#AU Fic

[peterspinkrobe]

Confession - priest!Miguel O’Hara x Reader [part 2]

Word count: 2,270 (oops)

Rating: mature for suggestive content. Mentions of masturbation. You have a dirty mind… tsk tsk. Religious content. Mentions of parental death (sorry for not tagging last time).

A/N: Thank you for your feral support in reading part 1! The art above is again by @Ejpuki on twt. They drew this moment from part one and JUST LOOK AT IT! They also did a pre-reading which I greatly appreciated. Go support them over there <3 I only tagged the people who explicitly stated bc I don’t want to overstep. Also, I guess I should watch Fleabag? Enjoy! part three is cookin’ in my noggin’

// Psalms 32:3-4

When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me;

Rumbling sounds drone from the engine in a constant hum as the bus wheels roll down the asphalt, occasionally shuffling the passengers inside. Yourself included.

The wheels in your mind are conjuring images of too much skin, friction, and want. The mental pictures… different positions and other things that you’ve only read about - all featuring the same tall deacon from your small church.

You curse yourself for both your overactive imagination and forgetfulness for having left your headphones at home. Some loud music would drown out the whir of the bus and push out the flashes of lewdness that plagued you.

Reverend O’Hara, you learned that’s what transitional deacons are usually called after inquiring about the proper title on Google the second you got home from that communion, occupied the majority of your mind. He took up residence in your thoughts without even asking permission and you didn’t know the proper way to absolve your sanity of him. It had only been two weeks since you’d met him, two Sunday services, but you were hooked. This trip into the city was supposed to get you out of the house and help clear your mind of its recent inhabitant.

The methods you were currently using were certainly of no help. Nearly every night, for the past two weeks, you’d given into temptation. Allowing the streaking images of what you could only envision his toned body looked like to remain longer in your mind’s eye. His thumb on your lip, the quick swipe across - became more inquisitive of the inside of your mouth in your imagination. You pressed into yourself and thought of those long, thick fingers. You carried yourself away on highs with only his hands in mind. You yearned to baptize him in your waters.

You buried fingernails into your palms to ground yourself as the scenery outside the bus began the change drastically, pulling you out of your daydream.

Your hometown along the Catskill Mountains was enveloped by the natural world - tucked into valleys of the vast countryside. In the three weeks you’d been back home, you had already gotten used to surrounding greenery. You’d forgotten the toll that city expansion was having on the rows of vegetable and orchard farms in the surrounding areas.

Your gaze out the window watched tree lines and grassy hills give way to glimmers of futuristic architecture as the bus entered Nueva York. The rhythm of wheels on tarmac became a backdrop to the din of honking horns, shouting pedestrians, and blaring sirens. You had only recently left a city not too different from this one, but the drastic change in landscape from the mountains made your head spin. The inertia of the bus braking and accelerating over and over on the intersecting streets only added to the motion sickness. You recognize the next stop as the usual one you and your mother used when coming into the city. You quickly get off the bus, blessing the steady ground underneath as your boots hit the pavement.

Towering structures of carbon fiber and glass dominated the skyline, some illuminated by bright neon light displays, others blending into the afternoon sunshine. Advertisements for fast foods, fast money, and fast cars flickered on screens everywhere. You look to where the bus carried you from and, in contrast, the countryside stretched out, calling you back. Despite the slight familiarity in the maze of metal, the sudden change in surroundings made you slightly anxious.

The steady stream of citizens didn’t help your nerves either. You take a moment to get yourself together before following the foot traffic flow up a familiar street.

Your eyes recognize a food spot from a bygone era and you can’t help but smile. You picked up the pace as you headed to the establishment your family used to frequent. Timeless Treats is still here?! You pull on the long handled door and a wave of music, chatter, and sugar hit you at once. Much more pleasant than the waves of anxiety from moments before.

Entering the quaint eatery, you’re transported into a cozy atmosphere reminiscent of an old fashioned diner. A cheerful man at the front waves you in and shouts for you to ‘sit where ya want!’.

You recognized the vintage decor: rusted signs with cartoon mascots and ads for ice cream floats that cost only $2. Imagine! You select one of the smaller retro tables with two stools and hear a jukebox play a song you don’t recognize but tap your foot along to.

There was more to this diner than what it seems at first glance. A few more glances noticed the subtle touches where the diner had embraced the future where it mattered, with high-tech kitchen appliances that helped the staff immensely. A holographic menu pops up across the portion of the table you're sitting at and you slide your finger along the options.

This bakery specialized in delicious treats with a futuristic flare, with many favorites being popular since the establishment opened generations ago. Your eyes fell onto the pastry menu and your curiosity piqued as you ordered the ‘Time Traveler’s Torta.’

All the hustle of the city had occupied your mind until you were sitting alone at the table. Your eyes scanned the other occupants and you wondered what they were all talking about with their sugary sweets. It made you think of him again.

Dammit. A whole ten minutes without thinking of Reverend O’Hara, that’s a record! You couldn’t help the images of Miguel that fluttered now. Only this time you pictured him sitting at the table with you. The two of you share a dessert and you smile at the thought. You visualize his thumb coming to your face to wipe whipped cream from your lips only to plop the finger into his own mouth. That moment as mass replayed in your mind with differing flavors of spice on repeat.

The torta arrives and you gawk at the presentation of the treat. A classic cake with layers of light vanilla sponge, intricately placed swirls of sweet cream cheese frosting, and decadent chocolate sauce. This sweet was the perfect balance of timeless and futuristic as it sat on an oblong, ornate plate.

You savored the flavors as you ate and continued to imagine a date with the deacon. You ask yourself if deacons can even date and the thought pulls you out of your delusions for a moment. Get it together…

As you scooped the last bits of the pastry into your mouth, you pondered your dilemma. Mom always said that confession cleared a clouded consciousness, but there was no way you’d divulge this information to her. Her hypothetical reaction to your crush on a clergy member makes you shiver.

An idea comes to mind that makes you think to yourself that you’ve really gone mad.

The madness pushes you from your seat after paying for the dessert. There’s a slim chance what you’re looking for is actually there considering the cities expansions. That doubt doesn’t stop you from following a semi-recognizable path down the busy streets.

Every tall figure you pass makes you do a double take. The idea of the deacon brushing alongside you making you smile. You turn a corner as your imagination creates sweet scenarios with Reverend O’Hara and stop in your tracks. You cause people behind you to push into your back and spit harsh murmurs at you.

It was still there.

You were surprised for good reason. You were headed towards a relic of past times, nestled between buildings of glass and metal. There was some scaffolding supporting it as the building you headed towards was centuries old. Other than that - the structure you now stood and stared at jutted towards the sky in the old brick and mortar style you were used to seeing in your hometown.

But the Cathedral of Nueva York wasn’t like the humble church in your hometown. The ornate bell tower and large cross atop the chapel in front of you proved that. The only thing to change about the building was the name as the state itself saw many changes a few decades ago - including the name of the actual city.

You find yourself reminiscing on the few times you’d been to the church as you walked inside. Your family used to attend the fancy Easter services and Christmas plays. Those trips stopped after your father passed, and your mother rarely came to the city at all anymore. You remember seeing pictures of them on their wedding day at this very church. Priesthood is a tight knit group and Father Steen knew the head priest, who extended their church for their wedding services.

Given it was a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many souls inside. Despite the numerous options for seating, you sat in your usual middle pew, aisle seat.

You eyed the part of the church that had brought you here in the first place. The confession booth. Its cherrywood exterior made you think of those eyes that bore into yours that day of communion. You shake your head but the visual remains.

The church in your hometown didn’t have a confessional booth. Even if they did - why the hell would you confess there? To the subject of your lustful desires? So many questions and doubts enter your mind.

Could you really do this? Confess to a priest that you pined over a man in his chaste brotherhood? Think of the judgment!

Another thought occurs to you: their whole shtick was that only one entity could do the judging. And it was confidential. If you received some good ol’ fashioned Catholic scolding and Hail Mary’s, maybe that would be enough to get you back to your senses. Reverend O’Hara is a man devoted to God and cannot be hindered by the whims of a degenerate like yourself.

Emboldened by the potential to relieve yourself of your corrupt thoughts, you stand and approach the far right front of the church. The confessional is smaller than it looked from how you remember as a child and teen but it doesn’t stop you from nearly yanking the door open. You don’t even knock.

Thankfully no one is on the confessing side as you burst into the tiny box. The confined space became even smaller as you closed the door behind you quickly. Your mind races towards impure thoughts of the deacon pressed against you in the tight booth space. His height would force him to bend slightly over you and the visual almost knocks you onto the bench which would probably be right at crotch level…

You remember the times you’d done this before and cry out the usual, “Forgive me, for I have sinned and it has been many years since my last confession…”. Who were you even asking for forgiveness? You think for a moment about the last time you were in this booth. You felt so guilty about stealing from the general store all those years back. This was a different kind of confession. This would hopefully absolve yourself of the sinful attraction to the forbidden.

You start light, fumbling over the words, “I’ve gotten drunk and high, uh, a good bit while in college. I lied to my mother and got into major trouble as a result. I’ve been selfish and lazy.”

The anonymity and the release of it all lit a fire under you and you kept going.

“While I’m in this confession booth, and I know it is a sacred and holy place”, you sigh and hear shuffling on the opposite side of the wall, the priest waiting patiently on the other side. “I’ve been struggling with my faith and don’t believe in god…”

You hear the clergyman start to interject but the voice that comes out of you has a fierce tone.

“I’m not done.” Now it was the priest’s turn to sigh and you see movement through the small slits in the partition, but hear nothing else. You continue. The most scandalous part to admit had yet to be said.

“Father, I’ve been lustful over the deacon at my church.” There’s silence on the other end and before embarrassment can take over you continue, “I’m constantly thinking of him and having impure thoughts that drive me to-“ oh god, here it is

“Touch myself. Daily. With this deacon on my mind.” You can’t stop the heat from painting your cheeks a deep red.

“I feel guilty because he isn’t for me to think that way about. From just the two times I’ve seen him, I know he is a good man who does good things. He’s on a path towards righteousness. He’s worthy.” To your shock, you feel tears form and they begin to fall.

“I’m a sinful nonbeliever. Definitely not someone he could be with, unworthy of devotion of any kind. And I’m not good.” Your breathing becomes shaky as the tears fall harder. Despite the fact that you feel your words are the truth, you can’t help but imagine him there now. Comforting you as you cry.

Now that you’ve finished confession, you expect to hear an outburst of disapproval or at least ‘50 Hail Mary’s’ to absolve you of your confessed transgressions.

But that’s not what you heard next.

You hear your name. You hear your name in that sweet music that’s been ringing in your ears the last week or so. This time the musical tone is cautious. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief as your eyes glue to the wall where the music came from.

To confirm your suspicions, you grab the knob on the partition and yank it back.

Through the small window you see a familiar pair of eyes analyzing your face, heavy with worry.

Reverend O’Hara had just taken your confession…

I pray you liked this, dear reader.

Tagged ppl - @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts it won’t let me tag you @hoelychildofgod

#miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #priest!miguel #priest au #au fic #across the spiderverse #miguel x you

[lemoneyshipz]

mood board for the stranger than fiction au fic i wanna write but don’t know where to start 😭😭

(will elaborate later)

#dream of the endless #the sandman #dreamling #morpheus #hob gadling #edit #stranger than fiction #au #au fic #lemoneyshipz

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Okay I’ve been toying with an idea for a Six of Crows au post-Crooked Kingdom where Van Eck won for a little while now and yeah idk but I had a scene idea come to me just now so I’m gonna write it here to see what you guys think and if there’s any interest then I might add it to my list of fics to write

This feels like a weird introduction but, er, here we go:

Inej knew the moment Kaz got home. There were no longer any crowds in the house to come to attention at his entrance, or if there were then no-one had bothered to come down to the half-room and tell Inej, but she could hear his voice drifting through the vents as soon as the door upstairs banged shut behind him.

“Where’s Inej?”

“Where do you think?” Matthias’ reply came roughly, and Inej could all but picture the disapproving grimace that must be crossing his face about now.

Let him judge. She didn’t need to leave the half-room, and for as long as that was true she wouldn’t. The vents did not give her every room though, and she did miss gathering her secrets. She wondered if there was anyone else in the house, but the five of them. Five? She stopped and counted them on her fingers. Yes, five. Hopefully still five. Inej had not bothered to leave the half-room in days, and no-one had been down to see her since yesterday morning.

She heard the door click open behind her, of course, but she did not bother to look up as Dirtyhands entered the room.

“Wraith,”

“Don’t you read the papers, Kaz?” Inej asked, without turning, “The Wraith is dead,”

She stood up, hand wandering across the table for her little pot of jurda. It tasted like shit and it wasn’t nearly as strong as she wanted it to be, but it took less than a month for the price of the blossoms to surpass the height of the stars so she’d have to make do with whatever they had left.

“Inej-”

“They found her body on the steps outside the Church of Barter almost three months ago, remember?” she finally turned to face Kaz, unscrewing the lid on the little silver pot as she did so, “Killed by some mercenary called the White Blade, who still hasn’t been found by they way in case you haven’t seen the latest. I guess it’s difficult to catch a ghost,”

Difficult to catch a wraith.

“We’ve had this conversation several times, Inej-”

“And we’re going to have it again,”

Inej placed an orange jurda blossom on her tongue, then offered the open container to Kaz. It was almost empty. He waved her off.

“I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing,”

Inej shrugged.

“Gotta stay awake somehow, haven’t I? We’re busy,”

“We’re not on a job”

“We’re never on a job. Unless the reason you’ve bothered to grace me with your presence is a proposition?”

Kaz shook his head.

“I just wanted to tell you there’s no news,”

Inej looked away. There was never any news. And yet somehow she always expected differently.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Probably,”

Inej caught another jurda blossom between her fingers. She needed to stay awake, because if she slept she would see him. She would see all the ways she’d failed.

“It wasn’t your fault, Inej, we’re having the same conversations on repeat can’t you see-,”

“And we’ll have them again,” she shrugged, “We will have this conversation again, Kaz, because I made a mistake and you are coddling me like a child who won’t be able cope if you tell them something was their fault. Tell me it was my fault, Kaz! We both know that it’s true,”

Kaz shook his head.

“I’d rather repeat the previous,”

“Then let’s,” snapped Inej, because hell if this jurda wasn’t strong enough to keep her awake then maybe an argument would be, “Let’s repeat the goddamn conversation, Kaz, because you’re right. We have the same two conversations on repeat and do you want to know why? Because I am owning up to the mistake I made and I am trying to deal with the consequences of it, but you had no right to do what you did, do you understand me? You messed up and you need to take some damn responsibility, because if you think-”

“You always knew Tailoring Dunyasha’s body to look like yours was a possibility for your escape option,” said Kaz, calmly.

She hated how quiet his voice was, how slow and deliberate he sounded next to the and ramblings that she could not stop from stumbling out of her.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she hissed, slamming her jurda back down on the table.

“I couldn’t have done anything to stop that,”

“You could have tried,”

“Inej-”

“Shevrati,”

Know-nothing.

She waved a hand vaguely at the door.

“Get out,”

Kaz turned to leave, then paused.

“I am sorry, Inej. They’d like to see you upstairs, you know. Nina misses you,”

“Nina can come down here then,”

“Inej… I can’t do anything for you but apologise,”

“Keep you apologies,” she snarled, and when the door had closed behind him added: “Choke on them,”

Kaz could apologise all he wanted. She would not forgive him. What right did he have to expect anything different from her than this? Did any of them? Kaz had not had to watch his parents cry, as they carried home the body of a child that wasn’t theirs. Kaz had not had to feel the ironclad grip of the person he thought he’d trusted most in the world as they held him back and told him to swallow his sobs and keep quiet. Kaz had not given up and gone limp in their arms, a mess of tears and useless prayers, as he saw his parents slip from his grasp once again and knew that he would not have the chance to tell them truth.

Kaz had also not failed the others, and did not have to feel the truth of that choking him every time he saw them. Kaz had not spent almost three months barely daring to venture out of the half room, just so he would never have to lock eyes with Jesper Fahey. There was a scream inside Inej that had been slowly building itself since the day of the auction, and if she did not find a way to release it soon it may very well eat her alive.

#I’ve never read a fic where van eck won but if anyone has any recs let me know because I’m very intrigued by the concept #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar #kanej #kanej fic #kanej fanfiction #soc fics #soc fanfic #soc fandom #soc fic #soc fanfiction #ao3 #six of crows fandom #six of crows fic #six of crows fanfic #grishaverse fandom #grishaverse fanfic #soc au #six of crows au #au fic #au fic idea

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | newt [remastered]

PAIRING — newt x thomas’ step-sister!reader

SUMMARY — after her father’s engagement, y/n moves from new york city to the small town of woodstock, where she befriends her step-brother thomas’ group of friends, and easily finds a second home within them. among the crowd of rowdy teenagers is newt, an intriguing boy who seemed to catch y/n’s eye, and who quickly becomes the boy that would end up making her final year of high school unforgettable. 

WARNINGS — friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, etc. — each chapter will have separate warnings

WORD COUNT —

NOTES — AHH ITS FINALLY HERE!! i've been waiting for so long to do something like this and honestly despite how cliche and trope-y this fic is i love it to death

EXTRAS — town map | reader's house | brenda's house | newt's house

PLAYLISTS — youtube | spotify | apple

read on Wattpad | read on Ao3

chapter one — new beginnings

chapter two — parking lot introductions

chapter three — mickey's diner

chapter four — the willow tree

chapter five — late night shenanigans

chapter six — stargazing

chapter seven — bright lights, big city

chapter eight — saturday

chapter nine — suspicion

chapter ten — the bonfire

chapter eleven — o, atlas, pt. i

chapter twelve — o, atlas, pt. ii

chapter thirteen — welcome distractions

chapter fourteen — a rom-com happy ending [04.20]

taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

#remember the nights #newt x reader #newt tmr x reader #newt x you #newt x y/n #newt series #newt tmr series #newt angst #newt fluff #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader #au fic #high school au

[loz-untold-myths]

🍃Resting Beyond the Mist🍃

Stone Fate Link (The Hero of Fate), accompanied by his best friend. It's dangerous to go alone, after all.

(More info under break).

This is actually a redraw of something I drew 2-3 years ago (which will be shown side by side against it on the Discord server). It took forever (I started it in the morning on a whim and finished at around nightfall, given I took some breaks). Regardless, it's finished - and I think I've really improved since then. I've always been lazy with backgrounds, but I'm slowly getting... less lazy!

Stone Fate Chapter 1

Falling into Place: Part One

Time Elapsed: 6 hours, 20 minutes

Program Used: Ibis Paint

REBLOGGING IS ENCOURAGED, BUT DO NOT REPOST.

#loz untold myths #loz stone fate #untold myths stone fate #loz #tloz #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz au #zelda au #legend of zelda au #sf link #sf lya #hero of fate #loz fanart #zelda fanart #tloz fanart #zelink au #the legend of zelda au #au fic #au fanart #fanart #tloz au #tloz designs #zelink #au zelink #link x zelda #zelda x link #link #zelda #princess zelda

[shallowseeker]

Fic where Dean meets Millie and Henry Winchester.

Dean and Millie chafe at first because they’re too similar and naturally suspicious of each other.

But—Millie calls her kid “Kid” and that’s a cute parallel to Dean…

…but she also calls her husband, “Pal, Buddy, Big guy, Tough guy, Bud, Friend,” etc and that makes Dean feel a certain way.

#millie #henry #dean #john #au fic

[amityillustration]

TODAY IS THE DAY!! @aftgbigbang

This is my piece for the AFTG Big Bang 2023. I drew art for @this-witch-writes stranger things au fic!!

You can read it here!!

#aftg big bang 2023 #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanart #kevin day #neil josten #renee walker #aaron minyard #au fic #stranger things #stranger things au #all for the game #amitys art #the raven king #the kings men #the foxhole court #digital artist #artists on tumblr #my art #art #ao3 fanfic

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of drug and alcohol use, blood/gore

Rating: PG-13ish?, will become explicit later on😈

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Hello everyone!

As I mentioned before, I had this on the back burner for a while and am very excited to get this out to you. I’ve loved vampires for such a long time and what could be better if you mixed them with Elvis involved🤭 Bit different flow than my other fics in the past but I think you’ll like the mystery behind it all. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

January 25, 1973

Your bones ached after being on your feet for twelve whole hours. You needed to take off this suffocating uniform too while you’re at it. It clung to you uncomfortably and made you feel gross after a long day. You head to the locker room to change and go home, practically shoving everything in your locker and slinging your purse over your shoulder heading for the door.

“Y/n! Tanya wants to see you!” Someone yells from across the room. You huff, annoyed that she couldn’t talk to you any other time of the day and had to wait for the second you were going to get off. Tanya was your supervisor, she was tolerable, but still got on your nerves. You couldn’t completely hate her. She was the one who gave you a chance and gave you this job in the first place when you and Daniel moved out here.

You take a deep breath and quickly make your way to the back office. You knock on the door before entering and peeking your head in.

“You asked to see me?” You say politely, trying to not show the agitation in your voice.

“Ah yes, y/n, sit down I need to talk to you,” Tanya says sternly. Your stomach turns with her tone and your mind scrambles to find something you did wrong in the past few days.

You take a seat in the ripped-up leather chair and straighten out your uniform.

“I just wanted to talk to you about your performance lately,” she pauses and your heart drops to your stomach.

You don’t respond and wait for her to say something next.

“It’s been exceptional. You have no write-ups and haven’t been late once. Everyone compliments you on how the rooms look after you clean them I’m very impressed. You have definitely made a great impression on management here.”

You look at her a bit shocked, like all of this sounds too good to be true. You always put in all of your effort to do a great job but you never thought you’d get noticed for it. There are over a hundred people on the housekeeping staff and you thought no one would ever notice your work.

“Oh thank you. I appreciate you noticing the effort I’ve put in.” You say shyly.

“So management and I have decided to move you to a different position.” Your eyes brows raise and look at her inquisitively.

“Laura is moving away and that means her job is going to need to be taken over.” You try and wrack your brain for who Laura was but she doesn’t ring a bell. She was very quiet and had a different shift than you so you normally didn’t cross paths.

“Laura took care of the penthouse and I would like you to take over that position.” She says matter of factly and not in the form of a question. You were to do this, no ifs ands or buts.

You stare wide-eyed, almost not believing what you just heard.

The penthouse was where Elvis Presley lived.

The private and secluded king of rock and roll.

The man who changed the world with his voice and moves.

He’d become something of a recluse lately. The public didn’t see him very often other than for shows and he was upstairs in the penthouse for days on end. He had a very mysterious side to him with the way he was acting. He wasn’t the vibrant young rock musician like in the 50s, he was much more refined and had a sullen demeanor. You had never met him before even though you’ve worked here for four years now. You wouldn’t dare wander up to the penthouse to get a glimpse of him or you’d sure be fired. It was clear that when you got hired to not make it up to the penthouse under any circumstances.

You really liked him though, you loved how his voice made you feel. You remember having a few pictures of him in your room in the 60s and flocking to the movie theater with your girlfriends to see his latest picture. And the way those hips moved… oh God focus.

“I-i umm thank you, I appreciate you acknowledging my work. How would this exactly work though? Would the penthouse get put into my rotation every few days or…” you question as your mind runs a million miles an hour realizing you were going to meet Elvis Presley.

“Well you see, Mr. Presley is very… particular. He only calls for housekeeping when he wants it or he will be calling every day so it would be easier if you worked full time up there. We’ll pay you a few extra dollars for this since it is a different pace and everything,” she instructs.

You feel so overwhelmed. Your heart jumps at the fact that you’ve been promoted basically and will be catering to Elvis but on the other hand, Tanya’s tone of how she talks about him makes your skin crawl.

Particular?

What exactly does he do to cause people to talk about him like that?

What the hell does he do all day cooped up in there between shows?

“Thank you for the opportunity, I’d be more than happy to take on this role,” you say confidently.

“Wonderful, you’ll start tomorrow at 3 pm,” she says reaching into the drawer to give you a key to the elevator to give you access to the penthouse.

“3 pm? Isn’t that late?” You ask confused.

She chuckles to herself, “Elvis normally doesn’t get up til then so that’s when your shift starts,” she explains.

You take the key and thank her once more and make a beeline for the door before you can embarrass yourself any further. Heading back to the locker room, you realize nerves rattle your bones. Maybe it’s because it’s Elvis Presley you’re going to be catering to that makes you nervous but you wanted to get home as soon as possible to not freak yourself out and give back the job offer.

You get in your dusty car and onto the freeway to head home. You lived with your fiancé, Daniel, in North Las Vegas in a small two-bedroom apartment.

You weren’t the normal couple by any means, for one you lived together before being married and that was frowned upon by everyone. Your abusive father lived in the bottle and you couldn’t handle living in the same house anymore. You and Daniel were getting serious and he asked if you wanted to move in with him. You thought it was a godsend that you could escape your turbulent household and have somewhere safe. It was safe, but the longer you’ve lived there the more you realize the bad habits he has made normal.

It was 1973 and cocaine was running like wildfire in Las Vegas. If you had some kind of elite status, coke was the drug of choice. Even if you were a no body, you would be offered some at any party you showed up to. And while Daniel tried to act coy and politely refuse it, he would disappear in the bathroom for minutes at a time and come out looking higher than a kite.

You couldn’t forget the night you came home from work and he was high out of his mind, he didn’t even recognize you and in a paranoid episode, he threw his scotch glass at you, screaming at the top of his lungs to get out. The glass hit your forearm and shattered at your feet, leaving shards of glass in your ankles and toes. It scared the living hell out of you and for the first time were petrified of him.

The next morning he didn’t remember any of it, gave no apology and moved on as if nothing happened. It still bugged you and you told him you don’t like it when he does drugs. He assured you he only does it every once in a while and he has it under control.

But he definitely didn’t. Part of you wanted to end things because you could see it going down a dark path, but on the other hand, he was the only love you had known. And in the moments that he wasn’t on a substance, you loved him deeply. You felt the love that you two shared and wouldn’t give up on each other. You met in college and the sparks flew instantly. You had never felt serious for anyone ever and liked being around him. The years went on and he asked you to marry him, you couldn't have been more happy and said yes. He promised he’d take care of you always. For a while, he kept his promise, but lately, that hasn’t been true.

He was a bouncer at different clubs in Vegas and with the late nights for him and early morning shifts for you meant you barely ever saw each other. The apartment was almost always empty and cold as your heart felt. You longed for a fiancé that would miss you and be excited when he saw you home. Instead, you both were two ghosts passing each other, barely acknowledging each other’s presence. You didn’t want to give up, but something was going to have to change in order for you to stay.

*

It was strange to clock into work so late. Normally you start your shift at 6 am, but today you rolled into work at 2:45 pm and found the locker room completely barren and quiet. Putting on your uniform piece by piece, you realize how self-conscious you felt. It finally hits you, you’re going to meet Elvis Presley in the flesh today and you wanted to make a good impression. There wasn’t a wrinkle left on your blouse or your skirt. You starched the hell out of it where it almost looks like it doesn’t move when you walk. Checking your hair in the mirror, you smooth back some of the fly always and take a deep breath.

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were so nervous, management obviously thought you were right for the job considering your current performance. It was probably the name and the image that intimidated you the most. You couldn’t let down Elvis in any way and if Tanya was correct, you were going to have to conform to his “particular” ways that he wanted things and do everything his way.

The shrill ring of the telephone jolts you out of your straying thoughts and jump up to pick the receiver off the wall.

“Hello housekeeping, this is y/n,” Your voice soft and gentle.

“Mr. Presley is requesting your services in the penthouse as soon as possible,” said the voice in a low, unwavering tone. His voice gives you a chill down your spine and you physically shiver as you stand there with the phone’s receiver in your hand.

“Yes absolutely, I’ll be right up,” you try to say quickly before hearing the click of the other line hang up. You take the phone away from your ear and hang it up, taking a long breath in before turning on your heels to the elevator, trying not to let this first interaction bother you.

Placing the key in the elevator to give you access to the penthouse, the ride up to the twenty-ninth floor felt agonizingly long and you take another moment to straighten out your uniform. Your hands tighten on the cleaning cart and sweat begins to form on the palm of your hands. The ding of the elevator makes you jump and you shake your arms at your side, trying to calm your restless nerves.

“Okay here we go,” you mutter to yourself.

The doors open and a tall man is waiting in front of the elevator for you. He’s wearing all black and dark sunglasses where you can barely see the outline of his eyes. He doesn’t move right away and if you were just passing by, you could almost mistake him for a statue.

You try to find the words but feel incredibly intimidated, you’re not sure if this was the man that called but your heart jumps.

“Right this way,” the man finally says in a short low tone. He reaches out his hand to point you in the right direction and you push the cart out in front of you and make slow, careful steps down the hall. On your left, you reach two double doors, framed with gold accents and a plaque in the middle of the door that read, “Elvis Presley.”

You look back at the man that was closely following you and he nods his head for you to go in. Your hand shakily wraps around the gold handle and pushes the door open. With your back against the door, you keep it open as you pull the cleaning cart into the room, being extra careful to not scratch up the door frame.

The heavy door closes behind you once you’re completely in and there is so much to take in.

The living room is very low-lit, only a lamp in the corner of the room was on and the velvety red curtains kept out all the sun from coming in. The stillness of the room kept you on edge, you don’t see Elvis anywhere to give you instructions of where to start made you keep scanning the room for a sign of life. The room looked like a tornado had struck here as you look down at your feet with plates and various alcohol bottles scattered around. There was a black grand piano by the windows and a large mirror by the the door that connected to the next room you presume.

Something else catches your attention; the way the suite smelled. God, it was the most intoxicating smell that you had ever stumbled upon. Something about it was comforting and refreshing all at the same time. You wished you could put this in a bottle and take it home to make your house smell this good. It almost made you want to lay down and take a nap right here, making you engulfed with it.

“About time you showed up,” a gruff, deep voice says in the corner of the room. Your head snaps back to where the lamp is and you see a tall man dressed in black velvet with a white shirt under his jacket buttoned down to the middle of his torso, exposing his white skin and sunglasses on, blocking his eyes. You swallow harshly and make yourself focus on the task at hand rather than obsessing over how good this place smells.

You clear your throat and make your way to him in the corner of the room, “I’m very sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Presley. My name is y/n, I’m your new housekeeper.” You say timidly, placing out your hand in front of you to shake his. He looks down at your hand, and even though you can’t see his eyes that well, you know he’s looking at you in disgust. You quickly retract it and put it at your side, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt nervously.

“Umm, where would you like me to start cleaning?” You ask, your voice upbeat and trying to hide the fact of feeling like this is rejection in some form.

“Where do you think,” he snaps coldly. Being this close to him, his size of stature looms over you and makes you feel incredibly small. Like he could crush you by just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat faster by that thought and you take some steps back.

“Okay, no problem. Do you mind if I open the drapes so I can see what I’m cleaning?” You ask with a smile.

“I don’t care, just get it done,” he says coldly. You quickly turn and go to the window to pull the curtains apart to let the light in. You turn around and you get a better sense of what the state of the room is in. There was so much trash scattered throughout the room and spilled food everywhere. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and your eyes find Elvis sitting on one of the chairs in the opposite corner of the room.

You can’t help but stare at him, his pale white skin beaming against the sunlight shining on him. His gold chains hanging from his neck looked like golden strands of an angel’s hair on him. He sat with his legs spread open and his hand resting at his crotch, the other arm resting lazily off the side of the chair. His stature made you think of a king’s. The way he could command a room without saying anything. He was distractingly attractive and your body wanted to get closer to him. It made no sense of why you felt this way. He hasn’t said more than two sentences to you but you feel like crumbling at his feet. He was better looking in person, pictures could not do him justice and you felt bad for staring, but you’re sure he gets it all the time.

You walk over to your cart and take a trash bag out to start clearing the floor, trying to collect your thoughts and not let yourself be so distracted by him. It feels daunting to clean all of this by yourself but you assure yourself that you can do this. You work your way from the windows back to the front door. The entire time though as you are picking up wet soggy food and used cups, you get a chill that runs through your body and looks over your shoulder to find Elvis staring crater-sized holes into your back. Your heart thumps wildly, something about him made you incredibly nervous. But another part of you liked it. It was awful you shouldn’t be feeling like this! You were engaged for God's sake and can’t have your mind wander like that when a man gives you an ounce of attention.

At least he gives you attention…

After 4 bags of trash, you start to dust and carefully put back all his miscellaneous items back in their place.

“Make sure you make the bathroom spotless,” he directs.

You nod your head at him, “Yes sir, absolutely. Do your other rooms need to be done today?” You say.

“Yes the other rooms need dusting,” he says, “but under no circumstances do you go in my bedroom without my permission. I forbid it.” He says harshly. You feel goosebumps form on your arms as he says this and stares at you from behind the sunglasses.

You swallow and clear your voice, “yes sir. Thank you for letting me know,” you say without your voice wavering.

He follows you to every room you go in and watches you like a hawk. Silently critiquing your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake you presume. He keeps a safe distance away from you most of the time but other times, he gets so close that you could almost bump into him. The closer he is to you, the more suffocating it feels. Suffocating yet alluring. Like you don't want to leave his side. It’s such a strange feeling to have when you’re around someone. You always avert your eyes when you move around him to clean the next area, it’s the only way you could get things done.

The last room is finished and you pile everything on your cart. It only took four hours but you did it. You start pushing the cart towards the door again when the sudden boom of his voice fills the room.

“There’s a bottle underneath the piano,” he grumbles.

Shit, you think to yourself. He's already ticked off.

You quickly make it to the piano and set the bench aside, kneeling down on your knees to crawl underneath. Your eyes scan for the bottle he said was here but you can’t find it. You reach your hand out and crawl on the floor until you hit the curtain and you hear a clank hit the wall. The bottle had rolled under the curtain and was laying flush against the baseboard. The expensive bottle glimmered when you pulled it away from the curtain and it hit the light, revealing a crack down the middle of it.

How the hell did he see this, you think to yourself annoyed. He probably planted this here to test you and you failed perfectly. Probably is going to make a complaint and ask for another housekeeper. Fucking idiot.

You crawl backward out from underneath the piano and stand back up. You quickly turn around and Elvis is standing inches away from you, his breathing heavy. Your body jumps when you see him and gasp at his close proximity, your hands involuntarily squeezing on the bottle, making it shatter in your hands.

You cry out as you feel shards of glass get pierced into your palms. You drop the remnants of the bottle on the floor and watch the glass fall at your feet. Letting out a frustrated groan, you stare at your palms filled with glass as blood starts to quickly leak out of the wounds, the pain stabbing at you over and over.

Elvis makes a frustrated groan and grabs your wrist, squeezing it uncomfortably tight. You gasp again at not only the pressure around your wrist but how cold and disturbingly strong he was.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He barks loudly, sending another chill through your body. You try to back up and the piano keys hit your thigh, making a tumultuous amount of sounds behind you as you try to get free from his grip. Your balance gets wobbly and you place your other hand on the keys to keep yourself from not topping over. The pressure of this only makes the shards of the glass go deeper inside your hand and you cry out loudly again. Your blood smears onto the keys and tears well in your eyes.

“Ahhh! Please, I'm so sorry about this. Let me clean this up,” you cry. You glance over at the other hand he is holding up and see the trails of blood drip drown your arm, his fingers also covered in your crimson blood. Your eyes grow wide and your breathing becomes uneven. So does his. He can't calm down with what you've just done.

“Get the fuck out,” he growls violently, disgust filling his voice. Your body shakes uncontrollably and he quickly lets go of your wrist. Your feet try to scurry away but they feel like jello as you manage to stumble your way to the door. You pick the large shards out of your palm and throw them on the floor. You don’t care about the mess you’ve made you just need to get away from him.

You’re in too much of a panic to grab your cart and reach for the handle of the door, smearing more of your blood in his suite. You push the door open and bolt past the men that have congregated at the door, having heard Elvis’ outbursts. Slamming the back of your hand on the elevator button, the doors quickly open and you rush in, pushing the basement floor and your chest heaves as you watch the doors close.

Your head spins and you feel like you could puke. The wrath that Elvis exhibited was terrifying. He acted like he was a caged animal watching you stand there bleeding. You knew you were going to get called into the office tomorrow morning and get either demoted or just fired.

You turn on the faucet and let the cool water spread over your wounds, wincing at the pain. You pick out the remaining small shards in your hand and go find the first aid kit. You wrap both of your hands with gauze and the bleeding finally stops. Glancing at the clock it’s past 7 o' clock and you don’t know where to go. You assumed your shift was over since he kicked you out but you didn’t want to go home to Daniel that was surely waking up soon to go to work and get a million questions of where you’ve been.

After you calm yourself down, you go to the parking lot and get in your car where you can feel the tears well in your eyes after a terrible day.

You made Elvis incredibly upset. He yelled at you and kicked you out. You couldn't do the one thing you were supposed to do and you bled all over his suite. Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought of what Tanya was going to say to you tomorrow morning. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you let all the tears come pouring out. Sobs and gasps fill the empty car and you try to calm yourself down but it doesn’t work, you’re too upset at your actions and you feel the world collapsing around you.

Suddenly, you get a chill that runs through your body, the same type you got when Elvis was staring at you intensely. You quickly lift your head off the steering wheel and peer out into the dark garage. There’s not a soul there as sirens go off in the distance. You shake your head at yourself, foolishly thinking Elvis would ever come down from the penthouse and check on you and possibly apologize.

You put the key into the ignition and start the car, driving away from the hotel as you prepare yourself for tomorrow’s firing.

•

•

•

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticIOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @Claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

#elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis presley x you #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x you #vampire elvis #vampire elvis fic #au fic #samfangirls

[klarion-the-witch-boy]

I was just doomscrolling, as you do, and saw this comic panel:

Context is irrelevant. I don't even know what the context is.

But I'm struck by this comic panel because it mirrors a moment a wrote in a fic (Perfect Nightmare / Flawed Dream) where Jason (as well as Dick, Tim, and Damian) wake up in an AU where everything is "better" (but is it really? maybe).

Anyway, I just think it's funny that Jason has also woken up in swanky digs, in a relative state of undress, in the comics too.

For Prospective Readers:

fic ships: Birdflash, JayRoy, TimKon.

(current) series ships: the above, DamiJon, future SuperBat (I only just realized I neither finished nor posted that bit tho)

warnings: not Talia friendly, not finished, dubious consent by way of sudden au shift?, unreliable writer who doesn't update as much as he'd like (but each part of the series is pretty self-contained).

#dc fic #batfam fanfic #dc fanfic #my fic #au fic #out of context shit #dayblogging #batfamily shit #batfam #birdflash #jayroy #timkon #comic panel #alright i think im done #lmao

[tayyysblog]

petition for someone to write a little mermaid au with wandanat immediately‼️‼️‼️

~

Wanda: oh..she’s so breathtaking, isn’t she?

Scuttle: I don’t know, she kinda looks kinda hairy and slobbery to me. [looking at the dog]

Wanda: No, not that one. The one playing the snarfblatt

___________

“She’s human. You’re a mermaid!”

Wanda: I don’t care.

___________

Natasha: “Oh she’s out there somewhere I just…I just haven’t found her yet

#wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #little mermaid #au fic #marvel #please please please #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wlw #mermaids #i would die for it #please writers #if i could i would #fics #ideas

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent: A Miguel O'Hara Story

next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

De-ca-dent* (de-kə-dənt) 1. characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence a rich and decadent dessert 2. marked by decay or decline an increasingly decadent society

Summary: You are new to the city, starting a job at a the research facility of your dreams. Speaking of dreams, your dreamy boss, Miguel O'Hara leaves an impression on you you'll not soon forget. But this brilliant scientist hides a dark secret - will his darkness drag you under? Or is love strong enough to overcome anything?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: We're just kicking things off so -1k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, please note the warnings for each part/section of this story. Some things are canon accurate and some are not. The secret Miguel hides requires him to do dark deeds to sustain his own life. Therefore there are non-con "vampiric" elements, but all sexual activities are consensual. Also cursing. Blood. References to sex but no sex in this chapter. References to killing. Let me know if I missed something. not beta'd we die like everyon'es uncle ben...

"Hi, Aunt Jess, I'm settled in my apartment. Movers just left," you spoke aloud, using your wireless headphones to make a call. Your Aunt had insisted you let her know you were all moved in, but failed to answer.

"It's small, like I told you, but I really wanted to start out on my own. Only child thing," you laughed. "Uhmm...I know you wanted me to have a roommate, to be safe, but...I promise I'll think about it more. Once I get to know some people here in the city."

Flopping down on your favorite green chair, you let out an exhausted sigh. "Anyway, you can text me back if you want. I'm taking a shower - if I can find my towels - and going to sleep. Early start tomorrow. Love you, bye."

Removing your headphones, you placed them carefully back in their charging case and turned on some relaxing music. It took you a few minutes, but you did find the box labeled 'towels' so you could freshen up. You had packed a bag with all your essentials - including some cozy pajamas for your first night in the city, and a smart suit for your first day as a research assistant tomorrow.

You were starting a new life in a new city. Orphaned when you were twelve-years-old, you were raised throughout your teenage years by your dad's much younger sister, Jessina. You were much closer in age - so much so that you occasionally fought like sisters, but she made good on her promise to take care of you, supporting you all the way through your master's degree.

Now you were in the city to finish up your doctorate, while working as an assistant to one of the most brilliant geneticists in the world - Miguel O'Hara.

You had only met him over a video call - he was inexplicably unavailable on your only in-person interview. He had a reputation for being tough, no-nonsense, devastatingly brilliant and dangerously handsome. You didn't know him yet, but the handsome part, you could attest to. Seeing him on your computer screen made your body temperature rise and your heart rate double.

Who knew what would happen in person?

But you were a professional, and Miguel's assistant was the perfect entry job for you. So you would have to ignore his gorgeous, thick waves and razor sharp jaw line. You were here to work.

Miguel sat perched on the edge of an abandoned building, head in his hands, fingers digging into his temples.

Everything hurt.

Conveniently, he didn't have to concentrate to keep his talons from piercing his own skin. So thankfully, talons were not the source of his pain. Still...it hurt.

With a huff, he jerked his hands away, banging a fist on the roof's edge...

...which promptly caused the aged brick to crumble beneath his super strength.

"Shit," he mumbled, pushing himself up. Sighing loudly, he decided he better call it a night. Even with above-average stamina, he still wanted to be ready to meet his new assistant tomorrow at the lab.

It was just so hard to concentrate when he felt so weak.

"I can't," he uttered, annoyed with himself for thinking of blood when he needed to be thinking about tomorrow - about you.

But it had been so long. Too long since he fed - since he felt the rush of his fangs sinking into a warm, fleshy neck. Since he had sucked the life out of someone despicable. Or fed slowly as he'd fucked a lover. The blood wasn't only a life-sustainer, after all. It was an aphrodisiac. He had the Evarcha culicivora - the vampire spider to thank for his blood appetite.

But something had gone wrong when Miguel was unknowingly afflicted with spider DNA years ago. The vampire spider's appetite for blood - specifically blood-filled females - plagued him. He could and did still eat regular food, but he found himself signficiantly weakened if he didn't feed on occasion.

He couldn't deny how incredible it felt - the warmth on his tongue - the pliant body in his arms. He told himself he kept to the moral high ground, killing on the most deplorable criminals. And even though his fangs emitted a non-toxic venom, which could paralyze, he told himself that each and every pleasurable feeding was consensual.

He was half right. The sex was definitely consensual because Miguel was a brilliant, beautiful and seductive man. The feedings, though? Not always. How could he exactly explain to someone that he was a creature who needed to feed on blood to live?

'Hi, I'm Miguel. I'm really smart and I will make you see God in bed, but, by the way, I want to drink you. But I'm not a vampire, I swear!'

Ludicrous.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

Coming up: you meet Miguel. What will your new boss be like? Will he have fed before he sees you? next->

*as defined by Merriam-Webster

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x afab reader #marvel fanfic #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #au fic #tw blood

[bitchin-beskar]

the taste of scotch and cigars - chapter one

Rating: M

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating trope, propositioning a stranger in a bar, drinking/mentions of being tipsy (minor), intense makeout in public, hints of exhibition kink, hints of voice kink, absolutely fucking douchebag of an ex, mentions of cheating, I think that's it for this chapter? Most of these will be expanded the further into the story we get, and more warnings will come hehe.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: this is one of the au ideas I've ranted to @catsnkooks about (there are many) and I wanted to schedule the first chapter drop during my vacay because it's been sitting in my wip folder and I wanna get opinions to see if people like this idea/wanna see more. (I mean, I'm gonna post it regardless but I still wanna see if people are into the idea). anyways, enjoy this fun spin on a fake dating trope :)

The burn of cheap vodka as it slid down your throat did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Coming here was a mistake. You should’ve let sleeping dogs lie, let your past stay where it belongs. Instead, you’re submerged in old memories and familiar hurts, the waters of time washing over your head and threatening to drown you in melancholy and diffidence.

The noise of the packed pub pressed in from all sides, buffeting you and keeping you off balance, loud enough that you were barely able to hear yourself think. You’d managed to avoid interactions thus far, but the likelyhood of that dwindled with every second you lingered, waiting for…

Well.

God only knows what you were waiting for.

Draining the last dregs of your drink, the thunk of your empty glass on the wooden bar as you sat it down made you frown and debate waving over the bartender for another refill. You thought for a long moment, before you decided otherwise. If you were going to be interacting with others tonight, you’d prefer to have at least some of your wits about you, and the vodka you’d consumed was enough to take the edge of your sorrow off. Any more though, and you couldn’t be held responsible for what might happen.

You turned around in your seat, scanning the crowd. In the back corner of the pub, you saw them for the first time that night since you’d walked in. The group seemed to be concentrated in the back, thankfully. You’d done a perfunctory greeting with the hosts of this little reunion, and then beelined for the bar and had been sat there since. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure why you even came.

Unfortunately, right as you were looking over at the group, you made eye contact with Christian, the one person you’d been hoping to avoid. He’d been looking in your direction, and when he saw you, he smirked and stood up, beginning to try and make his way through the crowd.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you spun around again on your stool, regretting not having ordered another drink. “God fucking dammit.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you began to wonder if it was possible for you to make a quick escape in the crowd, when your panic was interrupted by a deep and deceptively smooth British-accented voice to your right.

“Everythin’ alright, love?”

Turning your head, you made eye contact with the older man sitting next to you at the bar, and immediately your mouth went dry. How had you not noticed him yet?

He was absolutely gorgeous, with clear, intelligent blue eyes and thick dark brown hair that you wanted to run your fingers through. His cheeks and upper lip were covered in that same dark brown hair, shaved into mutton chops with stubble on his lower lip and chin. He was dressed in a light blue henley that clung to his torso, a hint of a ball chain disappering into the vee of the neckline, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. One hand was wrapped around a glass of scotch, and dangling from the fingers of his other hand was a lit Maduro cigar. He had on dark, well worn blue jeans that were moulded to his thighs, and black, slightly scuffed up combat boots.

He looked like the kind of man you’d spent many a shameful night fantasizing about back in high school, fingers ducking below the waistband of your sleep shorts as you clasped a hand over your mouth lest you wake your parents sleeping down the hall.

Those bright blue eyes were focused on yours, and you felt your cheeks heat under his surprisingly intense yet soft gaze. Something deep inside of you, fueled by the vodka, whispered that this was the kind of man you could trust, the kind of man who maybe, possibly would be willing to help a perfect stranger out of nothing but the kindness of his heart.

Maybe it was the alcohol, and you were drunker than you thought. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you, this gorgeous, dangerous man who managed to pierce you with such soft, kind eyes. Whatever it was, you lost control over your brain-to-mouth filter, and words began to spill forth.

“My ex is here, he just saw me and is coming this way, and it’s been years since I last saw him, and… god, I don’t have the strength to deal with him tonight, he never fucking takes no for an answer, would you be willing– I mean if it’s not too much trouble, and I could pay you back, but could I ask you–”

You managed to reboot your brain, but not quite fast enough to stop the spew of words from escaping you, and physically biting your own tongue was the only way to prevent you from making an even bigger fool of yourself. Immediately you averted your eyes, tearing yourself away from his piercing gaze as you shrunk in your seat, dread and shame roiling in the pit of your stomach and mixing with the alcohol to make you feel sick.

Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck were you thinking? He just asked if you were alright, he didn’t ask to have your entire life story dumped on him at the drop of a hat. He had to be at least ten years older than you, if not more, you were likely barely more than a silly little girl in his eyes. Shit, he’s probably got a stunning wife and gorgeous kids at home, and here you are, practically propositioning the poor man. Your mama always said you were a no-good, simple-minded child, and here you are, not even ten years outta her house and proving her right once again.

So lost in your self ruminations, you don’t notice the pensive look on the handsome stranger’s face, until suddenly there’s an arm wrapped securely around your waist and you’re being tugged off your barstool and onto a thickly muscled thigh, leaning against against the warm length of a heavily muscled torso. You somehow manage to not leap out of your skin in surprise, even when you feel the brush of his lips against the outer shell of your ear, his voice a low growl, gravel grinding against pavement.

“I’m more’n willing to help a pretty lil’ girl like you, love. No debt necessary. ‘Sides, a man who doesn’ understand the word no? Princess, that ain’t a man at all.”

Dreaming. You’ve gotta be stuck in some kind of alcohol intoxication induced fever dream, because there’s no fucking way that this is your life right now. Shit like this doesn’t happen outside of cheesy romcoms and trashy dime store novels. Let alone at random pubs in fucking Liverpool.

You’re not given the time to delve more into the ramifications of dreams induced by too much imbibed alcohol because your ears are abruptly assaulted by a reedy, nasally voice that you wished you could forget, but was burned into so many of your adolescent memories.

“Sweetcheeks! Goodness, it’s been awhile! You know, I wasn’t sure I’d see you here, we were all pretty surprised you showed up.”

The stanger-who’s lap you were perched-on turned at the interruption, his hand sliding from your hip across your belly, palm hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. He hooked his finger in your belt loop, fingers pressing reassuringly into the meat of your hip as his forearm felt like a bar of iron against your abdomen. The positioning was oddly possessive, like it meant more than him making sure you didn’t tip off his thigh and onto the dingy floor of the pub. His glass of scotch was abandoned on the bar, the arm not holding you streched out on the wood, cigar dangling from his fingers. You turned your head to look at the last person in the world you wanted to see, although you were distracted slightly from your ire by the slow drag of lips along the length of your jaw, the bristles on your stranger’s beard tickling the sensitive skin. It was an act that was surprisingly soothing as it was intimate.

Schooling your features, you looked at the face of the man who’d held your entire heart in his hands and shattered it on the ground without a second thought. Half a decade hadn’t dulled the pain, although you did a remarkable job at covering it up.

“Christian. Wish I could say it’s a pleasure.”

He pouted, an altogether unattractive look, although years ago it had been one to tug at your heartstrings. “Awe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, at least a little bit?”

You fixed him with a glare, even as fury began to burn low in your belly. “Why exactly would I be missing you, Christian?”

He rolled his eyes, as though the answer was exceedingly obvious, and he thought you dumb for even having to ask. “Awe, babes, you’re not still hung up about that little incident, are you? Even your momma thinks you’re overreacting, sweetcheeks.”

You cocked an eyebrow, even as you subconsciously sank further into your stranger’s embrace, his hold on you soothing and helping to keep you grounded. The admission that he still talked to your momma stung more than it should have, but then, she’d been heartbroken when you divorced who, in her eyes, was the most perfect embodiement of a son-in-law to ever grace God’s green earth. Figures she’d refuse to cut contact with him, even though you had.

“Hung up? Little incident? I came home to find you fucking Paisleigh, my best friend, in our fucking bed. And then I find out it wasn’t just the once, but practically every single week of our relationship, with about three dozen different girls over the years. I would say I have every right to still be pissed at you, Christian.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault, is it? Men have needs, babes. I was just doing what I needed to, since you certainly weren’t fullfilling ‘em. You hardly needed to move halfway across the world cause you got a lil’ upset about it.”

It took every shred of self control you had to refrain from launching yourself off of your stranger’s lap–and dear sweet god, you’re just now realizing you don’t actually know his fucking name–and strangling the idiot in front of you. Honestly though, it was probably less about your self control and more about the way his arm tightened around you, his fingers hooking tighter around your belt loop. He brought his other hand up to take a slow drag off his cigar, the richly sweet smoke curling around your body as he exhaled, his chest pressed comfortingly against your back. He let his hand drop, resting it on top of your thigh, fingers carefully keeping the cigar away from the fabric of your pants.

You felt the movement of his head as he gave Christian a look, glancing up and down before scoffing darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He only held you tighter, even as he opened his mouth, and the rich smoke of his voice filled your ears, deep and dripping honey, sending sparks straight to the fire in your gut.

“You’re no man. You’re barely more ‘n a immature little boy, a waste o’ space n’ air. If you’re not willin’ to stay faithful, then ya shouldn’t be in a relationship. If you weren’t satisfied, it certainly wasn’t somethin’ she was doin’ wrong.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to your temple, and dammit if it didn’t make you wanna melt into a puddle on the floor.

Christian puffed up, looking extremely offended, albeit ridiculous considering he was skinnier than a stick. “Do you have any idea who I am, old man?”

You’re trying very hard not to panic, because you didn’t have time to tell your stranger anything before this conversation, but you shouldn’t have worried, because he simply replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and a short, clipped, “Nah, should I?”

Dammit, you thought, trying to hold back a laugh. You didn’t know he was funny too.

If anything, that only pissed Christian off more. “Sweetcheeks, you didn’t tell your little friend here about your husband?”

“Ex-husband,” you hissed, eyes narrowing and body tensing at the way Christian spoke, all amusement draining from you at the sound of him acting so damn dismissive, it made you wanna claw his eyes out.

“Shh, is alrigh’, love,” your stranger whispered in your ear, and to your surprise, the tension bled back out of your limbs, the low timbre of his growl soothing the fury boiling inside you. Unfortunately, Christian rudely interrupted.

“And just who are you supposed to be?”

Your stranger chuckled, the vibrations rumbling pleasantly against your back. “Nah, I’m nobody special. Jus’ the one who took advantage of your colossal fuck up and married the sweet thing you let get away, ain’t tha’ right, love?”

It took every ounce of control you had to stop the surprise from showing on your face at his declaration. This was so far beyond anything you could’ve ever hoped for, you didn’t quite know how to handle it. There’d been no hesitation on his part, no awkward pauses or stuttering. Just a steady declaration that he was apparently your (fake, fake you reminded your brain) husband.

Christian’s cheeks were turning a ruddy color, nearly incandescent with rage. You should’ve realized that this little charade was gonna push him too far, especially when he bared his teeth and snarled.

“I pity you, sweetcheeks, you’re such an obvious charity case I should’ve known. No way is another man willing to settle down with you, especially considering the fact that you’re used, broken goods. Did’ja tell him that, before you trapped him, babes?” He growled, spittle flying. “Quieter than a doormouse in bed, she doesn’t even know how to properly pleasure a man, else I wouldn’ta needed to find someone else, isn’t that right?”

Ok, that was it. You were going to deck Christian here and now. You were done letting him have all the power, letting him walk all over you like he had for the entirety of your relationship. Just as you placed your hands on the forearm around your waist to push it off you so you could fight your fucking ex, a firm hand on your jaw distracted you, turning your face to the side and tilting it up, then slightly chapped lips were covering yours.

Oh.

Your eyes fluttered shut as calloused fingers smoothed over your jaw, cupping your face as your gorgeous, dangerous-looking stranger slowly pried your lips open and plunged his tongue into your mouth, stroking the length of it alongside your own tongue. You followed his lead, opening up beautifully beneath him, letting him kiss you deeper as he plundered your mouth, growing more heated, more passionate with every brush of his lips against yours. His beard scratched gently at the sensitive skin around your mouth, but beard-burn was quite literally the last thing on your mind. The entire world faded away, until it was just you and your stranger, and the deep, possessive way he kissed you.

He claimed you with his mouth, there was no better way to describe it. He drew back slightly, only so he could bite at your lower lip, teeth pulling at the darkened skin and making you let out a surprised moan before he dove back in, open mouthed and messy. He sucked on your tongue, making you whimper softly, which only spurned him on even more. His fingers tightned on your jaw, keeping you steady against his onslaught, stealing kiss after kiss. He stole the very breath from your lungs, every time you pulled back to gasp for breath he simply chased you, greedily depriving you of precious oxygen.

He tasted like scotch and cigars, the smooth burn and sharp bite of sweet smoke mixing to create something so uniquely him that you honestly couldn’t imagine him tasting like anything else. You wondered if he tasted the vodka on your tongue, or the coconut of the lip balm on your lips. Whatever your taste, he couldn’t seem to get enough.

A loud cough broke the bubble you’d found yourself enveloped in as he kissed you, but even still, he didn’t let you jerk away, pressing one, two, three kisses in quick succession against your swollen and tender lips, glossy and slick with spit.

Your eyes slowly opened, finding him already staring at you, his pupils blown wide, inky black surrounded by a pale, thin ring of blue. His fingers stroked the skin of your cheek, almost reverent as his gaze flickered between your own wide eyes and your ravaged mouth.

Incoherrent sputtering drew your attention away from the man who’d just kissed you–a fucking stranger–like you were the only two people to exisit in the world and not just at a pub in the middle of Liverpool, and you slowly slid your eyes from his to look at Christian.

You had to fight the urge not to laugh. Christian somehow managed to look equal parts dumbfounded and embarrassed as hell. Considering the way you’d just been kissed felt like it had to break some kind of public indecency law, you weren’t too surprised at the mix of emotions on his face, although they were quickly giving way to anger once again.

He didn’t get to interject, however, as your stranger spoke, his voice barely more than a growl. “If you’d been any good in bed, then maybe you’d have some kinda idea about all the pretty sounds my wife can make, but somethin’ tells me you weren’ ever enough to earn those, and like hell am I ‘bout to let you learn how she sounds when she makes ‘em now.”

Abruptly, he stood, easily hoisting you off his lap to stand on the ground, although his arm stayed secure around you and not letting you take even one step away from him.

“Hol’ this for me, love?”

He handed you his cigar, before digging in his back pocket to pull out a wad of cash, throwing it on the bar and making a quick gesture at the bartender to indicate that he was closing your tabs.

He turned back towards your ex, making eye contact even as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could take a drag from his cigar still gripped between your fingers, breathing in deeply before exhaling, chuckling at the disgusted look on Christian’s face.

“My wife ‘n I are leavin now, cause I’ve been deployed too damn long and I don’ feel like wastin’ another second with bloody pricks who mattered so little in her life that she doesn’ even mention you.”

With that, and a gentle nudge, your stranger began to steer you out of the pub, sliding his arm from where it was still wrapped around you, instead slipping his hand into the back pocket on your jeans, cupping your ass and giving your ex a little show, and causing your heartbeat to race. The cool air hitting your face as you stepped out onto the streets of Liverpool felt like being reborn, as you felt the tension that had been gathering all of the last few weekes in preparation for today just… fade away.

The two of you walked a bit away from the door to the pub before your stranger slid his hand out from your back pocket, leaving you immediately missing the security and warmth he’d provided, even with just that little touch. You turned to look at him, silently offering his cigar back, which he took, but just let it dangle from his fingers. His expression was sheepish, and he rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. It was endearing, and you found yourself having to violently squash the part of you that said to just go for it and kiss him again, just to see if he’d still react the same way without an audience.

“I do apologize, ma’am,” he offered, and you blinked, thrown a bit. Why on earth was he apologizing to you? Shouldn’t you be the one apologizing, for even asking a total stranger a favor like that in the first place?

“I might’a taken things a bit far back there, but no one should be talkin’ to ya like that, love. It don’ matter who they were or what they used’ta mean to ya.”

To your horror, you felt your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. You were so used to being the one blamed for the failure of your relationship, being the one told that you must’ve done something wrong to force a man like Christian to seek someone outside of your marriage, that to have someone tell you that it wasn’t ok for you to be treated that way was like a balm on an old wound you didn’t realize had ripped back open.

You had no idea how to respond to what he’d said, and at a complete loss for words, you blurted out the first thing to come to your mind.

“I don’t even know your name?”

His laugh was deep and warm, and you desperately wanted to take it inside you and hold it’s comfort there for the rest of your life. He smiled at you, eyes twinkling, and held his free hand out.

“Captain John Price, British SAS, at your service, love.”

You took a deep breath even as you placed your hand in his, trying not to show how the sound of his title falling from his lips sent a heady rush of arousal through you. You’d thought he might’ve been military, and the confirmation was doing unspeakable things to you.

“I-, uh, sir-” you started, only to be cut off as he brought your fingers up to his lips, brushing them across the backs of your knuckles and making your knees go weak with the look he leveled you with.

“Love, not to be crass, but I’ve had my tongue down your throat and my hand on your arse. I think you can call me John.”

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #reader #reader fic #fem!reader #fake dating trope #no smut here #yet #but it's coming #so 18+ #new multi-chap #the taste of scotch and cigars #cod:mw2 au #au fic

[wolfs-howling]

・₊✧ Wolf Recommends ・₊✧

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Legends:

#・₊✧ Fluffy 🌸

#・₊✧ Angst🥀

#・₊✧ Crack👅

#・₊✧ SFW✌🏻

#・₊✧ NSFW💋

This is the Wolfs recommendations for you! I hope you all enjoy that stories like I did!

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KPOP

STRAY KIDS:

Bang Chan

Untitled - (Bang Chan x Fem!Reader) Writen By @hyunjins-orange-slice

Unprofessional (Porn Star!Chan x screenwriter afab!reader) - Writen By @exxxtraoddinary

Verbatim (Chan x afab! Reader) - Writen By @cb97percent

Too Hot to Handle (Bang Chan x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seospicybin

Love Lessons (husband!Chan x Fem!Reader) Writen By @thevampywolf

My Atlantis (Chan x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @catiuskaa

Empty Heart (Chan x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @hyunniesgirl (Sad ending)

Run to You (Chan x Fem!Plus Size!Reader) - Writen By @straylightdream (TW: There's a Abusive Partner mention, so Proceed with caution dears)

Drabble (Human!Chan x WW!Fem!Reader) - Writen By @aiko0invalid

Amethyst (Roommate!Bang Chan x Camgirl Fem!Reader) - Writen By @pucchinpurinracha

I Wanna be Yours (Bang Chan x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @hyunniesgirl

Lee Know

When the Rain Stops - (Chef!Minho x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @moonjxsung

Lost in Translation (Lee Minho x Fem Reader) - Writen By @moonjxsung

Let`s Meet In The Next Life (Lee Minho x Fem Reader) - Writen By @dreamescapeswriting

Too Hot To Handle (Lee Minho x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seospicybin

One Last Dance (Roommates!Minho x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @feelbokkie

Seo Changbin

Romance on the Rocks (Idol!Changbin x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @its-hannjisung

Hwang Hyunjin

You're in the Wind, I'm in the Water (Childhood!Hyunjin x Fem!reader) - Writen By @astraystayyh

Just Look at Me (Camboy/nerd!Hyunjin x Fem!reader) - Writen By @ppiri-bahng

Han Jisung

Volcano (Rapper!Han Jisung x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @astraystayyh

It’s a bad idea, right?  (Rapper!Han Jisung x Fem!reader) - Writen by @cosmic-railwayxo

Weekend Duties (Han Jisung x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @ihatewritingshit

Your Foolish Mind (Han Jisung x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @channieandhisgoonsquad

Too Hot To Handle (Han Jisung x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seospicybin

Lee Felix

Seasons (Lee Felix x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @moonjxsung

LifeTimes ( Lee Felix x Gn!Reader) - Writen By @forhyune

Not Mine ( Idol!felix x Gn!Reader) - Writen By @forlix

SubText (Roommate!Felix x Gn!Reader) Writen By @forlix

Too Hot To Handle (Lee Felix x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seospicybin

Kim Seungmin

Blind Date (Seungmin x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seungmoonandstars

Break up with your boyfriend, I'm bored (Seungmin x Fem!Reader) Writen By @hyunniesgirl

I.N. (Yang Jeongin)

Easy (I.N. X Fem!Reader) - Writen By @agi-ppangx

Better and Better (Best Friend! I.N. x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @seungminheart

OT8

No Nut November with SKZ (OT8 x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @elllisaaa

Dreams Come True (Bang Chan x Fem!PlusSize Reader x Han Jisung) - Writen By @maximumkillshot

I Can't Lose You (Bang Chan [Changbin?]x Fem! Reader) - Writen By @maximumkillshot P.S.: with that one i recommend caution, PLEASE READ THE TW!!! It's a heavy angst guys!!!

Sharing is Caring (minsung x Fem!Reader x ot8 partner sharing) - Writen by @skzms

SKZ Eight nights of Halloween (OT8 x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @dlmlufics

ATEEZ:

Hoonjoong

Early Mornings (Idol!Hongjoong x Afab!Producer!Reader) - Writen By @pocketjoong

Seonghwa

And His Name Was Death (Death!Park Seonghwa x Gn!Reader) - Written by @stayteezdreams

The Ring (Sub!Hwa x Fem!Reader) - Writen By @choisanboobenthusiast

Fire and Water (Seonghwa x Reader) Writen By @wooyoungiewritings

Yeosang

coming soon

Yunho

Opposites Attract (Tutor!Yunho x Fem!Reader) Wrinten By @tainsan

A Thing or Two (Tutor!Yunho x Fem!Reader) Writen By @doomdudoom

A "First" Date (Best Friend!Yunho x Fem! Reader) - Writen By @wooyoungiewritings

San

coming soon

Mingi

coming soon

Wooyoong

coming soon

Jongho

coming soon

OT8

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line) Writen by @eightmakesonebraincell

ateez as royals who fall for you (maknae line) Writen by @eightmakesonebraincell

TOMORROW X TOGETHER:

Soobin:

coming soon

Yeonjun:

coming soon

Beomgyu:

coming soon

Taehyun:

coming soon

Huening Kai:

coming soon

OT5

coming soon

Enhypen:

Heeseung

coming soon

Jay

coming soon

Jake

coming soon

Sunghoon

coming soon

Sunoo

Managing Enhypen (Sunoo x head manager! reader ft. Sunghoon, Jungwon) - Writen By @rubylace

Jungwon

coming soon

Ni-ki

coming soon

OT7

coming soon

Another Groups:

coming soon

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

GENSHIN IMPACT

Childe

coming soon

coming soon

Wriothesley

coming soon

coming soon

Zhongli

coming soon

coming soon

Another Characters:

coming soon

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I am always looking for recommendations so, if you have any, please leave a comment or send a message. You can even recommend your own.

#fic rec #au fic #kpop fic #x reader

[winniethewife]

Hit me with your sweet love (Jake Lockley x F!Reader)

Prompt: Spanking

Warning: Smut under the cut, Dubcon, Bar Owner!Jake, Bartender!Reader, Secret Lovers, fighting to sex, Sir kink, impact play, degradation.

Words: 718

She knew she had gone too far, but what she had done this time she wasn’t sure. Mr.Lockely had called her into his office after last call, the last two patrons were just a couple regulars who she could trust her bar back to keep an eye on while she talked with the boss. She walked into the dimly lit office, squeezed into a tiny room beside the stock room.

“You wanted to see me señor?” She inquired politely, Mr.Lockely looks up at her, his expression frighteningly cold.

“Close the door.” His voice is low and laced with poison. She felt all the warmth in her body slowly drain away as she closed the door behind her. She takes a deep breath before turning to face him. Jake Lockley was a good boss and an even better lover, but this darker side of him was unfamiliar to her. “Para qué era eso? Hm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo-” he intturupts her with a slight growl

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, perra! The way you’ve been acting? The flirting with my customers? You don’t think I haven’t noticed?” His volume rising as he berates her. “Te parezco estúpido? You think you can just whore around the joint and I won’t notice?”

“You know damn well that’s not what’s going on Jake, I flirt to get better tips, I need to pay my bills. This city isn’t cheap.” She retorts, crossing her arms across her chest as she stares at him, her voice is calm but cold, her anger just starting the fire inside her. Jake rolls his eyes and pushes his chair out, leaning back as he looks her over. His eyes stopping at her low cut top.

“And you dress like that for the tips too right? Tch. I can’t believe you, what do those assholes give you that I don’t?” He growls as his brow furrows. She sighs in exasperation and shakes her head.

“For fucks sake. This is ridiculous Jake, you want to sleep with me but you can’t commit, you don’t have the right to be Jealous.” She’s about to turn to leave when she looks over her shoulder at him. “Also if you paid me a living wage maybe I wouldn’t have to flirt to pay my way huh? Piensa en eso!” She snaps as she goes to open the door again, but before she can, she feels a strong grip on her shoulder and she’s pushed against the door his body pinning her down.

“No vas a ninguna parte, perra. Not like that.” His hot breath tickles her ear, she could feel his hard bulge against her thigh. He grabs her wrists and pins them above her. She tried to pull away, frustrated by his actions but his grip is too tight, then she feels the sting of his other hand on her ass, the smack echoing in the room. She lets out and involuntary moan as she felt the impact of his hand. This surprised Jake slightly, he raised his arm and put the same effort in his swing hitting her again, this time she let out a whimper and felt her cunt clench around nothing as the impact stung her skin through her jeans. There was a moment’s hesitation before Jake pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard and feverishly, He was going to show her how much she really meant to him, he was going to claim her as his. She kissed him back matching his passion, as far as she was concerned she was already his, and always had been.  He pulls her over to the desk bending her over the desk, Pulling her pants down to her knees before leaving another bright red mark on her ass, the sound of the impact mixed with the sound of her voice is so sweet to his ears, he does it again and again, until her ass is red and purple, and hes sure the whole block has heard her cries. He leans over her body and bites her neck, leaving another bruise.

“I’ll give you raise, cariño, just wear that black turtleneck tomorrow. And I don’t want to see you flirting with anyone. Entenderme?” He growls in her ear

“Sí, Señor.” She moans softly

“Buena Perra”

Translations:

Para qué era eso?; What was that for?

Perra: Bitch

te parezco estúpido?: Do I look stupid to you?

Piensa en eso: Think about that

no vas a ninguna parte, perra.: You're not going anywhere, bitch.

Entenderme?: Understand me?

buena perra” Good Bitch

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

#moonknightevents #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon boys #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #Spotify #x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely smut #smut #au #au fic

[f1xmalereader]

Charles Leclerc x Male Reader Insta AU [SOFT LAUNCH EDITION]

Charles Leclerc Posted

A walk in the park with my favourite guy

Carlos Sainz: I still need to meet him

F1Fan: Can't wait to see the lucky man

Y/N Posted

So cute, tying my shoes for me

Bestfriend: Dude, why I have not met this man

Y/N: You will soon, he's very private

Charles Leclerc Posted

Nice photo from the boyfriend

Lando Norris: When will you tag him. I'm impatient

Carlos Sainz: Well he's not a photographer

F1Fan: I'm going insane, need to know who it is.

Y/N Posted

Ferrari F1 Paddock? How did I get here?

Best friend: WHAT!!?? Where's my invite? Hurt

Y/N: Sorry was a plus one only.

Charles Leclerc Posted

Would like to officially say, I'm ready for you to meet my boyfriend @Y/N. I love you.

Y/N: I love you too

Lando Norris: So cute

Carlos Sainz: Was nice to finally meet him

Y/N: I've had so many people follow me now

F1Fan: Don't know who's hotter. Think I'm jealous of Charles.

Y/N Posted

The best boyfriend in the world and maybe not the worst driver on the grid ♥️

Charles Leclerc: Thanks love

Lando Norris: Yep nobody can beat me

Y/N: Lando keep your ego in check

F1Fan: There's so cute

#f1 imagine #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #male reader #x male reader #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader #insta au #au fic #instagram au #f1 smut #f1 x you

[odetodilfs]

On the throne

A/N: HEYYY!! So the Oberyn smut is here, this is quite good in my opinion so I hope y'all like it! (Power bottom Oberyn lovers rise) Pairing: power bottom!Oberyn Martell x sub!top!male!reader

Warnings: SMUT, riding, cumming inside, kind of exhibitionism?, light bondage, deepthroating, established relationship (marriage).

Summary: This is an AU where he doesn't die and you two become kings of Dorne, and after a public celebration you two decide to have a private one on your throne.

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It was official: You were kings, you and your husband Oberyn Martell were kings at long last. There had been a large banquet to celebrate the occasion and both of you were dressed up in the most luxurious attire. Oberyn had progressively pulled his robe apart on his chest, leaving a little window view that was driving you crazy. He kept smirking and flirting as well as just being able to make you blush easily, saying how he was excited to reign Dorne alongside his beautiful husband, which was just sweet of him honestly.

Towards the end of the celebration, he started being more and more obvious with his flirting, touching you, sometimes full on placing hands on your crotch. He loved seeing you blush, he loved having this power over you, seeing you flustered at his bold advances, it had kind of been the way you two fell for each other. Finally, all the guests had left and by this point you two were starting to get desperate for the other, so Oberyn quickly took you to your brand new throne, “Sit” he smirked, knowing you’d follow any orders he gave you, and you did.

You sat on the throne as he lifted up your chin with his fingers, examining you, “How about a little celebration on our own?” he suggested and smirked, you were already weak, he just had such a power to dominate you, “Take off your clothes” he ordered as he turned around and looked out the window, undressing himself as he took off his robe. The light highlighted his back muscles even more and it was so hot, your clothes were off in an instant, that’s how he liked you to undress. Your dick was already hard and he walked to you and took it in your hand “I know what you want, my love but you’re going to have to wait a bit…” he said as he got on his knees and put your dick close to his mouth, resting it on his face, you were desperate, but what power did you have against him??

He took the head in his mouth, making you mewl, if his hands weren’t holding your hips you would’ve started fucking his throat. He very slowly took you down his throat until he got to the base, giving you so much pleasure but denying you that feeling of fucking his throat, you tried putting your hands on his head but he slapped them away. He pulled off and went away “Where are you going-” you said breathlessly, “You’re not being a good boy, so it seems like I’m gonna have to make you be one” he said as he brought some rope which he tied around your hands, you were officially totally powerless against him “Now be good” he ordered as he started to blow you again.

The pleasure you were feeling was amazing, but what was more amazing was the fact that you couldn’t do anything to make you feel more pleasure, as the now king sucked on your cock it just felt incredible. You thrust your hips upwards as he sucked just the tip, then… suddenly, he crammed your whole dick in his throat, “Ah-ah-ah!” you moaned in pleasure as he kept it there, his gag reflex was basically nonexistent as he pulled off your dick, leaving it glistening with his saliva, then, he did it again, and again until he felt like you’d been teased enough.

When he finally got his feet on the throne, squatting down with his ass centimeters from your dick “God, yes, yes” you said softly, looking up at his firm, dominant eyes as he slowly sank down on your cock, mmm’s coming from his lips as he felt the pleasure of your dick inside him. You didn’t move, you awaited his orders, “Yes, good boy-” he moaned as he started softly riding you, “O-oh my god-” you moaned as his tightness wrapped around your cock, his walls firmly squeezing it and the slowness of it making the experience even more pleasurable.  

“My love they might-” he shut your mouth with his fingers, “What if they catch us? We’re kings, too bad for them that their kings fuck on the throne” he smirked as he kept riding you. The dirtiness of it, he was riding you on where you’d sit governing Dorne, making you moan and writhe, “Ah- ah-” it was all so amazing as he started speeding up, hitting his prostate with your dick only made him go faster in search for more pleasure. “Good boy, you’re being such a good boy” he said to you as he rode you, his naked body glistening in sweat.

You grew closer and closer to the edge, you could only moan out your husband’s name “Oberyn-” you moaned, he instantly knew what was up “Good boy, cum for me” he didn’t say but rather commanded, 

“Ahhh!” you screamed as you came in him, your cock throbbing and pleasure almost overwhelming your body. The throbbing of your cock sent him over the edge too and he let out a soft moan as he spilt his seed all over your body. You stayed locked together in a kiss as you both came down from your high. He got off your cock and untied you, some of your release started running down his thighs. To your surprise, he scooped you up in his arms and started carrying you as you put some light robes on yourselves, “Where are we going?” you asked, “Some skinny dipping would do well for a cleanup” he smirked at you, you cuddled his chest as he carried you there in his arms, now as the 2 kings of Dorne.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x male reader #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #au fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #gay