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underhousearrestblog · 11 months

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Lost In Translation | Pedro Pascal

(summary) a drunk confession makes things weird between you and Pedro

(warnings) an age gap (oh the horror)

(pairings) Pedro Pascal x reader

(genre/ tropes) angst, lemon-y fluff, miscommunication, mutual pining, friends to lovers

(word count) 7.7k

(also) Pedro’s point of view (of sorts) is in Italics

(also) minors, scram (I’m kidding. Kinda. I was reading these types of things when I was twelve. I’m not the one to advise anything. Just, please, don’t interact. Better for my conscience and your digital footprint.)

(also) damn – I’m actually doing something here now... a step up from my usual one-post-per-six-months activity...

HAPPY READING!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. - I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- Love must be hard when you’re both idiots, huh?

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #imagine #oscar isaac

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spctrsgf · 11 months

Text

mi luz

based off of this comment i wrote on tiktok: “he looks like he could use a hug and a shoulder to cry on.”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nonspidey!reader, language, hurt to comfort fic (miguel needs a break. like a sabbatical or something)

a/n: ngl, i'm not too happy with how this turned out, probably because i wrote it all on a plane and it's not beta read, but i need more soft miguel fics in my life!!!

He’s tired.

He’s tired and he’s missing you. The boring, monotonous walls of his office harshly remind him of his place, the jubilant orange glow of his monitors tell him of just how much more work he’s got left before he can finally retire to your world.

Lyla, lounging atop one of his screens, watches him and his glossed over eyes, knowing exactly what the lazy flick of his fingers meant. She sighs, glitching over to bring one of his screens forward. “Miguel!” She yells, scaring the poor man out of his thoughts and momentarily extending his claws. “Lyla, what the fu- what the hell?” He growls, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“No kids are here, you don’t have to keep it PG.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, you got work to do, and if you don’t finish it soon, it'll be too late to get in some quality time with this lovely human,” she shoves the digitized photo of you up and into his face. “Before your next mission.”

He sighs, knowing she was right.

“Daydreaming about it isn’t gonna get you there any quicker,” she flickers to be right in front of his face, slapping a hand onto his nose as if she could actually touch him. “GET YOUR SHIT DONE.”

“Fine, fine! Get out of my face.” He grumbles the second sentence, swatting her away and strolling back up to his screens. His eyes catch on your photo, and he reaches to enlarge it in front of him, but—

“No,” Lyla dissipates the photo before he can even get to it, face twisted in disappointment. “No. Not until you finish working.”

“Hey! Who’s the boss here?”

“Me. Now work.” Lyla glitches out of view with a triumphant huff.

He huffs dramatically, pouting as he pulls himself together. He lets his emotions drop from his face and slides into his stoic mask, resuming the work on his screen. It’s hypnotizing as soon as he gets into it; Lyla must’ve done something to keep him focused, he supposes. She always does have a trick up her sleeve.

In what feels like no time at all, he’s done with his work. With a final, defiant tap to close down his screens, he spins on his heel, ready to leave and go home. Ready to hop in through your window— as much as you hate when he does that— and rest his head atop yours, caging you into where you’re surely stirring something on the stove.

But as he turns, he’s face to face with none other than Hobart Brown. A look to the left reveals his partners in crime; and Miguel knows he’s in for a ride. At least a ten minute detour, as it always is with the four of them.

“What?” His hands come to rest on his hips naturally, trying to become bigger to them as if it would make the next words out of their mouth more blunt and less angering. “We have a slight problem—” Gwen starts, before Pav butts in.

“It's not slight. It’s a pretty big deal!”

“Mate,” Hobie huffs. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m trying my best!”

"Yeah, and that's going great-"

“Okay, stop it, all of you,” Miguel interrupts before they can go down the rabbit hole, trying to keep his already strung thin patience steady. “What’s going on?”

“There’s another fight going on.” Hobie gives the answer blunt, to Miguel’s satisfaction.

“Cafeteria?”

“Main hall. Sector D.”

The huff that erupts from his lips draws a colorful picture of his current emotions as he hops off of his elevated platform. “I’ll fix it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Miles brings himself to stand in front of the man. “We’re not gonna hurt anyone, right?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He brushes past the kid, dismissing him with a shake of the head.

“Miguel. Don’t take your anger out on them–” Gwen tries, but all it gets is his recoil and daunting stalk towards her.

“I will do whatever the–” the swear word is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “I will do whatever is needed, but violence is not my first course of action.”

“Please be nice to everyone,” Pav says, peeking over Gwen’s shoulder. “It’s been a long week for all of us too.”

Miguel sighs and brushes past them, saying nothing. He brushes off their words in silent agreement. He didn’t really want to hurt anyone either.

By the time he reaches where he'd been informed the fight was, there was a mosh pit encircling the brawl, a mass of blue and red and spidermen. He approaches from behind, the tide parting for him as each person registers his presence.

When he meets the pearl in the oyster, the hotheaded spiderman hasn’t noticed him quite yet. He’s got the other spidey— one of the many spiderwomen— beneath him, gnarly fist raised to land another punch. Miguel sighs, grabs the back of the man’s elbow, and dragssss him off.

“Everyone get away now.” His tone squeezes the air out of the room and leaves no room for discussion, not that anyone would dare to object. The spidermen flee the scene before he can even finish his sentence, and by the time he’s turned back to the perpetrators of it all, they’re gone too.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, murmuring a low cálmate under his breath as he moves to regain his bearings. “Lyla,” he waves the said woman near. “Find those spidermen and remind me to get to them when I come back.” She sputters to focus in front of him, dipping her head in an obliged nod before sputtering off again to wherever she found herself needed.

Miguel shakes and unclenches the fist he’s made with his free hand and stalks back to his office, rubbing the palm of his hand where his claws had taken purchase amidst anger.

Sometimes, he regrets putting himself in charge of all of this… shit.

But… he’s the only one who can do it. No one had the vigor, the dedication, the understanding of why and what had to be done to keep the multiverses in line and make sure what happened to him never happened again.

It’s tiring. It takes his nights and his days and chips at his brain until he’s sure there’s nothing left in the expanse of his head. For someone who appears naturally angry, he’s quite good at keeping all the real anger in.

The downside of this: he bottles it all up. But the bottle isn’t big enough, doesn’t last forever, cracks at the seams, and then shatters in a explosion of tears. It enjoys crumpling him into the floor, loves the way his hands shiver in the cold breeze, shakes him to the core and, for all his confidence, makes him doubt.

Lyla’s only seen him like this once, when he couldn’t get away and instead had to sequester himself into his office, not quite getting to hardwiring her nosy personnel to do something else.

No, he doesn’t rely on her, as he normally would with other problems. He doesn’t trust her, he doesn’t even trust himself with post breakdown Miguel, no.

He goes to you.

You. The lovely, kind person he’s had the great privilege of calling his. His love, his support, his everything, or better yet; mi luz. My light. The light at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the world, when he feels like the walls are caving in and there’s really nowhere else to go and nothing more to lose.

You calm him, like you always do. Effortlessly caring, eternally so. Never afraid to give, to let him take and take until he’s stuffed whole. You know little things about him, take the time to learn them. Like where to get his favorite empanadas— much better than the ones in the spidey cafeteria— and that he loves when you press your fingers into his shoulder blades. He loves your massages.

He loves you.

Tapping insistently at the shitty gadget on his wrist, he mindlessly pulls up the coordinates for your dimension. Second nature. He’s walked himself into some obscure corner of the building, but he isn’t processing such mundane things at the moment. He can feel himself slipping, the mask fracturing. He can’t be left alone right now.

You.

The portal is up now, flashing and glitching in an assortment of colors, beckoning him in with its delectable light, like a halo. Miguel wastes no time giving in, diving into the portal and tucking himself tight like a torpedo.

Multiverses zoom by as he glides through hexagons and hexagons, thousands of people in each. Worlds that he keeps steady, safe, perfect. Normally, he’d stop to smell the flowers, observe and appreciate the sereneness of every special home in front of him. Pride himself in the fact that there was a special home for someone to come home to.

But not this time. No, this time he keeps his eyes screwed shut, he wouldn’t, couldn’t get distracted by the novelty. The bottle is cracking now, cracking into long and sharp spikes aching to slice across his chest. He’s so close, all he could get himself to do was focus on his breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out—

The abrupt warning of your multiverse approaching pinches his wrist, reminding him that this whole mess was very much real. He stumbles into your living room with a not so quiet thud, startling you. You drop the spoon you were stirring something with— smells like some sort of sauce, yum— and whip your head towards him.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you before you can even process that it's him, burying himself in your neck and inhaling the calm scent of you, a mix of your perfume and your detergent, so very you.

“Miguel.” You sigh into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist as the initial shock of his intrusion wears off.

He slumps into you, only trusting himself to let out a low grumble of your name.

“What’s going— oh,” your brain puts two and two together. “Oh, Miguel, shh. It’s okay, I got you.”

And he breaks. Because he knows you mean it. He knows you have him. You always do.

The tears are bubbling over the rims of his eyes and splashing down his cheeks, his hands are twisted up in your loose shirt. He’s sure his claws have made an entrance too. One of your hands reaches to turn off the stove, the other rubbing incandescent patterns into his back.

You were always so careful. Never leave the stove on, Miggy. Don’t wanna burn the food. He loves that about you.

“Hey,” your voice wisps in through the fog of his mental breakdown, of the end of the world. “Hey. It’s me. Just me. Your absolute favorite person on this planet.”

“Multiverse.” He manages through sob induced hiccups.

“Multiverse,” You smile, breathing out a soft laugh as you toil him in closer. “Breathe, my love. I have you. Nobody is here but me, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

He nods, lets himself weigh more onto you.

“That’s it, I got you,” you coax. “Get it out of your system.”

He gives all the tears he has to give. He’s sandwiching you between the counter and his stature, but you don’t seem to mind. Your spilling words, mindlessly, talking until he’s done and ready to attach himself to them, the soft baritone of your voice.

And it takes time, but he gets there. He’s in the tunnel, the walls are caving in, he’s believing he's given all he has to give, but you’re there, and you’re telling him no, no you have not. You don’t get to lose, because you have SO much more life to live.

His light.

The tunnel lets up, opens up the walls, lets him bathe in you, in the way your arms are still hooked tight around his waist and you’re going on about how there was a new episode of your favorite show that he had to watch.

And of course he would watch it.

He’d do anything for you, anything you asked whenever you wanted. And he knows, in turn, that there wasn’t a damn thing in this god forsaken reality that would stop you from doing the same for him.

You tell him as much. To his face, into his hair, with the dance of your fingers on his back, in the way you guide him to the couch, when you place down some food and a cup of water— you just cried out your backup supply— and again when you place yourself down next to him.

“I’m so beyond lucky to have you.” He murmurs to you, some fifteen minutes into the episode of your show, something about this dude with a metal helmet and a green baby? He can’t recall the name.

You turn, a smile gracing your features. “You deserve me. You deserve everything the multiverse has to offer and more. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have one less person bothering you.”

“Ah, yes,” you laugh, swatting his cheek. “Like you’re such a nuisance.”

He laughs, actually laughs. It’s nice.

You tilt your head onto the girth of his shoulder, snuggling in tight as your attention is again sucked into the screen.

He smiles dazedly at you, finally feeling at peace.

Mi luz. My light.

is anyone else still obsessed with him or is that just me

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara fluff #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x you #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac imagine #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spider verse

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princessbrunette · 4 months

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Kook!reader Mouthing off to jj and he looks up from whatever he’s doing and is like “ you better chill out or Ima tear that ass up” and her spoiled ass has never been spanked or anything so she thinks he’s bluffing and says he’s too pussy or something. So he just raises his eyebrows and 10 seconds later she’s over his knee confused, and he ends up making her cry bc she needs someone to show her who’s boss 🤭(I need this pls write it)

♛ ⋆˙₊˚⊹♡

jj always got very concentrated and serious when he worked on his bike. it required his full attention, his lips pressed in a thin line with that crease appearing between his brows as he switched out tools and wrenches at whatever he can to fix the problem he’s facing with it. he’d learnt over the years to fix it by himself, hell — he could probably take the bike apart and rebuild it with his eyes closed. it was sexy, seeing him like that— the one downside was it meant less attention for you, and for a girl so spoiled that was a nightmare.

you sit on a stool near him as he works on twisting bolts and sorting wires on an inside panel of his bike. he doesn’t mind you being there, what he does mind is your constant nagging and unnecessary chatter. if it was too much for jj, it must have been bad.

“dont know, babe. it’ll be done when it’s done.” his eyes flutter with irritation as he answers your whining for what feels like the tenth time that minute.

“y’said that last time. you know i came alllll the way to the cut to hang out with you and you’re spending’ all this time with your bike.”

“well, y’haven’t even been here an hour and i told you i’d be done soon. so quit the whining, yeah?” he warns, and he thinks he’s finally shut you up— being met with purely peace and quiet as he continues working away. that is until, you pipe up once more.

“maybe you should date the bike then. seein’ as you love it more than me.”

the tool in his hand clanks against the ground as he drops it, using the same hand to run over his face, releasing a quiet hum of frustration as he tries to gather himself. he stands, turning fully to you with a malicious grin and a tongue in his cheek. you stare, wide eyed and unbothered, feet still swinging.

“i don’t know how your mommy and daddy deal with you back on the kook side’a the island— but over here this lil’ attitude you got goin’ on ain’t gonna fly too well with me, alright? cut it out ‘fore i make you.” he’s made his way over to you, jaw tight and big eyes flickering between yours. you tilt your head, a challenge.

“like you’re gonna do anything about it.” you tease and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“alright, okay— yeah, let’s see shall we?” he asks before he’s dragging you off the stool by the arm and leading you inside.

not even five minutes later, and he’s got you folded over his lap in tears, his large hand relentlessly coming down on your sore ass cheek, each hit making you squeal.

“did i say stop countin’? ‘cos i’m pretty sure i never said that.” he tilts his head, raising his voice just a tad as you hiccup and sniffle.

“seventeen.” you sob, holding onto his thigh for dear life.

“yeah. three more. you’ll think twice next time before you pull that kook shit on me, huh?”

“m’sorry jj!” you whine and it’s met with another spank.

“yeah, i bet.”

“eighteen!”

after you’ve had all the attitude smacked out of you, the blonde cradles you on his lap, rubbing his lips together guiltily as you cling onto him. you had to learn your lesson though, so after he made sure you were okay and got you anything you needed — he headed back outside to finish up on his bike.

he left you to sulk and think about your actions, and just as he was finishing up on his bike— he hears the quiet padding of your feet approaching once more, standing as quietly as you possibly could until he looked over, giving you permission to speak.

“i’m sorry, jj.” you mewl and he throws the rag he was wiping his hands on over his shoulder, pushing himself up to stand.

“i know, babydoll— you’re good now, yeah?”

you respond by lifting up your hand unsurely, pinching a wad of cash. “what’s that?” he asks, placing his tool back into its box.

“money to get the bike fixed so you can spend more time with me.” you sniffle quietly, unsure how he’s gonna take it. he chuckles, snatching his hat off and pulling you in for a hug, his arm around the back of your neck and hand rubbing your lower back.

“i finished with the bike, you goof.” it comes out muffled as he kisses the crown of your head. “and whilst i appreciate the gesture, there’s no freakin’ way i’d let anyone touch my bike.” he pulls back, offering you a friendly smile before pressing a kiss to the tip of your snotty nose and then bringing his fingers up to pinch at it, wiping the snot away. you crinkle your nose, and he starts to walk you backwards. “c’mon, let’s go inside.”

♛ ⋆˙₊˚⊹♡

#anon #jj maybank prompt

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

Congrats on 6k!! 🎉 You deserve it and plenty more! ❤️

This one is slightly different but mutual pining office romance with modern Steve? Some inspo like “I got a coffee and muffin for you because I noticed you haven’t left your desk all morning”, teasing jokes, tension in the elevator, the a/c in the office doesn’t work and it’s the middle of summer 👀

18+ (ish)

It was Casual Friday on a Tuesday.

The air conditioning went bust building-wide, and the stuffy businessmen on the fiftieth floor decided to be lenient about the dress code for the time being. Of course, that still meant everyone had to work in ninety-degree temperatures with little to no relief, but at least Steve could see you waltz around in a pretty little tank top and pencil skirt.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a policy against showing your shoulders, sweetheart,” Steve jokes to announce his arrival as he walks into your office.

Jolted from your stupor at the printer, your head whips over your shoulder. You find the boy in his usual white button-up, unclasped to reveal his ribbed undershirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Sweaty honey hair pushed back over his forehead, the underside of his glasses slightly fogged.

He sits a white paper bag and a cup of iced coffee on your desk.

You smile, warmed by his presence in a way that’s far more tolerable than the heat wave.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because Mr. Harrington knew his son wouldn’t be able to keep it in his pants otherwise,” you squint at him, still grinning.

“Well, I must say, you are far sexier than balance sheets.”

You giggle like a schoolgirl when his broad arms wrap around you from behind. His lips sprinkle chaste kisses to the sticky skin of your bare shoulder. You can feel him smiling against you.

When you turn around to return the favor, you notice that the blinds of your office are still open — leaving the both of you on display to the entire rest of the floor you manage. They’re all too busy with their own work and too plagued by the heat to notice, but you pull away from Steve and his kisses anyway.

“You didn’t shut the blinds, you dork!” you scold, pushing your hand against his chest as you step back like he’s burned you.

Steve laughs. “C’mon. Nobody’s looking. I can kiss you.”

You’re not swayed by the wide palms he slides on your hips.

“Not until you shut the blinds and lock the door,” you scowl sternly, using your uncowed, badass businesswoman voice that always makes his knees buckle.

And even though he thinks twisting the slatted curtains closed is far more suspicious, he listens to you anyway. It’s the least he can do to make his girl feel comfortable — to make her less tense and more receptive to his touches.

Your concerns aren’t totally unfounded. You’ve told him a million times why you don’t want to make your relationship public. “I’d be dating my boss’s kid, Steven,” you’d gripe. “All my accomplishments stop meaning something after that.”

You started out on the second floor in the mail room, spent a year slaving over the books in the dim eerie hall of the seventh, and then got promoted to floor twenty-five after a particularly lucrative sale. You worked your ass off and it left you much more concerned about your position in the firm than most people tend to be.

You were halfway to the top. The very first woman to run this whole floor.

And you loved Steve, just not enough to throw all that away.

“Happy now?” he singsongs as he locks the door with a low click.

With your bottom lip between your teeth, you nod.

Now you can ogle him without fear of someone noticing, touch him all over without someone reporting it to H.R.

He looks far too sexy than what should be allowed — in his loose slacks, glasses perched on the bridge of his strong nose, chest hair poking out from the collar of his tank top.

Screw the shoulders, Steve’s body should be a company-wide violation.

Propped up on your desk, the boy settles between your thighs — spreading them slightly with his hips and making your skirt ride up. His wide palms settle on the outsides of your bare knees. Your hands rise to cradle his scruffy jaw, pulling him down for a much needed kiss.

His lips on yours are as all-consuming as the humidity surrounding you.

Your mouths click wetly when they part.

You smile at each other like two lovesick idiots.

“What’s in the bag?” you wonder, nodding your head to the paper sack beside you and the iced coffee already melting next to it.

“A blueberry muffin and one of those bagels you like,” Steve answers, big hands squeezing your thighs. “‘Cause I know you haven’t eaten all morning.”

“I’ve eaten!” you protest half-heartedly.

“Yeah?” he challenges. “What.”

“…An apple slice from the platter we had in the meeting room.”

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “That so does not count. You gotta eat better, babe. Alright? Especially in this heat. Can’t have you passing out at the copier or something.”

“Well, that’s why I have you, right?” you retort, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. This heat wave’s no match for the fire that sparks between the two of you every time you touch. “So you can bring me breakfast and feed it to me when you know I’m too busy to eat.”

“Why would I feed it to you?” he chuckles in a scoff.

You shrug. “‘Cause you love me.”

“…Touché.”

“What about you, Stevie?” you lilt, almost teasingly. “Have you eaten today?”

“I bought me something when I stopped at the café for you, but… I could always go for another bite.”

You grin wide like a mischievous cat. It would be alarming how quickly the air between you can turn from innocent to sinful if you weren’t already so turned on. You’ll just blame it on the heat for now.

“I bet you worked up a real appetite in this heat, huh?” you ask him, feigning sympathy, as the tip of your nose brushes his own. His breath fans against your mouth. You can already taste the coffee on him.

“Yeah,” he huffs lowly. “Definitely.”

“Maybe I should give you something else to eat…”

Your eyes flutter shut when his hand trails between your thighs to cup your pussy over your cotton underwear. Your neck becomes free real estate for his mouth when your head tips back. His thumb rubs your clothed clit. He can feel a damp patch already starting to form.

“Let me clear off your desk, baby,” he slurs into your pulse, smearing his spit there. “Need you to ride my face…”

“Shit, Steve—”

A knock at the door pierces the silence made velvet by sweet nothings and heavy breaths. Both of you freeze in shock, still clutching onto each other, like if you stay still enough whoever’s behind the door will leave.

“Who is that?” Steve murmurs to you, his eyes trained on the shined shoes behind the sliver of space beneath the door.

“I don’t know…”

“Steve? Are you in there?” Mr. Harrington’s voice comes muffled as the door handle jiggles. “When I told you to be fast. I meant fast. I need you for another errand.”

“Oh, shit,” you swear, breath caught in your throat. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit—”

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers sharply back to you. He inches toward the locked door.“Just… Just be cool.”

“Steve Harrington—”

“It’s fine.”

“—Don’t you dare open that door.”

He swings it open anyway. His father stands before him, looking just like his son but a few decades older and not nearly as pretty. He scowls. “Care to tell me what the door was locked?” he deadpans.

You’re glad he’s not looking at you for an answer. You wouldn’t have been able to lie like Steve does. It comes rather effortlessly to him because he’s done it all his life.

“I was bringing her breakfast, remember? Like I told you. And then we just started talking, you know? I can be a real blabbermouth sometimes.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mr. Harrington monotones. By the time he pokes his head around the doorway to your desk, you’ve already rid yourself of any evidence that you might’ve been kissing his son. His stern expression never wavers. “Both of you. Come with me.”

You nod like you’re happy to do it, swallowing down the inkling that you’re about to get fired that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

Like cows to the slaughter, you and Steve trail behind his father as he leads you through the twenty-fifth floor and to the elevators. Steve tries to grab your hand in a feeble attempt to comfort you. You jerk away from him, not wanting to be caught being so unprofessional a second time.

The elevator is quiet and stiff with sweltering heat. Mr. Harrington presses the button for the fiftieth floor.

“Um… Can I ask where we’re going?” Steve answers when the doors shut.

“I’ve got a big client coming in and want you two to sit in on the meeting. I think it could be very beneficial for you both,” he answers, still monotone, but obviously not angry.

Your chest deflates with a sigh of relief.

The man’s hands are tucked neatly behind his back. His eyes stay locked on the digital inclining numbers below the ceiling — 28, 29, 30…

“I want you to clean up in the bathroom before you go in, too. You’ve both got lipstick smeared on your chin.”

Your heart sinks all over again.

Mr. Harrington turns to his son, still as stern as ever but with a foreign glint in his eye. It borders on playful. “And if you run off my best accountant, Steven, I’m booting you back down to the mail floor.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #st drabbles #stevie drabble #office!steve

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snzunii · 1 year

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PROBLEM CHILD.

you were a problem child right from the start; lacks self-control and difficult to handle. now, what would your father do when you go running around fucking his most hated enemy?

+ pairings. ran haitani x f!reader.

+ tags. explicit sexual content, overstimulation, rough office sex, unprotected sex, creampie, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY !!

+ word count. 0.8k

+ note. hi, this is honestly the first in a long time that i've written a smut. . . so please be good to me idk what i'm doin anymore. and keep ur eyes closed on any errors if there is any, i'm to worn out to proofread 😭

i'm tagging my babe @fsuna, ily <3

“Say it.”

“Fuck you.” you whispered in his ears, your arms hanging low on his shoulders as your fingernails dug into his back. “I-I won’t.”

Ran chuckled that soon turned into grunting, his other hand gripping the desk tightly while the other was clasping your hair a little too hard—which pisses you off a little bit because you took a long time fixing your hair, but that doesn’t matter now does it?

All that matters was his cock pounding your pussy senseless, you looked down and you could see how his length moved in and out of you. Every thrust has your body shaking, making your pussy so much wetter than it already is and to add to that, you could feel his cock twitching a bit as he rams deep enough to hit the spot that makes you lose your mind, deep enough to fill your aching creamy cunt.

You’re turning Ran on more and more because how could you be so cocky while you’re above the desk spreading your legs for him—tits bouncing freely as he unsymphatetically fuck you into madness. “Come on, pretty. Say it. Say I fuck you so good. Say I’m the only one who could make you cum.”

“N-no—Mhmm, ah fuck you! Fuck fuck!” you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from screaming because what would Ran’s employees say if they hear their boss is fucking someone’s brains out in his office?

That would be very unprofessional—that would be very wrong considering he is your father’s competitor, what else would they say? But you couldn’t care any less, when did you ever gave a fuck? You always got what you wanted and did everything you wanted to without facing the consequences of your actions.

The more that you stand on your ground, the more that Ran fucks you harder—the desk was wobbling and you were pretty sure that you could hear it crack. “R-ran! S-slow down, ‘m cumming!”

He was out of control—balls deep in your cunt, desperately hitting all the right spots to make you falter under him. You wanted to be in control so badly, but that was hard when he was towering over you—showing you that you should surrender yourself to him. And you were afraid of doing that, you couldn’t let that happen because doing that would mean you lost your mind completely. But haven’t you lost your mind already the moment you fucked him and bounced on his dick countless times?

He was ruthless, it was like he wanted you to beg him for mercy and make you hold on to what was left of your sanity. Oh god, it feels good to be stretched out by his big cock, being overstimulated gives you the chance to feel every bit of his cock inside you—rubbing against your walls, getting you overwhelmed because of how big and fat his dick is. You were moaning his name so loud, but constantly reminding yourself that you’re not the only people on this floor and the thing that was just dividing you and Ran from the other people would be the walls and the door.

But that was the least of your worries. That wasn’t any of your worries.

“F-fuck you, I’m cumming already—you shit, ah!” Ran let out a raspy laugh, pounding into your cunt harder and harder every second. You know what would make him cum in an instant but you were holding it back—because honestly, you want this to drag on longer. You want him to fuck you into oblivion, fuck you until he filled your pretty weared out pussy to the brim with his cum.

But you couldn’t hold on any longer—your lips were pretty swollen from biting your it too hard, you could feel your cum dripping out and Ran just couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough of your pussy taking his cock so well. Every expression on your pretty face makes him go feral, so animalistic that he could make you limp just from fucking you this hard.

“Fuck! Fuck, R-ran! You fuck me so g-good!” you cried out, and instantly you felt Ran’s grip on your hair go a little hard, his body tensed out as you felt his thick cum oozing out of the tip of his cock into your pussy. His throat dragged on long moans as he unloaded on your cunt. It was that easy, how you made him cum just by saying that he fucked you so good, that he’s the only one that could do that.

You both panted, Ran leaning his forehead on yours until a smirk bore onto your face. “You’re wrong.”

“Hm?”

You held on to his nape, pulling his face close to yours—licking and biting his lower lip. “I should be the one asking you to say that I’m the only one who could make you cum like that, Haitani.”

#ran haitani #bonten ran #ran x reader #ran smut #ran x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader

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poisonsage808 · 2 years

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ModernAU!Sandor Clegane x Reader

A/N: i had this idea but not enough for a full fic so here ya go! inspired by coffee and rory mcccann in a beanie

warnings: maybe ooc sandor, sorry about that. swearing just cause. tried to keep reader gender neutral and loosely described but with longish hair & over 21

(masterlist)

•Across the street from where Sandor went to the gym was a coffee shop, opened way before the sun was awake

•He preferred to go to the gym at this time, less people to interact with. Bonus that should anyone else be up at this ungodsly hour, they didn’t want to be talked to anyways

•One hand held his phone, checking a missed call, the other held a disposable coffee cup with his name spelled wrong

•”Crap!” He heard in the distance, harsh footsteps coming closer. Habit alone made Sandor aware of you out of the corner of his eye but you were busy searching your wrists and pockets for something

•Hair a damp mess, shirt wrinkled and jeans ripped on the left knee- the blood that weeped from your now ruined skin made it evident the rip wasn’t intentional… A threat to yourself perhaps but definitely not him

•”Morning, hi, sorry, do you have an extra hair tie?”

•This close, Sandor realizes he actually knew you, you worked mornings in this very cafe just a few steps behind you both

•Obviously, you were late for work and the cause for your coworkers poor attitude this morning

•”Just the one.” He replies, not at all remorseful, “Less y’want fleas.”

•Sandor was joking but didn’t expect to hear you laugh

•”I’d take bugs over a write up. But you don’t look like you have fleas so I’ll take my chances if you’re serious.” You’re smiling up at him

•You must be desperate or mad to risk that

•Still, Sandor pockets his phone to free his hair. He actually feels more comfortable to be able to poorly conceal his scar again as if you weren’t just staring at it

•You weren’t, your eyes were on the coffee cup in his hand

•Sandro.

•”Genna spelled your name wrong,” You snickered, “She must be really tired today.”

•”Aye.” Sandor ignored the way his heartbeat skipped a beat. So fucking what you knew his name and how to spell it?

•He dropped the hair tie into your palm. True to your word, you wasted no time lazily pulling it away from your face and off your neck in a lazy bun

“Pissed too. I think her coworker’s a no show.” He smirked when your eyes went wide

•You swore for a second time and bolted away without a thank you

•The next morning he could see you were opening the cafe by yourself, the lights were dim and the music off

•You notice him approaching through the window and wave him in, “we’re open!” You sang while pressing buttons to various machines

•”Don’t look it” Sandor raises a brow

•”Good then my plan is working, I’m tricking everyone else” You scribble onto a cup while you speak, a mischievous smile on your lips

•”What is, losing your boss' business?”

•You pointedly, and playfully, glare at Sandor, “That and framing him for murder. You look like you’d go down easy”

•That, he laughs at. He doesn’t know how he let you go through the details of your “evil plan”, as you kept calling it, until you’re pushing a coffee cup towards him and he realizes he never even ordered

•You notice the suspicious expression on his face, like he thinks you poisoned his drink or something

•”You come in a lot,“ You cross your arms with a smile, “If I got your order wrong, I’ll quit right now”

•”Then you know it’s $3.“

•”Pretty sure it’s free”

•”Plan on adding robbery to that little plan of yers?”

•You laugh again, shaking your head genuinely, gesturing for Sandor to prove you wrong

•Of course it was right and when Sandor checks the spelling of his name, so was that. Also written below was ‘thank you :)’

•”Gonna get fired over this?” He raises a brow, “One used hair tie ain’t $3”

•It must have come off more concerned than he meant it to because you roll your eyes and feign a sigh, “Alright, alright! You caught me, I gave you my discount. We get one free drink a day and I don’t like coffee so—“

•”You don’t like coffee?”

•”Not the taste” You shrug

•Sandor laughs a second time since walking through the doors, not that he’s counting or anything, “Ya don’t drink it for taste, ya drink it to get through the bloody day.”

•You thought Sandor was flirting the mornings he came in but maybe you’d misread the situation?

•He went from a handsome, aloof stranger to a surprisingly funny and playful regular. Maybe teasing is just part of his personality

•Sometimes he lingers in the cafe. If it’s slow, and if you’ll feel bold, you sit next to him. At first Sandor loudly voiced how you might/should get fired for being lazy

•Before the conversation can go anywhere serious, you’re reminded you’re at work and have to get back to the other side of the counter

•Genna’s tired of your moping and convinces you to ask Sandor out the next time he comes in

•He hears your voice over the blenders, chatter and steaming coffee the moment he walks through the door

•You’re so happy, giving every approaching person a genuine smile and a compliment

•Seemingly more when your posture straightened instantly upon seeing Sandor hop into your line, the smile you wore could crack your face if it widened anymore

•The man in front of him was frustrated you were doing your job to get through the his order, the most attention you gave him was asking his name

•”Lose your holiday spirit, love? Where’s that gift of giving? If ya gave me your number, I could buy you dinner”

•Sandor’s bristling at the idea of you going out with this cunt. The thought of you wearing something aside from your uniform, smiling at crappy jokes and going home with— Seven hells, his heart races

•”$5.67,” You force a strained smile for the bald man, “Cash or card, Oliver?”

•”It’s Polliver”

•”Uh-huh”

•It took everything in him not to throw his head back and laugh

•Sandor doesn’t get a word in when he approaches, you surprise him with a compliment

•”I like your tattoo. Cerberus, right?”

•You have a pretty blush on your cheeks when you look up at him

•He lifts his right arm a bit when he notices your gaze to it when he doesn’t answer

•”It suits you! Never noticed that before”

•There’s a reason for that, Sandor was planning on doing laundry today and opted for a loose, black tank top, something he doesn’t normally wear especially not before the sun comes out

•You’re shamelessly staring now because.. holy fucking crap

•First word that comes to mind: hairy. You never thought you’d like a bear but here you are. You really like what you see

•You thought he looked strong before, with more revealed you can see it may not be all hard muscle but everything about Sandor screams powerful

•His left arm has a completed sleeve, various words and drawings while t—

•”(Y/N), stop drooling and get back to work!” Genna calls out teasingly

•Sandor can’t get your face out of his head after that, how bad your blush worsened and you refused to meet his eyes for longer than a moment

•He’s too good at reading people to deny your embarrassed from being caught

•Genna leaves you to pass Sandor his drink

•You linger with your hand on the cup “Hey I have to jet in five minutes. If you’re not in a rush, would you mind walking out with me? I might’ve pissed off Balliver. He looks like he’s waiting to dump his coffee on me or something”

•Your joke isn’t appreciated

•Sandor looks out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough ‘Balliver’ (get it, you asked when he didn’t laugh, ‘cause he's bald?) was glaring at you every time he lifted his cup to his lips

•”Aye. I’ll be over there when you’re ready”

•Bag over your shoulder, you approach Sandor after clocking out

•He reaches past and opens the door for you with one hand, missing the way your eyes widen as you follow his bicep down to his knuckles, because he turns and pointedly glares at the bald man

•”Yer friend gonna be ok?”

•”Oh yeah, she’s trained in martial arts”

•”Har-har, I meant with you cutting out.” He rolls his eyes as he walks beside you

•You smirk, “I am not ‘cutting out’! I have a valid excuse to leave my job early. I’m going to bury a body”

•Sandor chuckles, “Yer not supposed to tell people that”

•”You’re my alibi, I’m allowed to tell you. Yoou’re not allowed to tell anyone or I’ll be making you coffee from jail” You poke a finger in his direction and suddenly wonder if you’re allowed to touch him, even playfully like that

•”Where’s this body getting buried?”

•You like that Sandor keeps the ongoing joke alive through conversations

•”At the dentist.” You skip over to the bus stop and turn around as he follows over, looking behind you at the yellow sign with a raised brow

•”Too green for a car or can’t afford one with a barista salary?”

•”Scared to drive actually” You glare with a smile

•”You’re shittin’ me”

•He changes the subject by asking what time your appointments at and what time the bus arrives

•He waits with you after you tell him, opting to lean on the post while you stand on the bench to see if you come close to his height

•You barely do but when Sandor stands up straight, you still have to look up

•That pretty blush comes back when he dares to take a step closer. You don’t avoid his eyes this time but he can tell you’re growing nervous.

• Nervousness bothers him but you’re.. cute? Is that the right word?

•”You don’t have work today, do you? I should’ve asked, I’d hate to keep you if you—“

•”Off today,” Sandor assures you gruffly yet gently

•”Oh nice.. Do you wanna get linner?”

“The fuck’s linner?”

•You stare at him like he’s mad for never hearing the phrase before

•”It’s lunch and dinner combined”

•”..You’re going to the dentist” He reminds you like you’ve forgotten

•”Yeah,” You laugh and shake your head, “I meant after o-or a different day? Unless you don’t eat because I’ve never seen you get food in the mornings. It could be drinks—“

•If it was anyone else rambling, Sandor would’ve shut them up the minute they started to lose their point. But it was you and he never saw you nervous around him. A very new feeling sparked in his chest

•Yes, he decides, you’re cute

•You hold out your hand and make a grabbing gesture, “Gimme your phone. I’ll just give you my number and we can figure it out.”

♡[I], [II], [III]

#sandor the hound clegane #modern au #game of thrones modern au #sandor clegane x reader #poiboidrabbles

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densi-mber · 1 year

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It’s Just A Coffee

A/N: This is set in season 2, when Kensi and Deeks were still very much in the process of figuring out how work together.

***

“Hey, Deeks, I’ve been waiting out here for two minutes,” Kensi said into her phone, not believing that Deeks had let her call go to voicemail. After getting a text to come into work early, she’d driven over to pick him up. By now, he knew better than to keep her waiting.

He hadn’t responded to her multiple texts, but she figured that he was busy entertaining one of his many, many lady friends. Kensi made a face at the thought, even though Deeks couldn’t see it.

Just when she was preparing to get out and drag him out, the front door swung open, and he emerged, shuffling down the sidewalk.

“Hey, thanks for picking me up,” he said, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“No problem.” Kensi frowned as she took in his appearance.

He could be scruffy, usually a little disheveled, but he rarely looked this rough. Exhaustion lined his eyes, he lacked his normal agility as he forced his legs into the footwell, and his face looked washed out. On top of that, his hair was slightly matted, like he hadn’t even attempted to comb it.

Sighing, Deeks dropped his head back, eyes closing almost immediately as she started the SUV and pulled onto the street.

Kensi used the opportunity to examine him more fully. There was a dark bruise visible beneath his beard that she was 100% certain hadn’t been there when he left work yesterday. What the hell had he gotten up to last night?

“Rough night?” she guessed.

“You could say that,” Deeks muttered. He sounded two seconds away from falling asleep.

“So was it a stripper this time or a yoga bunny?” She didn’t try to hide her derision.

“Neither one.” Scrubbing his hands over his face, Deeks blinked several times, and sat up. If anything, he looked worse. Especially since he’d managed to fluff his hair into strange little tufts. “I spent all night undercover for LAPD.”

“I didn’t know you were approved for an operation,” she said, no longer amused. Deeks was supposed to be their liaison. She briefly wondered when she’d stopped thinking of Deeks as a temporary annoyance and claimed ownership. Brushing that thought away, she focused on Deeks’ answer.

“I wasn’t. This was a last-minute thing. My boss needed me to close a deal, and I happened to be available,” he explained.

“I’m pretty sure LAPD is supposed to run any work they want you for past Hetty. There’s no point in having a liaison if he’s gone all the time.”

“Your concern is touching,” Deeks drawled. He shifted his legs restlessly, failing to conceal a grimace. He held himself stiffly too.

“How dangerous was this job?” she asked more gently.

“I can’t really talk about it yet, but let’s just say there’s a lot less cocaine on the streets today than there were 12 hours ago.”

“You took down a drug ring in one night? Please tell me you had some kind of backup.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of going undercover like I do,” Deeks said, not picking up on her outrage. He shrugged and yawned. It was telling that he didn’t boast about his superior skills. “Besides, there wasn’t really time. I had to be there half an hour after I got the call.”

He rubbed his thumbs over his closed eyes, squinting against the sun streaming through window.

“Do you need to get checked out o anything? We can stop by an urgent care,” Kensi offered when they stopped at a light. There was definitely a cut hidden by his bangs.

Deeks shook his head, sliding lower in his seat. “Nah. The takedown just went a little haywire at the end.” He gestured to his cheek. “I promise the other guys look way worse.”

Ah, there was the Deeks she knew. That reassured her a little. If Deeks could joke, he wasn’t in that bad of shape.

When she looked over a minute later, his leaned against the window, completely out. Eyeing the time, she made a snap decision, and pulled into the next parking lot.

Five minutes later found her walking back to the SUV balancing two cups of coffee, a paper bag, and a water. Deeks didn’t stir at all when she climbed back in, or as she quickly consumed an apple fritter.

Glancing over at Deeks again, she smiled despite herself. He looked kind of adorable when he was sleeping. Especially with the little curl of hair falling in his eyes. She felt oddly tempted to brush it out of the way. Before she could act on the strange impulse, Kensi nudged Deeks’ shoulder several times until her jerked away.

He inhaled deeply, eyes wild for a few seconds as he reoriented himself.

“Ugh, how long was I asleep?” he groaned.

“Just a few minutes. Here.” Kensi pushed the full coffee in his direction, and he took it hesitantly.

“You got me coffee?” Prying off the lid, he sniffed it, his brows raising. “Just the way I like it.”

“Even I wouldn’t torture a man who looks as bad as you do,” she said, uncomfortable with how appreciative sounded. He had that rare puppy dog look that she was sure got most women to do any number of things he wanted.

Deeks chuckled breathily, taking a long sip, and settling back with a sigh.

“Thanks.”

“It’s what partners do,” Kensi said, staring straight ahead. Definitely no other reason.

***

A/N: While writing this, I thought of the way Castle always brings Beckett coffee. And when he doesn’t, it’s an indication that something is wrong between them.

#densimber 6.0 #densimber 2022 #densimber day 23 #ncis la fanfiction #pre densi #light Deeks whump #fluff #reluctantly caring Kensi #by ejzah

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tzuu-ii · 1 year

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Wallflower pt.3

Spy!Im Nayeon x Fem!Reader //

A/N: Links to part One and part Two here. Pls read those first !!

Nayeon knew from the moment you entered the club that you were different. It wasn’t because of the way you were dressed, or the way you carried yourself, she just felt something peculiar towards you. An odd sensation, attraction? Or maybe a keen interest. After all, she herself was up to something too. Who knew you would be the one to greatly assist her in her own little mission? All that was left for Nayeon to do now, was take Jinyoung from wherever you were off to. So seeing that you were out of the club, she changed from her bartender uniform to her original clothing. That being an oversized gray sweater partnered with baggy blue jeans.

She waited some time by the back door of the club before she ventured after you, making sure that you wouldn’t catch on to her scheme. And to her advantage, you didn’t. You were so focused on just getting to headquarters that you paid no mind to the white honda civic tailing your car. It was your downfall, but you didn’t know that yet, did you?

The drive to headquarters wasn’t very long; you made it there in no time. You opened the trunk, dragging his heavy body to the door where Jihyo was already waiting.

“Wow Y/N, you brought him back early! I’m not surprised though, you always seem to impress me don’t you?” She had said.

You chuckled, dropping him on a nearby couch while Jihyo eyed him. Her stare basically burning through his skin. She zoned out. Lost in nothing other than her thoughts. Horrid thoughts you assumed.

“Hey Ji?” You called.

It took her a second before she turned to you with a hum and her basic mom stance.

“What did he even do to you? If you don’t mind me asking of course. Like, I know he’s a huge pervert, but is there something else?” You asked.

“It’s nothing N/N, can you help me with something though?”She replied.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side waiting for her to tell you what’s next.

“I need you to clear the break room and tie him down in there. Let me know when you’re finished and we’ll continue tomorrow. Understood?”

“Mhm!”

You left the garage, and headed for the breakroom not minding the stares you got on the way there. It was surprisingly common to see a coworker dragging something. Sometimes it’d be a body bag, a body on its own, or some other large heavy object. And yet, eyes would ALWAYS be on the one doing the dragging. Not fearful stares, but ones full of curiosity. What was their mission? They’d wonder. Especially if the mission came from Park Jihyo herself. So in a sense, eyes were regularly on you at work whether you liked it or not.

You made it to the break room. It wasn’t too full, just a few tables here and there, some with files or snacks on them. Accordingly, you followed your boss’s orders, clearing the room just as she’d instructed. However, you did leave one of the hardwood chairs in the center for the pathetic lowlife that lay before you. Onto the chair he went, strapped down with no room for movement whatsoever. The longer you stayed there, the more nauseated you became. It was only natural that you’d want to leave after the repulsive night you’d previously gone through. Therefore, you sent a quick message letting Jihyo know of your accomplishment and escaped to your own room.

It was funny how you didn’t feel Nayeon’s stare through the window. It could have been from all the exhaustion consuming you or possibly even the denial of your own paranoia. Either way, she gazed at your pretty face wondering how clueless you had to have been to miss her. To barely acknowledge her existence. She enjoyed the small interaction at the club, so why not have another?

There were two guards by the entrance doors, but it wasn’t anything Nayeon couldn’t handle. A simple uppercut or a sidekick could have each of them unconscious on the ground in less than 10 minutes. Using the time of day as her upper hand, she wandered the empty halls in search of Jinyoung. She wanted to be quick, to be stealthy and out of there in no time, but Jihyo’s insomnia was hell bent on preventing that. That was the one thing Nayeon hadn’t planned for. Still, she crept through the long walls of the building, crouching, in avoidance of your boss. Apparently, Jihyo couldn’t wait until morning to begin whatever it was that she planned with Jinyoung. There she stood in the almost empty breakroom as the captured stirred in a desperate need to escape, Nayeon not far behind. Jihyo didn’t need words to show her excitement for this moment. Her heavy aura said it all. It was scary really. She seemed as though she was already visualizing the despicable things she was to do to him. Well… She was until the rapid padding of feet slamming on the ground inched closer to the breakroom. Worry filled the woman but it faded away upon seeing that it was you.

“Y/N what the he-”

“Someone broke in! Shit- I meant to tell you earlier, but I was trying to make sure the guards were okay. Speaking of which, you have to hire some new ones. Those were really shitty-”

“Y/N STOP RAMBLING. Where are the guards? Take me to them”

“Right! Sorry sorry”

You took her hand in yours and ran as fast as your feet could carry to the two guards knocked out on the floor. Luck seemed to have taken Nayeon’s side. Now was her chance, she could finally get back to her plan. The second you and Jihyo were out of sight, she bolted to the breakroom. Jinyoung’s eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Nayeon! You have to help me- Jihyo’s gonna fucking kill me! Please.. Please, I'm begging you. I’ll give you anything! Money! You w-want the cash right?”

Her eyes rolled dramatically.

“Fucking hell. You’re STILL this annoying even after all this time? Don’t waste your breath. I’m not here to save you.”

And with that, she swung her fist as hard as she could, bringing the man back to his unconscious state once again. Untying him, she pulled him over her shoulders, his arms dancing in the wind as she made her great escape. Headquarters had multiple exits making this a lot more convenient for the girl. She didn’t forget to leave you a little gift though. Something only YOU could understand. So when Jihyo sent you back to the breakroom, your stomach dropped once more. Jinyoung wasn’t there anymore. Instead, there lay a menu with a small note.

‘Did you ever settle on a drink, pretty?’

#twice fanfic #x fem!reader #nayeon #this fic is gonna be longer than expected #tbh i didnt plan to make this many parts #AND ITS STILL NOT DONE

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gunsli-01 · 7 months

Note

Trick or treat!

Tricolored Sweets with Pumpkin Smashing

A 3koto fic

There were very few benefits to working an office job. Well scratch that there were barely any benefits to working an office job. The hours were grueling, the pay would probably never be a livable wage, and if you didn’t get on well with your coworkers that could be the difference between your continued employment or termination. Then if you were unlucky enough you could wind up knowing your boss’s work and personal number.

I was unlucky enough.

Yet, there were some days that were better than others. Days where everyone was on their best behavior and there was an almost jovial atmosphere. Seasonal workdays. It’s barely any surprise- Bring a bunch of graphic designers together in one cramped space and there’s bound to be one person that goes all out for one holiday. Yet, Halloween was a day where everyone pulled out all the stops and pitched in.

That coupled with how rowdy things could get in the area during this time. Well, it is Shibuya after all. Most were just waiting for the workday to end and the festivities to start.

“Mikoto, good job on the decorations. It’s really helping with the atmosphere. Almost makes me not hate spending most of Halloween here.”

“Ah, it was nothing.” It was around four in the evening. Maybe with some luck I’d be able to get out of here at a reasonable time for once. I really hate working nights. Most of the employees with kids had left for the day already. So, it was mostly people around my age still hanging around. At around nine they’d start heading out too.

“No need to be modest about it. The chief flung all the decorating onto you at the last minute, and you still managed to do it. It’s impressive. Like what did you stay here all night?” Another coworker chimed up and I laughed.

“Ha, of course not-“ I had. “I’m really into horror so the moment they brought it up I already had a lot of ideas. It was pretty easy, really.”

“Man, well hopefully he has someone else to clean it up at least.” A pit formed in my stomach as they spoke.

“Cleanup is going to be hell. I feel sorry for whoever gets stuck doing that. Especially that gory sight in the men’s restroom. Highlight of the day though.” They all began chatting about it casually as I took a very cautious glance at my currently cut off phone.

“But you know- the chief is such a hard ass that he’s definitely going to want this all gone by tomorrow. Well, that’s what the custodial staff is for.” The first guy said as I could hear the telltale sounds of them getting ready to leave. Had that much time passed already. It was rather dark out.

“Hm, Mikoto you’re staying? It’s already past nine.”

“Ah- yeah I just have some finishing touches to add to this and then I’m heading out.”

“Well, make sure to lock up properly and take the trash out.” I just gave them a nod as I continued what I was doing.

“Man, didn’t you just say that’s what the custodial staff is for?” The other asked.

“Well, the chief says the last one out should do at least that much. His rules not mine.”

“Ha, ha- It’s fine I’ve got it.” I do it most days anyway. I’m almost always the last person to leave.

I waited for thirty minutes to give them ample time to get out of the area and make sure nobody was coming back. Watching the seconds grow into minutes on my computer.

“I need a smoke break.” I spoke aloud to myself in the empty office. As though I was announcing my departure to someone else.

It’s late… Why am I outside of the office? I looked over our phone and a mild annoyance began to bubble up. Ten thirty ugh I get to be out less and less these days. How long is this going to keep happening. Whatever, what is it this time?

[Hey, Mikoto make sure to clean up the decorations before you leave today. There’s a box in my office for you to put the decorations we can reuse in. Make sure to clean up that horrid display you set up in the men’s restroom too.]

“Ugh not again-”

I spent all of last night putting them up and now I have to take them down too!

“Ugh….”

I don’t even have energy to spare to get angry. I might as well hurry up and get this done before he wakes up. Don’t need this turning into a bigger mess than it already is.

It took until eleven twenty-seven but I managed to get everything done and the office locked up. At least-

“Huh, what am I still doing here- Was I going to go work overtime… Did I have work I had to do? There’s nothing I can think of… I’m pretty sure it’s all done. Besides I hate working overnight. Though an office at night on Halloween- It’d really give off that creepy vibe. All those empty cubicles and barely any light. Ah-” I should probably stop talking aloud to myself or people are gonna start thinking I’m crazy.

I guess there’s no used thinking too much about why I’m still here. Maybe work just ran later than usual. The lights are out and the buildings locked. The trash has been taken out too, so everything’s properly closed. What time is it?

“Ah- no it’s gonna be twelve soon and I haven’t even done one Halloween thing. Maybe there’s a midnight horror film showing that isn’t sold-out!”

Ah, wait I did it again I really need to stop that. If the movie’s completely sold-out I’ll just binge some horror movies at home. I think I bought some candy ahead of time just in case. I might’ve eaten it all already though. Ah, I can’t remember and the more time I spend dwelling on it the less likely there are to be tickets left at any theater.

Let’s just forget about it for now.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN CANDCKIRBY!

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eemcintyre · 1 year

Text

Random thoughts I had during my fifth viewing of the cinematic masterpiece "Cocktail" (1988)

Well... more like my 5 2/3 viewing bc I got like 2/3 through it and then my mom was like "why didn't you tell me you were gonna watch it, I would have wanted to watch it too" so I lied about how far I was through it "there's still a lot left we can start it over" and I watched the same movie almost twice in a row in the span of a few hours :)

"Wild Again" by Starship is one of the only good songs tbh, although "Addicted to Love" and "When Will I Be Loved" are also pretty alright. But the soundtrack is lowkey horrendous imo

I stand by my previous standalone post- no one has ever been that excited to get on a fkin Greyhound bus

Benefit of the bus, however- the scene with him and the baby; I feel like Tom just vibes really well w kids because he's such a smiley, fun, and chaotic lil guy and gREAT now I have baby fever again thx 💖

Oh the blatant plot exposition about his parents that they beat us over the head with oh-so-subtly

Oh the foreshadowing throughout that is even less subtle

One of my favorite quotes in any movie, bc it makes me feel better about my life being in disarray and not knowing what to do about it, I guess, is the “Most things in life, good and bad, just kinda happen to ya.”

Tom's still got his high little baby voice 😩

Even as a college graduate, the interviewing scene hits way too hard 🥲😩

Someone needs to acknowledge that the Red Eye looks like the most disgusting thing

Wish the dress shirt and tie fit had been featured more because it does things to me, but the scenes contrasting his first and second shift at the bar are when I first developed TC brain rot and fell in love w that lil goofball

I can’t judge the girl giving him the "fuck me eyes" bc have you seen him, plus she’s showing restraint compared to what I would do tbh

The adult learners usually drove me nuts in my classes (which I know is terrible but shhhhh) but I felt so bad for Sheila Rivkin

This professor really thinks he’s doing standup comedy or smth

Honey don’t put your face on the subway stairs that's arguably more disgusting than a Red Eye

The timeline of this movie is pretty hard to follow tbh; much as I adore it, you never know every time a scene changes whether it's been two days or like 3 months

What the actual fuck was the whole yuppie poet thing about- it's like when I used to watch those 60s Frankie and Annette movies where the weirdest shit would just happen for no reason and I felt like there was some social commentary or inside joke or smth that was just going way over my head that, if I had existed in that time, would have just been like "oh yeah that makes total sense"

The amount of raw sexual energy that this man exudes- I remember someone's post from a while back that was like "why is Cocktail like a 'mom' movie that all the moms are still obsessed with" but just like imagine if you saw this in theaters when it first came out

The only man allowed to wear beach shirts and look sexy, change my mind

I've always thought Elisabeth Shue is so incredibly underappreciated as an actress, smth about her line delivery and expressions just seems very genuine and naturalistic idk

She just orders “a beer” WHAT KIND???

So scary tbh how much he was becoming like Doug even being apart from him for a while

The side eye and shade Jordan gives Doug in this scene cracks me up every time without fail

The reggae singer absolutely popping tf off in his silver lamé suit ✨

Brian and Jordan both pulling the “I’m not like other girls” lmao

Sure she’s lowkey a manic pixie dream girl but I still love her

WATCH THE ROAD WHILE U DRIVIN THE CAR BRIAN 😤

If this movie was remade in modern times (God forbid) Brian would 100% be one of those guys with a hustle culture boss up motivational entrepreneur Instagram account. And Doug would perhaps be one of those cringy creepy pickup artists that talks about low-value women and compares them to horses and thinks he can mind-trick them into falling madly in love w him

If someone was waking me up early every morning to drink carrot juice I would commit crimes

The artist guy who made that exhibit looks like the oiliest man I’ve ever seen

Jordan’s dad says “bartender” like it’s a slur

When Brian tears up the check it always makes my lil heart just 💗💫🥺 the character evolution

Why did I only have this thought on my like fifth viewing of this movie, but I wonder if he hadn’t escorted Kerry back to her apartment if he would have gotten back in time to save Doug, and then who knows what would’ve happened bc then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to tell Jordan how much he really loved her and ask Pat for help and all that

WHEN HE FIGHTS EVERYONE OFF TO GET TO JORDAN what can I say, I'm a sucker for grand and melodramatic romantic gestures and proclamations of love

The teasing and singing along at the wedding is getting a little too real guys stop making this awkward 👀😬

I don’t care how unrealistic the end is, and that in real life they would have 100% soon gotten divorced, bc I want to believe that people can change and that all of the tribulation was worth it + enough for Brian to become a good dad/husband and successful but with it not being above and at the expense of his family; he would be such a fun and chaotic dad and their life would be so hectic w twins but I want to believe they could do it :( it comforts my cynical and depression-addled brain to believe they could do it :(

#cocktail #cocktail 1988 #tom cruise #elisabeth shue #80s #80s films #80s movies #movie review #movie ramblings

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marcellussorina · 1 year

Text

Thinius needs to talk to Marcellus, but about what? And how will it affect his date with Sorina?

“Marc! Hold up, bro!” Thinnius’ voice rang down the hall and Marcellus wanted to disappear. His Captain would just find him no matter where he went; and since he and Thinnius were friends, best not to do that and ruin both their days. Playing hide-and-seek with either of the Captains normally put them in less than stellar moods, and since he had a date that night with Sorina, he wanted both of the Captains in good moods and off his ass.

“Yeah, Cap T, what’s up?” He tried not to look annoyed. It hadn’t been long since he’d left the cafe where he’d been talking to Sante, and he was still pissed. What to do about that situation would wait till later though.

“I need you to work tonight.” Thinnius saw the tick start in Marcellus’ jaw and knew something was up. He had a pretty good idea what too. “Date?” Marcellus nodded. “Great, you can take her along.” The tick got worse. “Before you get too worked up, I just need you to be in the garden from midnight to 2am. Princess Kailyn and Asher showed up. She was beat up and he looked like he had literally been put through a meat grinder. Now we can add Damien to the list of those to be on the outlook for to come for a *visit*. Do you think you can manage two hours in the garden with your date? You don’t even have to be in uniform and you can star gaze or whatever, just keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”

This he could do. The hour was late enough that it wouldn’t interfere with dinner. They could walk and talk, then spread out in one of the alcoves and enjoy the quiet. He was pretty sure he could sell Sorina on it without seeming like an ass for having to work. “I think I can convince her to work with me tonight since it’s in the garden. You would have to pick our first date to pull this on me, way to add to my nerves.”

Thinnius’ brow rose at the way he’d phrased that. There wa only one female that he knew of that made Marcellus nervous, had Marc finally done it? “So my favorite lieutenant and sergeant will be on duty?” The expression on Marcellus’ face said it all. “I was afraid you’d never get the balls up to ask her before someone else took her off the market. I’m sure that there are,” he carefully looked all around them to make sure they were alone, “others who are not thrilled. Be careful. And if you need help…” He gave the other male a look that finished the sentence for him. They had fought long and hard together. Words were often no longer needed to convey things.

“Very displeased. Just keep an eye on her when she’s not around me for a bit. I can’t put a finger on it…” Marcellus’ lips thinned and he took a deep breath, he didn’t trust Sante as far as he could throw him, his boss even less.

“Always. We’ll talk more…later.” Thinnius winked and Marcellus nodded before they made their way now in opposite directions in the hall. Both completely understood the situation and what was at stake, and implicitly trusted the other. Things with the Princes were delicate to manage at the best of times, and after what had happened earlier in the day, these were not the best of times.

~~LATER~~

**Sor gotta slight change in plans. Don’t hate me.** Marcellus had been pacing in his apartment ever since he’d met up with Thinnius. Part of him wanted to wait till that night and surprise her, but he knew it was a jackass thing to do. If he lied and made it seem like the garden had been part of his plan, she could find out. It would fuck shit up. He hated it when shit was fucked up.

Waiting for her reply seemed to take forever, but according to his phone it was three Imperium minutes. **It’s ok if you have to cancel.** FUCK! He had fucked it up and tried not to.

**NO! Not cancel**

**Not delay either**

**Give me a second**

Sorina stared at her phone. Was Marcellus okay? The last three texts had come almost on top of each other. Normally she was lucky if she got one word back. Maybe this date did mean something to him, which made her smile a little. **Take your time, handsome** She threw in the last word to soften things and let him know she wasn’t mad or upset. She had been disappointed when she got the first text thinking he had to cancel, but had hoped to reschedule. After their morning, and knowing Marcellus the way she did, she didn’t think he was outright canceling permanently on her. Now she was just confused.

**Thinnius needs me in the garden from midnight-2. Join me after our date?** After he’d hit send Marcellus was quite sure that was what he should have sent the first time. Why the fuck was he so damn nervous? He knew the answer. She was his friend, a good one, and a warrior he trusted at his back in a fight. Had been for centuries and he wanted to keep it that way. Somewhere that had morphed into deeper feelings it seemed on both their sides, and if he fucked things up, he’d lose everything.

Sorina looked at her phone and almost laughed. He’d been worried about that?! Had he thought she’d be upset that Cap T needed an extra guard for something, and that he wanted her along? Was he okay? Sorina’s fingers flew over the screen on her phone, erased it all, entered something different, erased it all again, then finally put her message in and hit send. **I might be persuaded to do that, but only if I get a kiss by the fountain.** Her first two messages had been less clear and more teasing, and given his now obvious nervous texts, she decided not to freak him out with a miscommunication. Maybe he wasn’t the only one nervous.

**By the fountain, the roses, AND the wading pool if you’d like.** Now he could relax. He had been worried for nothing. If things were going to go right on the date, he seriously needed to relax. This was Sorina, but that was also the problem.

**You’re sweetening the deal. Fine, fine, I’ll go with you. XO** Sorina’s head shook as she sent her message and looked out at the ocean from the beach she was sitting on. It was one of her favorite places in Imperium to go, and she’d decided to relax there before getting ready for her date with Marcellus. Otherwise she knew she would fuss over herself till she was insane. The previous night and the morning had been perfect, and perfect things rarely happened to demons.

#the imperium chronicles #my writing #web of lives #writeblr #new chapter #demons #fiction #fantasy #dark fiction #my ocs

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imagine4000 · 1 year

Text

Turtle Rush Part 9

Hey guys! Thanks for your support! Here’s the next chapter before the finale, so I hope you stick around to the end. Happy reading. Stay safe, healthy, and in good spirits!

. .

WHIIRRRR~

The latch opens up, letting Raph and Dahlia step out of the tank.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“We’ll be fine, Leo. You just keep your twin away from committing murder.”

“Whaaa—nooo~. I was just going to have a friendly demonstration of why you shouldn’t mutualize, dismember, and/or humiliate the very existence of your enemies who dare mess with—”

SLAP!

“No! Bad Donnie, bad!”

SPRITZ–SPRITZ!

“Augh!”

“No plotting or evil scheming! Back in your corner!”

Raph and Dahlia sweat drop at Mikey spraying water at his brother as if scolding a cat. The duo then confronts the deer yokai.

“Miss Dahlia.”

“Artio.”

She scans the area.

“A forcefield...”

“You didn’t think I would waltz around in this mess unarmed, did you?”

Artio reaches into his pockets and takes out silver brooches.

“Protection charms?”

“This situation on the surface is bad for business below. So, Mr. Corvidian is offering a deal.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

“Raph, please...”

“These charms will repel the curse.”

“Let me guess,” Dahlia assumes, “you help us break the spell and stop those thieves. In return...”

“You promise to give yourself up.”

HONK—HONK!

[Fat chance, buck-o! Don’t try to angle the situation in your favor!]

D2k18 waves his fist towards Artio in anger while his voice booms through the speakers.

“Sorry, but that deal ain’t happenin’.”

“You won’t last ten seconds out there without getting possessed, big guy. You’ve witnessed firsthand, Dahlia...that curse is too great, even for you. Either you take the deal, or both our cities will perish.”

“If I agree?”

“Corvidian can care less if your friends try to rescue you. That’s how confident he is at getting his way.”

“Oh, we’ll be there to stop him,” Raph challenges, “you can bet on that.”

Artio reaches out, prompting Dahlia to shake his hand.

“When does it happen?”

“Who knows...it’s up to my boss when he feels like it. But know that you and I will meet on the outskirts of the Hidden City. Some day.”

“I understand. For now, you and Raph lead a team to getting that firestone.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ve got one more stop to make to even the odds.”

. .

>>>>>>>FAST FORWARD>>>>>>>

CREAKING~

Dahlia leads R/M2k3, D/L2k12, D/M2k18 into the piled wreckage facility.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’re we doin’ in a junkyard?”

“More like a deathtrap,”M2k18 quivers, “this is a really bad idea, ‘Lia.”

“What do you have to be afraid of in here?”

CLANG!

“Hey you!”

“Woah!”

They see the giant mantis hopping off the cars and lands in front of them.

“A giant bug?!”

“Man, this city is crawling with mutants.”

“Say, you’re not those annoying turtles. Who the heck are youz? Their cousins?”

“Who wants ta know?”

“Me, ya overgrown salad.”

“Knock it off, Repo,” Dahlia cuts in, “I need to borrow your cat.”

“Uhh...a cat?”

“Oh, Mrs. Nubbins~! I’m back~!”

“Woah, woah, hey! Are you crazy?! You tryin’ ta get us killed?!"

CLATTER!

The turtles gawk the moment the mutant feline runs towards them.

“Every man for himself!”

“I’m too pretty to die!”

“Me too!”

SLIDE!

“Sit, Nubbins!”

SCREEECCHHH!

By Dahlia’s command, Nubbins sits in front of her before the others become cat food.

“Down~...”

THUMP!

“Now, shake.”

The manti-cat lowers her mantis claw for Dahlia to grab.

“Good, girl.”

Dahlia tosses a tuna fish, which Nubbins happily eats.

Reow~

Nubbins purrs against her head.

“Aww, I missed you too. Look what I got.”

Dahlia waves a protection charm before pinning it on her collar. Under Nubbins’ left paw is her owner, still groaning in pain.

“Ugh...say, how come she listens to you?”

“It’s a female thing.”

“So, this is Plan N, huh?”

“What better way to round up some rogue villains than with a rogue mutant herder.”

“In this case, a giant cat bug.”

“Wait till our Raph gets a look at you.”

“Now wait a sec! You can’t just—”

“Relax, I got your compensation.”

Dahlia points her thumb towards the crates of used parts, satisfying the greedy mutant.

“Alright, boys, let’s move out.”

ROAR~!

With everyone on board, Nubbins leaps out of the junkyard. Riding up front, Dahlia feel D2k18’s arms around her waist.

“I can’t let you go through with it.”

“Somehow, I knew you were lipreading back there.”

“I’m not kidding.”

He tightens his hold, resting his head on her shoulder.

“You can’t expect me to let you give yourself up like that.”

“I have to, Donnie.”

“But he’s—”

“Artio is much of a victim to Corvidian as my dad was. There must be another reason for wanting me to go with him. I have to find out for myself.”

Dahlia puts a hand over his cheek.

“If anything does happen, I know you’ll swoop in and save me like a boss.”

“Like you need saving,” he chuckles, “but give me one moment of heroism so I can rub it in thy brother’s face.”

“You rub your success in anyone’s face.

“Aww~.”

“Shut it, Mikey.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Not you, knucklehead.”

“Watch out!”

SLIDE~!!

L2k12’s warning makes Dahlia pull on Mrs. Nubbins’ collar, avoiding a collision with a runaway truck.

CRASH/CLATTER!

Looking up, their mouths drop at the building where the gem is, covered in mystic vines and a cloud of mist circling in the sky.

“That wasn’t there a minute ago.”

“We better hurry. Anyone have eyes on Colton?”

“DAAHHHH!”

WHOOSH!

“Mikey?!”

M2k12 screams as he dangles by Colton’s tail, being jet-rocketed in circles. April and D2k3 spot them when passing by.

“Thank goodness you’re here!”

“Splinter, Raph, and Artio are fighting Jax! Other Donnie and Draxum are heading for the barrier!”

“Donnie, give Purple-Rain a lift! Leon, Red-King, you help capture Colton and the others! I’ve got Jax!”

Everyone but Dahlia gets off of the mutant cat.

“Hey, Nubbins~ see the tasty fishman?”

The feline licks her lips in response.

“Go fish!”

REOW!

Nubbins makes a running start then climbs up the skyscraper while Dahlia forms two swords to evade every obstacle in their way.

FWOOM!

Landing on the rooftop, Dahlia hops off of Nubbins and sees Jax rampaging against the trio.

“Raph!”

“Dahlia—you’re okay!”

“We need to get this charm onto Jax! It’s the only way to repel the spell on him!”

“Give me the charm and keep distracting him!”

“No, it is too dangerous!”

“There’s no time! Artio, do it!”

The deer tosses the charm to Dahlia as the others hold Jax off. Pulling the metal off the pipes, Dahlia shoots four pieces to form handcuffs and ankle bracelets chaining the sea creature in place.

SCREE~EECH!

“Watch it!”

SHATTER!

The men back away when Jax breaks the restraints.

“He’s been exposed by the spell for too long!”

FWIP—FWIP!

“Dahlia!”

SNAG/URGH!

One of Jax’s dreadlocks wraps around Dahlia’s wrist and pulls her in.

“Big mistake!”

Using his strength against him, she takes this chance to cling from behind and clip the charm onto his coat.

SHAAA~

“GASP!”

THUMP!

In seconds, Jax is on his knees, wheezing, while Dahlia stands beside him. The red, scaley being finally turns to the girl, dazed, and confused.

“Kid...you...you saved me.”

“Hey, even thieves like you don’t deserve ‘this whole situation’.”

[Guys, we got a problem!]

[It’s the crystal!]

Hearing the Donatello’s, they look up at the tower where they’re stationed.

“According to the level of mystical properties that’s radiating at a high frequency with—”

“It’s overheating! The inferno gem has become a ticking timebomb!”

[Say what?!]

“Not even Colton’s facial recognition could turn this off!”

“At this rate, it’ll explode with such force, the entire world will succumb to madness in mere seconds!”

[So, what do we do?! There has to be another way!]

[How much time until?]

“I’m estimating about, uhh...seven minutes?”

[Aw, swell! We have three geniuses and not one of them can come up with a plan?!]

“Get off our shell, hothead!”

“You try tearing down a ginormous mystic weapon the size of a tour bus!”

“That’s enough,” Dahlia shouts, “all of you—head for the loading docks!”

[What are you gonna do?]

“Something stupid. Leo, portal them, now.”

[But I—]

“Do it...please.”

[...You better come back.]

“With a dozen pizzas, mi amigo.”

[Dahlia—no! Whatever it is—]

She cuts D2k18 off and turns to Artio.

“Years ago, Nova taught me a spell only used for the most crucial moments. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“...It’s a long shot...but we don’t have a choice.”

“W-Wait—what are you—Dahlia, what’s going on?”

“Artio, find Hypno and meet us at the tower. Jax, we’ll need you too.”

“I’m all ears, kid.”

“I’ll explain on the way. Okay, girl...one last shot. You ready?”

ROAR!

“Let’s do this!”

“Dahlia, wait!”

But R2k18 is too late, as she rides on Nubbins, heading for the threat at hand.

CRACKLE/FZZT/RUMBLE!

The mechanism holding the gem breaks down piece by piece. It doesn’t take long for Dahlia and Jax to regroup with Artio as he brings the hippo mutant with him.

“Think you’re up for one more spell, Hypno?”

“This fellow briefed me in, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Each take a corner, surrounding the weapon. Taking a deep breath, Dahlia conjures material from all around, then transfers it to the rooftop.

WHIRR/SHOO~OOM!

In one fell swoop, a large encryption is drawn from her powers, right under the machinery.

“...‘Ase-rasu...mani-fesu...restori-va-ragul...safa paray’...”

[Ase-rasu...mani-fesu...]

All three chant as their hands glow, the aura emanating to the symbol, then floating up to ensnare the gem inside a giant ball of their combined magic.

“Jax, you open a portal right before it explodes! We’ll force it right out of this dimension!”

WHIRL—WHIRL~!

A strong wind circles, forcing them to dig their feet down from losing balance. Nubbins uses her mantis claws to hold Hypno and Artio, and Jax using his lock to grab Dahlia’s waist.

“Something is happening,” Hypno hollers.

“Stand your ground,” Artio warns, “the stone’s reaching the final peak!”

“C’mon, Jax, where’s that portal!”

“I have to find the right coordinates! I need more time!”

WHIRL/FWOOM!

“Ahh!”

“Dahlia/Kid!”

A powerful force pushes her out of Jax’s hold and off her feet.

ZOOOOMMM!

“Gotcha!”

Out of nowhere, D2k18 flies in for the save.

C-CLACK/CLANG/WHAM!

Using his battle-shell, the claws firmly plant on the concrete as Donnie holds her from behind.

“Donnie?!”

“I told you! I’m not leaving you behind!”

SHAA!

Just then, L2k18 appears from a portal, the others from both sides of the law follow behind. Each support Jax, Artio, and Hypno by forming a line.

“Guys!”

“We’re with you, girl!”

“If you go down fighting—”

“Then so do we!”

WHIRRR~

“I got it,” Jax hollers.

“This oven’s about to blow,” Meat-Sweats shouts.

“I don’t want to explode,” Ghost-Bear whines.

“Twenty seconds people,” D2k18 warns.

“Artio, Hypno—on my mark!”

“Right/Yeah!”

“Twelve seconds and counting!”

“Get ready in three...”

“This better work!”

“Five seconds!”

“Two...”

“Brace yourselves!”

“Here we goooo!”

CRACKLE!

“NOW!”

WARP!

💥🔥KA-BOOOOOMMMM!🔥💥

A black hole appears, just in time before the gem destroys itself.

FWOOM/WHIRL/CRUMBLE/SHATTER!

Despite the gravitational force pushing everything in its way, the three pillars give one final attack.

TOSS!

They throw the bubble of chaos into the portal before it disperses into thin air.

“...Did...did it work?”

“I...think so...”

💨💨WHOO~OOSSSHHH💨💨

At the exact moment, the sky turns back into the night shade, the thundering clouds fall apart, and more importantly...

“Huh/Wha.../Oh my/Ugh...”

The townspeople are brought back to their senses, without a shred of disorderly madness in sight.

“Guys, it worked! We won!”

“Whoo/Aw yeah~/Boom/Alright!”

The turtles from all three dimensions and even the villains, take a moment to celebrate. All except for three people, standing from a far distance.

“So, Jax,” says Dahlia, “where did you send it?”

“To a desolate galaxy. Where no forms of life have been created yet.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“It won’t be long before the authorities from our dimension track us down. Besides, my DPG (dimensional-portal-gun) is running low, so...”

“You’re turning yourself in?”

“No point in sticking to a plan that’s up in smoke.”

“You could’ve left when you had the chance,” Artio implies.

“Yeah, well...I kinda owed a nosy teen for saving my tail.”

A tiny smile is sent her way, with the same gesture returned. The alien tosses the charm to Artio, then walks over to his comrades.

“I will need the other brooches. Those costed a pretty penny.”

“Yeah, yeah...but...thanks, anyway. I guess, this time, I owe you one.”

The deer yokai reaches into his coat and hands her a gift pouch.

“A little something to remind you of our deal.”

FWIP!

Just then, Dahlia is startled by D2k18 when being pulled to his side, not taking his domineering glare off of Artio for a second.

“Pardon me, but could you tear your filthy hooves off this precious, wonderful, and amazing lady, sir?”

“Pfft...whatever you say, purple. And Dahlia...”

“I know.”

With a simple nod, Artio raises his hand.

SNAP!

🔥FLARE!🔥

Like that, he fades with the green flames trailing behind.

“Ugh, show off.”

Dahlia takes this time to open the pouch. In her hands is a hairpin, embroidered with multi-colored gems, the centerpiece an aquamarine gemstone, and three-colored feathers.

“Why would Artio give me...this...?”

That’s when she notices a small, folded paper. Flipping one side up, it reveals a short note that leaves the girl gasping in shock.

“What’s it say?”

Instead of answering, Dahlia clutches the note and hairpin close to her.

“I understand now.”

“Um...as much as I pride myself on my intellect, I’m quite stumped on the relaying message, here.”

“I’ll explain later. But first...we have one final mission.”

. . . .

[Moments Later…]

SLASH!

“Got another slice right here!”

“Dibs/Mine!”

SHAA!

“Ha-haa!”

“What/Hey!”

L2k18 snatches the pizza off his doppelganger before warping away from the other Raph’s and sitting on a lounge chair near the trailer.

“Ya can’t win em’ all, mi hermanos.”

“Who wants more lemonade~?”

In the deepest parts of the forest, everyone is celebrating their victory at Todd’s Cuddle Cakes Puppy Rescue Park.

Bark-Bark-Bark!

“Aww~ c’mere you!”

“Best! Day! Ever!”

M2k12 & M2k18 fawn over the puppies that pile on them like a blanket of love.

“Mm...this pizza is way better than the joint we have back home,” Skeet comments.

“How would you know,” Colton jokes, “we haven’t had a decent meal in years.”

“Thanks for letting us in on the fun, kid.”

“Even you guys deserve a little reward.”

“Psst...”

On the sidelines, D2k18 is pulled away from the puppies surrounding him and turns to Todd.

“Now’s your chance, friend.”

“O-Oh, uh...right. Shelldon, if you would.”

[On it, bro.]

The techno turtle hovers above the crowd.

BLAAARRREE!

“Dah/Ahh/Gyahh/Ow!”

Once the blow horn stops, everyone turns to D2k18.

“Ahem...ladies and gentle-turtles...fellow mutants and other worldly beings. I have a crucial and hopefully final decision to be made public. If the lovely lady in pink would kindly step up, please.”

“Here we go/Ooh~/Shh, quiet.”

The three brothers watch in anticipation as Dahlia stands in front of Donnie.

“I’ve been wanting to give you something.”

“Oh, Donnie, you didn’t—”

“Too bad—so act like you’re supposed to be surprised just for dramatic effect.”

Dahlia giggles as Donnie gives the capybara a signal.

FWEE~FWEET!

BARK!

A few awes are heard as Melvin (brown fur with curled tail) walks over wearing a collar with a note tied to it. She kneels down to open the note and instantly brims with joy.

“Oh-mi-gosh...you’re giving me Melvin?!”

“You always said you wanted a pet. Of course, I’ll do my share in pet sitting when you’re in school…”

“I love him! Thank you so much!”

Donnie holds her hands in his with a sincere smile.

“This past year, you’ve influenced me in more ways than one. You’ve been an ally, a friend, and the only person who could put up with my attitude longer than those dumb-dumbs have.”

“Hey/Ugh/Watch it.”

“But most importantly…you never gave up on me even when I did. You made me question a lot of things, yet every theory, footnotes and logical explanations all ended up with the same answer. And that is…without a doubt…how much I’ve fallen in love with you.”

At this point, Donnie’s brothers have their phones out recording while everyone is waiting in suspense.

“It’s happening, it’s happening~.”

“Shush, I’m trying to capture the tender moment.”

“Send that to me later.”

“Do. You. Mind?”

Donnie sends an annoyed look their way before regaining his composure.

“So, um...I know we confirmed our feelings earlier, but I thought a few witnesses wouldn’t hurt. Physical proof for future use.”

“Couldn’t resist gloating,” she teases.

“Naturally. But all jokes aside…I need to ask.”

He brings her closer.

“Dahlia Shinzo…would you do me the honor of being my official girlfriend?”

All the anxiety he felt before is now replaced with sheer confidence. Everything he had planned to the last detail, finally leads up to this day. After a brief silence, she reaches up to caress his cheek, expressing all her love in one answer.

“I’d love to, Donatello Hamato.”

🎉BLARE/WHOO/YEAH-HAA!🎉

An uproar of cheers bellows as the terrapin grins, victoriously.

“Yes-yes-yes-yes—YESSS!”

He spins her around as they laugh, then brings her in for a kiss filled with passion and longing.

“Bravo,” Hypnos applauds, “I always knew those two make a marvelous pair.”

“Ay dios mio,” Ghostbear wails, “it’s so beautiful~!”

“Oh, clam sauce—not on the apron!”

Meat-Sweats yanks the fabric away before the overgrown furball uses it for a tissue.

“Atta boy, twin brother!”

“Those are my besties!”

“Your genius son,” Draxum comments, “finally had the backbone to proceed as planned.”

“Obviously takes his charming personality after me,” Splinter proudly states.

“Whoo-hoo~ go other Donnie!”

“The you from here’s pretty cool, bro. You should take some pointers.”

D2k12 nudges R2k12 as they chuckle.

When the newly appointed couple part ways, they press their foreheads against each other’s.

“Hehe…so, tech-boy…was it worth the wait?”

“I’d replay this chance a million times over, my love.”

SHAA~

“Hm/Huh?”

Suddenly, a portal opens revealing five men in long dark robes.

“That’s our cue, boys.”

The ring leader walks towards Jax.

“Jax of Dimension (XXXX)…”

“Relax man, we’ve been waiting for you. No tricks this time.”

The aliens’ hand themselves over as the men use futuristic neon-glowing cuffs.

“Give me a minute.”

Jax faces the duo.

“Hey, you…you’ve got one heck of a girl right here. Don’t let her slip away from ya.”

“Not in a millennium.”

“Thanks again, Dahlia. This dimension is lucky to have someone like you.”

Though wrists bounded, he reaches out and she gladly shakes his hand. Dahlia turns to the authority leader.

“They helped save our dimension. Will that count for anything in their defense?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh, and since you’re here, they could use a ride home as well.”

She gestures to the turtle doppelgängers.

“Yes, I see...well, we best get you all back to your proper dimensions, then.”

“We’re going home?”

“Finally!”

“Sewer sweet sewer—here I come!”

“Well, we better say our goodbyes.”

Every turtle meets with their opposites.

“So long little me’s. It was a shell of a ride.”

“Keep being awesome, dudes.”

“Bring it in, fellas! Altogether now!”

CLAP!

“COW-A-BUNGA!”

The Mikey’s high-three with spirit.

“Y’know…yer nothin’ like us.”

“I’m not?”

“Nah…”

R2k12 lightly punches his larger doppelgänger.

“You’re better.”

“Keep it up, man.”

“Heh…you too. Now c’mere~.”

“Woah/Easy big guy!”

R2k18 chokeholds his smaller selves as they smirk.

“—aaand give at least one hour to spend your ‘me-time’ without the thought of training. Maybe then you’ll learn to loosen up and be half as great as me.”

“If you can keep your end of the bargain.”

“Dude I was already an A-Class swordsman. There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s not what your Mikey said.”

“Not after that “incident” from a certain weekend.”

“Wait what? Oh, that little snitch!”

L2k3/12 laugh as their outgoing-self storming over to his younger brother.

“Thanks for all your help.”

“Did you forget? We’re the smartest minds of our worlds. The others would be lost if they didn’t have the true brains of—”

“Donnie…”

“Okay, okay, this was a team effort.”

“And thank you, Dahlia.”

“We would’ve been turtle soup if you hadn’t found us.”

“And our world would’ve been destroyed if not for your help.”

D2k12 surprises her with a hug.

“I won’t forget what you told me.”

“You better.”

D2k18 leans towards his 2k3 counterpart.

“Is it weird to be jealous of myself?”

“Ahaha...”

The turtles regroup with their families just as Splinter is walking towards them.

“If feels weird seeing another Splinter.”

“Brings back a lot of memories.”

“I understand how you all must feel. Though you may not be my boys…you will always have a place in our family.”

M2k12 lunges in for a hug, making the rat chuckle as the other versions join in.

“Gentlemen…if you please…”

The head authority gestures to the portal. Just before they enter, the turtles look back at their new friends.

“See a later dudes.”

“Get back safe.”

“Until then, guys.”

“We’ll we see you guys again?”

“Hey, we traveled back in time and space before.”

“So we’ll definitely find a way back.”

“Eventually.”

“Let’s have another pizza party at your place!”

“It’s a promise.”

Both versions form a line then bow in respect and gratitude, to which the third party does the same with a smile.

WARP/SHAAA!

In mere seconds, the portal closes, and closing the final chapter to their latest adventure. Dahlia picks up Melvin and turns around.

“C’mon guys…let’s go home.”

That word never felt right as they head for the Turtle Tank.

“Um, do you mind if we hitch a ride as well?”

“As long as you don’t touch anything.”

“Or try to kill us.”

“Like always.”

“You try to make a delicious meal out of turtles, and you’re labeled a murderous foodie for life.”

“Ooh! I like another of those ice creams with sprinkles!”

“You almost ate the entire dispenser on the way here!”

Following behind, Donnie and Dahlia watch in amusement as the group argues amongst themselves.

“Some things never change.”

“I’m glad something did, though.”

Donnie puts an arm around Dahlia as they blush, timidly.

“Hey...”

“Yeah?”

“Knowing there’s other versions of you and your brothers...I wonder what my counterpart is like in their worlds.”

“Good question. Well, one way or another, I’m sure they’ll see ‘you’ in no time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Easy...”

Donnie steals a kiss to the cheek.

“You’re meant to be with us.”

Though a little corny, Dahlia smiles at the wholesome comment.

“I think so, too.”

In their hearts, they know that someday it will happen, and be together with everyone like they are now. As a family.

. . . . . .

TO BE CONTINUED...IN THE FINALE...

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cinephilechronicals · 10 months

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evil dead rise was one of the most overwhelming and disgusting blur of a film i have ever seen. i remember the first time i watched evil dead rise. i went with my older brother and mom for a late night viewing (which probably wasn’t the best idea). fun fact: i left that cinema crying. not crying because i was that scared, but overwhelmed. now to be fair, i have seen it 4 times, 3 of which in cinema.

and before you ask, no it never got easier.

lee cronin’s 2023 horror flick EVIL DEAD RISE has truly horrified audiences to their core. with an unhealthy mix of brutality, death, family, and demonic skin books, evil dead rise truly accomplishes what it set out to do — disgust. personally, i did not like this evil dead rendition on my first viewing. we had absolutely no idea what was going to happen in next hour and a half, and was very surprised. evil dead rise made $23 million in it’s opening weekend, which is decent for a budget of $15-$19 million. it was on my second watch that i actually began to enjoy and understand the film. so, what’s so scary about this film?

tl;dr: boy steals scary book, gets mom possessed, mom wreacks havoc, sister kills possessed mom, unhappy ending! okay so that’s not everything, but that’s pretty much it. the film actually begins in a lake-side cabin, where a “sick” girl is actually possessed, and kills her two cabin mates by the lake. after a beautiful title card, we cut to our family home. here we have our mom ellie, her kids danny, bridget, and kassie, and her road-tech sister beth. ellie sends her kids for pizza, but get stuck in an earthquake on their way back. a crack opens up an entrance to an underground bank, where danny investigates against his sisters’ wishes an finds a book covered in skin. being the teenager he is, he smuggles it back to the house. he opens it and finds 2 records. he plays them as his mother goes out to do the laundry downstairs. all hell breaks loose in the elevator, as the cords begin to wrap around her and attack her. we return to the apartment, where the now possessed ellie begins to let loose. she attacks beth and the kids. this takes up most of the film, ending up with bridget turning into a deadite “killed” by danny, who then gets turned into a deadite by bridget. kassie and beth escape, and are met with the final boss, an amalgamation of ellie and her kids. they tussle, and the film ends with the mass getting chewed up in a wood chipper, and ellie’s head being destroyed by a chainsaw. but it doesn’t end, because we see the possessed girl from the very beginning discovering the mess, and getting possessed. how creative!

now, there are some things about this film that i really like, and some i really hate. after watching the film so many times, my opinion has actually gotten worse. so, i originally really enjoyed the film (despite crying when i left). but once i kept watching i began to find myself enjoying it less and less.

so, the thing i really hated about this film is a lack of pacing. it seems that they had a vague idea with the story but put all their energy and time into the gore rather than an interesting story for the audience to follow. the pacing was lackluster, like, there was literally no time to think or react. though it could have worked somehow, it just didn’t. you can get a brief idea of the story, like the mom gets posessed and stuff, but there’s a lot of story points that the film basically introduces and ditches. like isn’t there that entire character point that beth is pregnant? i’m pretty sure that it’s meant to be a pretty important character feature, but it’s just brushed over. and then the kid’s dad leaving, that’s never really explored in relation to the characters being vulnerable. and even why the necronomicon is there in the first place. like, the character relationships are minimal and rushed. like i said, their dad leaving should have made their relationships strong or at least have some kind of emotion, but we literally didn’t realise that beth and ellie were siblings. that’s the main thing about evil dead rise that i really didn’t like. however, the good does outweigh the bad (maybe).

onto the good! i think what makes the film so jarring is not only the gore, but just how realistic the characters are. though my brother thought that some of the characters were cringe, and to be fair, sure, but the characters seemed like normal people nowadays. ellie feels like a mom you’d find in that kind of area, a little rough around the edges, but she has such a strong heart. her character as a mother fits so well. bridget is someone who i’ve definitely seen somewhere. i think that her character is really interesting. though politics is something i don’t really life in films, i think that her protesting and her sign on her door builds her character really well. it shapes her as a person of the times, and her character is actually pretty realistic for the time and area in which the movie is set. danny as well, he just seemslike an older brother. though his character isn’t really fleshed out, his role as an older brother is really nice to see. you can tell that all the characters really care for one another, and their family dynamic is really nice.

and then there’s the gore. wow. the gore in this film is ridiculous, like my god. though it is extreme, it’s done really well. i think everyone remembers the cheese grater scene, and though it is nasty, literally all of the gore in bridget’s death is so gross. the elevator scene was really uncomfortable to watch, i mean, that was an insane amount of blood. though i can’t imagine it was much better filming that. though it's excessive, the gore is really well done. props to the physical effects team, truly. it fits really well to the story, like, the gore seems realistic to the situation.

evil dead rise definitely has it's flaws, as all films do, but it was such a good film. i really do think that the movie will stick with audiences for years to come. maybe not for the right reasons though. i know a lot of people weren't really a fan of this evil dead rendition, and to be honest, that's fair, but i do still think that it stands strong!

#evil dead #the evil dead #evil dead franchise #evil dead rise #horror #horror movies #horror film #film review #movie review #horror review

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redhotarsenic · 2 years

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Finished the first expansion 🙏🙏🙏

#I was supposed to use the limit break thing on the second to last boss but I forgot how to do it #I though you had to click on the bar to do the thing and obviously it didn’t go off #so I was panicking #and I decided to try and see if I could do enough damage normally so I didn’t fail the fight #which I did #barely #I’m pretty sure I got the boss with less than a second left on the timer #nearly had a heart attack #but I got it #also why the fuck are the credits so damn long jesus

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places. “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

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