#shake x reader

[cottondo]

BUTTERCUP | master shake x reader

— 6. | an ego thing

a/n : I haven’t proof read it enough times yet so I’m sorry I’m advance if there’s errors lmao

  "What you did was irresponsible, rude, and quite frankly, a little immoral!"

 

"Well, what did you expect me to do! You should've known better than to put me in charge. It's anything, it's your fault for not being home!"

"I didn't! I put y/n in charge of the house, and you messed everything up and pissed off meatwad." Frylock crossed his arms, an eye narrowing on Shake.

Yeesh, you really didn't wanna listen to their arguing at your job.

You cringe inwardly, glancing around the small diner to see the few people's gazes starting to focus on your roommate's argument.

"Kay- can we like, not do this here?" You speak up, a little look of annoyance starting to flood your features. "You're gonna get me fired."

"So what? What's a job good for, anyway! You're workin' for the man, and not yourself." Shake looks back to your pleading face.

"Yeah, well, thats how I get to buy things, and live with a roof over my head." You respond, going back to filling up meatwad's glass of orange juice.

Shake looks away. "Pft. Who needs that?"

"Your sorry ass, when he kicks you out!" You gesture towards frylock, who was glaring at shake.

Shake huffs, crossing his arms. He clearly forgot about the situation at hand. "He can't survive without me there. I'm the one that holds that house together, if you hadn't noticed."

Frylock scoffs, and you place the cup of juice back down on the countertop with a little eye roll.

"Right— the minute you leave, is the day I finally get some peace and quiet." Frylock sighs, dulling his eyes.

"You love havin me around!" Shake argues.

Frylock carefully picks up the steaming mug of coffee, and sips it. "Keep it up, Shake. One more slip up, and I'm not gonna feel sorry when your ass ends up on Carl's lawn."

Frylock's tone sounded so done with shake. And rightfully so.

Meatwad side eyed Shake with a little knowing smirk hidden on his face. He took another bite of the chicken tender from his plate.

The look clearly didn't go unnoticed, and shake glares the boy's way. "The hell are you lookin' at?" He asks, leaning over into Frylock's personal space in order to scare Meatwad with a death glare.

Okay, this was going on for too long now.

From under the counter, you dip your fingers in the melted corner of the ice case, and flick it at Shake's face with a little smirk.

He flinches, shooting upward and looking towards you with a look of, 'what the hell was that'.

"Hey!" Shake starts to retort, but you grab his plate and slide it towards you. Oh, he did not like that.

"Leave him alone, and shut up. Eat your food, before I have to take it away." You push it back, leaving him with wide eyes of amusement at your behavior.

Just as he was about to retort, frylock came to the rescue.

He sighs, wiping his face with a napkin, and gives you a thoughtful expression. After all, they were causing a scene at your job. "Everyone, just- - try to behave. It's rude."

"Whatever." Shake shuts up, and meatwad goes back to eating the rest of his meal in a guilty silence.

  "Y/N, what time do you get off your shift?" Frylock asks through an audibly tired voice. He tries to change the conversation, and honestly, you were kinda grateful for it. There was just only so much you could tolerate in one sitting.

"I just gotta finish up those two tables over there, but it won't take me long at all." You respond, a gentle smile on your face.

"I was thinking maybe we should go shopping for some groceries later. It has been a while.." you saw the embarrassment creasing into Frylock's face, so you nod along with a soft smile of reassurance.

Things happen, and life gets in the way. You totally understand how that goes, and choose to empathize with him.

"Sure, yeah. We can do that." You turn your attention to shake and lean your elbows on the counter. "What do you guys want us to pick up from the store?"

Shake smirks a bit, stealing a slight glance down the front of your uniform shirt. It was within seconds that you noticed. "I know what I want, baby—"

"I bet you do." You play along with a light curl of your lip, now earning frylock and meatwad's attention in shock.

"But right now, we need to know what you guys wanna eat for meals and stuff."

You think the last thing that shake was expecting, was for you to enable that situation. He prolly figured you'd just get pissed off, and swat him away. But, his attention was starting to grow on you now, so that wasn't necessarily the case anymore. Why not just let this roll?

Frylock clears his throat, awkwardly, seeing the shocked expression on Shake's face.

He was totally noticing what was up now.

A thought came to Shake as you notice the way his smiles stretches. "Lasagna~! Quattro formaggio," shake makes Italian gestures with his hands. Meatwad grins with amusement, looking up at the male beside him.

"Italian food!"

"I've gotta admit, shake can make a really good lasagna dish." Frylock smiles weakly, holding his cheek in his hand with a tired expression.

"Hell yeah, I do." Shake smiles proudly, eyes drifting up to meet yours. With his arms crossed over his chest, you notice the smug little look of pride he had.

"Carl likes it too. Which is half the reason I make it."

Amused, you crack up a little grin. "You make it for Carl?"

That didn't sound like the Shake you knew. He never did anything for anybody.

Frylock shakes his head. "Don't get the wrong idea. Shake likes to mess with Carl's head. He doesn't actually let him eat any of it."

Confused, you turn to shake for answers.

Shake grins, "I just put that shit on a leash, and let him run. Sometimes he breaks his neck, sometimes he lets me swim in his pool." He shrugs innocently, "It's a win win either way!"

Damn, he was really fucked up for that. But how could you not love that about him—?

"That's messed up," you snicker, taking all three of their empty plates and walking them to the dirty buss pan. "But I'm so here for it."

Shake smiles widely at your response; clearly you piqued his interest. Not just anybody would laugh at the cruel pranks he liked to pull. But you did.

_____________________

 

You peer over Shake's shoulder, an intensifying grin creeping up on your face, as you noticed the little annoyances you've been causing him.

Shake was making up that lasagna dish; something you could only believe if you saw it with your own eyes.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to put together my masterpiece, here!"

You only smirk in a retort. "Shut up, you love it."

"I am pretty hard to stay away from. That's why they call me the chick magnet." He shrugs you off with a nervous smile, and focuses his eyes back down on the sauce he was using. "Now listen- I know that only I can make this taste good, but I'm gonna let you put the cheese on it." He takes a step back, eyeing you. "Since you wanna be apart of this plan."

Wow, he was letting you help him? How thoughtful.

"Don't mess it up! It's a delicacy," His shouting made your ears ring.

"Okay, I got it, Fuck." You snap back. Of course, this only made him glare harder, but whatever. 

Shake was so dramatic, fuck.

Rolling your eyes was the only other proper bodily response you could give, before bumping him aside to place yourself in front of the half prepared lasagna dish. It did look pretty good..

Reaching your hand into the bag of cheese, you begin to sprinkle it around the pasta.

Then, he hands you the other cheeses to put into the pan. "Okay, good. Not as good as what I'd do, but it'll probably be fine." He mumbles, standing over your shoulder.

Dangerously close, you noted.

You turn your head over your shoulder to deadpan him with a look of annoyance, but you couldn't help that butterfly feeling that kept trying to crawl up your throat. Shit.

You caught the feels.

You inhale a soft breath, and look back down to the pasta dish. Just try to ignore him! That was super easy- - right—?

Even though now his hand was reaching in front of you to grab the other cheese— oh shit, his shoulder is totally bumping into yours because he doesn't know personal space even if it whacked him in the face.

"Kay, now what?" You break the silent tension you felt, looking to him. Shake grabs the dish, and throws some seasoning throughout it. "We bake it, then the fun can happen." The smirk was bright and cheery on his face.

"Cool," you chortle.

Shake tosses the pan in the oven, and sets a timer for it. His eyes then set on you, narrowing a little.

You frown, looking up at him. What was he looking at?

"What," Your tone came out a little sour, and you didn't mean for it to. He didn't seem to mind, though.

His gloved hand reaches out, and soon enough, you feel his thumb brushing at your cheek. "You've got sauce on your face, dumbass."

Welp, that's embarrassing.

You can feel the heat in your face rise as he wipes off your cheek, not so gently, and sticks his tongue out with disgust.

"Gee, thanks." You turn away, brushing your cheek off with the back of your arm.

Then, a thought floods it's way back into your head suddenly.

Weren't you supposed to be doing something..? 

"Oh!" You rub your cheek, hoping there wasn't any stain still left on your skin. "I was supposed to post you making that," you pout a bit, gesturing to the fact that he was still supposed to be your fake boyfriend. How could you forget?

He looks at you with a questioning expression. "Huh?"

"Y'know- - My boyfriend made me lasagna," you tease, pulling out the phone from your pocket.

Now it came back to him.

He nods slowly, "Riiight. Right!" Shake smirks proudly, opening up the oven door to crack it. "It's not too late." Heat blows out, and you look inside the crack to see the pan sitting there, trying to bake.

You angle your phone camera on it, but you feel your other hand being grabbed.

What was he doing—?

"C'mere," Looking down, shake forces your hand on the oven door handle, and guides you to grab it. He then puts his hand on top of yours, and holds it. "Come on, take the picture already!"

Your cheeks did that weird thing again where they got all hot and clammy. Shit shit shit.

Oh, and now your heart is speeding up a little? What the fuuuuuck.

You take the picture of your hands on the handle, and smile up at him, though it felt pressured now. "Got it,"

He shuts the door, and suddenly his face was flared up, too. Damn, was he sweating?

"Cool, great, good!" He laughs out, but it sounded awkward. "I bet that asshole thinks I'm sexier than him. Like— what were you even thinking? Going for a guy like that," shake laughs at you. Of course, it was just him turning the situation around onto you again, because why wouldn't he be a narcissist?

You let yourself frown slightly.

"You're too good for him, obviously." Shake then adds onto the statement, though his voice grew a bit more honest. There's another smile lingering in his features when he says that.

Your frown turns upward at him slightly. "Yeah . . I know." Your voice is light; not even defensive, because you knew how shitty you let that guy treat you.

"I know you know!" He says, "If there's one thing I know- it's women. And women want me."

Welp, that ruined the moment.

The smirk on his face was enough to make you laugh at him. In all the time that you've known each other, you didn't see a single girl trying to talk to him. Ever.

If anything, you were the first. And that . . Well, that's saying something.

"Yeah?" You ask through a chortle, "Where are they, then."

Shake quickly frowns with annoyance, and crosses his arms. "Well, obviously they can't come around, if they see you next to me." He defends himself poorly. You shrug in response and laugh a little again.

"Riiight. That makes sense," sarcastically, you nod along to tease him. Does he know you're just teasing him? You weren't sure.

"It does! How else can a hot babe come up to me if I already have one next to me? They'd get jealous, obviously!" Shake rolls his eyes. "And, I don't need any more girl drama. Which is why I keep telling them not to come around anymore,"

His voice was so casual when lying, that it was almost kinda insane.

The other thing insane about that story though, was Shake just called you hot.

Score.

Not that you didn't know that already.

"I knew I was hot," you tease, looking over at him with a little smirk. "Girl drama is literally ridiculous though. You're better off with just me."

His eyes widen a little at your comment. Obviously he took it in the way you meant it.

"Yeah, I probably would be. But y'know, there's still plenty of me to go around." He points his thumbs towards himself, and gives off a cocky smirk.

"Shut up, cup." You laugh him off with a light shove on the shoulder, letting his nickname slip from your mouth. It was something you've picked up from Carl over the years of hangin' around the boys. It never seemed to bother him too much, but you knew he'd prefer a less demeaning name.

"You gotta make me," Shake's smile is innocently bright, and all you can do is stare back with a challenging grin.

Ooh, that was it- -

To your right on the counter, you notice the bowl of pudding Meatwad had left out. When you and Frylock went shopping earlier, you should've expected the two ding bats to go on a binge fest of junk food, because they totally did. They left food out all over the place.

The evil grin on your face was enough to show Shake that you had tricks up your own sleeve.

Not even bothering to care how sticky and slimy it was on your fingers, you dipped your hand into the bowl and quickly smacked the pudding to his face.

The challenge was so on.

His eyes widen, shock taking over his body as the chocolate pudding smears across his cheek and mouth. That was not at all what he expected from you when he meant for you to shut him up.

"Y/N! What the hell!"

You laugh loudly, crouching down in a defense stance as he wipes the chocolate from his face.

"I'll kill you," Without a second thought, Shake lunges towards your laughing figure, hands grabbing yours playfully, and soon you find yourself backed into and trapped against the counter.

With your backside to the cabinets, you look up at him with a pleading smile, still finding it absolutely hilarious that you caught him off his game like that.

"I'm sorry! Shake— I'm sorry, I swear," you wheeze out through laughter, hands up and still being tightly held by Shake's.

"Shoulda thought about that sooner!" His one hand let go of yours, and with one swift movement, snatched the glass of water from the countertop, and splashed it at you with a wild grin.

"Hey!" You squeal out and tense up as the water quickly runs down your cheek and neck.

Game on, bitch.

You push him back as he chuckles under his breath.

"Asshole," There wasn't much time to think it through anymore, so you grab the closest food item to you, and smash it at him. Shake dodged, but it ended up still managing to hit his body anyway.

The two of you now wrestled a bit with each other; hands locked, and push and shoving each other playfully.

Actually, it was probably the most fun you and Shake had together in a long time.

"I swear- - Y/N, if I wasn't letting you win, I'd beat your ass," shake glares up at you from the hold you had on him. You now currently had him pinned down to the floor of the kitchen, food everywhere, sitting on his back. The smirk you had on your face was beaming with amusement as your tilt your head down at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, letting me win? I own your ass right now."

He grunts, dulling his irritated eyes up at you. "I'm only going easy on you because you're a broad!"

"Pfft— yeah, right. You couldn't beat me if you tr—" the wind almost gets knocked out of you when you suddenly find yourself being flipped over with your back to the floor. Shake smirks, and now holds you down by sitting on you.

"Ugh, oh my god, fatass, get off me!" You wheeze out, glaring up at him. His prideful smile was enough to let you know that, okay, maybe he was sorta letting you win earlier.

"It's muscle weight! And don't smack me with pudding, then maybe I would!" He declares, eyes narrowing now as the pressure of his gloved hands holds your arms down to the floor at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry," You pout playfully up at him, wiggling your wrists out of his grasp, but not to much use.

"Not good enough!" He says. "I think it's time you learned not to mess with the master~!" Shake was totally not bluffing anymore, and you knew he was unhinged enough to actually hit you, or throw more food at your face- which you didn't want.

So, you flinch, wincing up at him.

"Truce!"

Managing to speak with half of his body weight sitting on top of you was actually so hard to do.

"Wait— Is this the part where I kiss you?" He asks, in the dumbest, most casual way only shake could manage.

"Oh my god," you groan. With some thought behind it, you manage to flip yourself to your side, and kick him off you. Shake lands beside you on the floor, and you remember not to take breathing for granted.

You slowly rise up to a sitting position, and glare look at him. "Lose some weight."

Shake glares up at you, and switches to a sitting position as well. "I can't help that my muscles are too big! You're just too weak to handle the weight." The narcissism rolls off his tongue so smoothly. Shake was always good at turning situations or facts around on other people. It was sort of like a really fucked up gift.

You stand to your feet, brushing off any leftover food that clung to you.

"Want me to pin you to the floor again?" Your threat only made his smile grow, and you could imagine why.

"No, because I'm always on top!" His smile stretched, and you roll your eyes at him. "Haha! Boom! Someone should be writing these down,"

The timer on the oven dings, alerting the both of you.

Whoops, you totally forgot all about the lasagna in the oven during all this play fighting.

"Come on, honey, let's go offer our neighbor some food~" you stand to your feet, and hold out a hand for him. Shake stares at it before locking eyes with you, and smirking.

His hand grabs yours, and stands to his feet.

Pulling you into him, shake wraps an arm around your shoulder and smiles. "A little taste of Italy, right to his door. He should be paying us!"

You lean into his hold and find yourself smiling up at him. "Once we get to use his pool, it'll all be worth it!"

Shake laughs and let you go. "As long as I get to see you in a hot bikini, babe."

[meatwadjr]

hey auqa teen fans, not getting enough of frylock n master shake x readers? well don’t worry because i have some fanfictions that are coming up!!

and if you’re interested in a certain story u want with the characters you can request!

the only character i wont be doing an x reader for is carl, so, go crazy

[soap-ify]

thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.

your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.

your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.

simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.

“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.

“maybe.”

[tojisun]

you’ve just given me a thought

Reader sitting on Johnnys face with Simon fucking him. Johnnys pushing reader down harder on his face, all pussy drunk, smothered in her and it gets to a point where Simon has to physically pull reader off of Johnny just to let him breath because he wasn’t gonna do it himself and certainly wasn’t going to let reader go. He’s all flushed and breathing heavy getting air back in his lungs, face covered in squirt 🫣

oh lord i may have died and ascended-

and the way johnny’s got a vice grip on your thighs or on the dip of your hips, pushing you down on his face, either to muffle his moans on the hot press of your skin because simon’s fucking him so good, hitting his prostate so well, or to lick up at your pussy because it is so wet and warm, and your slick is so delicious, he can’t help but gulp it down because he wants more—

“joh-nny,” you hiccup, his name slipping from your gritted teeth in a slurred hiss. “stop! stop, please!”

it’s too much, too fast, and johnny’s frantic movements are only making you anxious. you can’t even feel his breath against your cunt anymore, and you tremble, wide-eyed as the cold wash of worry mixes with your desires.

you fist at his hair, trying to pry him off your cunt so you can get to your knees for a second, but your squirming just makes johnny grip your body harder. he digs his tongue in deeper, and you let out a drawled-out whine at the drag of his nose against your hardened clit.

“simon!” you sob, your breaths hitching as you tremble. “make’im stop! simon, make’im—”

“fuckin’ hell,” simon murmurs, breathless himself, his voice a rich timbre from somewhere close behind you. you feel his arms wrap around your chest before he pulls you towards him.

you lazily topple off johnny’s face and into simon’s space, your back pressed flush against his chest. you tip your head down, feeling the way simon does the same, and you two watch as johnny catches his breath.

he is flushed oh-so beautifully, his nose all flared as he gulps down air. his face is wet, messy with your slick, and you watch, with a silent gasp, johnny poke his tongue out to lave at his glistening lips, tasting the remnants of your euphoria.

you jump when you feel simon buck his body forward, jostling you and johnny together. johnny hisses, his face crumpling in his pleasure, and—

“oh,” you say, reaching down to stuff yourself with your fingers. “si, do tha’ again, please?”

simon hooks his chin on your shoulder, grunting in his own bliss when he pulls out, slow like he is deliberate in teasing johnny, only to punch his cock back in johnny. you three share a moan.

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[mangostarjam]

silent reading time — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, biting, 1.4k words

Hoshina Soshiro is staring at your thighs.

... you think.

It's hard to tell, since you aren't looking at him. Quick, fleeting glances out of the corner of your eye aren't enough to discern the true aim of his line of sight, but it really kinda looks like... he's looking at your thighs.

Why, though?

It's just a typical weekday night. You dropped by his room the way you have for the past twenty-odd years, holding a paperback book with a purple pen tucked behind your ear, ready to indulge in your favorite pastime of silent reading in your best friend's company. Soshiro has his own paperback in hand, green pen spinning around his fingers. The two of you jot little notes as you read, and once you finish you swap books. Later, you'll go to one of your favorite cafes together to talk about them. Soshiro's neat scrawl is as familiar to you as the back of your own hand.

For a brief moment you debate calling him out on his staring. But — nah, it's probably nothing. Maybe your pajama shorts are a little worn and he's just appalled you're wearing something so flimsy.

"What's up, beansprout?"

You glance up from the words you haven't been reading and meet your best friend's gaze. "Huh?"

Soshiro closes his book but keeps his finger tucked to hold his place. His green pen spins in a blur. "You've been starin' at that page for ages. You sleepy or somethin'?"

"Nooo..." you draw out the word as you think of something to say. "Just wondering if I should get new pajamas."

Well — you didn't call him a creep, but now he's blatantly staring at your thighs and maybe this is... worse? You can feel a flush rising up your body at his scrutiny.

"What's wrong with these?"

"... Nothing?"

Soshiro gives you a doubtful look and before you have a chance to retreat, he's caught you against the bed, pinning you down with his elbows on either side of your shoulders. Your books and pens go flying across the mattress, landing with a thunk and a clatter as the room settles back to stillness. The sudden proximity of him looming above you takes your breath away. You squirm a little at the abrupt weight. Soshiro chuckles, his breath warm by your ear as his legs press yours into the mattress.

"Tell me, egg tart."

He's close enough that the strands of his purple hair tickle your forehead. You know you have no chance of getting away from the Vice Captain of the Third Division in close quarters, but you wiggle half-heartedly anyway. "Get off of me, you big oaf!"

"Oh? That's not very nice," Soshiro's grin is playful. He eyes you for a second, and then he pouts. "I just wanna know what's runnin' through that pretty lil head."

Well that's just unfair. He knows you're weak to him when he makes that face. You scrunch your nose at him and giggle when he mimics you. He's steady, hovering above you, as if it's nothing for him to basically hold a modified plank pose on the soft surface of his mattress. Something about that makes you feel... a little warm.

But he's your best friend. You've known him since you were toddlers, training in swordsmanship together at the Hoshina estate, following him into the Defense Force until you hit a wall and pivoted to research instead — you know Hoshina Soshiro, and he does not make you feel warm like this.

You gather your wits about you slowly, like your braincells are moving through molasses. Soshiro seems content to hold his position, familiar grin still firmly in place. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the careful way he keeps from squishing you entirely, even though he's stopping you from running away from the question.

"It's really nothing, promise," you say, "I just thought maybe you kept looking at my pajamas because they're so old."

There's a moment of silence as Soshiro digests this. You listen to him breathing above you, the thick fabric of his sweats warm where his legs press into your bare skin, the overhead light haloing his purple strands and casting his carefully blank expression in a faint shadow.

"Dontcha think you're a lil too comfy 'round me?" His voice comes out low, almost missed beneath the sound of your rapidly accelerating heartbeat. "I'm a man, too, y'know."

You blink. Soshiro's now wearing the vaguely amused smile he always seems to have on when you're around, but there's something lingering along the edges that sends a shiver up your spine.

Forget molasses. Your brain shuts down entirely, bluescreening as you frantically try to reconcile his words and his meaning and why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to — to eat you, to swallow you whole — and why does he keep glancing at your lips? Do you have something between your teeth?

But, no, wait — Soshiro is a man. You know this. You've known this for ages. It's impossible to train with the strongest close quarters combatant in the entire Defense Force and not realize this simple fact. You've seen Soshiro take down more miniature and mid-sized kaiju than you can count, and he's a brilliant leader of his platoon and division. Everyone respects him and works hard to live up to his expectations, though you know he works three times as hard in the shadows.

Your childhood friend is certainly not a child any longer. One glance at the densely packed muscle on Soshiro's body is enough proof of that. You peek at his biceps tensing as he shifts above you and gulp.

Yeah, he's definitely a man.

But what does that have to do with anything...?

"Of course I'm comfy with you, Soshiro-kun," you say. Why does your voice sound like that? All... breathy and soft? You clear your throat and try to inject some normalcy in your tone. "You're my best friend! You'd tell me if my pajamas are too worn out, right?"

Soshiro just looks at you blankly. This is where he's supposed to crack a joke, this is where he flicks your forehead and calls you 'sugarplum' and rolls off of you, this is not where he suddenly leans down close enough that you can feel his breaths puff against your ear before everything narrows down to the singular point on your neck where he bites you.

"S-Soshiro-kun, what the hell?!"

"What's wrong? We're best friends, ain't we?"

"Yeah, but why'd you bite me?"

Soshiro's laugh is pressed into your neck like honey dripping from the comb. He's not... He hasn't moved away. You haven't moved away.

You could. He's left you room to move.

But you don't.

It's warm. His legs are still pressing against yours. The faintly woodsy smell of him is all around you, seeping into your skin as you shift amidst his blankets. "No reason," he says airily, lips brushing your temple as he brings himself to hover above you again. "Just takin' advantage of my best friend privileges."

"By... biting me?"

"By showin' ya I'm comfy 'round you, too."

The tension pops. You can't help but laugh, something like relief and the bittersweet tinge of regret flushing through your bloodstream. "What are you, an animal? Who the heck bites people and calls it comfortable?"

"Are ya uncomfy?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I've always wanted to bite you," Soshiro says. You can read the truth in the curve of his smile as his purple strands waver above you. "Ya look like you'd taste good, chestnut."

"That's it," you wrinkle your nose at him. "You've gotta come up with other nicknames for me, or else you'll keep thinking of me as food!"

Soshiro hums in thought. You can feel the sting and the faint imprint of teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck. Something about it makes you feel fuzzy inside, like a tv antenna struggling to search for a signal. You shift anxiously as the silence stretches, yearning for something unknown.

"No can do," he says brightly. His red eyes gleam as he leans down again. "But we're comfy with each other, yeah? Want me to inspect these old pjs for ya?"

The blush blooms beneath your skin with a force that startles you. "Uh, what—? No, Soshiro-kun, definitely not—"

He grins and it's bright, but a little strained. You reach up unthinkingly to cup his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs along his jawline and cheekbones and smiling when he leans into the touch. The knot in your chest loosens. The two of you bask in the comfort of each other for a moment.

"You should really tell me off," he breathes, tilting his head. "You should tell me ta quit messin' around."

"Are you messing around?" you ask.

Soshiro laughs, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. "I'm never messin' around when it comes to you."

[ltbunny]

Blind date with ex-husband price. It was like 4 peoples doing. It was your coworkers' yoga instructors, then the yoga instructors' supermarket bag boy and then his girlfriends who set up the date. How did we even get there?

Anyway, your dressed up, all pretty, excited to meet someone new. It's been a while since you've been on a date, a blind one at that, alot of guys take one look and either get too 'excited' or extremely deflated, both of them are horrible, but it's been a while since you've been on the scene after you finally got over your husband...

Annnndd, it's your ex. Fuck he looks good, fresh trim and his shoulders look so broad, he's wearing his 'going out, need to impress shirt'.. damn, he really wanted to appeal whoever his blind date was... maybe it's not to late to leave, he hasnt even no- oh.. his hand is on your lower back

"Sweetheart!" He smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes,

"John..." you acknowledge, looking up at him, "dont call me sweetheart."

"Sorry, love, bad habit."

You roll your eyes, but don't correct him. Is he doing it on purpose?

"Well, red bag," He smiles.

"Red tie," you respond

"So we're with each others company for the night then," He grins and looks at you, sheepishly, "well, that's if you want to continue the blind date?" He sounds hopeful...

He leads you to the table. Obviously, he pulls the chair out for you and gives you a bouquet of flowers, its only the gentlemanly thing to do, he says.

It starts off strained but you find yourself picking up the little things he does that you used to love, pointing out your favourite foods in the menu, listening intently to everything you say, stupidly lovey-dovey puppy eyes as he nods along, his hand on yours, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, he even said some stupid line about 'me n u' and says soap put him up to it, fuck, you missed his laugh. You find yourself asking about the boys, work, it feels like you and price are just on a date night, like you two used to do before the divorce.

He walks you home at the end of the night, he started with hand holding, and now his arm is somehow around your waist, and he's closer than any ex-husband should be, really. When you get up to your apartment, he looks a little nervous,

"I'm not inviting you over for a nightcap, John."

"I know, love," he says smoothly, "just wondering... if it would be appropriate to end the night with a kiss,"

You feel a faint heat in your cheeks, unsure of what to do... after a few seconds, you nod, looking up at him. You feel his hand tentatively reach out for the back of your head, cradling it while he kisses you, you missed this, the tickle of his beard, his big hands on you, soft lips, soft kisses.

You can feel him actively try to hold back tongue, but the way you open your mouth slightly in the kiss makes him go for it immediately. You feel yourself melt. It's so desperate and carnal, but still so soft, like he doesn't want to push it, but it goes on longer than expected, neither of you really wanting to pull away, eventually you pull back, lips sore, heated faces, you wonder if you should withdraw the nightcap thing and just let him in.

"I had a lovely night, sweetheart, I... would really love to see you again." He says with a flushed face, his hand on your lower back again, going in circles.

"Me too, John."

"Text me, okay? We can go to that tex-mex place you really like, or somewhere fancier," he smiles softly, "I wanna see my woman happy."

"Not your woman, John."

"Yet." He says with a grin, leaning down and kissing you softly again, "thank you for giving this a chance, love, ill see you tomorrow, hopefully?"

You nod, and he walks home with a smile. Can't believe you had such a nice date with your ex-husband, thanks coworkers, yoga intructors, bag boys girlfriend...

(You probably wouldn't think it's so sweet if earlier you saw gaz in the back alley with bloody knuckles, after beating up the guy that was meant to be your date, texting price

'all done, sir.'

'Knew I could count on you, garrick.')

[loverzoath]

AO3 PLEASE PLEAAAASSSSSEEEEE COME BACK I NEED YOU

[strangerstilinski]

♡ just thinking

about eddie coming home, ranting and raving about how incredible his new campaign went. he’s gesturing wildly with his hands and his cheeks are flushed and his mouth is running a mile a minute. and you want to pay attention, you really do — you love when he gets like this, all childlike joy and wide brown eyes and rambling sentences — but you’ve been waiting for him since your shift ended five hours ago and you’ve been thinking about getting his cock in your mouth for at least the last two-

and he’s trying to tell you about the twist that really threw the hellfire crew for a loop but you can’t help but push him back until his legs hit the couch. you’re dropping to your knees and pushing between his thighs before he’s even regained is balance enough to straighten up. his dark jeans are yanked down his thighs, cute little patterned boxer shorts pushed down only a moment later.

you get his cock in your mouth, still soft but so warm and his skin so silky on your tongue. eddie’s words cut off and you pull away to give him a sweet doe-eyed look of confusion.

“why’d you stop talking?”

“i- what?” he babbles dumbly.

“wanna hear about your campaign.” you urge, soft and earnest. you lick a long, fat stripe up the length of his slowly thickening cock, puckering your lips and giving a couple of soft, suckling kisses to the silky skin.

“but, baby- shit. baby.. sweetheart, i can’t think when you’re-”

you give the warm skin of his cock another sweet kiss before murmuring into the soft pudge of his tummy and happy trail.

“please?”

and so the next several minutes are filled with his breathy recount of the evenings campaign, through the sounds of his gasps and groans and the quiet slurps and gags of your mouth around him.

[cottondo]

where is my beautiful toxic fat man fanfiction

good food takes TIME TO COOK

[grimmbunniee]

Not to sound like a bitch or anything but why is every HOTD oc the same person. Her name is always Aemma/Visenya Velaryon or some god awful made up Valaryian name. Her dad is never Laenor but instead ser harwin, Daemon, or sometimes Cristion coke. Her lover is always Aemond(Cregan stark is also in love with her too). Aemond ends up defecting to team black and your oc and him win the war. She also rides cannibal or has claimed more than one dragon(you’ll never be Daenerys Targaryen you can’t out do the doer).

(Don’t get me started on how some of y’all will write Rhaenrya as this god awful stereotypical boy mom. When Rhaenyra has always wanted a daughter would spoil the living daylights out of her little girl, no matter who the father was)

[dawnbreakerluna]

consider an au where sylus is still a powerful figure and the unnamed ruler of onichynus but also a single father to young twin boys, kieran and luke.

he hesitates at first at the idea of taking in two children who were stranded in the n109 zone, debating on whether or not this was just another ploy of one of his many enemies. yet, with how beat down and shaken they were in that alley... that weary heart of gold spoke to him after his keen senses assured this was a matter that involved nothing but sympathy.

gaining their trust was a challenge, more so than when he first realized the power he wielded and how to use it to his advantage. but over time, his heart stirred knowing that he had an additional purpose to his life. if ruling onichynus and being the fearsome figure his stomping grounds saw him as would do him this good in being able to protect them, he would continue to do so.

then in comes you — the one he has been looking over for time now, the one who shares the unique prowess of holding an aether core in your body. the both of you are alike in many ways, only that you've yet to realize your true potential and wield your evol properly.

the resentment and hesitation you feel towards being able to trust sylus is mediated in a smoother manner, when you're introduced to the two young souls under sylus' care. while in other situations you would take advantage of this vulnerability to bargain intel, your keen assessment of the bond sylus has with his sons is genuine and true.

in kieran and luke's perspective, upon warming up to your presence and noticing the fond look in their father's eyes when he gazes at you... they wouldn't mind trying to play matchmaker. they wouldn't mind if you decided to stay around, to accompany sylus and them for the rest of their days.

[gomzdrawfr]

messy sketch of you discovering bear!Price's scar on his left palm

other bear!Price stuff I made:

⋆｡°✩ Captain Bear // Having Beary Price all for yourself // big bear!Price // hibernation // om nom nom ⋆｡°✩

[tojisun]

hnnfn having your face gripped by simon’s hand while he’s fucking you in missionary and his hand’s so fucking big it knocks off your glasses askew, and. just. it’s a new level of debauchery—sweaty face, tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, glasses are just a useless accessory now—that simon gets addicted and starts doing it more.

gripping your face, squeezing your cheeks, muffling your moans behind his palm. cupping your jaw while you’re sucking his cock, teary eyes blinking up at him as you mewl, your voice caught between his thick flesh and the warm press of your throat, and simon just croons because you look good like this, baby—

[peachesofteal]

Fae Simon strikes me as the kind that would lure and trap his future wife in a fairy ring. She doesn't believe in magic or superstition when she steps across the ring...until a masked figure appears out of thin air and spirits here away to his realm.

This gave me brain worms for Gaz (and I'm already working on another fae Simon piece so)

female reader / 18+ mdni - dubcon(ish)

"So sorry. You alright love?"

The stranger's hand curls around your elbow, steadying the precarious tip of your body, balance disrupted by the impact of his shoulder to your chest. "My fault. Didn't see you there."

Fuzzy synapses fire in your brain. They reach for one another, desperate to click together, to link their hands and jolt you back into the moment.

You blink. The wind turns cold.

"It's... okay." He's beautiful. Blinding. Terrifying. Something about the angles of his face, his cheekbones, his brow, forces your head to cock, sight focused and then unfocused, as if you're staring at a star.

Your mind feels empty. The sidewalk becomes a bog, fetid and thick beneath your feet.

Where have you gone? Lost somewhere?

He doesn't let go. The axis tilts, world stopping on a dime, collective breath stalled on an inhale, and you stay trapped there, a hand on your elbow, rooted to the ground.

Lovely girl. It purrs in your heart. Precious thing.

His chest brushes yours, his nose to your neck. A deep inhale, and his fingers glide up to your pulse point.

He murmurs something. You break the surface of the water, and blink. "I'm sorry?"

"Said, do you want me to take you home." The question doesn't end in the proper inflection, and you scramble to consider it, to let it sink in-

until he takes your hand.

"Fuck. Oh-" His tongue laps over your clit, fingers spread in a V through your folds, sticky dew webbed through his teeth, coating his tongue, his chin. He smirks.

"Going to come again?"

"Yeah," you breathe, spine arched, hips rolling in his grip. "Please." You tremble for him, cry for him, and he laps up the salt of your tears, savoring before swallowing, taking as many pieces as he can into himself.

The more the better.

He works you up and over the hill, pussy tight around his fingers, and as you lay prone and panting, he pulls your calf up to his shoulder, heavy cock nestled at your seam.

"Condom?" you slur, head rolling to your neck, satiated gaze peeking up through your lashes.

"Of course." He soothes, lies, smoothing a palm down your cheek, his nose touching to yours. It forces some friction, head notching against your swollen and tender bud, your gasp swallowed up in his mouth.

More pieces.

"Kyle," you whine, and it sounds so good, feathery and sweet, precious like you.

He takes no more time, and thrusts himself deep, burrowing into your body with a groan. You seize, fluttering around him, crown of his cock too deep for comfort, trembles wracking your spine. Wet heat explodes around him, and he chuckles. "Coming again, then?" He flexes his hips. "Hungry little slut, aren't you?" You nod, delirious, fingernails dug into his forearms, slicing at his skin.

"Fuck me, Kyle, p-please." He squeezes your calf, drawing away completely, before slamming back until his balls shove against the curve of your ass, your shriek music to his ears.

He needs you to cry. Needs to swallow as many as he can. Needs to collect each one, make sure they stick, but it's more than that. He's craven, fueled by a desire to possess you, claim you, drag you beneath the veil. Flint to steel shoots off sparks in his blood, the craze of the hunt, the chase, echoing through the slap of skin, your hiccups and moans, the crack of your bones.

He bites your calf muscle and croons. "Almost there."

"D-don't stop." You plead, already on the cusp again, pussy trying to milk him dry, pull his cock deeper, body knowing it all before your mind.

Your eyes are surprisingly hypnotic. Nearly magical, pooled with a connection he's never felt. More resilient than expected.

Lovely girl is special, it seems. He's not surprised. He followed your scent from blocks away. Honeysuckle and ocean spray.

Once he fucks you full of his come, collects all his pieces, it won't matter how naturally resistant you are.

Everything tightens, your cunt, his legs, his grip. You scream, coming again, and he buries himself, flooding you with thick ropes, your spasms only pulling them deeper, hungry for it, betrayed by your body.

You're still afterwards, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide.

"Did so good, sweet thing." He strokes over your skin, tongue tracing stripes on the slope of your neck, dabbing at the sweat there. You murmur something incoherent, and he pulls you tighter into his chest.

When his fingers tuck inside your weeping pussy, swirling together in the mess there and massaging it upward, you don't even stir.

The sun sets, and he lingers on the edge of your mattress before curving over your sleeping form.

His lips graze your neck. "Sleep well, lovely girl."

The forest is too tall.

What are you doing here? Where have you gone?

Everything stretches beyond your reach, long spindly fingers reaching for the sun, blotting it out, plunging the worlds beneath the canopy into darkness. It lives, it breathes, inhaling and exhaling as one, splitting open brambles and bracken before you, a path cleaving wide through overgrown deciduous trees and verdure.

It's a jewel, an emerald caught in sunlight, brilliant, unending green sparkling across the forest floor, ferns and fiddleheads shivering free from morning dew as you brush by them, roots and branches calling to you, to one another, darkening the path at your back.

You're not sure how you got here, how your legs carried you deeper and deeper into the woods, fire burning at your back, urging you forward, a pull resonating in the marrow of your bones, a song thrumming in your heart.

Something calls to you.

And in the back of your mind, something else wails in terror.

Ancient places have claws. They snag and scrape, slowly scratching away body and mind, breaking down resistance, intelligence, all human instinct designed to protect you, save you, from yourself, from a spell.

You've gone somewhere it cannot follow.

The trees wilt into arches, framing a long shadowed hallway, pointing you the direction you will not stray from, a path pulling your feet, one in front of the other.

The end holds a moment. A soft, green swath of grass, encapsulated by a ring of mushrooms, a proud hawthorne tree at its center. You have no words in you, but if you did, they'd be ones of awe.

And when the stranger from the street, the one from your bed, Kyle, appears from behind the gnarled trunk, something swells in your belly.

A blackened vine snaps and snarls at you, resists the lure of this man, this creature, sharp wails drowned out by the mere sight of him.

"Hello." Your fingers knit together at your waist. He smiles. It stuns you like you've been stabbed.

"Hello, lovely girl."

"I think... I'm think I'm lost." Not lost. You're not lost. You're not supposed to be here. The vine tries to grow into your muscle and bone, desperately wrapping itself around anything it can.

"You're exactly where you should be." He steps forward, closer, a hand extended to where you linger, just outside the ring of mushrooms.

The vine screams. It begs. You're killing it.

His eyes narrow.

"Will you join me?" His voice soothes the raw, ferocious thing clinging to you. It feels nice.

Still, your feet do not carry you forward, and he sighs, striding to the edge of the circle.

"What's happening?" The panic fogs your mind, and thick mist rolls in around the two of you. He softens, expression turning kind, sweet.

"It's alright, you're safe with me." He takes your hand, thumb massaging a pattern onto your palm.

The shrieking falls away, dying, crying on a final breath.

"You have to say it." He instructs gently. "Will you join me?"

The forest falls away. The mist climbs to an immeasurable height, the hawthorne tree twisting, bark shredding wide into a gaping hole, a star filled hollow.

The wind turns cold. A lullaby drifting on its current, a forgotten song ringing in your ears.

Where have you gone? Lost somewhere?

Lost in him.

"Yes."

[deunmiu-dessie]

sorry, was thinking about doing domestic things with fiancé!ghost, like making cookies and him messing up something in the process 💀--- cause even though ghost is good at most things, this man does not have a cooking bone in his body, maybe he can make a few simple meals but for the most part ( something you taught him btw ), he'll leave the meals and meal prep to you ( besides, he enjoys ur cooking ). so when you pull him to the kitchen and ask him to make cookies with you, he's reluctant but of course he agrees, ( he'd burn the world if you asked ) though, making cookies is a lot harder than he expected😭

"si, the butter--- it's burning."

your fiancé, always standing so tall and imposing, is slightly hunched over the stove wearing your pink apron that you had 'forced' ( wouldn't call it that since he literally bent down so you could put it on him but... ) over his head. despite him being so focused on the task at hand, he'd ended up burning the butter rather than browning it.

"ah fuckin' hell."

he stirs it for one moment more before looking down at you, "y'sure we can't use it?" he mellows at your beaming smile, deflating as you shake your head.

"simon, baby, it's basically tar."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ (rehehehehe how simon looks most days when youre teaching him to bake.)

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