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starzblvd · 4 months

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Counting Seconds | Ellie Williams

synopsis; A new special way to welcome the new year in Ellie’s old bedroom during a party

an; Wishing everyone a happy new years !! I’m going to be eating grapes under the table and following superstitions🤍

established relationship, panty play, some spit play(?), scissoring, fingering (receiving), dom!ellie sub!reader

જ⁀➴˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Back in Jackson Ellie agreed to help host a New Year’s party with Joel, Dina, Jesse. Of course any of your friends or family were free to join.

Considering the party was held in the house Ellie was raised in during her youth she took the liberty to dress more comfortably. The party was open invite, more people than you’d thought ended showing up. It was a lively party, everyone had plenty of things to talk about since the night was still young. The music would have been irritatingly loud if not for it being New Year’s Eve. Opposite of Ellie, you dressed up and did your hair up. Black mini skirt and your favorite top, now fixing a few flyaway hairs in the bathroom mirror, then you heard someone’s knocking outside the door.

“I’ll be out in a sec!”

Ellie turned the knob and let herself in when she heard your familiar voice, walking in to hug you from behind making eye contact through the mirror. “Think you’re gonna make it to midnight?”

“We have to make it to midnight El’s.”

જ⁀➴˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ Now that it was closer to midnight your vow to stay awake didn’t sound so important. The loudness of the music had the opposite effect, instead keeping you alert it was almost like a lullaby easing you to sleep. Ellie didn’t look sleepy in the slightest, she was swirling her drink by the glass rim staring at the performances on the television.

With her back turned to you, leaning in you clutch her waist in allowing your head to rest on Ellie, using her back as a pillow. Maybe this way you’d find it easier to make it to the end of the night. Ellie caught on early how you were currently struggling to stay up with how you sighed, then breathing back in her sweetly tart perfume scent.

“Cmon, getting tired already? We’re just half an hour away,”

Putting aside her drink on the table, she held her hand on top of your own. Ellie nudged you buy rolling her shoulder to hopefully open your eyes from their half lidded position, but you responded by groaning against her spine and squeezing her to let you stay like that a little longer. Long enough for you to see the clock strike zero.

Standing behind her, Ellie looked from the left of the room to the right checking the coast to make sure not one person would notice to arise suspicion for her next moves. People were on the other side of the room so she took this as her sign to go. “I need to show you something.”

A quieted low laugh came from her while prying your hold away. Ellie held her arm out to you still looking everywhere else to make sure she’s slipping away quietly. Treading more on your toes than your heels you followed her up the steps of the staircase ascending away from the party. Upstairs the music was muffled, Ellie geared towards her room kicking the door open with the tip of her shoe. The hinges squeaked like in annoyance with how she never used the handle, inside her old room the walls were painted a muted blue.

Posters pinned up of almost everything she’d ever taken an interest in, memorabilia of her teen years in every corner of her room. The current studio in your shared apartment shared so many similarities to this room, it was cute really.

Ellie rolled her eyes at your staring, grinning she anchored you down with her weight onto the bed to sit next to her. Immediately she was leaning into your body kissing you fast onto your lips, then your cheeks, then the bottom of your jaw. By now you’ve gotten a hint of her intentions of bringing you alone.

“El’s there’s people below”

“A few kisses isn’t gonna scare them,”

Being so close her words ticked on your skin and so did her seemingly never ending peppered kisses. Regardless of being on a different floor, paranoid you kept your giggles hushed to not be heard by any other soul than Ellie’s.

Slipping from her original spot she sunk down to the ground onto her knees, poised right before you. Putting your hands together for her to kiss the soft skin of your fingers, Ellie was savoring you slowly as to make sure not to miss any part of you. With both legs pressed together you could feel a new need for her. Subconsciously squeezing and tensing your thighs together didn’t help the surge of impatience for attention from you. It would be embarrassing for how quickly you got like this if Ellie wasn’t the same.

“El’s,”

“What are you so whiny for?”

She whispered and even her chuckling was brought down to the same volume you spoke. Except Ellie didn’t plan on keeping so quiet the entire time. She rode the fabric of your skirt up delicately letting the sheen of the moons light gloss your thighs. Whether you choosing to opt out on wearing safety shorts tonight specifically was intentional or not, she pulled the sides of your panties up making a clear, tight display of your puffy lips. Allowing, no, begging her to get closer you further separated your legs apart, leaning back onto the support of your forearms staring down at Ellie giving her lips a coat of saliva with a quick lick.

At first she plunged in with the tip of her nose bumping your clit before moving her face up to properly kiss it. Bringing the panties even more higher up your torso the fabric scrunched to be enveloped in between your folds, exposing how’d your body quickly opened up yearning for Ellie.

Keeping the panties in front of your cunt she put some pressure in sticking her thumb in, only a bit. Ellie was acting insufferable only giving you teases, pushing down onto her finger only made her retract her hand and body back.

“You gotta hold off a little, can’t go giving it up so easily,”

“but, I want to.”

”you sure about that?”

Placing her hand back onto your crotch bottom side wrist up, her index took no time to force the soaked underwear out and to the side, easily plunging into you with her middle finger too, squishing the wetness while doing so. Whimpering louder than you’d like to let out was more embarrassing and nerve racking given the situation outside the door. Wiggling her fingers up and down outed the absolute messy sticky slush you had created in the few passing minutes.

Touching up on the spongey spot inside you with her long fingers completely lost in you, by now you’d wish Ellie moved faster.

On the shelf of the headboard there was a digital clock that had the seconds in the corner ticking by, counting down. 11:53. Ellie shifts upwards putting a knee up on the edge of the bed between your legs, doing this she slid out from you to grab the clock.

Ellie smiled at the red illuminated digits scoffing at it, soft and raspy “I can use this.”

Watching her pushing herself up from the ground to sit besides you, Ellie grazed your skin trailing up your thighs to completely remove and get rid of your panties. Slowly, she moves a bit back to lower her head to kiss your exposed clit, to suck it into her mouth with her lips so she could touch it with the tip of her tongue, plopping it back out with a coat of Ellie’s spit.

Bringing her head up to meet your face she smooshed your lips into another kiss, but you were needy now. Wasting no time to unbuckle her belt, not bothering to take it out the loops instead just pulling down her jeans along with her underwear. You could feel her heavy breathing on your top lip,

“I’ve been needing this all night.”

Ellie kicked her jeans off with each leg, pushing down onto you while cupping your hips. Now you were laid down completely on your arched back, raising your right leg up to her shoulder. When you easily offered yourself up for her like this she couldn’t ignore her urges anymore and immediately straddled her body onto you groaning a moan out when she could put her throbbing cunt on yours. Starting to rock on top of you, moving on you felt like continuous weaker orgasms that fluttered by. Meanwhile you were teased and touched the entire time so far, Ellie didn’t get to receive any attention on her own cunt, keeping everything inside her pants. Letting for her self made mess by watching you, playing with you, to pool and drown itself in itself before meeting yours. Whatever silence on the upper floor remained was filled with the slippery noises that came with the desires of each other and not to quiet moans.

“I need to fuck-…fucking see your tits.”

Her words came out trembling off her lips, like being almost out of breath, obliging by Ellie’s demands you grabbed the hem of your top pulling it off, trying to yank your bra right off too, disregarding the clasps in the back. Ellie copied your actions and brought her t-shirt over her head making her hair all disheveled, it was easier considering Ellie only ever wore sport bras.

Once your nipples got hit by the colder air and hardened she scooped both boobs into her palms to make some cleavage while they bounced back and forth. Looking up, the glowing stars placed on the ceiling started rocking back and forth too. Ellie let go one of her hands to pick the clock back up, staring at the seconds it was 17 seconds til midnight struck. Slowing down the speed she was going at she turned over the clock so you’d see the seconds go down for yourself.

“what are you showing-“

“We’re going to..make it to..zero.”

Ellie was seriously dedicated to pin pointing both of your climaxes the moment it became midnight. Placing the clock below your boobs staring the seconds down with furrowed brows, refusing to give you the satisfaction of cumming before she said so.

“10.” Ellie started counting down, thrusting only once.

“9” Not getting any faster. People started joining in counting down, quiet between numbers.

“8” One hand cupped her own breast while the other cupped yours.

”7” She squished the bundle of nerves in your nipple.

“5” Moving just faster to pick up pace, careful to not set her off.

“4” Forgetting to be careful.

“3” You could fell yourself on the very urge to unravel.

“2..fuck it.” Inconsiderate of the time Ellie pushed herself down on your clit with hers, sliding down on your slick, cumming right outside your cunt entrance. Downstairs people erupted into screams, they couldn’t hear Ellie’s broken stuttering moan, but maybe they could hear the high moan close to a yell you let out right after hers. The liquid slid down to the duvet, it was mixed with your cum and even more so with the last gentler thrusts.

Ellie collapsed right on top of you sandwiching the clock in the middle of your sweaty bodies. Kissing your cheek she blew a strand of hair from your face away, she looked tired but elated. Ellie lifted herself up to properly look at you,

“I can’t wait to love you for another year.”

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iovesia · 2 months

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𐚁֙࿐ BE MY DADDY TONIGHT.

keanu mlist.⠀ 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ ⠀bodyguard!con&wick⠀𝑥⠀f!reader.

synopsis: you have one job for tonight's ball: behave. easier said than done, right? well, your two bodyguards will make sure you stay in line. by any means necessary.

contents. bratty!rich!reader. large age gap. threesome. brat taming. oral (m!receiving). hate to gentle sex? double penetration (+ANAL). sir kink. pure filthy filth. 5.0k words.

⋆ 𓂃 ﾟ .⠀josie's little note. mentally, physically WEAK for my fav duo— this is a spin off to you can be the boss, so hopefully you guys will enjoy :3 if u see any grammar or spelling errors, no you don't ♡

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

“Why not?” You scoff.

“Take that off.”

You roll your eyes, looking back into the mirror, hands gently smoothing the silk covering your hips. Having people paid to stalk your every move, means you’ll always have a second opinion for your outfits. The downside is that they’re 40 year old men with zero fashion sense.

“No way,” you defend, viewing your body in every angle. The pink satin hugged your figure just right, the slit on the side exposing your smooth leg and thigh. Each mirror perfectly reflected your good side— which was every side. “This is totally, like, ball material.”

The annual Senator’s ball. The one day of the year where your father is forced to interact with you, and acknowledge your existence beyond a weekly check to your bank account. You and your family have attended every single one since you were 5, a begrudging effort to boost your father’s campaigns and image.

Family’s everything.. at least to the voters. Chin up and grin when the cameras point your way.

“Is this ball in the red light district?” Constantine snickers, earning a glare from his associate.

Your two bodyguards were spending their Saturday afternoon watching over you, as they always do. Except now at the painstakingly boring activity of shopping. Constantine and John (your original offer of calling them ‘Beavis and Butthead’ were immediately shot down), a pair of older brawny men in black suits, sat in the comically pink fluffy chairs as you tried on several outfits. As similar as the two men look, they couldn’t be more different personality wise.

Constantine was the fun one; could actually take a joke, and was more lax on the rules, but you knew it was just to irritate John. You had no clue why your father hired him, then you remember the handfuls of other guards you annoyed to resignation. Last resort.

John was the polar opposite. Total grade A military asshole. Knows what you’re gonna do before you do it. Wouldn’t crack a smile to save his life. He was the worse cop to Constantine’s bad cop.

“Find something else,” John stares blankly at you.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you sneer. The two of you lock eyes in a silent stand-off, with Constantine just smirking on the sidelines. “It’s my money, not yours.”

“No, it’s your father’s money,” John retorts.

“And daddy dearest is gonna have our necks if we let you come dressed like that,” Constantine interjects.

“Change. Now.”

Your face scrunches up into an ugly scowl, as you march back to the dressing room, muttering profanities under your breath. Like a petulant child, you tug and try on new dresses with aggression in your movements. Damn near ripping the seams.

You come out after a few minutes in a new dress: a baby blue silk dress which reaches the floor, hiding your curves and hips. Like a Kate Hudson look-alike, the silky dress left your back exposed.

“Nuh uh,” the older man shakes his head, arms crossed.

“Oh come on!” You exclaim, turning around in a huff. “You want me to show up dressed like the Virgin Mary. Get real.”

“Yeah, John, get real,” Constantine mocks your high pitched voice.

"You stay out of this—" John shoots his partner a side eye.

“John, I’m buying this. I’m not going to that ball lookin’ like a nun,” you reaffirm, as you take one last look in the mirror. Your hands smoothing the dress down over your backside, you grinned satisfied. The soft material on your skin boosted your confidence for the upcoming night.

“Just buy the dress and let’s go,” John mutters, glancing at your reflection. Constantine smirks, whispering something to him. Your brows furrowed, but you waved your hand dismissively, your mind focused on the ball rather than their stares.

The ride to the ball was painful. Mentally at least.

You sat next to your father in the back of the pristine limousine. Your father typed endlessly away on his mobile, answering the string of emails that flooded in daily. He was a busy man, and this upcoming election only soaked up any remainder of his free time. Stupidly, you hoped he would at least talk to you on the way to the ball— a repeatedly unfulfilled hope.

“Please behave at this ball, I need tonight to go well,” Your father drawls, like he has to force out every word. Talking with you always seemed like a chore.

“I always behave,” you try to joke, but it falls flat when your father doesn’t even lift his eyes from his phone. Incessant clicking noises fill the limo, and you clear your throat, shifting to rest your elbow on the car door.

“I mean it,” he says firmly. “You will not embarrass me like you did last time.”

“That was an accident..”

The dreaded accident he’s referring to was the year prior, and the aftermath of it all nearly cost your father his win. Being a politician’s brat means your only other friends included snobby offspring of other politicians, or mobsters who shadowed them. Your then boyfriend at the time: Richard Dubois, son of an alleged mobster, was getting handsy with the Judge’s daughter. Your firey temper got the better of you, and the words “fucking bitch” left you quicker than the common sense did as you threw your drink on her.

The tabloid nightmare that followed that night almost made your father’s head explode. His furious words echoed in your mind.

“Rich brat strikes again! Party-girl daughter of the running Senator spills the gossip AND drink on— Do you see what you’ve done?!” He reads the article out loud, disdain dripping from each word. “What the hell’s the matter with you?! Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I said sorry..”

“Sorry that I cut your allowance in half,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. Your father sets his phone down, his attention briefly flittering to you. His brows furrowed, as he analyses your outfit. The crinkle in his nose marking his disapproval. “Wick and Constantine will be keeping an eye on you.”

“What?!” Your lips part. “You promised I’d get to be on my own tonight.”

“That’s before I remembered you’re a goddamn walking PR nightmare.”

You didn’t respond and he knew he had upset you. Your words were lost as you turned your face away.

“Fine, whatever,” you mumble, hiding the hurt in your tone.

“You pull any stunts, young lady and I’m cutting you off.”

You turn your head back in a shock, not registering what he just said.

“You’re damn near 21 years old, you’re lucky I loved your mother enough to not kick you out,” was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Wick and Constantine will be keeping me up to date. If I hear a single fuck up from them, you’re done.”

Being monitored and scolded like a child greatly dampened the mood.

Not that these balls were much fun anyways.

The hall was filled with hundreds of familiar faces dressed in the latest fashion. Rival candidates, politicians, judges, criminal affiliates, and of course their children; each more spoiled than the last. There was not a single friendly face in this ball. Each man and woman walked and danced the floors with hungry hearts and dollar signs in their eyes.

Humility was a poor man’s game.

You found yourself talking to a group of girls your own age. Like most rich brats, the conversation turned to competition, each girl showing off whatever luxury adorned her body. Every sly comment or backhanded compliment from them simply bounced off you, as you had no qualms showing off your own expenses.

“My parents are taking us to Cabo next month. We’re staying at the Waldorf,” One of the girls (Aria..? Anna..? You couldn’t be bothered to remember) spoke with amusement at the “awes" coming from the other girls.

“The Waldorf? Oh that cute little place?” You chime in, sipping your glass of champagne. “I’ve been, like, 4 or 5 times already. This is your first time going?” The girl's eyes widened a little at your audacity, influenced to focus on you now. That’s the one thing you were good at: being the centre of attention. You couldn’t help it. The conversation goes in loops, everyone trying to outshine the other, and eventually your glass turns empty.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, disbanding from the circle. Scratching at your skin, the boredom in you grew antsier. You needed some stimulation— something remotely interesting to converse about which wasn’t the stock market peaks, or whatever Fox News was blabbering about.

A notification on your phone alerts your attention, and you check your latest message. Your group chat is filled with details about a party going on a few blocks down from here. Unable to stop the grin growing on your lips, you glance around the room. You prayed that maybe your father wasn’t serious about Constantine and John being on your ass all night. With no sight of two men in black, you make your way towards the exit of the ball.

As you walk down the halls of the ball, a hand gently wraps around your elbow.

“Where are you going?”

You were a bit taken aback at the way John holds your elbow.

“Salsa dancing,” you mock, tugging your arm back. “The bathroom, obviously.” The lie flows off your tongue like water. But he wasn’t as stupid as you hoped.

The dark eyed man looks down at you with a blank stare, as though he doesn’t believe you. He straightens his back, his hand moving back to his side. You swallow, trying to bury the goosebumps swimming on your skin.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” you raise a brow.

“Okay. Go then,” he says to you.

“Well.. yeah..” you stammer, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “I didn’t need your permission.”

John’s eyes never leave your figure as you keep walking. Pretending to head to the bathroom, you hide behind the half-wall, occasionally peeking back to make sure he wasn’t looking. Once the coast was clear, your heels clicked against the polished floors as you left the party all giddy.

The techno beat of the music, along with vibrant flashing lights stinging your eyes, made your movements only more sluggish in this dingy club. Having just entered the party, you were whisked away by some “friends” and immediately handed some shots to do.

You were merely four blocks from where the ball was taking place, and you were quite proud of yourself for slipping past your father and his Shining Twins. Not that it was a hard feat, apparently. You haven’t seen those morons almost the entire night.

You down your third shot, the liquor burning your throat deliciously as your friends cheer you on. Granted, they were just people you linked up to get trashed with rather than actual friends— but it beats drinking alone.

“Hey baby, let me get some of that,” a random male voice calls out from behind you.

“In your dreams!” You call back, earning a whistle and a few chuckles from drunk wannabe frat boys. The incessant pick up lines and cat calling rolls off your back at this point, keeping your focus on the party girls who keep taking shots and howling along to the music.

Sure enough, you lose track of time. Beads of sweat form on your forehead while you sway your hips along to the beat, dancing with your girls. Your throat almost raw from shouting the lyrics over the bass, you’re completely amiss to your phone that’s exploding with missed calls.

You’re in the middle of downing another shot when a warm presence is felt on your back. Annoyance etched on your face, realising that frat boy was back, you turn around “Look, asshole— I already said—”

“Ouch, sweetheart."

Your face falls at the sight of Constantine’s contrived smile.

“Oh fuckkkk,” you whisper, a little too loudly. “Constantine— hey— wow—”

“Wow indeed,” Constantine interrupts, grabbing your bicep. With a loud “hey!”, you slap at his tight grip as he drags you through the sea of drunk partygoers. Your anger turns to pleading then to bratty complaints once you begin reaching the exit.

“Constantine— wait— c’mon—” You try to interject. His unusually calm disposition brewed the panic in your bones. If Constantine of all people was calm— that was your indicator you fucked up. Normally you could play off your rule-breaking tendencies with some witty banter, but tonight was not the night.

As the older man hauls you out of the club, onto the chilly New York streets, you lock eyes with your other bodyguard. John stood in front of a black car, his dark suit almost blending into it. His muscular arms crossed on his chest as Constantine nearly shoves you in front of him.

“Look let’s not freak out now—”

“Get in the car,” when he spoke, it was like there was gravel in his throat. You’ve never heard such a commanding tone from him before.

You sat with your tail between your legs in the backseat of the black mustang. The air was suffocating you and slowly sobering you up, nervous chills dancing on your spine. The two men sat in the front, with John driving as always.

“I was just—”

“No.” John says bluntly.

“But I–”

“No.”

“John plea—”

“Save it,” he commands, his tone quiet but deadly. You glance up at the rearview mirror, looking to Constantine for some backup. He barely turns his head from where he’s sat in the passenger’s seat, looking back at you.

“Can’t help you here, kid,” his voice lackluster, before turning back to facing the road.

You were in for it.

“Have you lost your mind?”

The deja-vu nearly makes you sick. You were sitting in your disgustingly pink bedroom, on your soft queen-sized bed. John stood diagonal to you, in his typical stoic position as Constantine boredly spun around in your desk chair.

“No,” you retort in a duh tone. “I was just trying to have fun.”

“Ah yes, drinking and illegal substances— perfect idea of fun,” Constantine scoffs, his face in an uncharacteristic frown.

“There were no drugs!” You defend.

“Like we’re going to believe that,” John says coldly, earning a jaw drop from you. Sure you were spoiled, complained a lot, and lacked common sense— but you weren’t a liar! Swallowing, you look back up at John’s intense gaze.

“I was just having some fun— Jesus!— The ball was so goddamn boring, I literally thought I would fall asleep!”

“So dramatic,” John grumbles, his dismissive tone so similar to that of your father, it makes you snap.

“Go fuck yourself!” you huff bitterly.

“Watch your mouth,” they warned in a chilling tandem, their voices tinged with a cold edge. Your eyes widened a little at their unified scolding, causing your ego to shrink down. The chair squeaks as Constantine stands up, now joining John’s side.

“Look, I’m sorry, I snuck out,” you sigh, your apology as insincere as it gets. “Are we cool now?”

“No we’re not cool now,” John jeers, mocking your inflection. “You realise you could’ve gotten in serious trouble right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t—”

“Because I had to drag your ass out of there. Who even let you in? You’re not even 21 yet,” Constantine’s brow stitched together, judgement filling his words. Your hands weakly gesture to your figure, the low cut dress speaking for itself. Constantine rolled his eyes, while John released an exasperated sigh.

“Your father’s gonna have a field day with that one..” John taking out his phone made your heart drop.

“Woah—woah— wait no— why are you calling him?” You stammer, jumping up from your spot. The two guards share a look before turning back to you, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Maybe because his daughter not only snuck out, but went drinking on one of the most important days of his life?” John explains, but you were well aware already.

“And so we don’t get fired,” Constantine interjects.

You opened your mouth but John was already scrolling to find your father’s contact information. Suddenly you grab at his wrist, soft pleas leaving your lips. Finally cracking through his blank expressions, he raises his eyebrows a little at how weak you sound.

If I hear a single fuck up from them, you’re done.

You couldn’t get cut off. You weren’t built for anything outside of partying and shopping.

“Please don’t tell him, please,” you ask, the mirth in your voice fading. John clears his throat, his interest clearly piqued and he lowers his phone. You looked uneasily between the two brawny men, as they awaited your next words. “Please.. I’ll do anything. I’m really sorry.”

Batting your lashes, you can see the cogs turning in their heads. You weren’t stupid. You were stupid hot–— but not stupid. Constantine’s little jokes always had some flirty undertones, and as high and mighty John says he is, you definitely caught him readjusting while you were trying on dresses.

Before John could pick his phone back up, Constantine swoops in. “Hang on a minute,” as he holds his hand over John’s wrist. “Anything?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

Constantine side eyes his cohort, his pink lips turning up from a frown into a sly grin. John’s lack of protest or offence at the suggestion only affirmed what you knew. You take a step closer, purposely amplifying the sad bambi look in your eyes. Your delicate hands resting on either chest of John and Constantine, manicured fingers toying with their ties. “It’ll be our secret..”

“Fuck,” was the weak groan that fell from John’s lips. His body betrays him, and he feels his cock twitching underneath the slacks you’re hastily working to get off. The man in black lies back against your fluffy pillows, and headboard, with you on all fours, and Constantine at the end.

Constantine sponges soft kisses from your lower hip, all the way up your spine, his hands sliding the silky dress further up and up. Meanwhile, your own hands are pulling at John’s pants, slowly tugging them down, exposing his dark happy trail.

“No bra on? Dollface, I’m shocked,” Constantine taunts. He’s knelt right behind you on the bed, his huge hands stroking your sides before cupping your pillowy breasts. You whine, looking at John through your long lashes as Constantine toys with your sensitive buds. The bearded man leans up a little, helping to take your baby blue dress off before tossing it to the side. A wave of shyness overcomes you, your naked body aside from panties being eyed hungrily by two men who want nothing more than to taste you.

Constantine pulls you up, your back pressed to his clothed chest as he pinches at your nipples. John’s gaze never leaves your flustered face, and you feel his hands on your hips. Constantine’s lips leave faint kisses on your ear and neck, as both pairs of hands grope and squeeze your soft skin.

“Isn’t she fuckin’ pretty?” Constantine’s baritone voice echoes in the shell of your ear, his huge hands still massaging your breasts. John simply chuckles, his fingers hooking the sides of your skimpy pink panties.

“Prettier when her mouth’s shut,” John muses. The cool draft hits your exposed skin as John slides your underwear down, leaving you bare and ready to be feasted on. John’s calloused finger trails your inner thigh before reaching your slit. His digit traces over your clit, gently stroking it in slow circles.

“John—” you whisper breathlessly.

“Sir,” he corrects.

Constantine pushes you back down, and your face now inches from John. The sound of Constantine’s clothes ruffling as he unbuttons his shirt, piques your excitement, and you can’t help squirming your hips.

The sound that left you was embarrassing as a cold glob of spit trickles from Constantine’s mouth down to your cunt. John watches how you unravel as Constantine’s touch, and he holds tightly onto your jaw. Your big doe eyes are forced to stare into his dark irises, and he drinks in every whimper and squeal coming from those pretty lips.

Constantine pushes his index finger into you, and you bite your lip hard. The two men chuckle quietly at your reactions, and Constantine flusters you when he comments on how tight you are. Your nails gently pinch into John’s thighs, and you feel his hand on the back of your neck.

You take the hint as your fingers pull his cock out from his slacks. Swallowing, your eyes widen a little at the size, your hand barely wrapping around the base. John’s lips press to your temple.

“Suck,” he says lowly,

“Yes.. sir..” the word drips with sin as you lower your head. Pressing pecks to his tip, you generously spit on your hand to lube his cock. John can’t hold back a groan, your pretty little hand stroking his cock while Constantine fingers you was a sight to behold.

Your mouth was so wet and warm, your lips stretched to the brim as you lowered your head even further. John’s large hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place and making you gag. Your heart stuttered at the action, the near lack of oxygen filling your bones with panic and adrenaline. He only lets you up when you choke, and there’s a long clear line of spit connecting from your lip to his cock. You wipe your mouth, using the extra spit to stroke his girth once more.

Meanwhile, Constantine’s slacks dropped as well. You mewl when he pulls his finger back, leaving your needy hole empty temporarily. His pelvis pressed against you, and you felt something hard. Your eyes closed as you welcomed the sensation of his cock teasing you, collecting the slick off your weeping cunt. His tip prods at your entrance, barely filling your desperate hole.

Constantine smirks at your muffled whimpers, the obscene sounds eliciting from you sucking John off only made his own cock harder. “Daddy’s little girl is such a cockslut, who’da thought?”

“You’d do anything to not lose daddy’s money, huh? Even fucking the help?” John croons coldly, and the heat blooms in your cheeks. John’s hand tightens as it finds a home on the back of your head, his fingers pulling at your hair as he drags your mouth up and down his cock.

“Not the first time— probably the only reason the other guards stuck around as long as they did, right?” Constantine lies just to rile you up. He was not gentle as he pushed his way into you, making you gag once again. His hips rolled against you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Constantine’s fingers dug painfully into your sides, each motion of him pulling you back and forth on his cock rattled your body. Your moans and pants vibrated against John’s cock, your tongue flat against the base.

You gasp for air as John pulls you off once again, his fingers smearing the drool and cum from your lips all across your mouth and chin. Eyes shut in fear as he pats your face condescendingly. “You like being used like this, hm?” John’s tone is gentle even if his words are mean.

You nod mindlessly, hand still stroking his cock. John tilts his head to watch where Constantine’s hips and your ass meet, his cock no doubt buried deep into your sopping cunt, and John licks his lips. “Use your words.”

“I— I like—” you pant, as Constantine leans forward, pressing his now bare chest to your back. You relied on John for support, little squeals falling from your wet lips as he ruts relentlessly into you. “I like being used— yes— yes sir—”

“Oh, she fuckin’ likes it..” Constantine mocks your whines, his lips graze your ear. “What would daddy dearest think if he saw you like this? Fucking the men he pays to watch you?”

Your eyes flutter closed, mouth parted open slightly as Constantine fucks you stupid. His cock sliding in and out of you with ease at this point, as you leave a ring of white at the base of his dick.

His thrusts come to a gradual halt, his cock pulling out of you. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the sight of you clenching around air, begging to be filled like the needy girl you are. Suddenly you feel John manhandling your hips, pulling your chest against his. He shifts his hips a little lower, lining up your sensitive entrance with his shaft. Your thighs were a trembling mess as you hovered right over him. Like a fleshlight, he lowers you painfully slowly down on him, letting you feel each inch stretching you apart.

Constantine’s lips ghost your shoulder blades and he kisses along your shoulder, his huge hands back on your breasts. You’re surprised that John hasn’t shifted once, and instead is letting himself be snug inside your warm hole.

Your curiosity turns to alarm when you feel a wet sensation on your other opening.

“No— wait— I’ve never—” your stutters were merely shushed by both men, and a sharp spank from Constantine. John’s hands hold your hips tight and Constnatine pushes you down, so you’re chest to chest with John. With a forced arch, Constantine parts your cheeks, further exposing your holes.

You squirm a little, begging for any stimulation from John’s end, but he remains completely still.

“I’ll be gentle.. Promise,” Constantine offers you reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back. Inhaling sharply as you feel his tip probe your puckered hole, John’s hand strokes the side of your face. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with worried eyes.

“Shh.. look at me,” John whispers, pulling your face close as he slots his lips against yours. This mini distraction allows for Constantine to slide in a little deeper, releasing a hiss of his own. Your whimpers of pain were swallowed by John as you stretched around Constantine. Soon enough, the two men were lodged deep inside you, and you felt full to the brim.

Tears kissed your eyes in the sudden shift in atmosphere, and with the contrasting feel of pain and pleasure of having two men inside you at the same time. Constantine kisses behind your ear, and John along your lips and cheek.

“Taking us so well, dollface,” Constantine croons.

“You’re doing so good for us, c’mon..” John whispers.

Your tears do nothing for your pain, but earn the gentle affection of John and Constantine. The pain spikes when they both begin to move in and out slowly. Your manicure digs into John’s muscular chest, and it pushes out a quiet moan from him.

Their thrusts gradually quicken, and their caring personas begin to drop once again. Constantine’s hands cup the fat of your ass tightly, keeping you spread as he oogles the way he and John’s dicks disappear inside both your holes. The two men can’t help how fucking good you feel. Like the giving gift, they will gladly keep taking.

“It hurts, hurts—” you whine softly, eyes squeezed shut as tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“I know, baby, I know,” John hums, his words not matching his actions as he keeps moving your hips up and down. Their strokes were fast and hard, and with Constantine pressed against your back, you felt completely sandwiched between them both.

Their pants and grunts mix in with your airy, feminine cries of pleasure. They were too occupied in watching the way your ass jiggled or how your tits bounced with each roll of their hips. The spoiled little brat they once knew, was now a whimpering, flushed mess: your doe eyes all teary and lips swollen from how hard you’re biting them.

“Our girl’s making us feel so good— it’s what we deserve after the shit you put us through tonight,” Constantine pants, putting his foot up which makes his cock plunge even deeper into your ass.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry—” your shaky tone comes out, forcing in a painful breath as you cry, the voice of reason in your mind going right out the window.

“No more sneaking out after this right? Gonna be a good girl? Listen to what you’re told?” John coos, cradling your clammy hand on his chest. You can barely speak, so you nod feverishly. You’d agree to anything at this point.

“I think the poor thing wants to cum,” Constantine pulls your head back, and your neck cranes as you look back at him over your shoulder. He sees the fucked out gaze in those pretty irises, and feels the tension in your clench. “Should we let her?”

“I think she’s had enough,” sent relief through your body. You couldn’t even tell who’s fingers pressed against your clit, but all you know is that it made the coil in your belly tighten. The quick circles on your bundle of nerves, was enough to send over the edge, and you exhale a loud moan. The tension in your tummy snaps, as your fluttering walls tighten through your climax.

Meanwhile, your two bodyguards were still chasing their own highs, using your trembling frame like a doll at this point. You could hardly comprehend a thing until the feeling of warm, thick release filled both your holes. All three of your exhausted pants filled the sweaty, sex-smelling room, and you finally collapsed against John’s chest. The animalistic growls came to a halt as they stilled inside you.

“Hey, hey..” a few gentle pats to the face jolt you awake. A little squelch can be heard when Constantine pulls out of you first, with John following. The brawny men lays you on your back, ignoring the dribbles of cum leaking from your holes. “You okay?” Constantine pats your face, a flash of concern on his face.

You nod tiredly, eyes drooping. The mascara stained your face, and the glitter lipgloss was nowhere to be seen anymore.

“Did so well for us,” John says calmly, kissing the corner of your mouth. The stoic, cold, brute you once knew was now gently soothing your sensitive body.

“Good girl.” Your heart flipped.

“Our little secret, right?” Constantine smirks, trying to lighten the mood. Licking your dry lips, you give him a lazy smile.

“Our little secret,” you reaffirm tiredly.

Fin.

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#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john constantine x reader #john wick imagine #john constantine imagine #john wick smut #john constantine smut #bodyguard au #john wick x reader x john constantine

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roseblog-rog · 5 months

Text

I Guess I Do Belong in the Woman’s Room.

It’s always a scary endeavor: going into a public restroom as a trans person. There’s always that fear of being outed or shunned or screamed at or punished or SOMETHING. So many risks, all for pissing. But I digress, I have no time to worry due to how badly I have to go.

I enter the woman’s room to find a group of five girls doing makeup in the long mirror which spans the whole bathroom, lined with sinks and soap dispensers. The floor is white with recently cleaned tiles, the gray stalls packed together on the opposite side. The walls are a soft shade of pink that almost feels…comforting. Inviting.

Though no other people aside from the group appear to be in here, I move quick. I swiftly and quietly do my business and exit the stall to wash my hands, moving to the opposide side away from the group of girls, who are now giggling and applying their different colored lipstick. They’re all really fucking pretty, and I feel a warm blush creep up onto my face. I pray their laughter has nothing to do with me. That hope is short lived, however, as one of them—the one with red lips—speaks in a deep airy voice once I finish washing my hands.

“Hey girl, your fly is still open.”

Shit. Well that’s embarrassing. I nod and quickly fiddle with my zipper. I must’ve forgotten to zip it up after buttoning my pants with how much I was rushing to leave. Hopefully they didn’t notice my—

The one with pink lips speaks now, her voice being much higher and softer. “I’m sorry…but is that a bulge?”

Fuck. Now all five girls are glancing down at the bulge in my jeans. It looks so much more obvious in this new light. My face goes completely red.

“No! No. I uh…uhm…” I struggle to formulate an excuse, voice on the verge of cracking with how high and feminine I’m trying to make it combined with the tears starting to form my eyes. My worst fears were being realized, and the most embarrassing part is my gock begins twitching from all the attention.

Red chuckes and speaks again. “Hey, don’t worry girl. In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only one packing here.”

The blunt response startles me, but with the invitation to look I now notice that all five of them also have bulges, though theirs are much harder than mine, which makes me shiver from…something.

“We didn’t mean to startle you.” Purple speaks in a rough, bright voice, elbowing Pink, who looks down in shame. “We were just, well,” she glances back down at my crotch and smirks “curious.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scary question. We get how it can be in public restrooms.” Pink looks incredibly guilty.

“Haha…yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so startled.” My voice settles in it’s natural state, which is still fairly feminine, though deep enough to warrant ‘suspicion’. The blush slowly fades from my face, the tears subside and my breath levels. I’m safe.

“Though I have to ask…why were you so afraid? You belong in here just like anyone else.” Blue pipes in with her quiet and monotone voice, raising an eyebrow at me.

I itch to leave, but something about the group is so comforting and intriguing that I endulge their curiosity. “Well…not really. I mean, I’m at a point in my transition where I’m much more feminine……” I trail off.

“But..?” Purple prompts.

“But I’m still so tall and lanky, my voice is deep, my stubble is annoyingly apparent…I guess I don’t feel pretty enough to be in here comfortably.”

The last member of the group, Orange, walks forward towards me at this response, clearly checking me out. I fidget in place as she gets closer. She’s taller than me, just an inch or two, but still noticeable as I slightly tilt my head up to look at her face. She’s beautiful. Her voice is so silky smooth it brings my blush right back onto my face.

“I think you’re pretty.”

I look down at the ground, my blush reaching embarrassing levels of red. I blush way too easily. “Thank you, uh, I think you’re pretty too.” I notice just how much my voice wobbles, whether it be from embarrassment or being so flustered.

Orange lifts her right hand up to my chin, using her pointer finger to gently lift my face back up to meet her gaze. I twitch again, ugh. “I mean it, how could you think you aren’t pretty enough to be here?”

She turns my body to face the mirror, and I really look at myself: my red and freckled face, my long blonde hair, my wide hips, my bulked up arms, my boobs…everything. Orange stands right behind me, softly smiling as she moves her hands down my waist. It feels so fucking good, I’ve always been so sensitive to touch…but…

“W..wait! I barely know you.” I stutter out as I move away from her. My hardening gock betrays my sentiment, but I ignore it.

Orange’s gaze softens. “That’s okay…forgive me for being so forward.” She glances down. “Though it seems like someone wants more.”

My face feels so hot I think I might just die. I can barely even get any words out, just mindless stutters. The only word I manage to speak before my mind completely blanks is “Please.”

Orange’s gaze darkens with a smirk. “Girls! Let’s help her realize just how pretty she is.”

The five of them now crowd around me, moving me so I once again face the mirror. I’m shaking, my now fully erect gock starting to drip as Red lifts my shirt off of me. Pink goes to undo my jean button and zipper while Black pulls them down. Blue undoes my bra while Orange once again begins feeling up my now exposed body. Despite the circumstances it feels so…freeing. So beautiful and—oh FUCK.

Red begins to kiss just above my right breast, leaving a very obvious lipstick mark. The five of them grin so simultaneously it’s almost terrifying. Almost. They all begin feeling me up while kissing me with their multicolored lips. I’m moaning and whimpering so much at this point that one of them exclaims “Looks like someone’s a noisemaker. She’s adorable!” However, my mind is so fuzzy and warm at this point that I can’t even tell who says it.

They’re pressed so closely against my shaking frame that it’s impossible for me to fall to my knees despite my wobbling. I can feel their hot bodies against mine, hear their heavy breathing as we all start to sweat. My skin begins to be covered with red and pink and purple and blue and orange. Little reminders of this wonderful group.

Soon enough one of them pulls my panties down and immediately makes an excited noise at my hard, dripping gock. “Holy shit! You’re gorgeous!” I then feel the now familiar sensation of a mouth being closed around it, a tongue starting to feel around it, and this earns several loud moans. The kisses from the other four girls get rougher and more sensual: sucking and biting and licking all over my quivering frame.

I feel bliss, seeing my naked body being marked and used and sucked by all these women, and I start to feel so beautiful. I notice the clear markings and lip stains…but I also notice my soft skin and nice curves and all the little things I don’t usually stop to look at. I notice how pretty and shiny my gock is, as each girl takes turns sucking on it.

I feel everything. There’s so much stimulus that I start shaking harder and moaning even more. I can barely hold myself up, but one of them is clutching me tightly by the hips to keep me from falling. “I want you to say how pretty you are.” Of course. Who am I to deny her?

“I’m pretty.” I barely get the words out.

“Again. Say it like you mean it.”

I feel myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, a rare sensation for me with how far my transition is. I’m now completely coated in multicolored lips and bite marks and hickeys and various fluids. It’s…well, it’s pretty.

“I’m pretty!” I shout it this time, staring myself down in the mirror.

“One more time, you’re doing so good.”

“I’m pretty! I’m so fucking pretty!” I lock eyes with myself as I cum into whoever’s mouth is sucking me. I’m breathing so heavily I’m almost afraid for my safety…but these women are here for me. I’m okay.

They help me sit down and crowd closely around me, the scent of our sweat and their makeup becoming much more apparent. It’s all so wonderful and safe and relaxing that my eyes start to shut as they coddle me and play with my hair.

“It’s okay baby, you can rest.”

The last thought running through my mind is how pretty I am before I fade out of consciousness.

~~~

MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT WOAG!!! Because this is such a momentous occasion and I am so awesome, @xenasaur @lilithtransrights enjoy my cool lil thing.

#(ro)s(e)mut #hornyposting #bottomposting #:3 #transfem #trans #lesbian #transfem lesbian #i am actually the most normal ever #nsft

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sushirrrry · 3 months

Note

would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

“Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

#harry styles x original character #harry writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluffy #harry styles au #harry styles #wattpadwriter #wattpad #harry wattpad #harry styles fanfic #ask #hs #harry styles fanfiction #anon ask #blurb writing #writing blurb #bound

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cheralith · 10 months

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all.

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble.

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals.

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired.

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight.

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening.

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them.

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh.

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week.

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions.

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity.

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event.

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity.

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely.

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue.

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly.

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again.

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight.

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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dilfartist · 11 months

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Missed - short (pt.2)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; it’s the week after Leon’s attack and the scientists examining and aiding Leon, need your assistance.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW; Dead dove do not eat, non-con, there isn’t really a smut scene, depends on how you interpret it, nonconsensual touching, messed up shit, ooc Leon. NSFW. Also tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged but its acting weird so few may not be notified.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Nothing seems real to you anymore.

Your boyfriend working for the government was more than enough news to handle, but Leon obtaining some parasite, becoming one himself understandably tended to hurt your head.

After last week's events, you come by daily. While they did request this of you, you would have done it anyways.

Every day you wake then drive straight to the facility holding him; never missing a day. And with each passing day, he grows worse. His body changed, sprouting more veins than the last time you saw him. He looks lifeless. His baby blue eyes are now a piercing ruby color, that stare into your soul.

Leon as a person has altered. He’s more touchy, touching you anytime he can. Leon doesn’t care for your opinion, or consent on the matter. Not anymore. Aggression is a main part of his personality now. While Leon was rarely aggressive with you, it still terrified you to see him throw a tantrum and nearly rip out a security guard’s throat because you wanted to leave early.

His presence alone has grown suffocating. And You’re starting to get uncomfortable just being around him.

And the experimenters monitoring Leon aren't helping. They only ever approve of you around to gather intel. Sometimes they’ll guilt you into staying in his enclosure, observing his actions on the other side of a double mirror. Other times they’d full-on pay you to spend five or more hours with Leon. Of course, you’d have no issues if Leon acted like his old self. But that was the issue. He wasn't himself anymore.

It’s currently two o’clock and you’re attending Leon’s daily visits.

“We have one more experiment we’d like to run on Leon, but we need your help to explore what we’d like to explore.”

You nod, observing Leon from the other side of the double mirror. Leon sits crisscrossed next to a large television watching MTV mindlessly, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Leon sports grey sweatpants and a slight sauce messy white tee.

You turn your head finally providing your attention to the scientist beside you, “What is it?” you questioned.

She fixed her glasses to look down at her clipboard, “Well, Leon has been very emotional lately. We’d appreciate it if you’d go inside and just talk with him.”

You lift an eyebrow looking at her septically, “Is that all?”

She nods. “Yes, that is all. You know he only communicates with you.”

“Alright then.”

You enter Leon’s isolation when the door slides open. Leon’s room contained paper-white walls, an extensive mirror, both a couch and bed on opposite sides of each other, a television, and a bathroom area. It felt like a zoo enclosure.

Leon took a minute to glance your way. He was too captivated by the flashing images on the television. Wanting to get the interaction over with, you called out for him. “Leon.”

Leon’s eyes darted in your direction. “(Name)!” he jumped up, jogging over to you. He hugged you tightly, running kisses up and down your neck. You're frozen in an awkward position, “Hey, missed you too, Lee.”

Leon ceases his kissing, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Been wondering when’s the next time you’d visit.”

You chuckle, “I visit every day, Leon.”

“It feels like an eternity when you're not around.”

Leon and you lay on the couch, Leon resting his head on top of your chest. You held him close, staring at the ceiling. For abeat there was a pregnant silence, the both of you focusing on each other’s company. Then Leon spoke. Leon asked about your life: how was work? Was anything new happing? Any recent drama. He yearned for a bit of normalcy. Wanted to forget about Spain. Just wanted his main reflections on you.

Since Leon’s trip nothing was the same, not for him. Not for you. While, yes, his normal life ended after the raccoon city incident, he managed to somehow have a- what would you call it? Semi-normal life. Living with you at least.

But now it was gone. The las plazas had terminated any chance of normality for Leon. And if by chance the government’s scientists somehow cured Leon of his parasite, he’d still be left with the side effects of retaining the Las plagas for as long as he did.

Leon’s body had changed in such drastic ways. And his main concern was the upsurge in his libido.

Hours and hours he’d fist his cock, mulling on the times you’ve sucked his cock. No matter how hard, how fast, or even the time spent he couldn't stop. It hurt too much if he did. The other day the pain didn't go away until he fainted from exhaustion. He needed you. He needed to stuff you so bad it physically pained him.

His mind was barraged with thoughts of breeding your sweet pussy. Leon wasn’t the idea of having kids with you, honestly, it thought about a lot. However, this was different. It was an obsession now. Thoughts on breeding you made him cum so quickly, it became his number one fantasy.

Laying here listening to your rambling on the next-door neighbor's fight last night, his nose picks up an ambrosial smell originating from you. You smell sweet. Oh so, so, so sweet.

Leon’s ears ring, deafening him. His eyes focus on your clothed thighs. How he missed the plush skin he used to lay on after a hard week of work. More than that, he missed planting kisses on them; earing drawled out moans of his name.

Almost like an instinct, Leon’s rough, calloused, hands griped your hips. You halt and looked down at him with curiousness. Uncertain of his next actions, you press your hands against him. Worriedly you utter his name, “Leon?”

Leon refuses to acknowledge the call of his name. His main priority being his cock beginning to stiffen in his sweats.

You swallow nervously, endeavoring to pry his hands off. “Leon, please take your hands off me.” you plead in a stern manner, to come off more as a command.

Leon shakes his head. “No,” he responded, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much I need you, (Name). It's torture not having you stroke me.” he nearly moans at the last part. He climbs up the couch to be face to face.

Leon’s eyes held an immense dose of desire as he looks at you through his eyelashes. “Please touch me, baby,” he whines. “Want ‘ya so bad!” he grips your hand, placing it near your mouth to plant a kiss.

You glance at the mirror, silently pleading for assistance. Comprehending Leon’s increase in strength, kicking him off wouldn't be an option since his grip on you tautened. “Leon, stop!”

Quickly you thought of a method of escape. You acted, moving to the side for your body to decline to the ground. Both you and Leon fell to the ground, dragging cushions with you. Immediately you are on your feet, dashing to the door. You slam your fist against the metal, bruising them in the process. You could care less. Your shouting so loud your throat starts to sting. Yet there’s no reply.

You know there are people out there! You saw at least five before entering.

Then a thought comes to mind. Did they plan this?

Leon yanks you out of your shock, slamming his body against yours. Your nose whacks against the metal, prompting a whine of pain. Akin to a vampire, Leon laches on your neck, trailing kisses up and down. He sucks, bites, and drags his tongue over the marks as his hand travels down the slit in your pants.

“Sorry, baby, can’t deny myself any longer!” he apologizes, surprisingly genuinely. You accept your fate, sobbing silently to yourself.

On the opposite side of the mirror, a group of scientists observe the interaction. They all have their clipboards out, noting down every action, movent, and emotion. A Handful of them watches in revulsion while the scene unfolds in front of them. Others treat it as any other experiment, having no sympathy for you. After all, they have no idea if you’re the worst person in existence or not.

There's one thing for certain. They’d be investigating the pregnancy of a human mother and a parasite having father.

Tagged

@fbiopenups , @athanasia-day , @leonskndy , @ineedrealfriends , @destinys-dreamer, @carlosluv3r, @connorsoddsock, @sl33paholics , @explosiongamora , @idiotuvu-blog , @tarcroach, @mikeywaysghost, @jinna-aka-ninja , @lovelysserafim, @jujupia , @lomaeuwu, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @sammy213ui , @stella-fleurets, @elliellielliesgirl

#yandere leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #Yandere leon #las plagas! leon #yandere themes #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #yandere resident evil

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gothic-thoughts · 1 month

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OFC I Don't Mind

Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Roommate!AU, Friends2lovers, Drabble

CW: sending nudes to the wrong person (nightmare fuel), Toji has a job (😭), Toji intimidating you, some smashing at the end

Not proofread

Toji was still at work, typing on his computer when he was slightly startled by someone blowing up his phone, the ringtone repeating over and over in the quiet room. He rolls his eyes and stops typing, initially giving his fingers a break as he picks up his phone to see his lock screen now covered with messages from you, his roommates. They were all photos.

"The fuck…" Toji squints, typing in his password, "I swear to god if it's a bunch of memes…"

He opened the messages and his heart nearly stopped when he saw multiple mirror selfies of you in lingerie, then braless. His eyes were wide, unable to take his eyes off the screen, the only part of him moving was his thumb when his phone dimmed from lack of activity.

You: SHIT! You: FUSHIGURO DON'T LOOK AT THE LAST MESSGE You: *MESSAGE

He snaps out of his trance for a second to read the new message only for his eyes to roam back to the cluster of pictures in his inbox. His eyes look over every intricate design in the blue lace in the first pictures then to the dark brown areolas and smooth-looking skin of your tits in the next ones. A smirk slowly creeps across his face.

You: Im sorry they were meant for my fwb You: Ik ur mad his name is right next to yours on my phone and I clicked too fast. I'm so sorry You: Istg I didn't mean it Toji: Bullshit. You: Im being deadass,im sorry You: Just delete them

He takes a few seconds to read before a smirk creeps across his face.

Toji: I'll be there in 20. You: What, wait don’t hurt me! You: I said I was sorry. I swear it was an accident Toji: I said I’ll be back in 20 minutes. You: Bro relax! You: Just delete them and I swear it’ll never happen again Toji: Apologize in person. I will be there in twenty minutes.

Exactly 20 minutes later you hear the front door unlock and open from your bedroom upstairs, causing you to freeze in fear. His heavy footsteps climb the stairs. His footsteps sounded like thunder as they got louder and louder with him approaching your room. Finally, you heard him stop and knock on your bedroom door. You hold your breath. He waits outside the room for a few seconds and then you hear him knock again. You can hear his evil chuckle echoing throughout the hall. You take a breath and step closer to the locked door. “....Yeah?” "Open the door." “I feel like you gonna swing on me when I do so--” "Just. Open. The door." “Not if you gonna hurt me.” There's an angry sigh and he knocks on the door again. "You have ten seconds before I kick this fucking door in." “Toji, I told you it was an accident! You're doing a lot right now!” There was a short pause, as it became eerily quiet outside the door.

"Nine." “Wha- stop!” "Eight." “Fushiguro, you don't think this is an overreaction!?” "Seven." “Nigga!” "Six." “Alright, alright, fine!” You say unlocking the door before running back to the opposite side of your room. “It's open…” You hear his footsteps on the other side of the door as he walks in. He rolled up his sleeves as he made his way across the room, tossing his jacket onto your bed before he finally reached you with an exhausted sigh.

He sighs and reaches to hold your chin but instead, his thumb traces down your jawline and he tilts your head up to look into his eyes. His expression was no longer angry as he looked you up and down. You let out a shaky breath, finally breathing at the feeling of his surprisingly light touch. A few seconds pass as he stares at you, his thumb continuing to trace around the edge of your lips before finally he speaks. "I enjoyed ‘em a lot. Only thing pissin' me off is the fact they weren't for me." “Oh… oh…” "If you want to take away my anger, I have an idea of how you could do that." “You… you serious?”

He picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, the swiftness knocking the wind out of you before he even mounts you. You look up at him with wide eyes and lick your lips as he grips your wrists, pinning them about your head.

"You ask too many fuckin' questions. Now, lemme see those tits again."

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Half an hour later, you were both sweaty as ragged grunts filled your room. One hand had your fingers hooked into the messy bedsheets while the other held his shoulder as if he'd go somewhere. His hands were firmly planted into the mattress as he continued moving with jealously-driven fervor. Your phone suddenly rings, showing your fuck buddy's number on the screen.

Toji freezes at first, the movement stopping when hearing the phone. He stares down at you for a few seconds as he tries to process all of this as you hear your phone ring again and again. "Answer it." “What?” "Answer. It." You slowly pick up the phone. “H-ello?” Toji is still staring intently at you as he hears your friend on the phone. He lifts both of your legs to his shoulders and begins to move again, uncaring what your friend could hear. The friend laughs over the phone. “You with someone right now?” “Wh-what? N-no, I'm fine, just… in the shower.” “Oh yeah?” The friend chuckles, “That shower must be packing then." “F-uck you.” Toji smirks when he hears your friend laughing in the background before you hang up the phone. “Sh-shut up, you're… acting like you didn't decide to go as deep as possible, you bastard.” He laughs and lifts your body off the bed, holding you in his arms as he pushes you against the nearest wall. "That a complaint?" “No”

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(a/n): sorry if it felt rushed i literally noticed its been a week since I last posted 😅😅😅

#toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk toji #x black fem reader #x black reader #black writers #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #black fem reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro

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sweet-evie · 28 days

Text

What Those Eyes See

A/N: Just brainrot birthed from this post about Gojo's Six Eyes. I'm going back to writing Satsuki's 1st birthday now.

✨ masterlist ✨

A Saturday afternoon spent wandering through Shibuya wasn’t usually on her top list of things to do on the weekend, but when Satoru fervently asked (more like pleaded) for her company on a specific excursion of his, she couldn’t really say ‘no’.

Or more like… It was hard to tell him, ‘No.’

The distant rumble of accelerating engines, the shuffling of countless footsteps on pavement, and the distinct cacophony of the crowded town had not left her ears ever since she and Satoru had left the subway station. This town with its beeps and whistles and chatter held her attention, so much so that she barely heard Satoru’s voice above the symphony of hectic city life.

“More than a handful of pregnant women are out today.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, walking beside her with one hand in his jeans’ pocket, while the other hand was busy twirling a blue sucker in his mouth.

Part of her didn’t even believe that she heard him right. Why did he say it like he was just talking about the weather?

“What?”

He peered at her over the rims of his sunnies, blue eyes that mirrored clear skies sparkling under the light of the afternoon sun.

“Mhmm… You heard me. Don't know if I told you this, Sweetheart, but I can see a lot of things.” The grin stretched across his lips was nothing short of attractive and shit-eating. “And to think, you mistook me for a blind man when we met.”

She narrowly side-stepped a couple hurrying down the sidewalk, bags swinging from both of their arms.

“Yeah, you're the extreme opposite of blind.” She shook her head and smirked at him. “You’re telling me you have an ultrasound with those eyes?”

Satoru pursed his lips and made a show of humming out loud thoughtfully.

"That's different.” He popped the sucker out of his mouth. “Ultrasounds use high-frequency sound waves to show you pictures of the fetus, right?” At her shrug and refusal to meet his eyes, he continued explaining as they headed for their destination. “With the Six Eyes however, I see more than just the person’s physical body. There's cursed energy, and then there's the formation of the human soul. The unborn child’s soul resides right next to the mother's. Kind’a hard to miss two of those stuck together and sharing one body."

The longer he talked, the more her questions multiplied.

The Six Eyes and what it could see had always been a point of intrigue for her. Over the years, Satoru never bothered telling her the intricate details or the true scope of what he could see out of his own volition. If she was curious about aspects of his power, she would always ask and he would give her a direct answer. She had never asked him to explain all of it to her in great detail, and that was because part of her suspected that even if he would indulge that request, she wouldn’t be capable of comprehending it anyway — certainly not in a way Satoru himself understood it.

Besides… where would one even begin?

So the additional piece of information he’d offered out of the blue would have been odd under normal circumstances if she hadn’t been keen on withholding important news of her own for the past few weeks.

“As a matter of fact,” Satoru mused as they paused at another crosswalk, “There are eight pregnant women in this area right now. Not sure if they know though. It seems like it's pretty early.”

In the end, concealing it had been useless from the beginning.

“Satoru…”

“Hm?”

“You already know huh?”

“Nine pregnant women, if we include you.” The answering grin he flashed her way was an answer all on its own. “I knew from the first week.”

Of course he knew… Of course he found out.

She was pleasantly surprised to find out that there was no trace of panic nor apprehension in her, only resignation. Despite how meticulously she’d disposed of her positive pregnancy test and how carefully she’d planned her first doctor’s appointment after her discovery, the truth etched into her own soul revealed itself anyways.

Of course Satoru and his Six Eyes knew about the existence of their unborn child before she did.

“Why didn't you say anything? You knew before I did. I discovered it in the fifth week.”

“And even after you found out, you obviously didn't want me to know right away. I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.” Or possibly freak her out with the knowledge that he knew before she could even guess about her child’s existence.

“So what changed your mind now?”

“It’s been 17 weeks. I can’t wait anymore. I also just wanted to start shopping for stuff for the nursery with you.”

“Satoru, you're not bothered?”

“Baby, we've been dating for four years. Why would I be bothered?”

It was a stupid question. If she wasn’t so preoccupied with her own discomfort, her nausea, and her silent struggle to keep all the hardships to herself during the first trimester, perhaps she would have noticed all the little things Satoru did every day to help ease her discomfort. In hindsight, she should have noticed the addition of health supplements in the kitchen, the well-stocked fridge and pantry, and Satoru’s insistence on hiring someone who could do household chores for them.

And in hindsight, she shouldn’t have hesitated in telling him.

She should have trusted him more.

“It’s something we never talked about before. You’re… You’re not disappointed?”

“Disappointed in who?” The look on his face was a cross between being offended and a little sad. “You? Just what kind of guy do you think I am?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that… I just— I’ve already decided on keeping the baby, but I don’t know if you—”

He sighed, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “You’re right. It’s something we haven’t talked about, and we should talk more about this later… Lay down our plans and stuff for the coming months. But for now, I just want you to know that I’m happy about starting a family with you.”

“You really mean that?” Maybe it was the sentiment or perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones acting up, but the unshed tears that gathered at the edges of her eyelids revealed the relief and the gratitude welling up within her.

“I wouldn’t have asked you out today to shop for baby things with me if it were otherwise.” Satoru’s lopsided smile was assurance at its finest.

“Excuse you, you never mentioned what we were supposed to be doing here today.”

“Right… Well, that’s on me.” He grinned and slipped an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to his side, “But also, you didn’t think I knew up ‘til now.”

“Satoru, I can’t with you.”

At the very least, it was nice to know her anxieties over the whole thing amounted to nothing after all.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x oc #satoru gojou x reader #gojo/reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x oc #wbad fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 days

Text

Endurance 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Walter Marshall

Summary: A fellow gym go makes your workouts even more taxing.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You come out of the changing room and peek at the wall mirror as you pass. You admire your new bubblegum pink leggings and polka dot top. It’s a bit out there but you’ve seen neons in this place that make your retinas burn. Besides, you’ve never been shy when it comes to fashion. It’s not just your passion, it’s your job.

It’s late enough that the bodies there are far and few between. You prefer the nights when the gym feels like a ghost town. The air is quiet but not stagnant.

Your water bottle swings on its handle from your hand as your bouncy steps keep in time with the boppy music thrumming in your earbuds. Your workout mix is a nice blend of retro and contemporary bass hits. You catch yourself humming and stamp it down. Sometimes, you forget other people can perceive you, not that there’s many around to so.

You find an empty mat. They all are. You put your bottle down and start your stretches. Your late night sessions help clear your mind though it never really stops. In your mind, you’re seeing pleats, seams, and ruffles.

Your body moves without thinking. It’s all muscle memory. You’re no gym rat, you don’t go that hard, just enough to loosen up your muscles. Your note overly swoll as the young ones call it. You’re fit enough for a light jog and the stairs don’t leave you winded like they used to.

After your stretches, you slurp loudly from the straw of your water bottle, walking with it still between your lips as you head for an elliptical. You can just let the repetitive motion take over. You pop your lips off the tub and slip the bottle into the little plastic holder on the side of the machine.

As you climb up, you see another figure across the floor. The man sits on the end of a weight bench. For a moment, it looks, even feels, like he’s watching you. From there, you can’t see very well. You don’t wear your glasses in the gym since you lost a pair to a hungry leg press.

You can make out dark hair and his burly form. Hazy but wide enough to clock. Most people around here are stacked. You’re too casual for all that. And you like a piece of tiramisu with your Friday lattes.

You pick your speed and start to climb. You cling to the machine and rock your head to the music. Once more, your throat vibrates and you have to remind yourself to stop. You can’t help it, you love Destiny’s child. Does that date you? For someone working in fashion, you can’t ever risk that.

You zone out, vision blurring as you let your body do the work. The sweat speckles and slicks across your skin. Damn, you might just be bootylicious after this work out.

Your fitbit rumbles and you look down. You’re in the zone. You keep going until you hit thirty minutes and slow down. You cool off for ten minutes and swipe up your bottle, sucking on it greedily as you head back to the mats.

You swing out your arms and stretch your legs in slowly lunges. You bend forward, touching each toe with opposite hand, lingering with your ass up as you brace your hips. A sudden clang has you standing straight so fast you nearly topple onto your butt.

You throw out your arms to catch your balance as you let out a pathetic, ‘woah-oh-oh'. You look over at the man as begins reps with the heavy dumbbells. You’ve never gotten above the tens. His blue eyes flash in your direction and you give a sheepish smile.

You don’t want to seem weird so you return to your stretches. Arms up, lean to one side, then the other. You hear a strange rumble, like thunder, and look over at the man as he continues to work his traps, staring at you. You could even call it a glare.

You tap your ear bud as you face him, “sorry?”

“Do you have to make that noise?” He snarls.

Your brows pop up. We’re you humming again? Oops.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was,” you smile and before you can tap play, he scoffs.

“Typical,” he grumbles as alternates to biceps.

He’s built. He’s arms are bigger than your head. Probably. You don’t think he’d let you compare for scale. You drop your hand without tapping.

You get down and extend your legs in front of you. His breaths underline your movement as you bend one leg over the other and push your straight arm against it as you twist. As you do the other side, facing him, his gaze flicks over again.

“You put more time into choosing that outfit than you do working out,” he shakes his head.

You blanch. Oh wow. You must have been really out of tune if he’s that grumpy. You give a tight-lipped smile and keep going. He’s not the first grouch you’ve dealt with. Your editor is a chronic miser.

You straight arms and legs and bend to touch your toes. You then pull your arms back and plant your hands. You lift your pelvis and torso and lean your head back, raising yourself in a straight line as you hang your head back.

“Form is off,” he mutters.

You lower back down and look at him again.

“Oh, uh, do you have any tips?” You ask curiously. He grimaces. You push your shoulders up and tilt your head, “well, if you think of any, I'd be happy to work on it. I’d hate to hurt myself.”

You get to your knees and groan as you push yourself to your feet. He tuts as gets down to plank, still gripping the weights. He lifts the left and puts it back down, then the right. You watch him for a minute, impressed by his strength. Your wary of lifting too much, you don’t trust yourself.

“You think your cute,” he sneers under his breath.

“Um, sometimes,” you hover across from him, “I just thought you might know more than me--”

“Of course I do,” he puffs between lifts.

“Mm, okay, well, I’d love to learn--”

“They got trainers for that,” he snips as he finishes his reps and puts his knees down.

“Right, um, sorry to bother then. I was only... asking,” you turn and grab your bottle.

You flip the top up again and slurp. You get to the bottom, sucking air loudly up before giving up. He huffs and stands with the weights, slamming them back on the rack.

“Do you have to make so much goddamn noise?” He stands straight and turns to you, crossing his thick arms. You stop short and part your lips.

“It’s empty, I didn’t--”

“It’s not the only thing’s that empty,” he taps his skull, “go back to the mall, girl.”

You scrunch your nose, “you don’t have to be rude, mister.”

“Honesty is a gift,” he snorts.

You pull your chin back. You didn’t mean to annoy him and you apologised already. You’re a nice person but you don’t appreciate his tone.

“Well, if I’m being honest,” you put your hands on your hips, “you’re not very nice.”

He chortles as a crease forms in his forehead, “and you’re not as cute as you think.”

“What does it matter what I think I am?” You challenge, “I didn’t ask you.”

“No, you just float around like some airhead and disturb everyone else,” he accuses.

You peer around, “there’s no one here.”

He drops his arms and lifts his chin. He steps forward and you waver, just a bit, put off by his size.

“I’m here,” he says.

You blink. What does that mean?

He takes another step and you stare at him, necks and cheek burning. His words strike an epiphany. It’s just you and him. He’s a lot stronger than you.

Another step and you put your hands up, “mister, you better not come any closer.”

He scoffs again, “or what? Are you going to cry?”

You pout and shake your head, “no, but I... I could scream. Or bite.”

He shakes his head, “what do you think I’m gonna do, girl? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make yourself the victim. You need the attention to make you feel special.”

He’s getting closer.

“I said stay away,” you project your voice as best you can, “I’m not afraid of you, mister.”

He chuckles and tilts his head. He stops, just a step away from you, “aren’t you?’

Your eyes meet his and you stand trapped in the snare of his glower. His blue eyes are deep and fiery, his chiseled face is framed by dark curls and a thick beard, and his chin is cleft handsomely. He’s fearsome, a bear in man’s flesh. You’re no more than helpless hare.

You back away and his mouth slants in triumph. He’s won. You turn and gulp, gripping tight your bottle as your sneaker squeaks loudly. You scurry away, buzzing with adrenaline.

“That’s right, you run away, girl, run as fast as you can,” he calls after you, “not very, I’m sure.”

You keep a brisk walk as you hurry towards the locker room and push inside. Your heart is hammering and your breathless as you reach your locker. You put the bottle on the bench and clutch the sides of your head. You’re dizzy as you try to get a rein on your frazzled nerves.

You thought you left the bullies behind in high school, over a decade ago. In that second, you’re right back in your teenage years. Your eyes sting with tears and your stomach churns with humiliation. That glimmer of insecurity creeps back into you.

No, no. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. You have a job and a life you love. You’re nothing they said you were. You proved them all wrong and you will prove that butthead wrong too.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #series #gym au #au #night hunter #endurance

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veryberryjelly · 3 months

Note

holy crap i love your writing!! could i get a bedtime story with jj maybank and 61 + 79 please !!

congrats on 1k

jj maybank x fem!reader

prompts : " forehead to forehead " + " leans in for a small kiss, pulls away, and then turning into a full blown makeout session "

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

somehow, days spent relaxing in the sun seemed exhausting.

being out on the boat with your friends all day, dipping in and out of the water every 30 minutes, had brought you to the brink of exhaustion.

you used jj's assistance to climb out of the boat and went straight for the spare room that jj used.

whenever all of you stayed over at the chateau, you pretty much had your designated places.

pope and kiara situated themselves on the pullout bed in the living room.

sarah took residence with john b in his room.

and you always found yourself on the other side of jj's bed. so much so that you had a few things in a box under 'your side' of the bed.

nothing much, a few hairties, a bikini and a phone charger, maybe a couple of miscellaneous things,.

the only reason you didnt have it in the bedside table was for jj's sake. incase any girl came over and found all of your stuff in his room.

but you hadn't seen jj with many girls recently. he had been spending a lot of time with you and the pogues.

you hadn't spotted him chatting up any girls at parties either. it was odd, but you just brushed it off, figuring he was doing stuff on his own time.

you were too tired to think about it right now.

you went into the drawers across the room and grabbed one of jj's t-shirts to put on in place of the bikini top you had been using all day.

there were faint tan lines from the strings which brought a brief smile onto your lips.

you were interrupted by a knock on the door as you pulled the t-shirt over your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed as the door pushed open.

" crashing in here, sunshine ?" the sound of jj's voice caused you to turn your attention towards him.

" definitely. " you replied, collapsing back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

you turned onto your side, curling up slightly into the soft fabric of the bed.

you could hear some soft rustling around the room which you assumed to be jj getting changed, but what you didn't expect was to feel themed dip on the other side, jj falling onto the mattress beside you.

your eyes fluttered open to find him laid opposite you, mirroring your position.

the sight of him across from you brought a smile onto your lips as your eyes closed again.

sleeping after a morning spent in the sun was always the best feeling. it was like the best kind of nap ever.

it was made better by the warmth you felt as you woke up, even though you were unable to see much as you opened your eyes.

you felt a warmth around your torso as you checked the time on your phone.

19 : 48.

you set it down again, turning over to your other side, only to be met with jj fast asleep behind you.

you couldnt stop yourself from lifting your hand to brush some of his hair away from his face with a soft smile.

but it seemed you just interfered with his sleep as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

you dropped your hand down to the mattress almost instantly, hoping he would just go back to sleep, though your hopes were not met.

his eyes eased open and you were met with his set of baby blues.

" sorry... didn't mean to wake you " you apologised, your voice no louder than a whisper.

" s'okay, sunshine. " he replied, his arms not moving from your torso, not even to move his hair when it dropped over his face again.

the golden locks were blocking the view of his eyes. you brushed it away as best you could, pushing it onto his head, your fingertips dragging deilcately down the edge of his face.

your knuckles grazed over his jawline before dropping down onto the mattress between the two of you.

you really weren't sure why you did that, and as embarrassment settled into your stomach, you felt a warmth on your hand.

jj lifted your hand and settled it onto the junction between his neck and jawline.

you didn't dare move it away this time, instead resting it comfortably against his cheek, your thumb moving of it's own volition, stroking against his cheekbone.

you didnt really have time to question what was happening before you felt the light pressure of jj's lips against your own.

though they disappeared as quickly as they arrived and you were left staring at eachother with an unreadable expression on either of your faces.

you decided not to think about it, or question it, and instead went back in to kiss him, with a considerable amount more passion than he gave you.

his hand dropped from holding onto your wrist to holding onto your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him.

this was not what you had planned when you came in here to take a nap, but you had to admit it was a better turn of events.

you only pulled back when you had to breathe. and when you did you couldn't stop the smile that spread brightly across your face.

or the slight nervous giggle that slipped from your lips.

you were brought back down to the moment when a similar laugh came out across from you.

" what was that about ?" you questioned, not moving far enough from jj that you only had to speak at your quietest volume.

" been thinkin' about it for a while... you're not pissed ? "

" nah, i've been thinking about it for a while too "

his smile grew even further at your answer, dropping his head down against the pillow, your forehead pressed against his.

neither of you moved from that position, ending up falling back into a slumber.

the next thing that woke you was the sound of the door opening followed by the noise of your friends arguing about who called it.

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topguncortez · 11 months

Text

Career Day | Jake seresin x Shy!Wifey

Opposites Attract Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: It's Career Day at Alex's school and a special guest is missing

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, I actually wrote pure fluff for once

It was strange for Alex to be quiet on the way to school. Usually, he was talking her ear off as Y/N drove the five minutes to his school. Alex was always excited about going to school, which helped settle some of Y/N’s nerves. He was so much like his mother, shy as can be. Jake’s father had made some comment about Alex’s shyness and Y/N had grown worried about her son’s development. She worried that he was going to get bullied, or teased at school, making his anxiety and shyness worse. But Alex was a bright, blooming kid who had tons of kids. His teacher even said he was a very popular kid.

But this morning, her little “mister popularity” (as Jake calls him) was looking out the window with a frown on his face.

"What's wrong, baby?" Y/N asked, looking in the rearview mirror as she pulled up to his school. His blonde hair was pushed back out of his face, he chose his blue glasses today to match his uniform shirt. Alex sighed and looked over at the other side of the car, where his baby sister Ella was happily playing with a stuffed rabbit.

"I'm just not happy about school," He pouted, placing one of his small fingers in Ella’s hand.

"Why? Did something happen?"

Alex shook his head and sighed, "It's career day. Jennah is bringing her mom, and Ezra is bringing his mom and dad, but my dad isn't here."

Y/N looked at her son, his large green eyes which resembled his father's, held sadness in them. Her heart broke seeing him sad like this. It had taken some getting used to having Jake gone. It was his first deployment in nearly two years since Ella had been born. Jake hated leaving, he hated it even more now that he had children waiting for him at home. Alex liked having just his mom around sometimes. She always baked cookies and let him have at least one before bed. She also bought him a new toy whenever Dad would leave. It all seemed well to begin with, but it always turned sour after the first phone call.

Alex had been hysterical after that very first call. It broke Jake’s heart to pieces hearing his young boy so upset and hearing his wife trying to calm him down, worried that he would pass out. It took Y/N nearly an hour to get Alex to calm down, and he slept horribly that night. After that, Y/N noticed the small changes in her son. The not wanting to play with his toys, or draw pictures. Not wanting to go play with Jennah Machado, or to go to dance class. And now, not even wanting to go to school.

"I know it sucks not having Daddy here, but lovebug, you could’ve invited me," Y/N said and Alex frowned.

"You’re not as cool as daddy,"

Y/N chuckled at her son’s comment, but it was true. No one could be quite as cool as the Naval aviator in the family. When she reached her turn in the drop-off line, she parked the car and smiled as his teacher opened his door and helped him out of his booster seat.

"Hey, Alex," Y/N called out to her son.

"Yes, mommy?" Alex said.

"Try and smile today, for your daddy, okay?" Y/N told him and Alex nodded enthusiastically, "Bye Alex, I love you, have a good day."

"Bye momma, I love you!" Alex said as he closed the car door and then ran off with his friends out in the quad of the school. Y/N waved as she saw Jennah running around.

Y/N sighed and put her car in drive and looked back in the rearview mirror, seeing her daughter stare at the mirror above her seat with wide eyes. Ella looked the most like Jake out of her and Alex. Her hair was almost bleach blonde, her eyes electric green. She also had his sass, and she was only two.

“Are you ready to go pick up our surprise?” Y/N asked.

“Da!” Ella exclaimed, throwing her toy across the car.

“Yep,” Y/N smiled, “Da.”

Instead of driving home and getting ready for work like Y/N usually did after dropping Alex off, she drove to the airport. She parked the car, and got Ella out, before walking into the airport. Y/N watched people walk down the escalator, suitcases and bags in their hands. Y/N scanned their faces until she saw those familiar green eyes. Y/N smiled and held Ella a bit tighter in her arms.

“Ella, who is that,” Y/N said in a happy voice. She crouched down and put her daughter’s feet on the floor, “Who is that, Ella!?”

“Da!” The little girl yelled, reaching her arms out as he walked up to her, a bright smile on his face. He scooped up the girl in his arms, kissing all over her face, making her squeal.

"Sweets," He said greeting you with a kiss, “Does he know?” Y/N shook her head and he kissed her again.

"No clue. Now come on, you gotta get ready to surprise a very unsuspecting little boy."

--- --- ---

The moment Alex had been dreading finally came. Mrs. Andrews announced that career day was finally starting, as the parents and guardians of kids came flooding into the classroom. Alex tried his best to pay attention and not cry as his classmates introduced their parents. Val frowned seeing her godson look out the window and not at the front of the class. Each kid had to present something, and Alex looked down at the pair of wings he had taken from his dad’s desk this morning.

"Alright next up, Alex Seresin." Mrs. Andrews said. Alex sighed and pushed himself up from his desk, holding the wings in his hand and walking to the front of the class.

He stood shyly, holding the wings to his chest, and looking down at his white vans. He took a deep breath, remembering what Y/N had told him, to smile. He looked up at his class, seeing all their eyes on him, the panic starting to rise in his little body. Val could see the look in his eyes from the back of the classroom, and she waved a bit, getting his attention. He looked up at her, and Val gave him a smile and a thumbs up and mouthed ‘you got this’.

Alex nodded, and took his hand away from his chest, holding out the gold wings, “These are my daddy’s wings. He’s a Naval-”

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Jake said, walking in the door, still clad in his khaki uniform.

"Daddy!" Alex yelled, dropping the wings and running over to him. Jake picked him up in his arms and held him tightly, "How did you know?!"

"Momma told me. I wasn't about to miss career day."

“Are you home for good?”

"I’m home for good," Jake said and sat his feet back down on the ground. Alex grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front of the class.

"This is my dad,” Alex said looking up at him, “He’s in the Navy, and my hero.”

Jake smiled at his son, before looking at the class of wide-eyed first graders. He saw a hand in the back shoot up into the air and he pointed at the little girl with blue bows in her hair.

“Are you a sailor?” She asked and Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle and look at her husband. She knew his eye was probably twitching as he hated it when people asked if he was a ‘sailor’.

“I’m a Naval Aviator,” Jake responded, “And the best one at that. Let me tell you a story of the time I saved my best friend and commander from the enemy.”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @callsignharper @genius2050 @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida

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cryptidclaw · 1 year

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Fire and Ice: Rise of Change edition (aka. my redraw of the Fire and Ice cover) is complete!

This took me FOR EVER, the complete opposite of the Into the Wild cover, that one I completed in 1 night, this one has been a WIP for possibly a month??? Could be more and I wouldn't be surprised.

This is probably one of the most complicated covers in the first arc, there are so many characters and such a big background! I am not used to illustrating backgrounds like this so at least it was a good push to get me out of my comfort zone!

Now info about my changes to the cover! The cats in the frame are Bracken(paw) and Cinder(paw), they are both important characters in this book and they are Fire and Gray’s first apprentices (Bracken is more Fire’s apprentice too honestly) so I thought they should get a spot light! Also I want to change a lot of the frames in future covers bec I like the idea of other important characters getting the cover spot light!

The other characters in the scene behind the frame are Sedgecreek (upper right), Graystripe (upper left), Troutclaw aka. Whiteclaw (below Graystripe), Voleclaw (farthest bottom left), Leopardfur (Next to Voleclaw), Fireheart (bottom middle), and Sand(paw) (bottom right). All of these cats were in the border skirmish between River and Thunder when Fire and Gray were traveling back from bringing back Wind Order!

Image IDs v

[Image ID: A digital illustration, which is a redraw of the original Warriors: Fire and Ice cover. At the top of the cover is the Warriors title written in dark purple, and below it is written Fire and Ice which is yellow and lined in the same dark purple. Below the title is a portrait style frame centered in the middle of the cover, this frame depicts Bracken(paw) and Cinder(paw) centered in the frame, sitting next to each other with mirrored blank, wide eyed expressions. They are in a dark night scene and are mostly in shadow with their eyes glowing a bright white. In front of them are black silhouettes of grass, and in the background in a dark blue night sky and a huge bright blue moon lined with white. Behind this frame, filling up the rest of the cover, is a illustration of a battle taking place in a sunset scene of a river surrounded by grass that is mostly lit in yellows and oranges. In the foreground at the bottom of the illustration are 4 cats, there are two on the left of the page, we can only see their angry seemingly yelling faces peaking over a log, the cat farther from the left has her arm raised with her claws unsheathed, the other two cats are faced away from the camera and are looking towards the first two. from left to right the first cat is grey with blue eyes, the second in gold with brown spots and amber eyes, the third is round, chubby and orange, and the forth is a cream and back tortie. In the mid ground are two cats by the river bank, one is standing with their left side showing and they are crouched low to the ground and screeching at something off screen, the other is behind this cat, and is getting ready to pounce on the first cat while screeching. the First cat is a brown and white cat with orange eyes and the second is a big gray tabby with glowing yellow eyes. On the other side of the river is a single cat looking over to the other side, this cat is a brown tabby with green eyes. At the bottom of the cover where the author is usually listed, is written “Rise of Change” in yellow text./End ID]

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors cover #warriors art #warriors #Fire and Ice #Warriors fire and ice #the prophecies begin #TPB

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

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→ A Lioness's Home.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: domestic fluff.

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: this is a sequel to my "a true victory" and "a dragon's glory". however, you need not to read the prequels, but it's preferable, though. the events of this fic take place during the ten-years time jump, but the plot doesn't necessarily follow the canon agendas.

masterlist | AO3

WITH WEALTH, DRAGONS, AND VALYRIAN BLOOD, you and your family found a fine living in Lys. And perhaps more than just fine living. Daemon and you are called the prince and princess of Lys; an honorary title given by the Lyseni people after the triumphant war led by your husband against Myr and Tyrosh over the Disputed Lands.

While Daemon was claiming yet another glory winning a war, you were claiming your own by preserving the free city's economy in maintaining the integrity of the trading path between Lys and Lannisport.

Lord Jason Lannister was more than thrilled and willing to help his sweet sister, and Ser Tyland couldn't be happier that their sister did not forget about her two lion brothers who love her immensely. Furthermore, Lord Tyland saw that in helping you, thus your husband, to ascend to power in foreign lands, it would push the dangers of the newly-reformed Triarchy away. The pirates of the Triarchy, as it seemed, did not wish to yield yet even after their gruesome loss in Stepstones at the hands of your husband and House Velaryon several years ago. Securing power in Lys would prevent the pirates to rise again, as your small family already owns three dragons, and the Lyseni people's favour.

When you were in your sixth month of pregnancy, with a very large bump in your belly, Daemon took you to the dragonpit to choose a dragon egg for your child together. You chose that special moment to tell Daemon, sheepishly, that he needed to pick two eggs and not only one. Your husband arched an eyebrow, letting the new information sink, then a wide and satisfied grin adorned his handsome face.

You suspected it during your fifth month, and the maester confirmed your qualms when he visited you for your monthly check-ups. You asked him not to speak to your husband of the matter, for you wanted to share the happy news with him in private and on distinctive occasion.

Taelon was the first to be born, his birth was easy, coming out without much fuss. Daenesya, however, was the one hard to deliver; your battle in labour continued for several hours before you finally heard her screams for air. Daemon never left your side during the whole process, encouraging you while you cried and screamed through insufferable pain. He dried your sweat and whipped your tears away from your face, reminding you that you're his fierce lioness and you could do it, while the Septas around you told you to hold your breath and push.

“Well done, my brave girl,” Daemon said proudly while holding both babies in his strong arms. “Well done.”

Daemon was true to his words and when your children's first name day came, the four of you took residence in Lys, where you were welcomed and treated with great hospitality.

Taelon and Daenesya are the epitome of exact opposites. Upon the first look, one would immediately say that your twin children are the mirror of one another; silver-gold long hair, and their eyes are amethyst flecked with emerald. However, one is quiet, calm, and leisure, and the other is unruly, chaotic, and headstrong. But both are of dragons and lions in spirit.

Your son's egg hatched after two years of his birth and gave him his precious Darkfyre. A beautiful dragon, with navy blue scales tinted by light cyan frames. His burning flames are of blue colour. Daenesya, on the other hand, her egg hatched after a year of her birth, and she was gifted her best friend Aeksyas. She's larger and wilder than Darkfyre. She has silver scales and golden eyes, and her flames are dark red. Daemon explained to you that dragons take after their riders, and you see it with your own eyes.

“Dracarys!”

Red and blue fire weave together, and from the purple flames Daemon emerges from while mounting Caraxes. A cheered applause acclaims from around you as your husband and children give them a dragon show. Among the spectators, you're the loudest and rowdiest; a proud wife and mother, watching her family proudly showing off the discrete dragonblood they have.

It's true that the people of Lys have the reminiscent of Valyrian blood, but the Targaryens are the only ones who are capable of taming dragons to their will in the Known World.

Nevertheless, your eyes are a tad more focused on your husband more the children. Daemon never ceases to mesmerize you with his riding skills, and the correspondence he has with Caraxes. The two share something really special, and you're never tired of watching over and over again. There were some times when you, eagerly, mounted Caraxes with Daemon for a ride. It was such a thrilling experience you don't mind to try it again. But in such occasions, you let the Targaryens do their thing while you stand their with charmed audience.

After a while of strutting their talent in the sky, the trio, led by Daemon, take their land on the ground. Everyone clapps for them, including you, before the three usher their mounts to the caves they've turned it into their own Dragonpit.

“Daemon, darling,” You say when the latter emerges from the cave pit, “You were marvelous up there,”

Daemon encircles an arm around your waist, pecking you lips. He smells of dragon and fire.

“Did you see Darkfyre's flames, mother!” Taelon gushes from behind, his face is slightly smudged by dirt and soot.

“Oh, I did, and they were magical, my cub!” You crouch a bit to whip his face with your handkerchief.

“Mother, did you see how pretty Aeksyas's wings are?!” Daenesya shrieks as she takes her father's side, clinging to his arm.

You chuckle amusedly, “She's the most beautiful dragon I've ever seen, my sweet.”

The four of you head to the carriage that's waiting for you to go home.

•••

After the three of them washed the dragon stench off of them, the four of you had supper. Then came Valyrian class for Taelon and Daenesya. The twins reluctantly escorted the maester to the library. And the two of you are left alone.

“Caraxes would be always my favourite dragon.” You whisper your secret to your husband as you reach the roof of your palace. It's where you and your husband spend some quality time together away from everyone's eyes. You sit on the padded floor, with your husband's head in your lap.

Daemon guffaws, “That would break Dani's heart; she thinks Aeksyas is your favourite, and she brags about it before Taelon.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, “Wonder where did she get that idea from?”

Your husband smiles privately and leaves you with no answer, but you know him better. Daenesya is his favourite, and you can see why, she's practically the little version of himself.

You stroke his face gently, “I was thinking, husband,”

“What is it, my love?” He drawls as he relaxes into your touch.

“What do you think of visiting Westeros?”

His violet eyes snap open, and he gazes up at you, puzzled, “You want to go back there?”

“I do, but only for a visit,” You continue, “I'd like the children to see their homeland and be introduced properly to their kin. Also, I want to show my family off in court.” You smirk, flicking your hair behind your back.

“You little minx, you want a revenge, do you not?” Daemon returns your smirk with a sly one of his own.

Your grin grows wider, “Great minds think alike, my dragon. Yes, it's exactly what I want. I want to crush everyone who's belittled me in the past. If it pleases you, of course, my prince.”

There's a satisfied grin on the dragon's mouth, a proud one, even, “I do not mind at all, my fierce lioness. And let the small folk write songs about our love and how it conquered all...”

You chuckle giddily at him before pecking his lips, “Thank you, husband,” You grab his hand and kiss it, putting it against your cheek, “But know that it's neither Westeros nor Essos is my home...”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, “Where might it be then, my love?”

“You,” you answer with a pacing heart, “You're my one and only home...”

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #daemonism #hotd daemon #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader

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fillinforlater · 1 year

Note

Minju invites you inside her place to have sex. Would you rather watch her undress while following her to the bedroom or undress her yourself?

Undress Under duress

Male Reader x Kim Minju

Length: 2876 words

Tags: teasing, undressing, outfit change, dirty talk, clothed sex, touching and feeling yourself, watch don't touch torture, rough sex, quick sex, standing sex, from behind, hair pulling, self-indulgence, creampie, Minju is the hottest thing ever, literally the sun can't compare, cursing, teased!you

Inspiration: apart from ask, mostly just the outfits and Minju being so damn hot that I can't help myself

(A/N: Lol that was so easy to write wtf. Yes, I'm working on other stuff, especially the 69th idol story, but those take a lot longer than a quick Minju smut.)

“Hey~”

“Hi~”

Terrible flirtatious greetings often lead to rejection and a bit more tequila in your veins. But not tonight. Tonight it leads to horny giggles by you and the girl that just opened the door for you. The two of you met last night at the most cliche college party you have ever been to. A cliche party deserves some cliche pickup lines, you told yourself, and dropped one after the other until this gorgeous girl gave you her number.

“You look good, standing in this door frame,” you slowly hum, and reach for the top of said frame and lean on it with stretched arms, “but I bet you look better laying in bed.”

She giggles again, bright teeth shine through an even brighter smile. She is one hell of a catch. It’s incredible that she fell for lines like this, in all honesty, you didn’t even try, it just rolled off your tongue.

“You want to find out?” she asks and you scan her outfit one final time: the baby blue denim of tight jeans is a perfect tease to hide what you assume are amazing legs. Her fuzzy long-sleeve crop-top looks perfect to tear off of her torso and reveal her collarbone and breasts. The fact that she is not wearing shoes makes it even hotter somehow.

“You don’t have to ask twice.”

Enter the small apartment. It's really not that special, minimal decorations, the typical college student chaos of textbooks and papers, an old couch in the corner. The only thing that catches your attention is a large mirror opposite of said couch. It hides the entire wall, floor to ceiling, thus making the room appear much larger than it actually is.

“Sorry, I didn’t find time to clean properly,” the girl says, her back turned to you for a second. You immediately take this opportunity to hug her from behind, arms firmly wrapped around her small waist and wide hips.

“Don’t worry, Minju, I like dirty things~” you say and place a peck on her cheek. She brushes her hair to the side to give you easy access to her smooth neck, but before you can suck on the skin, she invites you into her mouth.

The taste of juicy mango on light pink lips is a welcome surprise, so you attack her mouth further with your tongue until you find a quick, thrilling rhythm in which your tongues swirl. Saliva is exchanged, heartbeat increased and your fingers already fiddle with the top button of her pale blue jeans.

“Ha, stop,” Minju moans and reaches for your invading hand. “Sit down. I want to give you a show.”

“Oh, wow, I did not expect this. Alright then.”

You take a seat on the couch opposite of the mirror. Luckily, you don’t have to look at your flushed, horny face for long, as Minju steps in front of it and starts to play with her hair. Her pointers twirl the chestnut colored strands. She pulls the curls that form, making her hair bounce, all the while smiling widely and narrowing her fuck-me eyes.

Suddenly, her hands jump to her collar. Minju makes sure you are attentive, that every ounce of your attention is filled with her every movement, before she gradually moves her hands downwards. They glide through the fuzzy fluff of her white crop top, moving slightly up to pass over her mounds, but they never halt.

Minju's insane lack of speed makes you shift forward in your seat. You want to, you need to jump up and grab that stupid white piece of clothing and tear it off. But the young woman just smiles seductively and shakes her head. Her hands continue their slow journey, over her toned abs, that beautiful navel until she finally tugs down her jeans a bit.

The first button pops free. That’s it. She doesn’t drag the denim down, doesn’t remove the prison of her legs. Only a slight tug and you see the hem of her what appears to be black lace panties. Your mind begins to melt. You grab the rest of the sofa, squeeze it, almost break it. It’s all right in front of you, but yet so far away.

“You like it~?” Minju teases with a husky whisper.

“Fuck, you’re such a tease,” you respond, eager to see what happens next.

You did not expect Minju to turn around. Sure, her back looks good, at least the parts you can see, but it’d look a lot better if you were railing her from behind, without the stupid crop top in the—

One pull and the crop top flies open. You couldn’t see how Minju did it, but by quickly adjusting your posture, you see in the mirror the reflection of her upper body. A black lace bra, very expensive and luxurious looking, covers her modest breasts. When she gets rid of the crop top all together, you drool at the sight of flawless skin on her collarbone, shoulder, arms.

“Minju, fuck.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

With that said, Minju takes a step backwards, away from the mirror, towards you. Her rear end is still covered by the tight pants, but when you hear her zipper, a rush of hormones and adrenaline engulfs you. Both her hands are at her hips, slowly creeping into the jeans and guiding them down as she bends over. More and more of the hem of her panties is visible, yet she still keeps her ass hidden. God, so close, you want it so much, you are ready to fall on your knees and beg.

Minju catches your gaze through the mirror. She winks and puts out her tongue to taunt you, the deeply breathing, incredibly horny guy a meter away from her butt. Even though she could drag this torture out forever (and frankly, you would sit there and drool forever), she pulls back her tongue and bites her lip.

The firm skin of her cute ass comes into view. A black thong runs in between the well-formed cheeks. Minju lets the pants rest right underneath her butt and straightens her posture. A tiny shimmy, the cheeks begin to wiggle lightly. You are out of breath.

“I know it’s not the biggest, but it seems you like small butts,” she giggles and continues to let her pants fall in short hops. Her meaty, perfectly formed, round thighs make your heart flutter to an extreme you could not have dreamed of. For some reason, the finish was too fast. You can’t just jump up and fuck her now, but it’s exactly what you still desperately desire.

“You are such a slutty tease. I’ll fuck you so hard—”

“This was only part one,” Minju says. Her laughter rings through the apartment as she jogs out of the room.

Minju returns shortly after with a completely different outfit. A simple pink dress with tiny gems spread all over it in simple patterns. The marvelous, mouth watering width of her hips is accentuated perfectly and invokes a want in you, a want to cum inside her. Not only cum inside, but also hold her hips while doing it and feeling her womanhood suck you dry.

“What do you think of it?” she asks and turns around once.

“It’s good, good, but for fucks sake, I want it on the ground,” you grunt.

“Do you know why I like black thongs the most?” Minju asks, completely ignoring your response. Her eyes have this gleam of unbridled sex, as if nothing else mattered now, just raw, primal sex. But yet she still seems cool, unaffected, the lust is not overtaking her.

“No clue.”

“Because you can’t see how wet I am.”

With that said, she grabs the hem of the dress and gently lifts it up an inch. Your orbs widen and focus on her gap. Sure, she might show more of her delicious thighs, but you want to finally see her pussy. You expect her to pull up a bit more, but instead, she moves her fingers to the sides and sways the dress as if it were a skirt waving in the summer breeze. Her cute giggle would fill your heart if you weren’t so damn blinded by how much you hate her tease.

You hate the way your perfectly fitting pants become uncomfortable to wear. You despise the fact that your boxers are ruined by a stain of precum already. You can’t deal with her delighted mood, not at all innocent, but also not uncontrollably horny. Minju is in control, and for some reason, through all your hate, you fucking love it.

“Minju, please,” you squeeze out through gritted teeth.

“Please what~?”

“Please… pull the damn dress up.”

She laughs. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

The pink cotton moves up to reveal her midriff and crotch, the former bare, toned and beautiful, the latter only covered by a thin, ornate thong. It’s sexy beyond belief, but the black barrier still blocks your view of what you imagine is a shaved, wet pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“You want more?” Minju whispers, the bunched up dress firmly in her hands, ready to give you more—or is it just another tease?

“Yes!”

Minju raises an eyebrow at your lackluster answer. “Yes what?”

“Yes, please. Please, Minju!”

“There you go,” she bluntly says and easily pulls the dress over her head, then lets it fall out of her relaxing hand. Tension visibly leaves her entire body, she relishes in your gaze as it wanders up to her bare tits. They are a bit smaller than you assumed after seeing the bra, but your monkey brain wants to reach for them, pinch the hard nipples, and suck on them with reckless roughness. They are perfect, flawless, if you actually think about it.

“I can’t hold it anymore, I need you now.”

The words come from your mouth quickly. You stand up, hands already tearing open your pants, but Minju is a bit quicker. She places her hand on your heaving chest. In her deepest, most seductive tone yet she strikes you an offer that cracks the foundations of your imaginations.

“Before you go at me, hear me out. Either you can stay here, suck my tits the entire night and fuck me once with one of your stupid condoms.

“Or you can sit down again, watch the final show, and I’ll let you do anything to me. You can let all of your frustrations out, fuck me senseless with your hard cock. I don’t care if I can’t walk or talk anymore, I don’t care if I leak your fucking cum all over the apartment. Yes, you can even do it raw.”

You struggle to pull your pants back together. Your cock was almost free, now it’s not only getting blocked by clothes and the short distance between it and Minju’s cunt, but also Minju’s insane offer. Her hand is still on your chest, applying a small bit of pressure. You let yourself succumb to it rather than the spontaneous lust. Fall back into the couch and simply nod.

“I think I know the answer.”

Minju winks and sneaks out of the room slowly, her hips swaying to the point where your head just sways along with them. This time, she stays out for longer, but what even is the time you have to wait in light of what is to come afterwards? Even if she walks out wearing an entire hanbok, you’d wait for her to finish this torturous game, undressing each layer of the excessively large dress.

“What do you think of this~?” the brunette moans as she enters. Your jaw drops and your eyes become unfocused. Minju hit another spot.

“Fuck,” you repeat your new found mantra at the sight of Minju doing gradual body rolls in her final outfit, another crop top and hotpants, both come with a catch.

The crop top is black but slightly see through, to the point where you can make out that she is not wearing a bra. The gray hot pants are frayed at the edges, to the point where you doubt they cover her full. As Minju continues her little dance, you catch glimpses of what is below those pants. Nothing. No thong, no panties, just her juicy pussy lips.

She is skilled however. You can never get a satisfying look at her entrance. These milliseconds are just another way to tease you. The way her hips move, Minju makes sure to not give you enough, to make you more addicted to the drug that is her body. You’re about to burst, in more ways than one.

“You’re doing fantastic,” Minju says and makes her hands go down her waving body, over breasts, abs, thighs, you know the drill. “I’ll give you a look.”

This time, no button is popped open. Minju wiggles the tight gray denim down until it’s loose enough. She drops it to her knees in one motion. Her pussy is finally exposed, free of any teasing blockades. It’s even prettier than you imagined. Smooth, shaven skin around it, pink labia, cute hidden clit.

“Do you like it?”

Nod.

“Do you want it?”

Nod, nod, nod, a million times.

“Then what do you say?”

“Please~ oh my God, please, Minju!”

Your desperate, pleading shout makes Minju stick out her tongue as she gives tiny rubs to her more than wet clit.

“Come and get it.”

Jump up, pin Minju to the mirror. Your cock spring free on its own—nah, she was helping, but what’s the difference really? To her audible surprise, you don’t kiss Minju or remove her clothes. Instead, you pull her hot pants back up and tear them open. They are unusable in public now, but they are more than useful for what you’re going to do with her.

“Hey, those were my favorites!” Minju protests.

“I don’t care,” you growl and lift her left leg up.

“You better don’t care. Use me like a fucking sex doll. No more hesitation.”

“You’re one to talk, teasing slut.”

Align your cock with her entrance. Hot and wet, like your tip already is.

“Fuck, I’ll probably cum immediately. Shit,” you curse and feel like hitting yourself for this lack of self-control.

“No problem,” Minju responds, needily, holding onto your nape, “I’ll make sure to keep your cock warm and clean it so you can repeatedly fuck me.

“Also, I’m going to cum too.”

Piston your entire dick into her with one thrust. She pulls you in at your nape, you pull at her back. The two of you let all of your emotions out in screams and growls, before grunting and moaning when you start to fuck her against the mirror. It rattles each time you force Minju’s butt against it with your pelvis.

You lose your mind to the pressure on your shaft. Minju’s pussy was loose, easy to penetrate at first, but now her walls grind all around your cock. Things get even better when the young woman cums with an erotic, feminine moan. Her cunt milks you, it’s ripple and hotness too much to handle. After mere seconds you burst.

Engage in a torrid make out session as you flood Minju’s tightness with your seed. The teasing session had the same effect as edging. You blast and blast and blast, huge, thick spurts of cum until Minju disconnects her lips to let both of you breathe.

“Fuck, keep it in me. I’ll keep it war—”

“Shut up, slut.”

Your blunt response is followed by an even blunter action. Pull out of Minju and spin her around. With a lewd squelching sound, a considerable amount of your baby batter falls onto the floor before you can plug the hole again. She gasps in shock as you pin her body between you and the cold mirror.

“You’re not going to give me commands,” you grunt into her ear and start to pump your spent, still hard cock into her leaking cunt. Eager to feel all of you, Minju presses her ass backwards until your pelvises meet. Get a handful of her hair while you take her from behind.

“Fuck, that’s the spirit,” Minju babbles through her drooling mouth. You firmly grab her hip to make the fucking easier. Your eyes go to the mirror. The reflection is not embarrassing to you anymore, you feel fucking feral at the sight of two bodies in their prime fucking.

Minju must think the same thing. She can’t stop gawking at her own image, feeling herself, her body getting plowed. This self-indulgence, this arrogance she possesses makes you livid. She only wants to be looked at, her moves, her teases. She acts like you’re not there—although your cock reaches her womb and hits her cervix again and again.

You increase the pace and press her stupidly gorgeous face against the mirror.

“You like your face, slut?”

“Hm~”

“Then make out with it.”

And as Minju closes her eyes and slobbers all over the hot image of herself, you don’t hesitate to slap her hourglass figure to make sure she remembers you. You are there, you were there—and you’re gonna stay for a bit longer, always cumming into Minju’s cunt.

#kpop smut #minju smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #male reader #izone smut #minju best girl please help

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acrux-jr · 6 months

Text

Carousel Meeting

Summary: The 3 times Mike schidmt almost met you but didn't, plus the 1 time he did

Word Count: 1.9k

Can be read byself or as a prequel to my carousel series.

Tags: fluff, accidental meeting, soft spot for Abby

༻﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊༺

⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅┅⑅

(Before FNAF movie)

The first Mike saw you, your back was turned. You had you l/m/s hair down. You were wearing blue washed jeans that flared slightly, a cream colored knitted pullover and a brown leather jacket.

He had heard your obnoxious laugh from the back of the line in the fair. He saw you lightly push your friend, and she laughed as well.

Abby's head popped to the opposite side, and saw your face.

'Pretty.'

Mike had turned away, not wanting to be seen as a creep for trying to stare at your face.

Right as you were next the ride broke. Your friend groaned as you shrugged. Mike was being dragged as Abby whined to go to a different ride. As he turned down to tell her to wait, your shoulders bumped.

Unbalanced you fell on you friends, laughing harder. Mike yelled a quick 'Sorry,' as he was dragged off.

He a faint 'Sorry,' back. When he turned to face you, your friend blocked your image, the two of you not being able to see each other's face.

The next time you two missed meeting each other was the very next day again. Mike had promised Abby to take her everyday for the weekend to the fair.

You and your friend returned to the fair, after working for 2 weeks straight because a coworker quit, you finally got the weekend off to recharge and see your friends. This time your friend brought her boyfriend to go on the scary rides with you since she felt bad for always chickening out.

The three of you stopped by the darts and balloons, pushing them both out of the way. First try got the second biggest prize of a fox plush. On your next try you heard a little girl gasp.

Abby was looking with amazement at the plush purple bunny on top hanging.

"Want to try?" The carnival person asked.

Abby shook her head no, "I don't have enough."

Your heart broke a little. Getting the next 3 in a row, you won. Jumping up and down your friend clapped and hollered while her boyfriend rolled his eyes at the two of you.

"Whatcha want?"

The little girl was still there just watching now. "That one." When you got the plush and turned to her, she eyed you warily.

"Here, I already have the fox." She took it hesitantly.

You gave a warm smile as your friends tugged you to the duck ring game. You waved bye and she waved bye back and dashed to a man wearing a hoodie. You saw the curly hair from behind, and turned away.

Abby rushed to Mike, excited to show Mike the plush.

Mike gripped her firm and held her tight. For a split second he felt like he was a kid again seeing his brother get taken.

"Abby! You know you're not allowed to run off like that! Why would you do that?"

"I only went right there." She pointed to the booth across from where Mike was sitting.

He turned to answer and phone call from his security guard co worker and Abby was gone for a minute with him frantically searching. When he tried to call out, nothing came out. He started to have a panic attack. And there she was.

When she re-appeared he almost threw up. He crouched down and noticed the blue plush.

"Who gave that to you?"

"Some girl won two in a row and she let me have it because she had a fox one!" Mike's eyebrows furrowed but nodded.

"That was nice of her…"

Abby nodded her head. "Don't run off again Abby. You could've been taken. " 'Too.' It was unspoken but Abby understood.

"Sorry Mike."

"Come they have shaved ice with your favorite flavor."

She beamed again and hopped while pulling Mike.

The third time the paths almost met but did not was in the house of mirrors. Mike was against it but Abby coaxed him with the 'pretty please' 'cherry on top' and puppy dog eyes. He rolled his and followed behind Abby.

He watched as she hit her head, trucked by the mirrors, she glared and huffed as Mike laughed at her. He dropped the plush as he was laughing. The duo didn't notice til after outside.

As luck had had it, you noticed the plush when you made it to the half-way mark. It reminded you of the little girl and wondered if she hit her head and dropped it. You chuckled at the thought of that and took it with you.

Abby was crying as Mike promised to get her another on.

"Abby come on I'll buy or win or whatever it is again."

The tears fell and she shook her head no, "No she won it for me! She was nice and gave it to me because she knew I wanted it and I lost it." She sobbed and her hand made it to her eyes.

Mike groaned, "Okay Abby I will go back, " he scanned the crowd and saw a group of police officers walking by.

"Hey! Excuse me!"

They two men and women turned around, the red headed men raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to ask but do you mind watching her real quick? I dropped her plush in the maze and she doesn't want to go in with me again to look but still wants me to. It'll be like less than 5 minutes, I just don't want her by herself." What he assumed was his sister with the matching hair and last name, nodded.

"Yeah that's fine, we are waiting for our co-worker to be down in the restrooms right there."

Mike thanked them and dashed in after giving the young teenage girl 3 more tickets.

A minute had passed as Mike went in, and then you popped out finishing it, with your friends trailing behind you. You scanned the area and saw the little girl crying with police around her. 'Is she lost?' You said 'be right back,' and headed that way.

"Excuse me?" The police, trying to calm her down, turned to look at you. Abby looked up with teary eyes and saw you. She ran and hugged your leg.

"I lost Mr. Bunny. I'm sorry!" She wailed and cried.

"Hey hey it's okay no need to cry. Look I found him, he's waiting to hug you again." She gasped and dove into a hug with the plush.

The cops looked at you questioningly. You noticed their gaze and explained. "I won it earlier and she really wanted it so I gave it to her, I already won the fox, I just like playing the games." They nodded, a little more at ease with you. As you turned around you crashed into a blonde girl, with a police uniform. She dropped her corn dog on the floor.

"Oh my god I am so so sorry. Here let me get you a new one."

"It's fine. My fault for not paying attention and whatnot."

"No really let me get you a new one." She hummed as she wiped the little crust of the corn dog off her. Before going off with her you turned back around. "Okay I gotta go but be careful okay. Are you waiting for your mom or dad with the police officers?"

She nodded and pointed to the mirror maze. "My brother is in there trying to find Mr. Bunny."

"Okay okay good. I'll see you around, be sure to keep Mr. Bunny safe and close at all times, okay?"

She gave a watery smile and nodded. You gave her a pat on the head and waved goodbye to the group. Mike dashed out if the maze as he saw a blonde and h/c go by.

Abby was finally smiling and laughing and holding the plush again.

Mike was confused, "Abby, how did you get that?"

"Oh the girl who won it was in the maze too! She came right out when you went in and gave him back to me."

Mike stared at her and then the police who nodded along. The woman spoke, "She was a nice young thing who made sure the little was okay, even offered to buy our co-worker her food after they bumped and it spilled."

'What the fuck?' Mike nodded at the story. "Okay Abby, say thank you to the officers who were watching you and let's go."

The siblings thanked the officers and went their own way, as your friends whisked you off after apologizing to the young police officer again.

The time the paths crossed:

Your friend rolled her eyes as you sat on the bench.

"I'm tired. I just wanna sit down."

"You can sit on the carousel!"

"No, aye you go take her already. Shoo."

Your friend rolled her eyes as her boyfriend shrugged.

"Pick her up."

The two of you stared at her, then shared a look.

'Is she for real?'

'I think so.'

"Y/n I'm dead serious."

"Please let me rest! You've dragged me around the whole day, my social battery is at zero, let me recharge." You begged, if needed at this point you'd get on your hands and knees.

Your friend sighed and nodded. "Fine, rest and draw or whatnot."

Mike and Abby argued for a bit about Mike going on but with the whole tired from work thing Abby went by herself. A nice couple helped her on the horse, Mike motioned to the bench you were at, letting Abby know he was there watching. Abby waved and hugged Mr. Bunny.

Mike noticed the girl sitting there, she was slightly hunched over and what looked like drawing.

Mike cleared his throat and the girl slightly jumped. She looked wide eyed at Mike, who couldn't help but think 'Pretty.'

"Yeah…?"

"Sorry um do you mind if I sit? My sister is over there and I want to watch her." He waved toward the carousel moving.

"Yeah that's fine, go ahead." Mike sat, and tried to focus on the carousel bit his eyes would slide over the girl next to him.

She was pretty, with her h/c and big e/c eyes. She had long eyelashes and pink pouty lips.

Mike's eyes dragged down her figure and noticed thick thighs. His eyes quickly shot up.

'Focus on Abby not the hot stranger next to you.'

To you though Mike looked bored and to be in his own world.

'Just say something!'

"So how old is your sister?"

Mike turned his attention towards you, "She's 8."

"Hmm. That's such a great age to take them places, since they'll actually remember it."

"Yeah, I guess so."

'I guess hes not much of a talker.'

'Are you serious? You couldn't add more to the conversation?'

"Do you have any siblings?"

You turned to him and gave him a smile. "No vut I have a younger cousin I grew up with, he's like my little brother basically. I was going to bring him but he got in trouble for fighting."

Mike smirked, "Fighting?"

"Yeah, one of the other little brats was bullying this one quite girl with braces. And it turned physical."

He cocked a brow, "And he got punished?"

You leaned in a little closer, and Mike subconsciously did the same. "Just for 2 days, hos mother just doesn't like fighting period. But she's letting me take him for the last day of the carnival and then to go get ice cream and waste the day away, basically."

Mike nodded along, "I guess that makes sense. No parent wants to see their kid fight and possibly get hurt."

"Yeah, she also wants me to stress the importance of no physical fights. Since, he listens to me a little more."

"That's nice." You hummed in agreement.

When the carousel stopped, you got up slowly, and you ripped a piece of paper out.

"Uh here." Mike took it slowly and you walked off to greet your friends, off to the next attraction. Mike eyed you as you left, eyes trailing up and down.

"Maybe fairs aren't so bad." Mike muttered to himself. Abby came running, excited riding the carousel. And Mike was excited too, he got a girl's number.

"Was it fun?" Abby nodded yes and hugged Mr. Bunny.

"Alright let's go it's past your bedtime." Abby gave a dejected look but nodded nonetheless.

'Hey, it's the guy from the carousel.'

'Which one?'

'Just kidding! I swear!'

He huffed a laugh out loud. And Abby looked at him funny as he was disturbing drawing/cartoon time.

'Real funny.'

'I am known to be somewhat of a comedian.'

'Somewhat?'

'Can't always be making jokes.'

As the texting continued, Mike Schmidt was saved under "Carousel Boy ♥︎"

Mike would never admit it, but before getting your name and before the second date, you were under "my carousel girl."

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I feel like mile wouldnt text at first but since he thought you were hot and checking you out he'd do it as like a let me have 1 thing "selfish" attitude but then realizes that fuck hes in to deep like by the secind date. In the carousel series, Mike still doesn't know lol he just thinks you and abby clicked bc abby wanted to have a secret between the two of you.

I lied again yall 😪 couldn't help myself

Taglist: @stinkii-boii @hellothisisprincesskitty

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #x reader #abby schmidt #mike schmidt #mike fnaf #fluff #fnaf movie #short and sweet #josh hutcherson

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