#we're good to go straight into it now though
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Face to Face (Part II)
Fridolina Rolfö x reader
Summary: you begin to recover with the help of several of your teammates... except a certain blonde.
A/N: another part! the entire fic is now written so hopefully I'll update more quickly :) also don't forget to read part one. as usual this is all fictional and in good fun!
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings ⚠️: angst and lots of it, medical description
"What the hell was that!" Zećira said, turning on her teammate once you were off the field. "You could've seriously hurt her with that messy shit!"
Zećira raised a hand to shove her teammate away, rage bubbling in her gut. You two had always been close at Chelsea when you played there, and you were in almost daily contact since you left. She was protective over you, you were her junior only by a year but you always came across so kind—it was difficult not to want to shield that from the tough world.
Magda stepped in, forcing Zećira away. But her stern eye was more for Rolfö, the one who had fouled you.
"That was dangerous, Frido. Really." Were all the words Magda had to share. But her eyes spoke volumes.
She too had played with you at Chelsea, and knew you to be a sweet, caring, hard working person. To see you hurt was tough to stomach. Especially when it was her national teammate, and your clubmate, responsible.
"Why did you hit her so hard? It's a friendly. She's your clubmate. Now she'll be out of Barcelona's line up for at least a few games."
That meant having to answer to Jona, and Alexia, both of whom would surely not be holding her in their good graces right now. Rolfö didn't even want to think of the state of her phone.
"I didn't mean to…I'm sorry." Rolfö mumbled, not sure what to say. Even she was shocked by her actions, and what had followed. The reality of it was beginning to sink in, how hard you'd gone down, the fact that you had to be practically carried off of the field, that you had some kind of concussion all because of her. What the hell had she been thinking?
Clearly, she hadn't.
Zećira scoffed at her apology and wandered off back to the box, leaving Magda to deal with a now glossy eyed Frido.
"Hey!" Another voice called.
It was Alexandra Popp, who was walking over with a stern look on her face. She made eye contact with Magda and nodded, making it clear there were going to be no fights between them. Popp was good at keeping her head.
She seemed to have none of the grace for Rolfö, though, who she turned to next. Instead she gave the Swedish player a harsh look, her mouth set in a straight line.
"I hope you know you're lucky to not have been carded for that. That was completely unnecessary, and you've hurt a great person because you couldn't clean your game up. So stay the hell away from my players, okay?"
Popp didn't give her the chance to reply, turning around and stalking back to the bench to talk with the coach about who would be subbed in for you.
-
"It hurts," you whimpered to Laura. She had raced to the med bay the second the match was over. Germany had won, but it hardly mattered. Your head was killing you, tears streaming from your eyes. Even with the dim lights the pain was intense. Every noise, every movement, hurt. They were taking you to get scans as soon as the ambulance arrived.
Laura rubbed your skin soothingly, terrified by how much pain you seemed to be in. The doctors had told her they couldn't give you any medication until they got to the hospital and found out how bad it was.
She spotted Popp and Sara at the door, then Zećira as well. She shook her head.
"I'm going to go tell Sara and Zećira how you're doing, okay?" She whispered as softly as she could, and you gave her a thumbs up.
Laura slipped outside, keeping her eye on you through the door's window.
"How bad is it?" Zećira asked first.
"They don't know. We're waiting for the ambulance to take her for scans."
Popp rubbed her temples, clearly distressed.
"Have they given her anything for the pain?"
Sara peeked in and saw you curled into a ball on the medical bed.
"Not yet, not until we get the scans—listen I've got to get back in there…"
The girls nodded and Laura opened the door, assuring them she would pass on their well wishes.
-
Still in the locker room, Frido opened her phone and saw that indeed, a few of her Barça teammates had clearly been watching the game. Firstly there was a link to what must've been a video of the tackle from Mapí followed by a series of question marks; then a long message from Ingrid saying that she didn't know what was going on with her, or with the thing you two had (or didn't have), but that she was there if Frido needed to talk; and finally two missed calls from Alexia, who would much rather scold her over the phone.
She couldn't call back now, not outside the quiet of her room where nobody was likely to interrupt. She knew the voice Alexia would use—she'd never been on the receiving end of it and never wanted to be. Once Alexia scolded her, Frido knew the reality of the situation would settle on her.
So she clicked on the link that Mapí had sent instead, curious how bad the incident looked from the camera's point of view. She hardly remembered it, it was a split second, resentment-fueled decision mixed with a tactical one—when you were anywhere near the goal like that the chances of you scoring were high. Then there was your surprised yelp, and the feeling of skin hitting skin, and Frido had popped back up.
The video started from a wide angle, in which you were barely visible in the corner. But she saw you get around a defender, then start dribbling down the pitch. And she saw her own approach, the way she cut across the field, racing. Magda was there too, behind her. She saw Zećira eye you, prepping for your shot. And then—slam. It looked like it hurt even on video. She'd slid her foot under your left leg, causing you to lose balance as her body collided with yours. Frido took the ball and passed it to Amanda, running off in the opposite direction as you went down.
The video switched to a closer angle of the collision where she could see how you fell first on your hip, then your shoulder, then she saw your head bounce harshly off the ground. There was no audio, but the way your head bounced from the pitch made Frido a little nauseous. The camera remained on you as you laid there, not moving. The game continued as you lay there, still. Eventually someone kicked the ball out of play, Freigang probably. One of your closest friends on your national team. Suddenly Zećira appeared by your side, asking if you were okay. Your eyes were scrunched up, and she could see you trying to breathe through the nausea. Zećira lightly cradled your head with her gloves, the contrast almost comical. You gave a weak thumbs up, not moving otherwise.
The announcer, who had been keeping an eye on the ball until now, shifted his attention to you. And with a pretty harsh tackle there from Rolfö, she seems to be hurt… yep there are the medics. We're hearing maybe a head injury, that's never good. And as a Barcelona starter that means she'll likely be out of the lineup for a few weeks depending on how bad this is. A shame, really. Should that have been a yellow? Clearly Freigang thinks so…
Frido closed the video, feeling sick. She hadn't realized how long you'd been out. The panic in Zećira's eyes was clear in that video, and Frido felt some of it reverberate in her chest even now. The medics were always extra concerned when someone passed out cold. That meant serious impact.
She didn't answer Mapí's text, or Ingrid’s. Mostly she wanted to see if you were okay—but she didn't have any idea where you were. In the medic room? The hospital? And who could she ask?
"Hey,"
Unexpectedly, Pernille sat down next to her. She must be there for Magda, Frido figured, but she hadn't seen her earlier in the stands.
"Hi, Pernille. Where's Magda?"
"I'm not sure. A few of them went down to the med bay… she might be there."
Pernille stayed silent for a beat, studying Frido.
"Is there a reason you aren't down there?"
"I'm probably the last person she wants to see right now."
Pernille grabbed Frido’s hand, squeezing it. Before she could offer words of advice however, Magda walked in.
"Hi, love," she leaned down to give Pernille a kiss.
"Frido." She said curtly.
Pernille looked to her girlfriend, then back at Frido.
"Come on Magda, it was an accident."
Magda crossed her arms, still upset.
"I'm sorry." Frido mumbled.
"You need to direct that apology somewhere else."
The three of them stood quietly, Frido refusing to look up from her shoes. Pernille squeezed Madga's hand giving her a look.
Magda let out a sigh, putting a hand on Frido’s shoulder. She pulled the blonde woman up and into a firm hug, not wanting her sternness to hurt Frido.
"Go get cleaned up. The bus leaves in half an hour."
-
Frido waited until she was back in her hotel room to call Alexia. Stina, her typical roommate, was out for dinner with a friend. Frido knew she would rather be staying in and relaxing after the strenuous travel and match they had had today, but Stina was considerate enough to give her privacy.
Clicking on Alexia’s contact, noting the two missed calls from earlier, was the most nerve wracking thing she had done all day.
"Hi," Frido mumbled into the phone as Alexia picked up.
Part of her was hoping to get a voice-mail, but to no avail.
"Hi."
The silence stretched.
"How are things?"
Frido nearly laughed.
"Pretty shit, I'd say."
Another pause of silence.
"Did you go and check on her?"
"No. No, I haven't. Freigang and Popp are up there with her now. I'm…" Frido cleared her throat. "I think she needs her rest, mostly."
Alexia stayed quiet on the other edit of the line.
"What do you want me to say, Alexia?"
"I don't need you to say anything to me, but I'm sure there's apologies you owe someone else."
Frido didn't reply. She couldn't admit how much she had hurt you. Not now.
"You already know it was messy, and unnecessary. I saw Zećira yelling at you on the field—and to be clear if that had been in a game I was playing in, I'd have done the same. I just don't understand it. I guess I want you to explain it to me. That's what I want from you."
"I made a bad decision. In a split second. That's it."
"You aren't that aggressive when you play. You don't throw tackles in like that, you're tactical. That was not tactical—you could've easily gotten a yellow."
"Alexia, don't you think I already know I could've been carded?"
"And yet you still tackled her." Alexia sighed. "Jona will want to talk to you too, once you're back. We all love you, Frido, and we care about you. Whatever is going on, you can talk to someone about it."
"Thanks… but I'm fine, really."
"All right, then I'll let you go." Frido moved to hang up before she heard the Spanish woman's voice again, "and be prepared to face Patri when you get back, you know how protective she gets."
Frido sighed. She knew Alexia was joking with her a bit, trying to lighten the mood at the end of the call, but it was true. She knew everyone on the team would hold just a bit of anger for her and that made her stomach churn.
“Sí, Alexia.”
Once the phone had been hung up the room felt stiflingly quiet. Now she wanted Stina, or someone, to fill the space. Usually Frido wasn’t one who needed other people’s company to feel secure, but right now she craved it.
-
“The initial scans are clear. That means no bleeding,” Laura said into her phone. She was speaking as slowly and clearly as she could. “She’s asleep right now, they’ve got her on pain medication… No, I don’t know when she’ll wake up. Okay, yes I’ll stay here with her until you arrive, Alexia, of course.”
Laura rubbed her forehead, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She slumped into her chair and looked at you, suddenly unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face. It had been such a terrible day, seeing you in that amount of pain. Fielding calls from your mother (who was coming to visit in the morning), the other German teammates, and the Barcelona girls was exhausting. She had barely had any time to process things herself.
She just wanted you to be okay, no matter what. And she wasn’t sure she would ever forgive Fridolina for this. It was a bad habit, grudge holding, but this felt warranted.
The sound of your breathing was accompanied by the beeping of the machines you were hooked up to. A nurse was supposed to come in every two hours and wake you up and ask you a few questions: your name, what happened, things like that. Apparently it was so they could tell if there was brain damage. The thought terrified Laura.
She had been there when you got a concussion on the U16 team. It wasn’t as bad as this, at least in her memory, but your parents had been the ones dealing with it so she wasn’t completely sure. You had been out for a few weeks, and she remembered that the doctors had told you to be careful of that spot in the future. Multiple concussions compounded on each other, apparently.
“Hey,” a soft voice called from the doorway. It was Zećira. She had her hair down around her shoulders and was dressed in a hoodie and some sweatpants. “I brought some stuff for you, I figured you probably hadn’t had a moment’s rest all day.”
Laura stood, shocked by the kindness of someone she barely knew. Zećira had always been polite when they met on the field, and she was a damn good goalie, but Laura was pretty sure they had never even had a conversation.
“Don’t worry, it’s not Swedish gear. Popp gave me some of your clothes, so they should fit.”
It was only then that Laura realized she was still in her kit from earlier. The dried sweat on her skin started to itch as she became aware of her unclean state. She must smell awful too.
“You can shower in the bathroom, I’m sure nobody will care. I’ll watch over her while you do.”
Laura nodded, taking the clothes from Zećira and slipping away. She muttered a soft thank you on her way, looking back at your sleeping form once more.
#fridolina rolfo x reader#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#my writing#fridolina rolfö#barca femini x reader#woso
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Might be pushing it here, but could we get some bi content for ol' Coop?
-Sincerely, a dude trying to thirst but the well is dry
Your shit is still so good tho, keep it up
Oh, certainly not! If Cooper Howard is 100% straight, then so am I...and that is not the case. I'm focusing on Prewar!Coop here, because, frankly, I think most ghouls' sexuality (especially those who have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years) would be "whatever, genitals are genitals". That said, if there was demand for elaboration on bi Ghoul, I'd be open to doing a follow-up.
I think he'd lean more "masc for masc", but overall I don't think Coop is the sort of guy who really cares enough about what someone looks like to let it stop him from getting with them if he finds them desirable for whatever reason. If you two click, if the feeling is right, he's the type to trust his instincts. Because of that, I think he, pleasantly, wouldn't play a lot of games, regardless of his new interest's gender. If he wants to fuck you, he's gonna fuck you.
When it comes to being public about it, you'd definitely get some pushback, but not much more than if you were a new partner who was a woman. Same song and dance (mostly previously elaborated on Divorced Guy Problems™️ and the general desire to avoid the tabloids dissecting every single aspect of his life to death), but with an extra 10% sliver of him worrying he'll be perceived as less masculine for it. Has nothing to do with you or how you present, however that may be; it's all about him and his very much already-present struggles with his own masculinity. Mister "I think about being a real cowboy again" definitely has some insecurities that living the fancy L.A. lifestyle has made him into a soft pretty boy, and that other people perceive him that way.
Overall, though, once you're public, I think he'd be great. He's very self-assured (even if he has to fake it until he makes it sometimes), so I think his attitude if asked about it would be very "Yes, I also like dick. What of it? Aren't there more important things we could be talking about?"
I think his usual type of guy would be of the "old war buddy who gets a little tipsy and jerks me off sometimes and now oops! we're fucking" variety, but he's certainly not above seeing a cute busboy at a party and asking them off to the closest for a few minutes, or striking up a casual friendship with a guy he sees frequently at the gym. You know, the type of casual friendship that ends in going out for a few drinks and then picking a nice place to park and fuck around in that little two-seater of his.
I'd say he leans top, but hey, whatever feels good feels good. He's a switch, so I think on a very subby day you could get an especially enthralling bottom performance out of him. I think he'd also light up like a Christmas tree if you teased him about afterwards...but careful, if you tease too much, he fucks back.
Also, does anyone else get the feeling this man would absolutely thrive in a M/M/F threesome?? I find that to be a very intriguing idea.
#cooper howard#the ghoul#prewar!cooper howard#cooper howard headcanons#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#fallout tv show#fallout prime#cooper howard x m!reader#submission
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A New Home Ch. 37
Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader
Wc: 1.2k
Back to the start! Previous Next
"If you are, then tell us what part, hm? Name us two idols that are known from there." He didn't let you answer.
You stood frozen. What was up with this all of a sudden?
He tugged at your arm harshly.
"Answer me!"
"It's-it's not what it seems-"
"Then what is it?! How do you know us so well? Are you a stalker? Are you an otherworldly being? I've seen you lip-syncing some things some of us have said. You couldn't possibly know us that well."
Rider refused to let go of your arm as you attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, terrified. What were they going to do to you? Where was your team?
"I'm-" You took a breath in. In a fit of panic for your safety, you breathed out: "You're right, I'm- I'm from another world."
They held their weapons up, they were afraid of you. But more than you were of them, you weren't too sure at the moment.
"SPIT IT OUT!"
You began to tear up.
Mask is the only slightly understanding one. "Weeeapons down, iiidiotss. They're unarmed. Chill a biiiit. Why does this change anything anywaaay? You all respected theeem without issuesss before Rider brought anything uuuup."
You shook in fear as tears fell freely. You never expected this from your idols. From characters you grew to love so much, even more after meeting them.
Rider let go of you.
"...How do you know us?"
You took a breath in and rubbed your arm where he had held it previously.
"You're from a manga in my world."
"We're... characters?"
You nodded your head, beginning to regret everything.
"You're very real to me, though! And many other fans. I...care a lot about you guys. That's, ah, how I know you so well."
From behind you, you heard the clatter of a weapon against the ground. You quickly spun around, taking on a slight offensive stance- almost a protective one in front of the S4 without so much as a second thought. You froze when you recognized your family.
Now from behind you, Aloha spoke:
"... you made us like you on purpose."
You do a double-take between your family and Aloha. You really didn't want to involve them, but you were panicked and not thinking straight.
"No- I,, actually did my best to avoid you guys as much as possible when I first got here, not wanting to mess with the story."
"What changed?" Army spoke.
"I grew comfortable. I felt safe around you guys...until now."
Army's shoulders slumped a bit at the statement, while Skull's frown faltered. Rider's eyes grew wide, and Aloha's jaw hung open a bit. That broke their hearts. Your family? - No. Your... team, stood frozen.
Leo's voice cracked as he spoke:
"You.. were just using us? Because you wanted to be some main character?"
"NO! .. no, I'm. Cod, no. Absolutely not. You're my family- and you.. mmm,, there's a lot to discuss right now, huh.. well, to put it simply- I never knew you guys existed before our first meeting. I promise you."
"But you just said-"
"You- Tasha, Milo, and Leo- weren't a part of the original story. I have no idea where you came from, in all honesty."
"Is that why you were so nervous about certain battles?"
"...Yes. Goggles was supposed to be in our place, winning against Emperor."
Leo chuckles.
"Hah, sounds like him."
He smiles.
Rider speaks up:
"So you cheated in all your battles?"
"I'm.. not sure what you consider cheating. Here, I should probably explain everything, huh..."
You explain how none of your battles were 'canon'. Obviously, since you and your... team, aren't a part of the original story. You explained everything as best as you could, hands still shaking. You attempted to soothe yourself by toying with the hem of your top.
"..then your skill, where did it come from? Everyone knows that you came outta nowhere."
"That's... something I don't quite understand either. Back in my world there were a few video games that gave me my quick reaction time- but being so good with my main gear specifically? No idea how it worked out that way. Maybe from analyzing your guys' play styles? Just like we did together," You gestured towards your team.
... It would be too much to explain that they were from a game, too. This was the best you could do.
It didn't quite add up, but Rider let it slide once he caught the way your hands were shaking.
"Soooo, what you're saaayiiing is that you've been... isekai'd?"
You chuckle lightheartedly at the idea. You nod, you suppose so.
Everyone has questions on their mind, but nobody dares speak up.
Will your family ditch you now? Does anyone still not believe you? The silence was deadly.
"No matter where you came from, your skill is still impressive." Skull was the first to speak up. As surprised as you should be, he was the first you'd assume would be so nonchalant, with that air-headedness of his.
You sighed out. That was two of them that seemed to at least partially be on your side.
Rider stood silent, while the others began calmly asking you questions.
"We're...characters?"
You freeze in place, attempting to script what you'll say next. Rider looked defeated.
"This world is very real. To you, and everyone else here. Including me. My world-back home almost feels... fake, for me to think about it. Like it no longer exists."
That seemed to relax him a little.
"Don't'chya miss your family?"
"I'm with my favorite characters ever, Leo. You think I miss my family? I mean yeah but..." You gesture towards the S4.
"Oh.. yeah, I guess, huh? Man, meeting them for the first time must've been totally wack compared to how it was for us meeting them. Like...woah. That'd be like meeting Squidsune Miku or some idol like that."
You giggle at the comparison, and nod. Something like that.
"What was the most difficult thing to adapt to?"
Army with the technological questions, of course.
"No taking notes, 'kay? But...cod the texture of the tentacles sure are weird. And why are they so sensitive! Hair shouldn't be like that!"
You do your best to keep everything you say calculated and lighthearted, noticing how they're still not completely certain on you.
Aloha finally speaks up.
"I...think I need to think this over."
His tone was one you never thought you'd hear from the eccentric squid. Thanks to it, the S4 members thought over the reality of the situation. Army's brows furrowed, Rider's shoulders slumped, Skull glanced away when you looked at him, and Mask looked between each of his teammates with an indistinguishable expression. It's almost as if they all realized how completely insane you sound. Since when are they this trustworthy? They're the S4. Nothing should get past them. They then backed away from you, one at a time, leaving you with your team.
They stood stuck in place too. You really did sound insane, didn't you? Were you trying to gaslight them? What if they are just characters, then what? Do their lives even matter?
Why didn't you tell your fam-team, anything? Have you been cheating this whole time?
"I think we need some time alone, too." Milo barely appeared apologetic.
You messed up, haven't you?
Looks like you were back to sleeping on that damned bench.
.
.
.
Next Part
May. 23, 24
#fanfic#x reader#splatoon manga#splatoon#splatoon manga x reader#splatoon 2#splatoon 3#coroika#splatoon manga mask#splatoon manga rider#splatoon maanga army#splatoon manga skull
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Did they at least fix what was wrong with Jason? like did Bruce at least fix what he did to Jason? Like im coming to terms with the fact that Jason as a character is now just a prop to serve Bruce whether to make him look good for saving the streetkid from becoming a Evil Criminal, or to give shock value to readers, or to dispense platitudes about the importance of family and how wonderful Bruce.
and that he will never be allowed to be or do anything good unless is in the service of batman in someway, but at least i need to know that Bruce fixed what he did wrong, and that they didnt just forget about that like the other time Bruce was awful to Jason.
I'm not really aware of them even specifically addressing it outside of maybe The Man Who Stopped Laughing, but like. That's kind of the things comics does, all comics I've read will do this at some point or another.
They do over the top ridiculous nonsense and those plot threads often get dropped, I don't think we're meant to take them seriously, just like I don't think we're meant to look at Jason and think of him as the guy who shot an 11 year old child straight through the chest and probably right through his spine, and not forgive him for it. Comics are bonkers and I don't think they're meant to be taken with the seriousness we would of these actions in the real world--otherwise, almost ALL of these people have done things that they could never fix, you know?
I don't know where your lines in the sand are, I don't know what you're looking to get out of comics, whether you're here for the canon or you're here for the fandom--and none of that is said with any shade, there's a whole wide variety of reasons to be a fan of something. I can't really give advice here because it's something you have to figure out what you want from comics and what you think they're meant to be might be totally different from what I think they're meant to be.
And I'm struggling to word all of this, because I can feel how frustrated you are, how I've been there and felt heartsore about the place my faves occupy in canon, like I was and am a Pietro Maximoff fan in the comics, I have intimately known the pain of a character only being an extension of other characters, being written horribly by those who don't care about him, and desperately holding onto that one run where he was written brilliantly even though it was from 20-30 years ago. Versus that that's just the way comics often are, our faves just are not A-list characters, that comics are on a tiered hierarchy and we have to make our peace with that. Not all of the characters we like are the same ones the company likes or the writers like and that sucks.
Whether that means walking away from comics (like I did after Marvel threw the X-Men under the bus for the Avengers in AvX, like I've stopped reading Quicksilver comics because my heart couldn't take it anymore) or just reading comics and then turning to fandom to realize the potential that canon never intended, whatever you need to do to make your peace with how comics operate, that's all any of us can do.
I don't know if you're just in need of venting or if this is truly a breaking point for you, but it probably is true to some degree that Jason's always going to be written as an extension of Bruce's character, because Bruce Wayne Sells So Many Comics, of course DC is going to make everyone an extension of him, to some degree or another. (Honestly, right now, I think the only Bat escaping that is Dick and even he is still extremely tied to his relationship with Bruce.) Until those characters sell as many comics as Bruce does, I don't see that changing.
All we can do is find the moments of something worth having fun with in the meantime, because comics are not a coherent medium, they are messy and tons of stuff is never addressed on-screen because every writer is coming in with their own agenda and it's pure chaos, and in my experience we just have to find joy in the whirlwind of it all.
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The Rehabilitation of Death
Chapter 16: My Friend, The Sopping Wet Beast
With Heket's health progressing and the Harvest ritual setting the flock off in full bloom, Lambert prepares for the biggest festival in the century: a combination of a feast, bonfire, a follower's wedding, all while processing the newly developed change in theirs and Narinder's 'friendship'. Or really, the fact that the cat is now hesitating to disprove it as such. That alone is something new.
Narinder makes good on his promise, utilizing a heretic to open Anchordeep's door in a process Lambert gets to witness leading to a rather interesting conversation. The first crusade into Anchordeep is an impulsive one, and it's far too wet for the cat's liking. Lambert amuses themselves by trying to make the God of Death blink using the power of social mirroring and pushes their luck a little bit too far in playing.
Narinder's exasperation follows him into his sleep. Dreams remind him of a cycle he's put himself into. They are not gentle in handling his memories.
Read Tags/Author's Note for Warnings. Chapter Wordcount: 15,292
#trod au#the rehabilitation of death#narilamb#writings#NOT the drunken gods chapter since that one got too long i have to splice#we're good to go straight into it now though
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huh.
#eli.txt#idk i think ive been slowly forgiving my sister for how deeply hurt i felt when she moved out bc now I Get It. like I Get It#when she moved out i was. 9. and in my head i thought she had left because of me. because i wasnt the easiest kid in the world and i know-#-she had a hard time dealing with me when we were alone. we're so far apart in age we couldnt connect for most of my life. and in my head#that was the reason she left home. bc of me. bc she was tired of *me.*#i know now thats not true. and i understand now why she had to leave because if she felt the way im feeling then goddamn im glad she got ou#this feeling SUCKS. nd like#yeah this probably has to do with my father's daughter and the fact that she refused to even meet me until our dad died.#it took my dad dying for my sister to even be in the same room as me. that really messed with me as a kid. like it REALLY did.#so when my sister left home i just kinda went. oh okay neither of my sisters want anything to do with me! i will be alone forever! got it!#AND I KNOW NOW THATS NOT TRUE ON EITHER OF THEIR ENDS. I DONT HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP W MY DADS DAUGHTER AND I PROBABLY NEVER WILL#BUT I DONT HOLD ANYTHING AGAINST HER ANYMORE BC GOD HER MOTHER WAS AWFUL AND I GET WHY SHE DIDNT WANT TO MEET ME BC OF EVERYTHING#BUT LIKE. THAT MESSED ME UP AND I JUST STRAIGHT UP ASSUMED BOTH MY SISTERS HATED ME FOR SO LONG.#AND NOW THAT I ALSO FEEL LIKE I NEED TO LEAVE I CAN SEE SO CLEARLY. MY SISTER NEVER HATED ME I WAS NEVER THE REASON SHE LEFT.#I CAN LET GO OF HOW HURT I FELT BECAUSE I ALSO NEED TO LEAVE#god i dont wanna hurt my mom though.#dont think i could leave her completely alone in this apartment. i dont think i can do that.#anyway. hi tumblr did you like todays oversharing episode
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when I first started my job, I'd often overplay my emotional detachment to it because I had moved from a high-emotional/personal-involvement industry into a soulless corporate one.
and to, like, justify that decision and explain it to my high-emotional/personal-involvement peers from that old industry, I'd be like "lol I don't really care, you know? the job suits my skill set and I can do it, so it's all good:)"... but I've come to the realization that I actually really enjoy doing the labor of my job and it's weirdly hard to admit that!!
#I think it's because I enjoy the LABOR of my job and don't necessarily believe in the bigger corporate mumbo-jumbo#and also because [mumble mumble about transitioning from working in a pretty ethical industry to a..... not.... ethical one]#which is FUNNY because my calling was deeply NOT my previous industry in any way shape or form#but I could get behind the mission and did fundamentally believe we were doing ''good'' (if flawed) + deeply necessary work#whereas there is a LOT more ethical ambiguity in my new world#(+ some straight up ''oh dear that conflicts with my personal principles ohhhh'' moments lmao though they're high-level and way beyond me)#so it's in some way harder to feel GOOD about the work because it lacks the specific nature of my previous one#and it's like objectively less fulfilling even though it's improve my QoL a lot#which is its OWN issue because then it's like ''oh well I got mine! who cares if it involves EVIL LOBBYISTS!''#(which is like. babe you are so deeply not actually connected to that and just because a guzzling corp cuts your checks doesn't mean you're#responsible for literally anything they do. in fact KEEP taking their money!)#ANYWAYS I worked on a project all afternoon and had fun with it and felt pleased with my efforts so 👍#now I'm gonna go get ready to visit some coworkers from my previous job; we're gonna have a bad movie night and I'm bringing snacks :)
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Hmm... I think actually one of the number one things to frustrate me is people trying to act like they know why I think something and what I think better than I do
Thankfully don't have to deal with that too often these days, have curated my experience on here enough to generally avoid people like that, but yeah
Like maybe let me tell you what I think and why instead of just having decided you've already figured it all out
#it's usually more people who are real deep in a movement who do that#not saying which movement cause it doesn't really matter this isn't really limited to a certain set of politics or anything#you just start getting people who think they're seeing the matrix and how it all adds up#and they think that they've got this read on everyone in the world and know exactly why everyone does everything#and it's just like... mate you're far off and all you've done is annoyed me and made me decide not to let you see much about me#I don't know... just generally don't like people telling me my motives#if you straight up ask there's a good chance I'll give a straight up answer even if it wouldn't be flattering to me#just kind of need to think you're asking in good faith#I'll never pretend that I'm a particularly good person#but I try to at least have enough manners and respect the people around me to the point where it really doesn't matter#just generally would like to see people doing alright in the end#and I keep myself to myself I guess#anyway... none of this is important I was just thinking about the times that I've had people making assumptions about stuff#and it's just like piss off#oh you've got it all figured out and fair enough you probably know me better than I know myself right?#so you think whatever you like about me even though we've never even really met like you just go for it#and now I know enough to know I don't want much to do with you so we're all set
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imagine if you like bought a house and the realtor that sold you the house came by and did maintenance every couple months and it was a pretty good arrangement until one day they stopped doing maintenance and things started breaking them and you called them up and they were like 'surprise! we've decided what this house is really missing is a pool so we're going to build a whole new house for you that has a pool we are so excited about this pool' and you were like 'is this a deflection from your sexual harassment lawsuit you're involved in' and they were like 'the pool is going to be so cool!' and hung up and you didn't hear from them for years and then they called you up again and were like 'good news! we've built the new house, why don't you move in' and you were like 'oh, the one with the pool?' and they were like 'wellll yeah but we haven't actually installed the pool yet but when we do it's going to totally transform how you live in your house so you can see the value' and you were like 'i don't know i think i'll stay in this one' and they were like 'hmm yeah sorry actually you can't we're blowing the old house up with dynamite' and you were like 'what? why?' and they were like 'so that you're not split between your old house and the new one' and you were like 'um, fine' and you drove over to the new house and there was no pool or space for a pool and the realtor showed up to gave you the keys and you were like 'this house looks identical to the old one, i don't really understand why you did this' and they were like 'aha! you see, the old house had six rooms, this one has five!' and you were like 'that sounds worse, though' and they were like 'no you see with only five rooms it will be much easier to do maintenance on the house' and you were like 'but you haven't done that for months' and they were like 'yeah that was the old house which we've just blown up with explosives this is the new house' and you were like 'so how's that sexual harassment lawsuit going' and they leaped acrobnatically into their car like a trapeze artist and zoomed away and you went into the house and saw a coin slot on the bathroom door and called them and you could hear the background noise of a courtroom and they said 'yeah so you have to pay five dollars every time you use the bathroom now, it's our new monetization plan' and you were like 'well this is bullshit i feel like this house is just straight up worse' and they were like 'noo listen the pool is going to be so cool it's going to be so good we promise there'll be a diving board and a tiki bar and those water jets that give young people sexual awakenings' and you were like 'well okay' and they were like 'we've been building this pool for four years trust us it's going to be good' and then you didn't hear from them for a long long time except occasionally when they showed up to do maintenance and if you asked about the pool they just winked meaningfully and asked if you wanted to pay a $15/month fee for a bathroom pass giving you unlimited flushes and toilet paper. and this went on for a year until one day you got a voicemail 'dear resident. we're not going to build the pool lol' and you called them back like 'well what the fuck did you demolish my old house for' and they were like 'we actually gave up on the whole pool like two years ago but we did a whole announcement and it would have felt sooo awkward to walk it back' and you were like 'what the fuck have i been paying five dollars to use the toilet for over these last two years!' and they were like 'listen buddy if you don't like it you can buy the bathroom pass' and then they hung up on you . anyway that's what happened with overwatch 2
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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.
He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.
Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.
"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.
"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.
"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."
He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.
Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."
"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."
Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."
"Is it?"
He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."
"My point exactly."
His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.
---
The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.
Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.
Or so Eddie thought.
Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.
"Harrington?"
"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."
Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.
Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"
The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.
By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.
The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.
His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.
Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."
And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.
Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.
Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.
It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.
They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.
"You won," Steve says.
"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."
"You deserved it."
He shrugs. "I don't know about that."
"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"
Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"
Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.
"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.
"You--what?"
"What if I did mean it?"
"You're straight."
Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."
"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"
"Um. Since you invited me to this?"
"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"
"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"
"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"
"I thought that happened to everyone!"
"It doesn't!"
"That's what Robin said!"
They're both yelling.
"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.
"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"
He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.
"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"
"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."
"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."
Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."
"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.
He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.
"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."
He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"
"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."
Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.
"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.
"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."
And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.
He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.
Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."
"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.
"Why not?"
"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.
Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff#friends to lovers#famous eddie munson#regular guy steve harrington#feelings confession#oblivious steve harrington#the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi#eddie falls first steve falls harder#eddie's so cool about it#grammy award winning eddie munson#vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars#driver roll up the partition please#a little bit spicy
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✧ YOU BELONG WITH ME ENHYPEN—
╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇
( ✶🪽 𝓢. ) 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 x 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 1796 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 !𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ✦ ◞ 𝒞ATALOGUE?!
๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!
LEE HEESEUNG tightens the grip around your waist and pulls you in until you bump by his side. you could easily figure out the fake smile plastered on his face, holding you tight by his side in front of his friends.
“so, is he more handsome than me?”, he whispers as soon as his friends are gone. it took you a couple of minutes to realise why he had a death grip on you, “you seem to like him a lot.” a single conversation with him has heeseung going tomato red now.
“what do you think?”, you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.
“he's got the old fashioned looks, a proper gentleman with a perfect sense of timing. your kinda guy,” his eyes twitched while defining the guy, oh how bad he wanted to punch him.
“you know, you sound like one of my friends with terrible taste trying to set me up on a blind date”, you laugh, wrapping your hand around his suited biceps. “yep,” heeseung scoffs, “he will go blind soon.”
“what do you think of me—?”
“i love you a lot”, you roll your eyes and chuckle, now walking side by side with heeseung, his grip still present on you, “nobody can replace my bambi boy.”
“your bambi boy huh?”, heeseung realises he can never be angry with his pretty girl when he melts the second he hears his nickname by you, pressing a small kiss on your cheeks and pulling you in.
“you want it to be somebody else?”, you smirk.
“hey!”
PARK JONGSEONG keeps a steady frown on his face, watching you finish up your pastry. he's not the type to sulk over things, if there's any problem the first thing he does is talk it out with you, and maybe have a small ice cream date later. but it's been 4 days now, that stupid frown won't leave his face, accompanied with his cold replies, even on this café date!
“is something bothering you these days?”, the fork softly clings against the plate, you try to hold in a giggle, “babe you know can tell me anything,” his sulky face is kinda cute.
“nope, i'm all good,” jay forces a smile. red flag, he's not calling you ‘love’.
“jay, you haven't even touched your pudding,” you sigh.
jay puts on a good serious thinking face, slowly withdrawing his hands from the table and releasing a deep sigh. this thing looks really serious. oh poor jay, what's wrong?
“well”, jay clears his throat before he goes off, “i really didn't think you were like this y/n i didn't expect this from you, if i did something wrong you could've just said that you know how much i love you i would do everything!”
“jay, what are you—”
“and the fuck kinda name's benjamin anyways? like hell we're not in the 19th century, y/n you could do better.”
oh. so that's what it's about. he thinks you're cheating on him, because you left your shared apartment for some benjamin guy for 3 days straight. you don't blame him though, you owe him an explanation.
“babe,” you sigh, “it's not what you think, remember benjamin? my cousin sister's child? i visit her to babysit him.”
“.....the one who called me uncle?”, jay's expression softens, instead he's shocked now.
“yeah!”, you giggle, putting your hand over his for comfort, shooting him a sorry look. “i hate that kid”, jay scoffs, you sigh.
SIM JAEYUN lets out a groan while he stares at the anime plushie in your arms. you're basically burying your face in it snuggling it, and if that wasn't enough the plushie is a man!
no way jake has to compete with a fictional man now.
“why do you need that ugly plushie when im here…”, jake whines, plopping down right beside you and scooting even closer, “am i not good enough?”
“did you just call toji fushiguro ugly?”, a frown casts upon your face as you whip your head around to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. poor him, he's too confused and jealous for this, he really wants to replace the plushie in your arms. “you're out of your mind jake.”
“i am in fact very willing to be out of my mind and be crazy for you,” jake rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you until there's only a pillow between you and him, which he soon throws away. the fresh smell of laundry and cologne floats from his sweatshirt and hits your nose, it always puts you at ease, and you miss the warm afternoons with him, just snuggling and all over each other, giggling over random past memories. “but i know for sure that plushie will…not do that for you,” jake breaks you from your trance.
“how about you show me that?”, you wink at him. heck, have you been staring at him too long?
“now you're talking”, jake smirks, snatching away the plushie from you as he sets it aside, practically throwing himself on top of you, engulfing you within his strong arms to press a series of kisses on your face, “fuck that ugly plushie.”
PARK SUNGHOON sighs, entering your shared bedroom with a bored face and arms folded. some obvious yet subtle signs he's disappointed by you, but the last disappointing thing you remember you did was eat his tiramisu. what crime have you committed now?
the bored expression quickly turns into a playful one as he clears his throat, tilting his head to one side, “are you resisting the urge to kiss and make up with me right now?”
“no not really”, you answer instantly, typing away on your laptop. but then you realised what he actually just said. with squinted eyes and a smile, you turn your head towards him, “kiss and make up? what exactly happened for us to do that?”
“i think it's about time you stop texting your best friend”, sunghoon sits down beside you giving you the meanest eye roll ever. he scoffs, “i don't get why she hates me and you don't do anything about it. it's like you two backbitch about me.”
“you won't believe it but i actually rant about you all the time to her”, you giggle, sunghoon's cheeks blooms from underneath, “she's sick of my extreme love for you.”
you let out a gasp as sunghoon pulls you in his lap, a coy smirk playing around his lips, “she should be. everyone should know i'm the best boyfriend in the world.”
you hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer, “so was the kiss and make up part just an excuse to kiss me.”
“maybe”, sunghoon chuckles, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, “who knows.”
KIM SUNOO stares straight into your phone screen, while listening to you ramble about your day and how it was. and when it glows to reveal the lock screen, sunoo feels infuriated.
“seriously now y/n, i can't believe this!”, sunoo's sudden shift in position causes your head, which was lying on his shoulders, to hit the bed frame, “like this is too much”, he seethes.
you utter a small ‘ouch’ and rub the hurt spot, a confused “what?” leaving your mouth, “wh-what do you mean?”
“you know what i mean, love”, he rolls his eyes, taking your phone and holding up the lockscreen in front of your face. it's not him. it's a random tv show character that he doesn't even know about. it should be him, it must be him, not a guy he doesn't know. “am i really being robbed of my wallpaper privileges?”, he sighs.
you let out a heavier sigh, putting up one of those smiles sunoo can't help but blush to. “don't you worry, love. maybe i don't want other girls to perceive my man. but if you're begging for it, i'll change it”, you giggle.
sunoo let's a sigh of relief and scoffs, “i'm not begging—”
“on one condition though, my head hurts!”
“aww come here, let me kiss it better”, he smiles, pulling you in again.
YANG JUNGWON literally just spawns right behind you as soon as the guy you're talking to at your friend's birthday party decides to make a move on you.
“go find someone who's not taken dude”, jungwon's eyes are green as he spits his words out, your waist already accompanied by his hand. the poor guy leaves in a hurry, not wanting to mess with the intimidating yang jungwon.
jungwon then turns to you, a shadow over his face, he's obviously upset about this, jealous even. “if you were that bored you could've called me”, jungwon mumbles.
“you were in the restroom, ‘won”, you sigh, placing a hand on his broad chest you pout, “are you…jealous—?”
“of course i'm jealous, i leave my pretty girl alone for one minute and some hipster comes and thinks he can have my girl?”, jungwon pauses for a moment to look into your cresent eyes looking up at him, you're smiling, “no. fucking. way.”
“well, it's good for you that i'm yours and only yours”, you reassure him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and you have his breathtaking smile back. he grins at you before kissing you back, “now let's go home, i hate this party.”
NISHIMURA RIKI follows you around like a lost puppy after the dance class with his heart in shatters. just an hour ago, your dance teacher assigned partners for the upcoming festival. and it just looks like the universe is definitely not on riki's side cause you two were not paired.
“listen i'm gonna tell mrs. lee to make you my partner and i'm very sure she will listen, trust me! because you can't just—”
“riki, it's okay! it's just a project it'll be over till next week!”, you comfort your boyfriend ‘cause you know mrs. lee is a tough case, she won't crack at all. “besides, we'll be practising in the same hall.”
“exactly! that way that asshole can tease me how he got you”, riki sighs, plopping down on the benches, “i want to dance with you.”
“and i want to dance with you”, you sigh, sitting down beside him, “but you know mrs. lee would never rearrange.”
riki pulls you in a tight hug. he breathes in the vanilla scent of your hoodie before pulling back, gazing into your eyes, “if that dumbass holds you by your waist, i will go insane.”
“i won't let him do that”, you laugh, hitting his chest.
“can't we just drop out of this already? we can be the audience instead”, riki whines.
“i agree, kissing in the audience and booing them would be way better”, you nod your head. niki laughs, “you're the best girlfriend.”
© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.
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simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.
gambling's illegal, you know.
thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.
a veterinarian.
good thing we're all dogs here, then.
he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.
seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.
what, did they guy like steal them or something?
no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.
incredible. (that's insane.)
he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.
lemme take ya out, love—
don't call me that.
and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—
stop talking, simon.
and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.
a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)
with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."
he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"
always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"
the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.
there's never any rest for the wicked.
"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"
the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.
"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."
you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"
his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."
he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"
"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.
"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.
the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.
"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.
black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"
simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."
you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."
he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"
his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."
johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.
pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."
you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"
he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"
"stop talking, simon."
johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.
--
this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.
simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.
even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.
"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.
pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.
simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.
heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.
he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.
"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.
johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."
he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.
oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.
"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.
simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"
he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."
you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.
"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.
"shit, let me go get my medbag."
he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."
a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.
"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.
"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."
you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon riley x reader
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Lilly: Good morning New Babel, you're listening to Screw Loose, your favorite early-morning exo rig and rig maintenance rig show this side of the white river, I'm Lilly.
The Bear: And I'm the Bear, and you- are on the air. What can we help you with?
Caller: Hello! Hi! So, uh, first time caller. My name is Zuri. I run a barley and flesh farm about an hour south of Isin. I'm in the market for a new rig. My last rig kicked the bucket. But I have an, uh, odd request that I was hoping you two could help give me some guidance on.
The Bear: Welcome to the show doll, we'd be happy to help. But first, I gotta ask, what were you running before and what happened to it?
Lilly: Yeah! We gotta know what we're dealing with here.
Zuri [beginning to laugh]: So we had an Arcadia Y-400-
[both hosts erupt into laughter]
Lilly: And it broke!?
The Bear: Doll what in the hell did you do to this thing!?
Zuri: [laughing] Listen! Listen! It was my grandfathers! We had been replacing parts on this thing since before I was born! It was its time!
The Bear: Lilly, is she dodging the question?
Lilly: I think she's dodging the question, Bear.
The Bear: Okay okay, so what exactly did you do to destroy this extraordinary museum piece?
Zuri: [laughing] Oh gosh I don't want to say it now.
[The hosts erupt with encouragement]
Zuri: My sons will play this game, where I'll be out working in the field. You know, rigged up, focusing on tilling. They'll sneak up behind me with their rigs on, jump up, curl up into a little ball, and try to lock themselves to my back-jack in the cargo position...
[The hosts are howling with laughter]
Zuri: They're- They're damn good at it too! My oldest, Zair, can do it in on solid motion. Its like one moment I'm minding my own business, the next moment I have a whole kid in a 100 pound work rig locked to my back!
Lilly: What a riot! Oh this is just dangerous to put on the air.
The Bear: Ahem, to all the parents at home we apologize in advance, please don't sue us.
Zuri: So- So one day- One day my youngest tries it, but he doesn't twist around fast enough, and the aux battery on the left arm clips an exposed spinal neurohelix. Zap! Neuros are fried. My legs and arms lock straight like stilts! Now I'm swearing up a storm, you know- "You little rats!" But I'm hobbling like a circus performer trying to chase em down and they're just dying. Musta been the funniest damn thing they've ever seen.
[The hosts continue to laugh uproariously at this]
The Bear: Doll we gotta get to advice part of the show or the network is gonna give YOU a show.
Lilly: What a way to go! You hit an aux to the spinal braid? That's fried. Done. Kaput. You gotta scrap that thing.
Zuri: Yeah, we've already gutted it. Old girl is rusting in the barn for parts now. Zair is a whiz, so I'm hoping he can get some good use out of it.
The Bear: So we hear you're looking for a new rig?
Lilly: What's your price point love?
Zuri: We've got a good chunka cash built up. We're looking at something in the 600 to 700 washer range.
The Bear: That's pretty good for a work rig. You've got a lot of choices.
Lilly: I have a sneaking suspicion that this price point has something to do with your special request?
Zuri: So, my oldest, Zair. I recently learned that he's been uh. Well gosh now I'm embarrassed about this too!
The Bear: Doll c'mon don't hold out on us!
Lilly: You called, we can handle it!
Zuri: I learned that Zair had been using the Arcadia to race on the weekends. He and some of the local kids would run street races at night. He's been rigging a grapple harness to the waist-jack, and stripping it before I need the rig for monday morning.
[The hosts laugh at this, though not as hard]
Lilly: Ha! So what you're saying is you want the biggest, slowest, beached-whale rig you can get? Something just impossible to race?
The Bear: I'm thinking an HR&R Pauldron, Heavy Industrial. With that type of money you can get the new 900 series. Ask for the high-stability option-
Zuri: No no! No you don't understand! The damn kid keeps placing last because he's been racing in a junker! What I'm lookin' for is something I can use as a work rig for the days, that's easy to strip and good to race on the weekends. I want it safe, you hear me? I can't stop this kid from racing, so I might as well get something that'll keep his skull together.
[The hosts explode into laughter again]
Lilly: You! You're a good mom! What I wouldn't give for a mom like you!
The Bear: Ma'am, one day, when I grow up, I wanna be like you. I wanna be that typea mom.
Zuri: So, can you help me?
[The hosts can be heard stage whispering for a moment, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.]
The Bear: Okay. You've got a lot of good options here. My friend here wants you to get a sport rig, but that's not gonna have the torque you need for farmwork: Here's what you're gonna do-
Lilly: Would to! Have you seen what the Roadrunner 600 can do? Six point neuro uplink! Eighty pneumatic helices per leg! Tell me that's not good enough to rig a plow!
The Bear: The dirt Lil! We need solid-body articulation! Using a pneumo-helix for farmwork is like pouring sand into clockwork!
Lilly: You replace the dermis with a synthetic sheathe! I get no respect around here!
The Bear: Zuri, doll, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna go to your local Post Office outpost. You're gonna ask if they have any old courier shipping rigs. You want middlegrade. Ask specifically if they have an Albatross W-500, or if you're lucky, an LH-640. These are long-haul light-load shipment rigs. They're ugly, but they're sturdy as hell, built for carrying things long distances through rough terrain.
Lilly: The kicker here is that they're both light-combat certified. Built-in medical and shock response treatment. You'll need to replace the medical gel canisters every few months to make sure they're fresh... And if a certain someone wanted to maybe engage in a little bit of light illegal street racing...
The Bear: Well the Albatross line is built to be constantly refitted for different weathers and terrains. So someone, not saying who, might have a real easy time stripping the plating for speed. That sound good doll?
Zuri: That sounds perfect, thank you so much girls!
The Bear: Perfect! Thank you for the call, you'll have to tell us how it goes!
Lilly: Please love we beg you! Call again! Toodle-oo!
Zuri: Thank you again!
[The caller hangs up, the show transitions into a commercial break]
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dark blue.
tommy shelby x fem!reader
summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.
includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here
a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3
⋆✰
“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”
It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.
It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.
So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?
Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.
He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.
You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.
"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"
Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.
"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.
"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"
"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"
An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.
You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.
Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.
"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"
You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.
He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.
"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.
You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?
"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.
"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"
You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.
"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.
His reply was simple.
"You heard me."
"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.
"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."
You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.
"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.
"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.
"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.
“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.
“M-maybe…”
“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.
“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”
“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.
“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”
You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.
“Yes, Mr Shelby,”
“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”
You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.
“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”
You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.
Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.
“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”
His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.
You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.
"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"
You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.
So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.
Yeah, that was no act.
Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.
Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.
Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.
The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.
He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.
You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.
Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.
"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."
You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.
He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.
"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"
You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."
"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."
You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.
"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."
Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.
"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."
You nodded, cheeks searing.
"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."
He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.
You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.
"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.
You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.
The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?
Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.
Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.
"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."
Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.
So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.
"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.
"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.
"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.
You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.
"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.
With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.
"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"
He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.
You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.
"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"
With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.
You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.
He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.
Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.
"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."
You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.
"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.
Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.
He'd have all of you soon enough.
You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.
"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."
You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.
One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.
"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."
He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.
"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."
Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.
He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.
#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders smut#cillian murphy blurb#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader
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iiiiii aaaaam sooooo booooored
#i'm stuck here for the weekend with nothing to do#then i'm doing a gig on monday and then hopefully go home tuesday but it'll probably end up being thursday#but i cannot live in this house rn i don't wanna come back here after christmas i'm so sick of the people i live with#I've pretty much lived with them for 2 years and they were fine but now things are different and i'm so sick of them oh my god#the only one i'm not sick of yet is in spain so i'm not gonna see her for like a month#but anyway there is nothing to do bc usually i'd talk to my former best friend who has now been demoted to friend status#but he's with his girlfriend all the time and she's annoyed at me bc i asked him can he not have her round every single night#which i can understand why she'd be offended but it doesn't feel that unreasonable?#me and my other housemate both are uncomfortable with her being round like 6 nights a week#it's like she's suddenly living here and we didn't even get a say in it#and we were both friends with her and said multiple times it's nothing against her and we don't mind her being round for a few days#but apparently our other housemate is possibly stirring shit even though he's not involved but apparently he told them that we've been#bitching about them. which we haven't. maybe occasionally venting but that's like private between us two so he's literally not involved#but anyway she probably thinks that we've been bitching about her and is now ignoring us#but she's still staying round all the time like if you suddenly hate us so much wouldn't you wanna stay in your own house?#like idec if she wants to be childish and just straight up ignore me then cool good for her bc at least her bf is still talking to me#and he knows i haven't said anything bad about her but idk he could at least tell her that? but whatever we're both the least#confrontational people in existence and hate drama so neither of us wanna do anything about it#but idek anymore#anyway bc of all this i have no one to talk to and nothing to do for the next few days#so I've literally just been lying in bed watching classic coronation street for the past week#but whatever#someone send absolute help#ramble
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late nights w/ riki
GENRE! fluff
NOTES! gn!reader, est relationship, reader and riki r still in school, wc: 230+ for all
SYNPOSIS! just things you'd do instead of sleeping with riki!
✭ CONVENIENCE STORE RUNS
half asleep with your head resting on your boyfriend's shoulder, you felt light pokes on your cheek, many of them. the sudden touches startled you a bit, causing you to slowly become more awake.
"ki?" you mumbled, he took his hand back, shutting the laptop which was playing a movie in front of you two.
"we're going somewhere, get up" he informed, which confused you because it was 12:36 at night. an odd time to be leaving the house.
"okay..?" too tired to question where you were headed, you slowly got up, fixing up your hair and stretching as he led you out of the house.
the walk was short, but once you guys arrived, you knew it should've been obvious. of course he was taking you to a convenience store, he always does, especially at the most questionable hours. hand in hand, you two entered the luminescent building, waving to the visibly bored cashier before making your way to your favourite aisle. the chips, of course. there were always so many options, from doritos to a knock-off version of lays; 'slays'.
"i'm gonna get a drink, be right back" you told him after grabbing your go-to brand. riki was still deciding, he was always picky about what he wanted for the mood he was in, but for you, it was easy.
"noo, don't go" he held onto your hand tighter after you tried to slip it away, not letting you leave.
"it'll be a second!" you tried to reason, but riki didn't plan on separating from you for a second. god this boy was so clingy sometimes.
"my hand will get cold and fall off, you have to stay!" he paused, trying to think of the best way to bribe you "i'll buy you those gummies you like. i hid the last pack on purpose!" he smirked, knowing you couldn't deny those sour-filled strawberry gummies with the cute characters on the packaging. you gave in, and literally did not let go of his hand until you two got back home.
✭ STUDYING
riki wasn't much of a scholar, at all, and maybe you weren't a complete nerd, but you did try to get good grades. you two had a history test coming up, and not wanting to fail like the last time, you planned on studying that friday night. though, riki was dying for you to sleep over, so he invited you with the promise that he'd study with you and quiz you. now, he was more focused on doodling and making little comments instead of memorizing important dates and events.
"love, if you draw one more deranged cat i'm going to throw you out the window" you playfully threatened him, staring down at the page of solely doodles which was illuminated by a little desk lamp. what previously had a few minor notes written now had many.. questionable.. looking cats.
"i don't get it. who is the bald guy? what did he even do?" he switched the topic.
"if i tell you the whole story will you actually listen?" you tilted your head, admiring his pretty face at the same time.
"well, i'll try"
"after, i'll ask you questions about it, if you get them right i'll kiss you!" after saying that, riki paid VERY close attention to each and every detail of the story, getting every question you asked right, earning him several kisses. he didn't mind studying if it would be like that.
✭ KISSING
straight up, you two will stay up so long just kissing and taking breaks in between to giggle and talk. whether it be on his couch when his parents aren't home, or in the bathroom while there are guests over, you two love to stay up late just kissing.
"wait, i'm not done my story yet!" you pulled away from a long and loving kiss he gave you, since he interrupted you in the middle of a story you were telling, you wanted to get to the good part before you got too distracted by his pillowy lips. "she essentially just called me a rascal, i guess she was trying to offend me?' you continued.
"oh, wow" he mumbled, trying to make it seem as if he were listening to your story, but he really wasn't. you were tired, he was tired, and you were both sitting at the edge of his bed, unable to look away from eachother.
"old people, they really-" before you could finish, riki leaned in again, pressing his lips onto yours, giving you all of his love in a lazy kiss. you couldn't help but give in, the way he held the side of your face and the way he tucked strands of loose hair behind your ear, it drove you crazy. hearing your voice and watching your lonely lips move drove him crazy too. the night was still young, and he had no plans of going to sleep, he craved the feeling of being so closely connected to you, and couldn't get enough of the sweet lingering taste of lipbalm you had applied earlier.
✭ gaming
just you, him, nintendo switches in hand, and a tv. you two were playing mario kart, your character on the right and his on the left side of the large screen. you two were sitting back on the couch, you leaned against him, and you were very concentrated on the game. riki noticed that, and sacrificed driving off of the road to put his hand over your eyes, blocking your vision.
"riki! stop!" you squealed, hitting his hand with the controller, causing him to move it away from your face. he laughed, but you didn't, because you dropped by two places. "i'm not in 2nd anymore! are you serious!" now he was in second place, and close to catching up to first.
"my bad, a ghost moved my hand" he fake apologized.
"yeah and you'll be sleeping on the couch with that ghost instead of with me" you concealed a smirk, staring ahead at the tv as if you said nothing, but he shot his eyes towards you.
"what! i'm sorry! for real!" his eyes darted from the tv, to you, and so on because he still had to somewhat focus on the game.
"nuh uh"
"i'll give second place back to you, baby" he compromised, which sounded like a good idea to you. he stopped moving so you could catch up, replacing him in second place.
"and you have to change into the matching pajamas.." you added to the deal after you caught up, you were wearing the cute set of hello kitty pajamas, and were dying to see your boyfriend in his matching ones. riki knew he didn't have a choice.
a/n: i love this man saur much sigh
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen niki#enhypen riki#niki x reader#nishimura riki#ni ki#riki x reader#riki fluff
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