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rreids · 12 days

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Hey love I have an ask bc I’ve been feeling super depressed lately and I haven’t wanted to get out of bed lol can you do a one shot when spencer leaves for the week on a case and comes home to the house a mess and the reader laying in bed crying and he makes her shower and eat and cuddles her

oh my love <3 i hope you are feeling a little better. please make yourself a nice warm drink and try to spend some time outside or doing something outside of bed, even if it's just five minutes <3 it's worth it, i promise — someone who also bed rots often

LITTLE BY LITTLE • S. REID X READER

hurt/comfort; reader in a depressive episode; mentions of emotional eating and food; perfect bf spencer; nonsexual nudity and intimacy; kisses; pet names; fluff; ~1k

Spencer being gone was normal, a common occurrence. You didn’t normally struggle when he was gone, but with a mix of bad days at work and him being gone, you could barely bring yourself to eat.

You liked to keep the house clean while he was gone so he’d have one less stressful thing to come back to. This time, it was a mess, clothes and food packaging left around. You’d raided the sweets stash, and made a mental note to replace his chocolate bars before he realized.

“Honey?” Spencer’s voice calls, and you blink away the sting of tears. You weren’t hydrated enough for more to roll down your cheeks, but you didn’t want to worry him. With a swipe of your (his) sweater sleeve, you work on rubbing away tear stains as he comes into the bedroom, tilting his head at the wrappers and mess on the nightstand. “You okay?”

You shake your head, not trusting your voice. “You’re home early,”

“It ended well,” he tells you, gathering the trash left sitting. He doesn’t even comment that his nice chocolate bars were clearly eaten. “How long have you been like this?”

“Few days, maybe?”

“Why didn’t you call?” He sighs. He sounds exasperated, but you know he’s not upset at you as he rubs a soothing hand over your cheek and lets you lean into him.

“I didn’t wanna worry you,” you mumble, voice muffled into his palm. You press a kiss to it, smiling softly when his fingers twitch at the ticklish sensation. “‘S okay.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, you know he disagrees. “Find some nice pajamas for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He comes back after throwing out the trash. “I put some water on. Tea or hot cocoa?”

“Tea,” you mumble, rubbing your throat.

“With honey. Don’t even try to tell me not to add it.” Spencer grabs the pajamas you scrounged up. “I’ll fluff these in the dryer, too. C’mon, gorgeous,”

He helps you stand and lets you curl into his side as he walks you into the bathroom and helps you undress, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he tugs the sweater off. You shiver at how cold the air is, and he reaches behind you to turn the water on and let it start to warm.

Spencer carefully brushes your hair out of your face with his fingers, frowning when you pull away a little. He doesn’t comment on it, just studying your face with his intent stare.

“Stop looking at me,” you mumble.

“Just trying to see if you’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, ghosting a kiss over your cheek. “You’ll tell me about it after. Do you want me to help you wash up?”

You pause. “Dunno.”

Spencer chuckles. “Ok, well, I’m gonna go start fluffing your clothes and put water in the kettle. Let me know when I get back?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as his movement creates a draft.

When he peeks back in, you’re staring at the water.

“You have to get in, honey,” he reminds you, voice sweet. It makes you feel like crying.

“I know. I think I’m okay.”

Spencer pauses as his mind processes what you’re responding to. “Okay. Take as long as you need. I’ll be waiting in the living room,”

The water is nice — heated exactly where you like it to be —, and you take much longer than normal letting it run over corded muscles and wash away your sadness as you get clean. It’s nice, and you know you’ll feel better when you get out. Part of you hates that, because it just makes another thing Spencer is right about (and he’s always right about things, so you pride yourself on the times you beat him).

When you finally step out and towel dry, you find your warm clothes on the counter. He must’ve brought them in while you were distracted.

Finally dressed in clean clothes, you drop the dirty ones in the hamper and pad out to the living room.

Spencer is in comfortable clothes — a Washington DC hoodie, sweatpants, fluffy and mismatched socks — and his hair is no longer styled. That’s the first thing you notice. Then you notice the tea, the bowl of perfectly cut-up fruit, and the spread of cheese, crackers, and lunch meat.

“Figured you wouldn’t want a full meal,” he tells you, patting his thigh. You walk over and settle on him gently, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you into him more tightly and presses kisses on your face until you squirm from the contact, giggling. “C’mon, open,”

He taps the strawberry piece to your lips and you roll your eyes as you eat it.

“I love you, you know that?”

“‘Course I do, Spence,” you tell him, voice soft and scratchy.

“Then tell me. Please? Me not knowing you’re upset hurts more than being unable to be here for you. I can at least call you and leave voicemails or talk you through stuff.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping. “But you’re busy and dealing with hard stuff already.”

“And I will always choose to deal,” he says the word like it’s poisonous, “with what you are struggling with first. I signed up to be your number one supporter. Always,”

He hands you your tea and waits for you to finish drinking before he takes it and sets it back down. He holds your hands, rubbing his thumb over the back.

“Okay? Tell me.”

“Okay.”

Spencer smiles and relaxes, kissing you more gently. “Now eat up, sweetheart. It’s all for you.”

You whine at that, and he cuts you off with a stern look.

“My chocolate bars are not proper sustenance for an adult of your—”

“Spencer.” You mumble, picking up a grape. “Shut up. I’ll eat.”

He smiles, pleased, and leans his head on your shoulder. It should be weird, him watching you eat, but it fills you with warmth and happiness as he traces aimless shapes on your thigh and makes sure you’re okay.

title is bc: little by little you will be okay. i know you will. we all will be.

#my works #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #requested

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theloveinc · 10 months

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any hobie and/or miguel icks? 😟

whoever sent this: thank you + i ADORE you. i hope you don't mind i'm switching up the formatting/style a it in comparison to my older icks... shorter list, more detailed <3

(warning: some fem terms used at the end, such as “mama!”)

Miguel O'Hara

- This guy... has some long ass toenails. Type of toenails that poke you at night in bed, and tear holes in his socks.

It's maybe somewhat related to the claw thing he's got going on? Has a lot stronger and faster-growing nails than the average person... but the real problem here is that he's TERRIBLE about clipping them. Claims it doesn't bother him even remotely and that you're the one overreacting when you ask him to... but hardly anything gets through to him about it. You probably even offer to do it for him one day, thinking the offer of a foot massage would sway his thinking and that it'd actually work... but he fought you on that just as easy...!!!

...which is how you came to the conclusion that you have a man who'll even argue w/ you over toenails. Petty boy.

- Miguel is also tired 24/7. AND yeah, it's pretty hard to be un-sympathetic towards that, but he's tired in the... I'm-gonna-prioritize-this-one-last-email-over-saying-goodnight-to-you way. Which gets real irritating when you're asking him to help you out w/ anything, like cleaning up or answering a question or JUST HAVING A DAMN CONVERSATION W/ YOU and he's using "I'm tired" as an excuse when his response is shitty or distracted.

Like one of those stupid guys whose always squinting at their damn iPad when you ask what he wants for dinner... which is ironic given that he'll get snippy at you for not giving him your full, entire attention whenever he wants it. Type of man to start picking imaginary lint off your head when you're simply trying to finish up a text before engaging him so that you aren't distracted.

- Odd about Lyla. Not that he loves her or anything, but she'll like pop up to give him updates about whatever even if you're MID-MAKEOUT session and he won't change that setting. Pulling away from your lips all pouty and squinty only to glare at his watch for thirty seconds before trying to go right back into kissing you.

No. No sir.

(Lyla will also always say something to or-but-usually-and about you, which... Okay, she's an AI and doesn't Get It... but it's still weird because it feels like someone you don't know just walked into the room.)

- Picks his nose when he's too busy to find a tissue, and forgets to sanitize his hands after. Denies this when you tell him.. but you've witnessed this multiple times (he's weirdly kind of whiney for a dude and lazy for a workaholic LOL).

Hobie Brown

- Lovely boyfriend because he doesn't give a crap about your appearance or the idea of needing to "look nice" for a man... but also stupid, nuisance boyfriend because this means he doesn't give one hoot if you try to get all gussied up for him. Nags you about wasting time getting ready because he doesn't need you to do all that instead of just saying "THANK YOU, YOU LOOK NICE." Even probably complains about you feeding into gender stereotypes or w/e when you do something like shave your legs or pluck your eyebrows😭

You try to talk to him about this, ask if he even cares that you tried to look nice, and he skirts around admitting it because he has an argument for everything. "'oughta know I think you're pretty either way"-ass when you just spent an hour trying to look all good for him.

- Tries to share the most obscure music with you... which is like, sweet in concept, but weird when it actually happens since it's never like a generic love song but an eleven minute underground jam session.

Which isn't to say he has bad taste in music, usually it's fine if not fantastic... but you try to tell him you don't want to listen to some dude's first draft of himself banging on a drum set for a full album and he's like: "tsk."

HOBIE. TSK??? FUCKING TSK????????? WHAT ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE????????

(He'll also use his to get out of listening to your music. Claiming his "inconsistency" is why he liked your playlist yesterday but not today. Stop!!!)

- And you know I gotta say it, he's a punk, after all: absolutely refuses to clean his favorite leather jacket, and it smells RANK. He's genuinely sentimental about it, though... and if you even try to bring up cleaning it somehow (even if very gently), he's acting like you betrayed him. Goes through the five stages of grief over you asking him not to wear it on one of your dates, and teases you by TALKING to it:

"Mumma didn't mean that, jackie. She just doesn't understand our lifestyle, does she?" while giving you a (lighthearted) stink eye.

#miguel o'hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie #miguel #atsv #LOL THIS WAS SO FUNNNN I HOPE ITS OK TO READ #I'M EBARASSED THO SO YEEET #SORRY I BAD AT TAGS LATELY WAHH #caitie things #gen #anon

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mydearesthrry · 27 days

Text

baby honey - h.s.

a/n: long time no talk! ive had this in my drafts for the longest but didnt know how to finish it. it has a bad ending anyway but its seriously been collecting dust. i missed u guys sorry i disappeared lol. enjoy!!!!

wc: 1.9k

cw: nothing just fluff

*part of the honeyed moments universe! parts one and two here! ❤️*

“Okay Daisy baby, say cheese!” YN grinned, holding her film camera up to her right eye to snap a picture of her precious daughter surrounded by a mountain of different sized presents.

Today was Daisy’s sixth birthday, which Harry and YN basically made a national holiday. It was the day their perfect little girl was born, bringing nothing but love and light into their lives– how could they not go all out?

Harry was out getting breakfast– per the birthday girl’s request. She’d wanted pink french toast, pancakes, and pink eggs, which had Harry dashing out to the store to get food coloring and pancake mix. They were having a small get together with a couple of friends that Daisy had made back in London, as well as YN and Harry’s closest relatives and friends. It was princess themed, to no one’s surprise, and all of her aunt’s and uncle’s were assigned a princess or prince to dress up as.

YN and Harry were assigned to dress up as Rapunzel and Flynn Rider from Daisy’s favorite movie Tangled, while Daisy chose to toddle around in a dress that had all the famous Disney princesses on it, the skirt part of the dress covered in pink sparkly ruffles that left a trail of glitter wherever she went. YN could cry right now thinking of all the mess she’d have to clean up following this party, but the wide grin on her daughter’s face made every speck of glitter worth it.

“Mommy, y’have to get Bear in the picture!” Daisy whines, catching the attention of the puppy in the corner. Now, Y/N uses the word puppy very lightly, seeing as said puppy was as tall as her hip just standing on all fours. Y/N sighs, but calls the dog over anyway.

“Bear, come here baby,” She calls to the chocolate lab. “Good boy, okay, now sit riiiiiight here.” Daisy’s smile had grown exponentially, if it was even possible. She leaned forward a bit to place a soft hand on the top of Bear’s head, petting it softly and treating her furry best friend with the utmost delicacy.

Harry had walked in during their mini photoshoot, dropping the bags silently next to him as he leaned against a pillar that separated their dining room from the living room. He watched with a fond smile at his tiny family, his daughter in her ‘perfect princess dress’, his wife on her knees with a wide smile, a film camera held tightly in her hands, and his dog laying at his daughter's feet. He watched on, not wanting to disturb the domestic moment, though his attempt was interrupted when his perfect little Daisy caught a glimpse of him in the entryway.

“Hi Daddy!” She squealed, gaining the attention of Bear who got up to greet his dad. Harry leaned down and greeted his puppy back, scratches soothing the pup as flashes of white from his nails played hide and seek with the brown fur.

“Hello, birthday princess!” He grinned, squatting down to greet his daughter who was already running toward him at full speed. Her dress flowed behind her, glitter literally getting everywhere. Harry snorted at the grimace his wife was wearing on her features, a soft groan coming from him when Daisy had connected with his chest harshly.

“Are we makin’ pancakes, Daddy?” Oh, bless her sweet little heart. A pout was on Harry’s lips when she pulled back, his hands remaining on her back in an effort to keep his growing baby close to him.

“Of course, baby. Gotta go get everythin’ set up, though. Can y’go get washed up so we can start? ‘S gonna take me a mo’ and ‘M gonna have Mama help me.” He makes a deal with his baby, nodding while talking, Daisy mimicking his nods.

“Yes Daddy, be right back!” She zips away, running toward her bedroom with Bear in tow. Harry stands from his crouched position, walking over to meet his wife who was sat in the middle of the living room, turned to where Harry and Daisy once were.

“Hi,” He greets, sitting down on his bum in front of her, kissing her sweetly. “Got everythin’ y’wanted, Mama.”

“Mm, thank you, H. Ready t’tell our little big girl that she’s gonna be a big sister?” She whispers through a big smile, voice hushed to keep the secret as safe as possible from her daughter’s ears, even though she was out of earshot.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my sweet Honey.” He grins, standing up out of his sitting position and offering his hands to his wife, who takes them with zero hesitation.

The two work like a well oiled machine, dancing around each other and never once accidentally bumping into each other as they prepare everything to make Daisy’s dream breakfast. They’re just about done when Daisy comes back into the kitchen, making her presence known when she knocks into the back of Harry’s legs, wrapping her tiny arms around the full of his thigh. She hangs on and giggles when he turns her around to have her sit on his foot, continuing the work with his baby wrapped on his leg like a koala bear.

Y/N has a bittersweet smile on her face, knowing this was gonna be one of the last times that was blissfully theirs, the three of them (with the exception of Bear) together before the new baby came. She felt herself getting emotional by the thought, pushing away the fact that she had yet another 6 months to wait, trying to soak in the moment even though there were gonna be more to come in the next few months.

The space is filled with loud laughter, sweet kisses, and tiny barks as they meander around the kitchen, Daisy assisting like a proper angel whenever asked. She’d gotten comfortable on the kitchen counter while her parents cooked her pink breakfast, the small speaker that was next to her blasting the Tangled soundtrack.

“Okay Peanut… I think we’re all done!” Harry said finally, plating the last of the pink pancakes and turning to his daughter who had an excited gleam in her green eyes that matched her fathers.

“Yay!” She squealed, holding her hands out for Harry to grab her. He walked up and wrapped his arms around her, twirling around when she grabbed on, filling the air with laughter.

The family walked over to the dining room, plates in YN and Harry’s hands, a jug of apple juice in Daisy’s tiny arms. They all sit around the table, two chairs on the long sides of the brown spruce table, with two fancier chairs on the narrower end parts. YN and Harry place the pink plates in the center, YN moving the vase of purple and pink peonies bought specifically for the birthday princess to the small table that held their vinyls and record player. Daisy hands the half full jug to her dad, hugging his thigh tightly before skipping to her spot on the opposite side of Harry. YN grabs the seat next to her, plopping down into the chair and turning toward her daughter, brushing her dark unruly curls back out of her face.

Settling in her chair, Daisy grins widely and shimmies in her chair in a small dance, her parents cooing and settling in their chairs as well. Breakfast goes off without a hitch, the tiny family conversing about the princess’ upcoming party. Daisy holds her tiny plastic fork in her hand as she gesticulates with her hands as she talks. Her parents have always been patient with her and let her vocalize whatever was on her mind at any point of the day, not scolding her if she even came into their room at the early hours of the morning to excitedly tell them about the dream she had. After all, she was their little miracle, and they’d do whatever it took to make her happy.

Harry and YN shared a knowing look as they approached the end of breakfast. Daisy’s princess sippy cup was almost empty, and her plate was cleared. YN clears her throat, making Daisy turn her attention to her mom. “Baby, we have something to tell you.”

Daisy tilts her head in childlike wonder, a confused expression on her face, her eyebrows furrowed and turned in toward each other. “Wha’ s’it, Mama?”

YN smiles as she reaches down between her and Harry, a tiny gift bag sitting on the floor between their chairs. Grabbing it and placing it in front of Daisy, Y/N giggles at the gasp her daughter lets out.

“A present? Already?!” Daisy squeals, grabbing the paper bag and placing it onto her lap, eagerly pulling the ribbon that held the straps shut.

“Ah- hold on, Dais,” Harry says, Daisy complying instantly. “Before y’open it, Mama and I wanna say that we love you, and want you to know that you’ll always be our sweet little girl, okay?”

Daisy tilted her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking like an exact replica of her father. “Oh, um— I love you too, Daddy, and you, Mama.”

“I love you too, Dais. Okay, you can open it now.” Y/N approves, phone hidden against her chest, now recording her daughter.

“A baby doll! Oh my goodness!” Daisy squealed, holding up the box about 2 inches from her face. “Thank you Mama! Thank you Daddy!”

“Wait, peanut,” Harry started, reaching into the bag and pulling out another box, which had another doll similar to the baby. “Look! It’s a big sister for the baby doll! It’s like you, tiny!”

“Huh?” She said confusedly. “But I’m not a big sister.”

“Yes you are, Daisy girl. Or… you will be, soon at least.” Y/N grinned, not being able to contain her smile at this point.

“Wait…” Daisy collected her tiny thoughts as she tried to connect the dots, before her eyes brightened when she realized what her mother was saying. “Baby?!”

“Yeah, Dais. Mumma’s havin’ a baby!” Harry exclaimed, toothy smiles and dimples out.

“Oh my goodness!” Daisy gasps, jumping haphazardly out of her chair. “Mumma!”

“Oh, careful, sweet girl!” Y/N giggles, scooting her chair out to prop her daughter on her lap comfortably.

“Y’really havin’ a baby?!” She squawked, frantic eyes drifting between her parents.

“Yeah, peanut, we are!” Harry giggled, ruffling his daughters hair.

“This is the best present ever!” She squealed, aggressively wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you, Mommy, and Daddy.”

Y/N placed a hand on the back of Daisy’s head, a big pout on her lips as she turned her head to look at Harry, who matched her expression with a similar frown.

“My sweet Daisy girl, you’re so welcome. Gonna be the best big sister ever, hm?” Y/N whispered, pecking small kisses onto her head.

“The best, I promise!”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #dad!harry

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vanderilnde · 2 months

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a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol

cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass

pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao

Johnny's world is asymmetrical.

His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands.

It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges.

The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable.

Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.

The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos.

Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips.

His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car.

Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist.

It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride.

But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate.

In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway.

That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose.

Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.

In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”

Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him.

Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”

His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.

When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves.

They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.

Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled.

Not at him, but with his overdue respect.

Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.

Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes.

They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back.

That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings.

Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different.

Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.

Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.

Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles.

But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.

It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.

Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt.

It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews.

It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.

Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend.

The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.

Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–”

The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters.

Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.

But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night.

Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?”

His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.

They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock.

The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants.

Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back.

Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls.

The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls.

Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up.

They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.

“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”

“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”

They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters.

The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all.

The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.

He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago.

That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava.

His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head.

Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock.

Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick.

Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face.

“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked.

“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed.

Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”

And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long.

Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.

He winced. “Easy…”

Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth.

“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”

Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.

Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response.

And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.

Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way.

Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it.

Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”

basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤

#my writing style here is so old and gross and clunky #ghost/soap #ghostsoap #soap/ghost #soapghost #ghoap #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #ghoap writing

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

I know damn well gaz is a bottom you can't change my mind 😤

Like dis man makes the beautiful noises when sweetheart fucks him stupid with her fingers or a strap (I know sweetheart got a strap somewhere in her damn room) and he's a babbling mess like crying and moaning loud so sometimes sweetheart gotta use a gag or her fingers so no one hears (but the boys do hear em and they are really jealous and horny) *BANGS TABLE* AND WHEN he rides sweethearts strap this man HHHNNGGG this man will ride sweethearts strap until he collapses.

But sweetheart being sweetheart she does aftercare like running a hot bubble bath for gaz and picks him up and puts his body in and while gaz is in the bath sweetheart is cleaning the sheets and adding fluffly blanket for gaz and when gaz is done sweetheart picks him up and wraps him up in a fluffy towel and dries him up (because I know damn well gaz ain't gonna be walking for a bit)

And let's him wear her clothes that are pretty big on him like AHHHHH cuddles man this man will cling on to sweetheart while she's combing his wet hair HNNGGG and has falls asleep basking in sweethearts warmth.

(Why did I write this much?)

Soap definitely gonna be jelly 🤭

I'm going fuckin insane.

DO YOU WANT ME TO PASS OUT? IS THAT IT??

Good Boy.°

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick × 141!Sweetheart

[Gaz × black!ofc!reader]

Cw.: soft!femdom, overstimulation, dumbification, pegging, cock ring vibrator, handjobs, mommy kink, begging kink (is that a thing? Probably is idk 💀) mentions of scars, horrible attempt at smut, sub!Gaz, Lil bit of edging, praise + degradation, aftercare, cutie cutesy fluff, there's a surprise in here for Sweetheart 🤭 it'll be in pink, jealous ass brats teammates, listening to people getting it on (idk what that's called)

Reader accessories.: Black!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, detailed reader, reader is 6'5, reader is fully clothed fucking Gaz, reader has tattoos and battle scars, reader has long nails, reader has some big ass hands

Word count.: Long. AGAIN. (IDK HOW TO DO A WORD COUNT DAMMIT HELP)

This ain't the best thing 💀💀 but I had to GET THIS OUT IT WAS SITTING TOO LONG IN MY DRAFTS AND THIS ASK IS TOO GOOD AND W O W I RAMBLED ON FOR SO LONG BECAUSE IM NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT YET GIMME A BREAK OKAY IM TRYING MY BEST 😭 and i made this LATE like 5 am so i was shit tired and just rambled lol also tried out a new layout on how to do headcanons and drabbles... may like it may not idk ANYWAY ENJOY

18+ MDNI

Minors do not interact with this. Thank you BYE.

This man-- HEHEUAHE YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT GAZ

He's such a bottom for Sweetheart. Like in general

He would always be so shy around her; his chin close to his chest, looking up at her with big eyes and hot ears

And Sweetheart would always eat that SHIT UP

She always has a burning, feral feeling inside her when he acts shy around her. Like she either needs to take care of him or fuck him senseless

And when he just gives into her, gulping before whimpering out a quiet "Yes ma'am." When she gives out an aggressive order.

SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPP

Sweetheart wants to take him where he stands EVERY 👏TIME 👏

Just jerking him off and seeing him whine and cry- AAAAAAAAA

Sweetheart should NOT think of him that way. That's her teammate. Her friend.

...which she wouldn't mind fucking and breaking his back. And she had enough of this overwhelming feeling everytime she talks to him. She thought he was shy because he was intimidated by her, or maybe because of the height difference (She's five and a half inches taller than him) or that he has a burning feeling inside of him too. Hell maybe it was all three, so she asks him.

It was all three 💀

But his feeling was to be fucked by Sweetheart. Not the other way around.

Sweetheart was in HEAVEEENNNNN

So we're back to the now, and it's been two hours, they're in her room; Gaz naked, bouncing on Sweetheart's pink thick strap, while she's controlling his cute cock ring vibrator. His legs wrapped around her hips, ass slapping against her thighs.

They're both sweaty, sticky, covered in cum and tired. But neither of them can stop. Gaz feels another orgasm building up, and he picks up his speed, wanting to reach it so badly that he cries. His moans get louder, more desperate.

"Fuck! Yes yes yes!" He screamed out, tears flowing out just like the cum spurting on Sweetheart's tummy. She breathes out, hands smoothing his hips. "There we go, Gaz. Good boy. Such a good cock slut for mommy." His thighs and hands shake, mouth spewing broken moans and whines. "More..." He starts to grind on the strap, as deep as it can go inside him. "M-more... please.. I wanna cum again-- wan' cum.. Mommy please!"

His babbles make Sweetheart laugh. "Your legs are probably so tired, baby. You want me to take over now?" He shivers when her pointed nails circle over his sensitive nipples. He leans down to her chest, hips still grinding on the toy and prodding at his prostate. “Yes… yes, please. Wanna be fucked by you. Ruin me, mommy…”

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

Sweetheart feels her heartbeat quicken. The fire in her belly was getting hotter, too hot to control. She growls, manhandling Gaz off the toy to turn him around. She sits up, hands cupping his thighs as she raises her hips to slide back in. Gaz let’s out a long whine as he’s finally full again. Sweetheart doesn’t speak. Carnal desire took over her, her hips ramming into his ass as he screams out. Sweetheart rubs his bottom lip with her thumb before she inserts it in his drooling mouth. “You’re being too loud, hun. Don’t want the others to hear how much of a slut you are on my cock. Now suck on it.”

He sucks hard on her thumb, tongue swirling the pad. Her teeth grazing his neck, lips sucking on his sweaty skin. He’s trying to be quiet, but her thrusts are making him forget any sense he had left. Fuck and he’s almost about to cum, whines getting higher and eyes rolling back. Gaz gasps when Sweets slows down. “Nah-uh, not yet.” She coos. “I need you to beg for it, baby. Beg mommy to cum.” AAAAAAAAAAAA

She starts to grind in his g-spot and her other thumb rubbed his urethra. Babes he was seeing stars.

He can’t really speak as her thumb is still in his mouth, but he rambles on anyway, whimpering please over and over with his hoarse voice. (I have a feeling that Garrick’s voice goes up when he’s overstimulated) “Fuck, you’re so cute. Go ahead and cum for me, Gaz.” Once she picked up her pace and jerked him off, OH he saw the gate to heaven, had tea with an angel and got sent back to earth💀

They breathe heavily. He can't feel his legs at all, and he can't form an actual thought. Sweetheart puts her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Breathe deep, Gaz. Breathe... There you go, that's my baby boy." They both sigh and she kisses his temple. "You did such a good job, Gaz. Such a good boy for me."

AND THE AFTER CARE OMFGGG (YK THATS ON POINT)

She would hold him close to her chest, their breathing finally in sync as Gaz calms down from his orgasm. He's still moaning and mewling, feeling the pleasure in his veins. Sweetheart looks down at him and sighs with a smile. "You okay baby?" She asks him.

He's still kinda out of it, but her voice brings him back to reality. "Mhgm... M'good. M'so good, mommy..." She giggles at his drunken words and kisses his neck. "That's good to hear. I'm gonna pull it out, okay?" He nods his head. She grips under his knees and slowly pulls him up, Gaz whimpering at the emptiness of his puckering hole. She pecks his cheek and lays him down. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

He breathes out, feeling sticky and hot. He groans out and puts his hands over his eyes. He can NOT believe that just happened. HE JUST FUCKED HIMSELF NUMB?? AND SWEETHEART FUCKED HIM DUMB?? AND SHE'S GOOD AT IT??? How in the hell can he do this but not TELL HER HOW HE FEELS OMFG

She comes back from the bathroom in a white towel. Gaz chokes, seeing the black intricate designs on her arms, connecting to the ones on her collarbone and traveling to her back. He can see black ink on her ankles and some poking out on her hips. She chuckles, "You've never seen my other tattoos, have you?" He shakes his head slowly, like he's in a trance. "I've only... Seen your womb one..." Sweetheart snorts, walking towards him. "Well, you're about to see a bit more."

She scoops him up in her arms, bridal style. Gaz gasps and instinctively wraps his arms around Sweetheart's neck, now secure and being delivered to the bathroom.

Gaz sees that there's a bubble bath ready for the both of them. She sets him down inside, the warm water helping his aching limbs. He sees her towel fly off, looks up, but her fingers snap, and his head immediately whips to the bubbles. "Good boy." She says. (Gaz's mind:FFFUUUUU--)

She slips in behind him and sighs of relief. Gaz clears his throat. "This is uh... it's a pretty tight fit." His shoulder up and caved with his legs half way bent. "Do you want me to get out?" Sweetheart asks. "No!" She chuckles at his quick answer. She leans in, making him gasp as he can feel her hard nipples on his back. And... something else. Metal? Her arms wrap around him while her head rests on his shoulder. "Good. Don't wanna get out yet." She mumbles.

God-- Gaz feels so small with her. Like a shy little man and a giant Amazonian goddess. He can feel his cheeks get hot. Taking one of her hands in his, he lifts it up, eyeing her sleeve tattoo like a kid in an aquarium. He studies it while she watches him. "Y'like it?" She mumbles in his ear that sends shivers down his spine. He nods, his other hand tracing the patterns. "Where did you get it done?" He asks in a low tone, like they're both in a secret place that they're not supposed to be in.

"Back at home. For my 20th birthday. I got this whole piece done for my 20th, actually." She raises her other arm up to show him, his hands going over the different textured skin. "Did you... get tattoos to cover these scars?" When he asked that question, it's like all the sound in the world stopped. He felt like coal dropped in his stomach when she was silent. He was going to speak, to apologize, but she interlocked her hands with his. "I did. There are many tattoos on my body because I didn't want to see my mistakes anymore. So I covered them up."

He breathes out. Thank God she's not mad. But just to be sure-- "And don't you dare apologize." She smiles on his skin, nibbling his neck. He snickers, feeling her kisses all over.

"Wow." She chortles, "Never noticed how small your hands are to mine." He hums, seeing the difference too. (It shouldn't turn him on but wow there he is turned on)

She opens her hands and so does he. The size difference goes crazy 💀 Sweetheart's hand is an inch bigger than his. She laughs, now leaning back on the tub. "You're so small."

Gaz scoffs, turning to her with a frown. "I am not small! You're just really--"

His eyes fall to her chest. He didn't mean to, it just happened. But he looks at her left breast.

And he sees it.

"You... you have a nipple piercing."

"Huh?" Sweetheart looks down. "Oh shit, I forgot I had that on. But yeah, I do. Just the one, though. Hurt like a bitch, so I just stopped at this." She explains. Gaz can feel him getting hard again. The sparkly, rose gold heart ring shield around her dark nipple was fucking calling out to him.

He frowns. "But I never... see it." Sweetheart's eyes widen a bit but turns to amusement. "You lookin' at my tits often, Gaz?" She says. Gaz snaps his head up, like he's seen a ghost. She leans in, their lips almost touching. She coos, eyes dangerously low and lips grinning. "Didn't know you were the perverted type."

Someone kill him now. He shakes his head violently. "Oh god no! No no no no I was just--" Now he was stammering, trying to find the right words to say to not sound like a creep. But Sweetheart bellows.

"Chill, baby! I was just messin' with ya." She winks at him, and Gaz just wants to curl up in a ball. "But I remove it when I go out so I can wear a bra. Sometimes, I honestly forget about it. 'Specially when we're on a mission or I'm training. And I don't think piercings are allowed on base... so I dont really wear it alot." Gaz nods. That makes alot of sense. She covers her mouth and looks away, mumbling something under her breath.

"And I also don't want Krueger startin' nothin'..." He frowns. "Huh?" Sweetheart looks at him and waves him off. "Nothin' , nothin'."

She huffs, staring at Gaz for what felt like hours. But he didn't move, as he stared right back. Heart beating quick for her next move.

Her hand moves under her left breast and lifts it with a smug grin. "Wanna take a closer look?"

That triggered another three rounds of milking and nipple sucking 💀 (which Sweetheart is now HEAVILY into)

After all that, they both cleaned themselves, and Sweetheart dried him off (because he couldn't feel his legs AGAIN) she carried him and plopped him on her desk chair. He huffs out a laugh. "I feel like a princess, being carried and pampered like this." BECAUSE YOU ARE BABY

She snorts and rolls her eyes, putting on some clothes and gathering the bed sheets. "Wear whatever I have. There's some men's underwear in the bottom drawer." She explains. Gaz quirks an eyebrow. "Why do you have men's underwear?" She shrugs, hands full with bed sheets and a comforter. "For emergencies." And then walks out to the washing machine.

Gaz chuckles, shaking his head as he opens her drawers. Some with bras, some with her underwear (it's in the second drawer, he remembers) and he found one with shirts. He grabs a cream colored sweater and unfolds it, seeing how big it actually is. "Jesus... I'll surely act like a 'girl after doing the deed' with this on." He contemplates if he wants to wear it. (He does)

He puts on some black men's underwear, which surprisingly fits him (bit tight around his thighs) he throws the sweater on and looks in her floor mirror. The sweater covers his underwear completely, and the sleeves are big and long, covering most of his fingers. The collar is wide, showing off his branded neck with many hickies. Sweetheart's hickies. He purses his lips.

"Yeah, I definitely looked like I've been fucked."

"Because you have been, silly."

He turns to the door and sees Sweetheart with new sheets and comforters. Gaz blinks. "That was fast." Sweetheart hums, closing the door with her hip. "I found new sheets in the storage. I'll clean the other ones tomorrow. Right now, I'm tired as shit." She makes the bed with ease as Gaz stands there, trying not to fall with his shaky legs. (Yall he was WORKED in that bath tub)

She dusts off her hands as her head turns to Gaz. She freezes, eyeing him up and down. Gaz feels like a piece of meat under her hungry eyes. He doesn't mind being eaten by her 🤭🤭

She smirks, plopping down on the bed. "I like my clothes on ya."

He grins, arms wide out to show how big the sweater is on him. "I'm like a smurf compared to you." He jokes. Sweetheart laughs, collecting him with her arms circling his waist and his hands rest on her broad shoulders. "But it makes ya look real cute, Gaz." She says with another smirk. (Jeez, she's on one today-- freaking teasing and bold as shit)

He could feel his cheeks getting hot. "Kyle." He murmurs, sitting on her thigh. He has a tingly feeling when he bends his legs, but nothing he can't handle. She looks at him with confused eyes.

"You took my ability to walk, so I think you could also call me by my actual name." He explains. She smiles at him, making his heart speed up. That smile could stop wars.

"Alright then, Kyle." Once she said that, her eyes sparkled. "Kyle." She hums, kissing his neck. "Kyle... Mister Kyle Garrick!" She covers him in quick kisses, making him giggle and filled with warmth. She laughs and holds him tight when she flops on the clean bed. "Kyle. I love saying your name." She whispers, fingers tracing his face. God DAMN she has his heart. His everything. Just- take him. Take all of him. So he can end this longing.

"And I--" Gaz reaches up to her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip.

Say it.

"I love..." His eyes flicker to hers, dark irises studying each other.

Say it. Fucking say it.

I love you. I love you and I want to be yours.

Say. It.

"Love... what you did... for me today. Thank you." ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

She giggles, pulling him into her more, his head against her chest. "Of course, baby. It was an absolute pleasure... pleasuring you." They both quietly laugh, the warm relaxation molding them together. Her nails rake the nape of his neck, sending shivers down Kyle's spine. He sighs, wrapping his arms around her chest and leg around her waist. "Goodnight, mommy."

Sweetheart croons, hand rubbing his back. "Goodnight, Kyle." She mumbles into his hair as she kisses it.

"My good boy."

Lil Bonus.!

When I tell you... that EVERYONE. WAS P I S S E D. Except for Price, because his room is pretty far, so he can't hear all the way to Sweetheart's room. BUT THE REST OF THEM??? WTF they wanted to strangle Gaz istg

Hearing the bed creak and Gaz's loud, whiny moans thru the walls was PAIN. And hearing Sweetheart's low grunts and praises to him? Torture. Bitch it was torture. And you know DAMN WELL that Soap, Roach, and Horangi jerked off from hearing them. Ghost, König, and Alex were too fucking pissed to do anything, even sleeping wasn't an option. (They still had raging hard ons tho) Roach hearing Gaz call her mommy-- AND SHE LIKED IT-- he came so hard he had to muffle his cry with a pillow. Soap now knowing that Gaz is the one getting fucked?? And is enjoying it??? Nosebleed. He got a nosebleed and had to stop masturbating to clean it up💀 Horangi overstimulated himself. Ear up on the wall so he could hear everything that was going on, and his overworked cock spurting out more cum on the wall. There's a thick puddle of cum on the floor as well because he's not stopping. Alex is just pissed that he's not watching them (he likes to watch fucking cuck) and Ghost is just so damn salty and judging everything that's going on in that room ("his moans are so bitchy. Bitch boy. Fucking bottom ass fucker. Taking it up the ass. I could do way better than him taking it up the ass..... wait--")

König was just... listening. Just laying in his bed, looking up at the ceiling with a throbbing, dribbling cock, and just listening to them. (WEIRDO)

Next morning, Soap and Ghost were such BITCHES OMFG Soap was so pouty and had such attitude, and Ghost was so DRAMATIC (THEY'RE BOTH BRATS YOUR HONOR)

Okay that's it, bye LOL

THANKS FOR READING HAVE A GOOD DAY 🙏 LIKE COMMENT SHARE AND SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE (I just youtube'd yo ass 🤭)

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httpsuniverse · 10 months

Text

DRESS | JD14

wherein singer!y/n shocks her fans when she reveals her relationship with a person her fans obviously didn’t expect, f2 driver, jack doohan.

↳ TYPE: ig au

↳ PAIRING: jack doohan x singer!reader (face claim: aespa’s karina)

↳ DETAILS AND WARNINGS: fluff/romance

↳ AUTHOR’S NOTE: some drafts i’ve written/made, just needed to clean up the drafts. there’s more but i’ll edit them first before i post em! enjoy ❤️

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig and 1,874,737 others

yourusername last moments with my black hair 🥹 any guesses which color i’m choosing? (it’s my first time dyeing my hair i’m nervous 😓)

view all 397,826 comments

yourbffsig i think you’ll look good without hair :D

yourusername i’m blocking you!! 🫵

yourbffsig KIDDING!! love youu 😌

yourusername love u 🙄

user omg queen!! what if you go blonde 🥺

user i can’t see her going blonde though, it’s a bad idea 😩 purple would look good!

user the day y/n dyes her hair is the day i go insane.

user no because she literally has one of the healthiest hair i’ve ever seen and now she’s planning on dyeing it 😭 what if the hairdresser sabotages her hair and she ends up bald

user GIRL WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF HER GOING BALD IM CRYINGF

user maam what if you bleach your hair 😌

user STFU FONT GIVE HER IDEAS IM GONNA BAWL

57 weeks ago

jackdoohan

liked by danielricciardo, antoniogiovinazzi and others

jackdoohan happy to come away from the #spanishgp with a p2 and most importantly solid championship points, let’s keep it rolling into monaco next weekend! #f2

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user still can’t believe you cut off your hair 😭 i’m still mourning over it, jack.

user congrats mate! 👏🏻

user 🔥🔥

56 weeks ago

yn.updates

194,836 likes

yn.updates y/n seen today in barcelona with a bleached hair 🎀 sources said she came with her best friend to watch both f1 and f2 races!

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user sometimes i forget her best friend is literally a nepo baby, a fia nepo baby to be exact

user huh what

user yeah lol her dad’s one of the board of directors of fia! she was often seen in the paddock when she was young and i think she’s close with mick as there’re some pictures of them both in and out of the paddock!

user WHATTTTT

user WHERE TF IS THAT GIRL WHO SAID Y/N GOING BLONDE IS NOT A GOOD IDEA

user i apologize 😔

user ok but like whats the reason behind her bleaching her hair 🤨

56 weeks ago

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig, jackdoohan and 3,826,829 others

yourusername 22 coming your way 😉

view all 282,727 comments

user WHAT.

user OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG Y/N ALBUM!!!!!!

user OOOOO SHE LOOKIN GOOD 👀

user WHAT THE FUCK IS JACK DOOHAN DOING IN HER LIKES !!!!

user it’s so random pls

user 😭 icb it’s a canon event lmfao

user i think it’s because they met(?) each other in barcelona! i think her bff introduced them to each other 😄

user why haven’t i heard that y/n went to the gp 😧 i was literally there

user she went there for a music video filming i think, she just went to the race during her break she said it during one of her ig lives hahaha

51 weeks ago

[ T I M E S K I P ; A YEAR LATER ]

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig, jackdoohan, mickschumacher and 1,839,938 others

yourusername it’s been a little over a year since 22 was released! as you all know, i’ve written my first full album last 2022 and it has a special place in my heart, as the title song tells the story about being young and carefree ❤️ thank you all so much for all the love you’ve given 22 ✨ as a thank you, i’ve released a new song titled DRESS, which is now available to all streaming platforms!

i’d like to express my deepest gratitude to my label, my manager, my friends, my family and last but not least, my muse–the reason behind this piece, jackdoohan 🤍 this is for you, my jacko!! happy anniversary to us, my racer <3

enjoy the surprise song, everyone! sending you all love, xo.

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user y/n??? jack??? what???

user WHY NOW WHEN I’M ALREADY COMFY IN BED!!!

user y/n, when was this???

user im so confused rn

user I AM IN CONFUSION, EXPLAIN, Y/N, EXPLAIN!!!!!

user can jack fight tho 🤨

user NOT ME LOSING Y/N TO JACK DOOHAN 💔💔

user this wasnt on my bingo card this year

yourbffsig congratulations lovie!! happy for you and jack 🥰 thank me yall hahaha happy anniversary and stay in love!! 🤍✨

— ❤️ by yourusername

mickschumacher loved the song, y/n!! happy for both of you 🤍

— ❤️ by yourusername

jackdoohan happy anniversary, angel 🤍 i love you and all the songs and poems you’ve written for me 😍

yourusername love you soooo much, jacko 💞

user SONGS?!?!?! THERE’S MORE?!?!?

yourusername will be released soon 🤫

user WHAT THE HECK!!!

jackdoohan

liked by yourusername, mickschumacher, danielricciardo and others

jackdoohan so amazed to see you on stage tonight, beautiful. you looked absolutely stunning and happy doing what you love. congratulations on your first concert, i love you ❤️

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yourusername crying!! you really surprised me when i saw you in the crowd 🥺 i almost didn’t finish the song and was thinking of running straight to you!!

yourusername the flowers are pretty btw!! 😍

jackdoohan just like you ;)

yourusername OH??

mickschumacher there are children on this app.

yourbffsig tell them to go away, let these two be in love!!

user oh idk which one i wanna be...do i wanna be jack or do i wanna be y/n

user he came right after his race yall, and on her concert’s first night. if he wants to, he would.

user damn it, when will i be in love... GOD I SEE WHAT YOU DO TO OTHERS ?! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN !!

user the hand placement yall :( hand fucking placement!!!!

user jack is SOOOO in love 🥺

user “you looked absolutely stunning and happy doing what you love” haha guess who will sleep on the highway tonight haha

user you 🤝 me

#jack doohan imagine #jack doohan x reader #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #f2 instagram au #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 x you #jack doohan x yn

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k0droid · 5 days

Text

at the family function - twisted wonderland headcanons

A/N: Cleaning out my drafts :3

Content warnings!: - i'm black so i'll be going off of what happens at my family events - these are headcanons and not serious ones at that, pls dont get mad - these aren't in order (im forcing u to read lol)

Friendly reminder: I am black and searching for moots, specifically black but not exclusively <3

Jack Howl: - the cousin that all the younger cousins want to see - doesn't really like children but still enjoys seeing his family

Lilia Vanrouge: - the grandpa who sits in the same spot every reunion - has told you the same story a million GAJILLION different stories - D1 instigator

Idia Shroud: - hides himself in the room farthest from all the commotion - brings his consoles to every get-together

Epel Felmier: - the cousin who lives 2hrs away - always asking those dumbass superstitious questions abt the city - brings fruits/veggies from his family farm

Rook Hunt: - creepy ass unc, NO BODY wanna play with him - genuinely a good guy once you get to know him - dont ask "how did u and auntie (vil) fall in meet?" because he's gonna give u the strangest love story ever

Silver Vanrouge: - adopted son of granpa - hes NEVER awake when u need him - eats, chats a bit, and joins idia so he can fall asleep - don't know if he's an uncle technically but he's family now so 🤷🏾‍♀️

Cater Diamond: - cousin who's always running errands for somebody, his sisters especially - has plates made for him because he's too busy - always a part of the conversation tho

Ace Trappola: - fun cousin!!! - takes the lil kids outside to play when asked

Malleus Draconia: - also adopted son of lilia - he doesn't leave his room often so they forget he's even there - when he does come down, everyone is like "unc, you've been here?!" - very awkward but enjoys the conversation and card games

Deuce Spade: - fun cousin #2!!!!! - usually on cousin-duty - was supposed to bring the plates but forgot

Jamil Viper: - the auntie in the kitchen - like cater, he's always busy doing something - the family member who asks abt school and expects a real answer

Vil Schoenheit: - amazing gorgeous kind respectable aunt married to some guy (rook) - she arrives an hour early to help trey cook and jamil set everything in place - kinda strict about the tidiness of everyone but becomes lax after eating (got the itis)

Azul Ashengrotto: - the cousin you'd get compared to ("why cant you be more like azul?") - everybody owes or owed him some money at some point - hides all his old photos somewhere in the house

Ortho Shroud: - the little cousin - begs idia to drive him to grandpappy lilia's

Sebek Zigvolt: - loud asf like u can hear his conversations clearly - also on cousin duty - tracks mud in the house and gets told off by jamil

Kalim Al-Asim: - the cousin with 511 siblings

Ruggie Bucchi: - helps in the kitchen so he'll be the first one to make some plates - afterwards ruggie eats on the porch in a rocking chair

Trey Clover: - main cook/chef - unc who's always getting roasted for his hairline (barber fucked him up)

Leona Kingscholar: - 50/50 unc, sometimes he'll be in a good mood and sometimes he wont - arrives on time and gets out of his car 20 mins later (he was sleep) - tells those kids "AYE YALL STOP ALL THAT RUNNIN AROUND" - sat with ruggie on the porch and he just randomly got up and started walking down the street - sometimes forced to eat at the kids table because he wont eat his own veggies at his grown age

Jade Leech: - brought the drinks - brought cards and dice to play with azul

Floyd Leech: - brought soda (in spite of Jade) - brought monopoly instead - he got bored in the middle of monopoly so he just started chasing people for entertainment

Riddle Rosehearts: - the one who organizes most of the reunions - was FURIOUS at deuce for forgetting to bring the plates but cater went out and bought them - got chased by Floyd and collared his ass

ts was kinda ass, my bad, i just want likes and comments cuz i dont have many headcanons of my own

anyways u guys should totally ask me abt my twst ocs (not yuusona) so i can blab abt them <3/hj

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