millions of images.

“A present?” he swallows. “Why?” You lean over the table, pressing your lips to his ear. His whole body jolts.

“Because you’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?” you purr, nipping his earlobe. Josh feels crazy in this moment, he has to be dreaming, but that nip on his ear felt real and oh god. “Haven’t you?”

“Y-yeah, I’m a good boy,” he answers without thinking. He waits for you to mock him, for this to have been his trap, the motivation behind your flirting to finally reveal itself. He expects you to reveal a recording device, to play the audio of him saying he’s a good boy for everyone at work to hear, to completely humiliate him. But you don’t, you just kiss below his ear and stand up from the table.

“Saturday at 5?” you suggest, unable to keep the smirk off your face. He nods, eyes wide and dumbstruck. “You’ll pay for dinner, we’ll order something in,” you tell him, finishing off your smoothie with a slurp of the straw. He just nods again like he’s in a trance. You smile. “Perfect, see you later Josh,” you blow a kiss and leave the cafeteria. Josh swallows, pinching his arm to check he’s even alive anymore. You want to come to his house, you want to be alone together. You called him a good boy. He wasn’t good at this stuff, but even he knew that it seemed like he was getting laid this saturday. He didn’t want to assume, in case it made things awkward. That evening after work, he discussed with his buddies at the game shop, even getting a female perspective. He left out that you’d called him a good boy, but even without that, they all agreed he was getting laid. He was so excited, smiling for the rest of the week, a spring in his step that wasn’t usually there. He was getting laid, by you.

He spends the days until Saturday getting ready, praying he’s not getting ahead of himself. He goes into town, picking up some condoms, a bunch of takeout menus for all the best places, some nice plain boxers and a nice smelling candle. At home, he does furious reddit research on sex advice, tidies away all of his Tiger stuff and tries his best to make his bedroom look like a respectable adult man's room, rather than that of a man with the interests of a teenager. He knows you know about his video game addiction, his friend Ray having embarrassed him in front of you for it many times, but he’s still determined to seem a little less pathetic than he is. His parents ask a million questions about what he’s up to before they go, but he avoids the questions, knowing they’d be asking to meet you if they knew what was going on, and he couldn’t face that humiliation and come out alive. At work, you continue to flirt with him, continue to touch his arms and occasionally sneak kisses onto his cheeks. He’s coiled tight like a bowstring, practically vibrating with excitement. In just 24 hours, he thinks as he says goodbye to you on friday evening (or rather you say bye to him and he just squeaks and blushes), the two of you might be having sex. He lays out a nice outfit for himself when he gets home, ready for tomorrow. His parents are already gone, the house is silent and his thoughts echo your name.

He can barely sleep, tossing and turning and tugging himself off periodically. He is desperate not to cum too early with you tomorrow, although he’s done extensive research on how to please you anyway in case it happens. In the morning, he changes his sheets, using the fancy sheets usually kept for the guest room. What his parents don’t know can’t hurt them, he’ll wash them and return them to the linen closet before they get back. He showers, scrubbing himself furiously, using every nice-smelling thing he can get his hands on. He trims his pubic hair, he wanted to shave, but it was too risky, so he carefully trims, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focuses intensely. He lets his hair dry without brushing it down, making it curl up a little. He remembers that you told him once that you liked his hair like this. He slathers on deodorant and cologne desperately, already starting to sweat with nerves. He does a final sweep of his room to make sure there is nothing embarrassing visible, lighting the candle to make it smell nice and to build atmosphere. Then, he sits, anxious as anything by the front door. His brain churns with a million different scenarios, anxiety settling in his gut and making him nauseous. What if he’s done all this and he’s misread everything and you’re not going to have sex? It would be fine, he wasn’t going to pressure you or anything, but he has gotten himself all worked up and would feel pretty devastated. He’ll just enjoy your company, and whatever happens will happen, he tells himself.

You’re at the door. You’re early. He sprints to the door, opening it in seconds. His mouth is dry, you’re wearing a beautiful and very… short dress. He swallows, tearing his eyes away from your thighs. You hold a little bag in your hands, smiling seductively.

“Hey handsome,” you purr, stepping past him into the house, letting yourself in. His eyes follow you, dumbstruck.

“Uh… hey,”

“Where’s your room?” you ask, glancing around the family home, spotting a few baby pictures of Josh that you’d want to have a look at later.

“Oh… uh okay… straight there?” he chuckles, wringing his hands nervously, sweating dripping down his forehead. He leads you up the stairs to his room on shaky legs, standing by the door and taking a deep breath. He prayed to God that he’d made his room look okay. He opens the door and lets you in in front of him, which ends up being a mistake as he gets a view of your ass that makes him half-hard already. He swallows. The room smells more pleasant than usual, the candlelight illuminating the room warmly.

“Sit,” you command him, pointing to his bed. He scrambles to do what you say, kicking the door shut behind him and stumbling to the bed, sitting on the edge and looking up at you, breathing hard. You smile.

“Good boy,” you coo, making him shiver. You walk over and sit yourself on his lap, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. His eyes are wide and filled with awe, his hands hovering, unsure where to put them. All his research has left his mind and he just feels like a complete loser, but you’re on his lap and looking happy, and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t even occur to him that you can feel him half-hard against your thigh but the knowledge makes you smirk. “I had something to discuss with you,” you begin.

“Errr… right, o-okay,” he tries his best to smile casually.

“You see… I have a little problem,” you start, running your hand up and down his chest. He nods along, though he’s more focused on your hand on his chest, feeling his shaky breaths. You pout down at him. “I have this… kink… that no one will indulge me with, that I think you might be able to help with,” he lets out a throaty noise as you say this, completely caught off guard.

“I’ll do it,” he answers quickly, not wanting to miss this opportunity, whatever it was. You giggle.

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” you point out, gently poking the tip of his nose. He shrugs.

“Anything, I’ll do,”

“Hear me out first okay?” you pout, tracing up and down his neck. He nods, although he already knows he’ll agree to whatever this is unless it’s illegal or something. He’s just so desperate to get laid, especially by you. “So… you like it when I call you a good boy, right?”

“Yeah, I’m a good boy,” he exhales, trying to lean up to kiss you. You push him back. You can tell he’s not really listening to you, so you pull out the little box from your bag. He half watches, half stares in awe at your face. You open the box to reveal a leather collar and a matching leash. When he realises what he’s looking at, his brows shoot up. “You uh… want to collar me?”

“Yeah,” you purr, nuzzling his jawline. “I want you to be an obedient little puppy for me,” His mind spins, he hadn’t been expecting this from you. Sure, he knew you were confident and seemed to like to be in charge, but he’s still taken by surprise. You pick up the collar gently, running your fingers over the leather, he watches. “May I?” you ask, holding it up to his neck.

“O-okay,” he whispers, staring up at you. You secure the collar around his neck, making sure it’s not too tight. He finds the feeling odd, but also pleasant.

“There, now you belong to me,” you smile. Oh, he likes the sound of that, belonging to you.

“You’re my owner,” he breathes.

“Exactly, puppy,” you coo, kissing his cheek. He looks up at you in awe. Why does he like that so much? Being called puppy? He knew he was into the whole ‘good boy’ thing from his late nights on the internet, but this was new. Yet he was finding himself quite into it. You secure the leash onto his collar, tugging gently so his face is closer to yours. You grin.

“You’re not uh… gonna walk me around in public on all fours are you?” he asks nervously. You chuckle and shake your head.

“No, I’m only really mildly into this puppy play stuff, people get pretty crazy with it, but I’m tamer than you think,” you assure, kissing his lips for the first time, tugging him closer using the leash. He whines into the kiss, kissing you back desperately, his hands finally settling on your waist. He kisses you eagerly, pressing his tongue into your mouth and letting it explore. The slight pressure from the collar on the back of his neck as you pull him close feels surprisingly nice, a grounding reminder that you’re in control here. You kiss for a little while before things start to escalate. He watches in awe as you strip down for him, telling him to stay put and not touch. He takes in every inch of your body with enthusiasm, sitting on his hands to keep from reaching for you. You command him to strip down too and he nervously does. He stands in his boxers for a while, wondering if you might compliment them since they’re new. You tilt your head and urge him on and he inwardly curses, realising you’d have no idea they were new and he must have looked silly just now. He stands in front of you in all his glory, cock at full attention. “You look lovely, pup, now kneel for me,” he blushes and shakily lowers to his knees, looking up at you wide-eyed.

“Is this good?” he asks shyly.

“Yes, very,” you come to sit down on the edge of his bed, he shuffles to turn to look at you as you tug on his lead. You spread your legs and he whimpers, cock twitching. His only experience was fingering a girl in the dark back in high school, so he’s never seen a cunt up close and in the light like this. You tug him forward by the least until he is right up against you, his shaky breaths washing over you. He’s staring wide-eyed at the space between your legs and you giggle. “Puppies like to lick, don’t they?” you tease. He moans and looks up at you through his lashes.

“Oh God… Can I?” he pants. You just tug on his leash, pulling his face against your centre. He whines, the smell of your arousal making him lightheaded. He looks up at you and slowly starts to lick.

“Good boy…” you sigh, leaning back on your free hand, the other wrapped tight in the leash, keeping him in place. “Very good puppy,” he whines at your praises, his tongue moving faster against you. He’s sloppy, lapping at you like he’s trying to drink you up, practically drooling all over you, moaning in desperation. “Yeah, you like it don’t you pup?” you sigh, lying back against his bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He whimpers, continuing his desperate work, slurping wetly at you. The fact he’s pleasing you is driving him wild. He shakes his head into you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He groans in pleasure as your thighs tighten around his head. He keeps licking at you relentlessly until you’re finally starting to shiver and cry out. He hums in excitement, speeding up his work, feeling the muscles in your thighs go tense around his head. You tug at his leash. “Faster,” he swallows, speeding up his movements as much as he can. He’s practically making out with your cunt, sloppy and desperate, feeling you buck up against his face. He just whines in response.

Finally, stars explode behind your eyelids and you cry out, your thighs tightening around his head so tight he can barely hear you as your orgasm, but he can hear enough. He stares up at you in awe as you fall apart, continuing to lick at you, drinking your release like the nectar of the gods. You moan, rubbing yourself against his face until sensation is too much. You loosen your grip on the leash, tugging him away. He whines in disappointment, looking up at you. He slowly and shakily licks his lips, savouring the remnants of your taste. He’s painfully hard and you can see it too, his tip all flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

“You were such a good puppy, such a good boy,” you coo breathlessly. “You made me very happy,” he smiles proudly up at you from the floor. “Does my good puppy want a reward?” you ask. He nods excitedly. You tug him up onto his feet and he stumbles excitedly towards you. “You’re so needy, aren’t you puppy?” you taunt, tracing a finger up his length which twitches furiously in response.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, watching as a drop of his pre-cum drips onto your thigh, sliding down the curve of it. The sight makes him squirm. You turn around, still loosely holding his leash, getting on your knees and elbows on the bed, arching your back to present your cunt to him. You tug him forward by the leash, but he misunderstands your intention, leaning in to desperately lick at you again from this new position, pressing his face against you. You gasp and squirm, your hips stuttering, enjoying it for a second before sharply tugging him away. He whines miserably and you can hear him panting.

“You’re supposed to fuck me, puppy,” you huff breathlessly.

“Oh… heh… okay,” he chuckles sheepishly, cursing inwardly at himself for screwing up. He climbs carefully up onto the bed. You feel his warmth hovering above you and you tug the leash again, forcing his warm chest to hit your back. He exhales shakily, taking a nervous hold of your hips as he positions himself over you. You feel his length, hard and warm against the cleft of your ass. He humps against you for a moment like he can’t help himself, whining in your ear. Another sharp tug to the leash snaps him out of it. He nervously grabs a condom from his nightstand and slides it on with shaky hands.

“Good idea, puppy, good boy,” you coo and he preens under the praise. He mounts you properly, his tip pressing to your entrance, and you feel his whole body shuddering behind you. You give another tug on the leash and he starts to sink into you. He’s very vocal, whining and groaning in your ear as he settles in. He kneads thoughtlessly at the flesh of your hips and waist, mumbling choked-out sobs of thank you as he twitches within you. You can tell this isn’t going to last long. He starts to hump you tactlessly, blindly chasing his release, whimpering pathetically from the pleasure of your tight heat around him. “Such a needy puppy,” you purr and he whines louder because he is exactly that, he can’t control himself, reduced into a pathetic mess by you. His hips snap against yours at an erratic pace, his face burying into your neck. He’s panting like he’s in heat, desperately placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Everything he read about good sex is out the window as he humps you needily. He gasps shakily, letting out several choked sobs as he approaches climax. He holds you incredibly tight to him, a brief reminder of the physical strength he has over you despite his submission.

“Please, can I? Please,” he sobs. You contemplate trying to make him hold back, but you decide that’s for next time. As soon as you give him the go-ahead he stills, cumming thick ropes into the condom, quivering inside you. He wails in pleasure, body collapsing on top of yours. You tug his leash, making him roll off of you with a soft grunt. You lie side by side for a moment, breathing heavily, the room smelling strongly of sex even over the scented candle. Josh relishes the scent completely, knowing it’s coming from what the two of you did together. You shuffle into his arms, softly unhooking the leash from the collar and setting it aside. You trace the collar on his neck.

“How was that? Being my puppy?” you ask gently. He stares up at you, eyes hazy.

“Y-yeah, amazing… wow…” his arm curves around your back, pulling you gently to him, needing some touch right now. You wrap an arm around him in return and peck his lips.

“Wanna do it again sometime?”

“Please, yeah,” he chuckles, smiling dopily at you.

“I always got the vibe from you that you’d like this kind of thing,” you smile, revealing why you’ve been inserting yourself so thoroughly into his life. “A perfect puppy all for me,”

“I didn’t even know it about myself, but I… really did… I’ll be your puppy any day,” he admits with a little flush. You nuzzle your nose against his. He chuckles, enjoying the genuine affection from you, something he’s been completely starved of.

“So, I seem to remember that food is on you?” you tease.

“Not literally right? Like some sort of food kink?” he asks, fingers twitching against your back. You laugh.

“No, in a very regular way, I promise,” you soothe, rubbing his chest. He laughs.

“I can never really know with you, it seems,”

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