#Packet mirroring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delulujuls · 4 months

Text

the prettiest boy in the paddock | op81

hi there, here comes the 1.3k of wholesome fluff with the pastry boi. its just-uh, i already know that i wanna write a part two for this so watch out!

summary: oscar is feeling a bit down but little does he know that for two people out there he is the prettiest boy in the paddock

warnings: none

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri (ft. lando)

Oscar never had an opinion about his appearance.

Whenever someone asked him if he considered himself as an attractive guy, he would just shrug. Passing by shop windows, mirrors, or surfaces reflecting his image, he never stopped to check if he looked good. The same applied to taking pictures of him. He never needed to have a say in them; he didn't feel the need to improve any shot, as he might not look favorable in it. If the photographer thought he looked great, who was he to judge?

This, of course, didn't mean that Oscar didn't take care of himself; quite the opposite. The Aussie was always neat, smelled good, and sometimes even used hair conditioner, lip balm or even a hand cream. Looking at him, you could notice a handsome, young man with a well-built, slim figure, a pleasant gaze, and an infectious smile.

The fact that Oscar was attractive was especially noticeable on social media. He was adored by fans. The papaya army loved the McLaren duo, and Oscar was no less popular with the ladies than Lando. If anything, sometimes it seemed like his name was shouted even louder.

His teammates also shared the same opinion. Oscar was a good-looking lad, so it wasn't surprising that during conferences, interviews or casual conversations Lando couldn't take his eyes off him and Y/N took every opportunity to throw compliments at him. However, these compliments were one hundred percent sincere and true and Oscar took them very personally, blushing like never before. These compliments were perceived as harmless, friendly jokes by the public, but both Y/N and Lando believed that their friend was the indeed the most beautiful.

However, this didn't change the fact that sometimes Oscar had a bad day. This was one of those days.

With the hood pulled low over his head, the person in the orange McLaren hoodie entered the dining room. Y/N was slowly having her breakfast, scrolling through social media. She usually went for meals early to avoid crowds and have some time to clear her head. Her surprise was evident when someone pulled a chair next to her and took a seat.

"Oscar?" the girl asked in surprise, barely able to see her friend's face under the hood. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He muttered under his breath and opened a small chocolate packet, pouring it over his pancakes.

Y/N blinked several times, holding her phone in her hand. Clearly, something was off.

"Is something wrong?"

Oscar shook his head and leaned his elbow on the table. He ate in a hunched position, with his back slouched. It looked like he was hiding from someone. Or hiding something.

"You haven't convinced me."

She replied, putting down her sandwich.

The Aussie ate in silence. Only his chin and chocolate-stained lips were visible under the hood. Y/N looked at him, waiting, but when she saw it was better to drop the subject, she returned to her breakfast and scrolling through Instagram.

When Y/N finished eating, she glanced at her friend one last time. He still sat with his head down, swiping his finger on his phone screen. She gathered her things, planning to leave the dining room, realizing there was no chance for a normal chat with Oscar.

"See you around, grumpy."

As she stood up, she heard a quiet question.

"Can you help me?"

Y/N paused and finished her coffee.

"Of course I'll help you, but first I need to know in what matter."

She replied without hesitation, looking down at him. He raised his head and for the first time that day, she had the chance to look at his face.

"Do you have a moment now?"

The girl checked her phone's clock and nodded.

"To my room, then."

Once they were in her room, she sat on the bed and Oscar, after closing the door behind him, walked slowly into the room.

"I'm all ears."

He took his hands out of his pockets and sat next to his friend. He sighed and took off the hood, turning his face toward Y/N in silence. She looked at him surprised, studying him.

"What? You don't have the answer written on your face."

"I do," he replied tartly "You don't see gow terrible i look?"

Y/N furrowed her brows. She had no idea what he was talking about. He looked exactly the same as always.

"You look cute, just like every day."

She said playfully, smiling, but he wasn't in the mood for jokes. He lowered his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Acne," he said, resigned, lowering his hands to his knees. "It's worse than ever."

She gently touched his chin and turned his face towards her. Oscar avoided eye contact. He felt embarrassed, unsure whether he was more ashamed of coming to her with such a thing or of his appearance.

"If you want me to help, first, don't touch your face like you did a moment ago."

The girl smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead with her hand.

The Aussie looked into her eyes and, seeing her smile, he felt a little more confident.

"Can you help me with this? I have no idea what to do."

"You're lucky you're friends with someone who has half a Walmart in their makeup bag."

Y/N smiled and stood up, going to the bathroom. After a moment, she returned with a pink headband, which she placed on Oscar's head to keep his hair away from his face.

"Have you washed your face today?"

Oscar nodded.

"What do you use for face wash? Tell me about your skincare routine."

To be honest, there was nothing much to talk about.

"Uh, I wash my face with water, morning and night, when I take a shower."

Y/N blinked several times and looked at him in shock.

"And that's it?"

He just nodded. To his surprise, his friend smiled and clapped her hands.

"Great, I can teach you everything."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Oscar replied uncertainly, but he obediently stood up and followed the girl to the bathroom.

"Don't worry; it won't be anything crazy" Y/N said and took her face wash gel in her hand "It's gonna be Piastri's friendly skincare."

He listened to her even more carefully than when he analyzed the race result with the strategists. He asked when he had doubts, trying to remember every word she said. When he finished washing his face, she applied a gentle scrub and face mask after. After that, it was the time fot rest of the skincare routine. Y/N took a bit of cream on her fingers, which finished off all the major skincare. She crouched down in front of him and smiled, applying the cream to his face.

"Smile, Osc. You are beautiful."

Piastri involuntarily smiled at her compliment.

"Immediately better."

She added, massaging the remaining cream into her hands. For some imperfections, she applied a clear, specialized ointment and removed the headband from his head. She stood up, taking a brush and combing his hair.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Oscar replied, looking at her from below. His brown eyes sparkled as he raised his head to look at his friend.

"You are welcome, pretty boy."

She replied. She wanted to kiss his cheeks but refrained, partly because of the multi-step skincare routine on his face, and partly because Oscar was her friend. But mostly, it was about skincare.

"And you're beautiful, don't forget that."

"Of course, I am" a loud interjection from Lando was heard as he entered the room, making himself comfortable in it, quickly appearing in the bathroom "What's going on here and why without me?"

"You miss everything because you're the last one to get up"

Y/N replied, putting her things back into her cosmetic bag.

"Not true, don't be mean."

Lando retorted, but quickly his gaze turned towards Oscar and the Brit smiled at the sight of him "Wow, Osc, what a glow, mate!"

"Y/N did her hundred-step skincare on me."

"Really? Why are you torturing our friend?" Norris asked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to the Aussie.

"I asked her myself," the younger boy replied before the girl spoke up, ready to throw some sort of retort at her friend, "I wasn't feeling very confident this morning, my acne was killing me a bit and it's gotten worse lately."

Oscar admitted, still a little embarrassed by his problem.

"Aw, Oscar," Lando wrapped his arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "You'd win the competition for the prettiest boy in the paddock."

Piastri blushed and lowered his gaze. A slight smile appeared on his rosy lips.

"Oh yes, you would definitely win."

Y/N replied and put her makeup bag aside, also sitting next to Piastri and kissing his other cheek, feeling a bit more confident after Lando did the exact same thing. Oscar blushed even more and raised his hands to hide his face, but lowered them halfway.

"I can't touch my face, damn it!"

#f1 imagines #f1 oneshot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

2K notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 10 months

Text

I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary: Ransom always gets what he wants. Even if he has to wait.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror. Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate. You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view. Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion. And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes. He was so predictable. Expected perfection from you. Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes. There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what. Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick. She was more of a friend than a mother. She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive. It was like the two of you had grown up together. And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything. He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’. You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up. They didn’t need help in the kitchen. Everything was already outside. But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to. And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face. He was told that you were home from Harvard. He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack. From the kitchen. Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen. He must have been quieter than he had thought. You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward. Right at the table. A soft little whimper is music to his ears. He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly. Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him. You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table. Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen. “Wait. I’m not finished talking to you. If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated? Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt. Come on, I wanna see. Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick. “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees? What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames. He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t. You mustn’t. “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago. You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked. I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated. You followed his instructions perfectly. Listened to every word. “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing. What is that you want? You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes! Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk. Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no. Show me what you were doing just a minute ago. But hold your skirt up. I wanna watch. Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table. Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany. Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go. I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm? You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah. Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward. Getting so close that you're panting out his name. Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut. Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is. Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him. Circling your tongue around his thick digits. Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad. I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs. Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are. Nothing left to do but follow him outside.

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn. He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you. He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious. It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself. Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm. It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside. Needing to get something to drink. Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower. Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you. And the worst part was he knew! He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy! I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew. You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no. Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you. Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear. Sniffing up the side of your neck. His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game? What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess. It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth. Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside. He wasn’t serious. The window was right there. Your dad was right there. With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.

“You want my cock? Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you. Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck. My. Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there. You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs. Rolling your eyes up to look at him. His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you. You let him take control. Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you. His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells. You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter. His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No. I think she had an upset stomach. Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts. Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you. He glances back down to you. Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging? You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter. Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal. You are dripping wet. Needy and ready to come. Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck. “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she? You gonna be my little slut? You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air. Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up. His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it. Call me daddy. Tell me how bad you want my cock. Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot. I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face. Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth. Stabbing into you so fast. So deep he was making your throat bulge out. And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you. Almost there. Gotta hurry. Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut. Taking this big fat cock like a good girl. Uh! Uh! Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat. You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom. Your hips fuck down on him harder. Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom! That’s not fair! I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs. Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside. Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile. “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly. Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him. “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere. She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before. Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right. Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left. There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly. “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk. He caught him spitting into your cunt. He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks. His eyes darkening as he walks closer. Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot. You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p. He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you. Your daughter is clumsy. She tends to make a mess, too. Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information. Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom. Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o. Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out. Flinging his head towards the door. Wanting Ransom to follow. He had no such plans. He was going to fuck you during these fireworks. “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché. Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh? Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep. Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess? I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks. Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him. “There ya go. You gonna show daddy what you learned in school? I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work. You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you. Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming. You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you. Sit on my lap. Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom. Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip. None of the boys from school felt like him. None of them looked like him. And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep. Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy has such a big cock. You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore. I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip. Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom. Finally have him inside of you. Something you have dreamed about for years. “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah. But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does. You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy? You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom. Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him. Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him. “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom. His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble. “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy. It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me. My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess. Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM! POP! “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder. They can’t hear you. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy! I wanna come! Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach. One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit. “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes! Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah. I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend. He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea. Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying. Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit. His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers. Everything felt good. Every part of you feels so fucking good. Your skin is buzzing with euphoria. “Go on, Princess. Come. Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling. “Daddy! Daddy I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip. Squeezing me so fucking hard. There, baby. Keep riding daddy, yeah! Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core. Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him. “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did. Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes. “That was incredible. How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy. Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up. You’re married. Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter! She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you. You had him. He was still in you. He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her. You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back. “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs. Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp. “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control. Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college. Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins. They get attached too easily. Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it. Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes. “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her. Mmm, my cock is getting hard again. If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now. Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress. It’s too soon to share her. You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches. He would fuck you too. He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you. Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh. ‘Good girl’ written on the other. “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy. That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile. “It’s all daddy’s. Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door. And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself. My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you. His personal little sex toy. One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with. And showing off. His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted. And he would. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you. “Okay, get some sleep, Princess. You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right. Shh.”

“I know. Sleep. Dream. And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @maroonsunrise83 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss

#i'm not supposed to play with boys #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #DBF!Ransom drysdale #dbf!ransom #dbf!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans character

2K notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 18 days

Note

grace clinton, at home, “have you taken my chocolate?”

chocolate thief II g.clinton

"baby!" you looked up at the thick scouser accent ringing through the house. "yeah?" you called back, currently loading up the washing machine with its second load of the day, another basket to be folded sat on top you'd just taken out of the dryer.

"yeah?" you repeated again when there was nothing back, rolling your eyes. "baby!" you groaned as again your girlfriend yelled out, kicking the washing machine door shut and storming off to find her.

"what!" you sought her out in the kitchen with a huff, her head buried deep in the pantry. "have you taken my chocolate?" she accused, rummaging around and moving things as you sighed.

"i was literally a hundred metres away and you yelled down the house to ask me about...chocolate?" you asked in disbelief as she gave you a look over her shoulder and resumed her search.

"obviously. because i can't find me chocolate and you're the number one suspect!" you scoffed at that as she gave up and pulled her head out of the pantry with a scowl, crossing her arms grumpily over her chest.

"well?" she asked impatiently as you raised an eyebrow. "well what?" you questioned right back crossing your own arms and mirroring her body language. "have you taken my chocolate?" the footballer asked as you rolled your eyes.

"no, no i haven't. now if you'll leave me in peace i have to finish doing your laundry!" you turned around and walked off hearing her whine behind you. "where is it!"

"maybe you ate it clinton? did you consider that?" you called back, grabbing out the detergent and setting up the machine hearing her footsteps follow after you.

"yes. but i think i'd know if i ate me own chocolate babe!" grace appeared in the doorway as you sighed, flicking on the washing machine as its hum filled the room and you turned to the basket of clean clothes.

"oh so now you wanna be sweet?" you chuckled feeling arms wind around your torso and her chin find home on your shoulder. "m'always sweet baby, thats why ya fell so deeply in love with me." she teased kissing your cheek as you only hummed, feeling her hands move around patting at you.

"are you checking my pockets for chocolate!" you realized, pushing against her so she stumbled back and whipping around to shoot her a glare, hands on hips as she smiled guilitily.

"no? i was...checking for your phone. i can't find mine so i was gonna use yours to call it!" she grinned, clearly proud of her excuse as your eyebrows raised. "the phone thats right there? in your pocket?" her grin dropped as you pointed to the obvious lump in her joggers.

"ah look at that, you're just so smart baby...found it for me." she laughed awkwardly rubbing her neck, backing out of the room as you advanced on her, taking off in a run as you charged after the taller girl with a yell.

"babe?" you called out, grace ignoring you as she crouched down reading the back of a packet of energy drinks with a frown of concentration.

"babe?" you tried again, a little louder tapping your foot impatiently as again you were ignored. "grace!" you grabbed a packet of crisps, lobbing them at her as they bounced off her jacket and finally she looked over.

"oi what you playin at! now they're gonna be all smushed." your girlfriend huffed as you rolled your eyes. "rest of the list? do you mind helping me for once instead of trying to sneak in things we don't need!" you sighed shoving the piece of paper in her hand.

"pft baby we don't need a list! everything we need is all up here." the dirty blonde grinned tapping her forehead, balling up the list and throwing it in your cart as you huffed and grabbed it out.

"in that case then i didn't realise hot air was on the list." you grumbled, squealing as her fingers jabbed at your sides for the comment, flicking your ear and shoving you before you caught your footing and she'd already taken off down the aisle.

"grace!" you groaned in annoyance as she'd grab things and all but throw them at you to put in the cart. "we don't need that." you sighed for what felt like the tenth time, trying to keep a track of your budget in your head which felt ten times harder the more random items appeared in the cart.

"this is why i don't bring you with me when i go shopping. we do not need three cans of pringles!" you put them back on the shelf ignoring your girlfriends complaining, pretending not to notice when she snuck one of them back in with a gleeful smile.

"heads up!" you spun around hearing a familiar voice as you were almost done, in the final aisle now as grace barely had a second to brace before her best friend was launching onto her back sending her stumbling over and almost to the floor.

"celine! get off me you rat." your girlfriend huffed shrugging her off as the norwegian grinned, greeting you with a smile as the two messed around for a moment discussing tomorrows game.

"might want a few more of those, the way that you put them away the other night!" your head whipped up at that as grace dumped a bag of her favourite chocolates into the cart. "she what?" you raised an eyebrow and grace elbowed the girl with a subtle shake of her head.

"yeah! after team drinks, we went back to your place and played fifa and you were just eating chocolate after chocolate after choc-" "well so lovely seeing ya celine, but we best be off!" grace shoved the girl as her boyfriend appeared, sending her a filthy glare before hurrying to grab the cart off you and hastily wheeling it away.

"so you ate your own chocolates you've been accusing me of the entire day!? you get back here clinton!"

#woso x reader #woso community #woso #grace clinton x reader #grace clinton #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

420 notes · View notes

boyfhee · 6 months

Text

이희승 、SHARED VICE

heeseung has a bad habit, but with your help, he can fix it. unforeseeably, you turn out to be a bad influence instead.

ꔫ pairings : play boy! heeseung x fem reader ꔫ warnings : kissing, implications of smoking ꔫ notes : this was supposed to be a roommate series

“i thought i told you to clean up,” your voice takes in the way he fixes his t-shirt while looking in the mirror, pausing for a brief second as his eyes settle on you before travelling back to his reflection in front of him.

“giving me orders in my own room,” and he sounds a little too haughty, especially with the smirk that dances on his lips. his eyes travel down to you— up and down, as he looks at you with a teasing glint, kicking a few empty packets of snacks lying around his gaming setup aside.

“that’s a nasty habit,” you’re commenting this for the thousandth time ever since he moved in, the scoff that falls off his lips tells you how much he expected you to say the same words over again.

“everyone has one,” he shrugs, sighing as he pushes the keyboard further on the desk, leaning against it before his lips curl up into a cheshire grin as he leans down towards you. “you have too, i know about it; your very, very nasty habit,”

and you feel your breath get stuck in your throat, knowing a little too well where this conversation was heading. he stares at you for a while, finally bored as he sighs, getting up from the desk and taking a step towards you— careful not to break eye contact.

“i’m off, hope you clean this—” but you’re quick to react, taking a step back just as soon as he leans closer, looking away and pointing your index finger at the empty packets and unwashed clothes lying around. “—shit,”

“lend me a hand?” he leans back with a soft sight, slightly tilting his head to the side, the grin on his face never leaving. “i could really use some help here,”

“and why would i do that?”

“maybe, i can help you with your nasty habit in return,” he suggests with a certain innuendo, towering over you with a heavy gaze, one that figuratively makes it difficult for you to even move. “roommates need to look out for each other, right?”

and heeseung is a wrong deal in himself.

you’ve seen the way girls around the campus fawn over him and also the way they walk out of his room with tears. you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve come back to the apartment, seeing him with a new girl. you know better than gravitating straight towards him, although your heart keeps swerving. you hate his habits, he smells of cigarettes and the strawberry candies that keep his mouth busy during hours of valorant sessions. it’s a deadly combination, vinously so.

“i don’t know—”

“you can stare at me all you want while helping me clean the room,” another step towards you, another step back taken by you— and you’re against the edge of the bed, whipping your head around frantically as you almost stumble, although not sure if it’s because of his actions or the close proximity in between. “don’t you like to do that, pretty?”

or if it’s both.

“we’ve only been roommates for a while but i know exactly what you’re thinking right now,” he leans down further, lips almost brushing against yours. “do you think i haven’t noticed your eyes being all over me?”

your mouth is dry, mind rushing at thousand miles per minute to think of any words to defend yourself. you thought, you’ve been discreet with it— the stolen glances at him from across the room, the subtle smile on your lips whenever you two talk, despite most of it being just annoying banter. it wasn’t news to your friends when you told them about your little crush on your roommate, however you made sure to keep it a secret from him. he tilts his head to the other side, gazes switching between your eyes as your lips, the feeling incomparable to how you’re drawing him in.

“hee—” you’re cut off by the sudden movement of his arm around your waist, perhaps to keep you from falling down on the bed, but maybe it’s yet another excuse, this time made to hold you close, just enough to make you feel all the butterflies.

“maybe,” the words caress against your lips, making your head dizzy. “it’s a shared vice,” and before you could retract— his lips are yours, hands pulling you close by your waist to hold you in place, feverishly kissing you as you feel his tongue brush against your lips.

it's another nasty habit, one he can’t get rid of— the one he won’t get rid of, especially at the way your lips feel against his, it aligns with how he thought you’d taste. your hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt in nervousness and yet, you leave him breathless and intoxicated with the lack of air. it’s like a drug, gets worse the way your hands hesitatingly rest on his chest as he tilts your head, pulling you even deeper into the kiss. it’s an addiction, and good for heeseung, you’re just as hooked as him.

901 notes · View notes

ectologia · 9 months

Text

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐𝒮𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒞𝒜��𝐸 ؛ 𝓀𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾 𝒷𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ fluff ﾉ profanity

“What the fuck are you doing.”

You jump when you hear the gruff voice from behind you, pivoting your head from the porcelain bowl to look at the stoic blonde leant against the doorway, his arms crossed as if he had caught you in the act of something mischievous. You smile at him through the drippy glaze of the face mask you were messily applying.

“Nothing..” you hum, turning back to face the mirror with a lacklustre giggle, now realising how silly you must look to him at the moment.

He steps forward, the small bathroom creaking wearily beneath his weight, “What are you doing to your face…” he asks with knitted brows and pursed lips, his eyes darting from the ominously sticky packet sat on the rim of the sink to your face, covered in a milky jelly-like sheen.

“Face-mask!” you hold the package up to his face with a bubbly grin, pinching it by the corner between your forefingers to avoid any more mess.

He snorts at your adorably simple answer, before allowing his eyes to scan over the mauled wreck of the packet.

“Rice milk face mask.. f’ dehydrated and rough.. baby girl, you don’t need this shit.” He slips the plastic from your fingers, slapping it back down into the sink dramatically in near disgust. “Your skin’s as soft as a baby’s ass-cheek.”

You titter at his descriptive wording, still inspecting the painted glaze across your face in the mirror.

“But it’s fun!” You stare at him with a light-heartedly blank expression, standing comedically stiff like a lego character to avoid the milky slime dripping onto your clothes. He scoffs and shakes his head, smiling down at the floor before tilting his head back up at you.

“It look’s like somebody’s just jizzed all over your face babe.”

“Hey! don’t say that, you’ll put me off.” He busies himself behind you, chuckling as you squeak like an angry mouse at his crude observation.

“Good, I hope I do. I’m tired of walking in ‘nd finding you doing weird shit to yourself all the time.”

He hears you sigh dramatically as he situates himself against your rear, raising his hands to cup the sides of your head to comb through your soft baby hairs.

“You just wouldn’t understand..”

He pinches the doughy flesh of your butt and scolds you when he sees you roll your eyes in the mirror.

“Understand what? wipin’ your face in shitty face masks and tryna’ water board yourself with ice cubes? Yeah, sounds like a fuckin’ party.”

You turn to him with vigour, clapping your palms onto his stubbly cheeks and rolling the flesh like play-doh “No, because your skin is literally perfect..” He grumbles as you stretch and pinch his face with your soft fingers, trailing your fingertips over his smooth forehead and inspecting his spotless skin. He huffs before taking your delicate wrists in his hands, tugging them away and holding them down by his sides.

“It doesn’t matter. ‘s just skin baby girl.” He tells you, smoothing a hand over the back of your skull gently. You’re so cute, he thinks to himself. He wants to kiss you so badly in the moment but would rather not have your face mask stuck to his chin. He unhands you and turns away, preferring not to torture himself any longer with the overwhelming need to have his tongue in your mouth. “Dinner’s ready by the way. Wash that shit off your face before you come downstairs, can’t be looking at you like that while i’m eating.”

He smiles when he hears you giggle from around the corner, padding downstairs with his phone in his hand as he orders you 10 more packs of the the same face mask.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff

2K notes · View notes

iplayghoul · 10 months

Text

𝗹𝗲𝗴 𝘂𝗽 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘁. 𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗼𝗽𝗼𝗻

warnings: mentions of weed, reader is a dealer, black coded reader, strangers hooking up 🤭, squirtinggg, i like the word cock, sum dick in there too. pussy is refered to as a 'she', use of 'ma' and 'mama', p in v, thumb in ass shit, oral (f & m receiving), use of the n word

word count: 2.4k

notes: its ony's birthday! 🎂 ive come out my cocoon to deliver this delish lil smut for yall🤭 please enjoy, i havent written smut full out in a bit so! comments, rbgs wit comments all appreciated mwah

"𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝘂' 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱? 𝗣𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗱𝗿𝘆?" 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗱. "𝗧𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝗴 𝘂𝗽 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘁."

"In five minutes? Oh yea', Con' I'mma do 'em up for you, real good. Mhm, you lucky Sash' my girl." Glossy lips smacked as you ended the call with Connie. Tossing your phone on your bed and heading to the small office space in your apartment. Various tools were laid out across the table. Humming a little, your lavender bunny slippers shuffling as you enter, you hook the handles of two pink glittery packets on your acyrlics. You weighed the packets again and checked the information Connie messaged you. According to Connie, his best friend 'Ony' wanted some good strains you were selling, so of course he hits you up to get the packs for his friend.

Your doorbell went off once, hurrying you to hop down the stairs, holding down your braless, pierced tits behind the thin strapped tank you had on. You peeped at who was outside your apartment, staring for a long two seconds at the buff, darkskinned man with a nose piercing and a fade. The white wife-beater paired with a grey hoodie that matched his sweats, ain't do his muscles justice either! Bejewled teeth bite back against your lips, and you swing the door open, slightly pulling your care bear themed shorts down. His lips grabbed your attention immediately.

Actually, you had to take in his presence quick. His bottom lip was a pretty pink and his top lip dark. His hands were big and so was the broadness of his shoulders. He looked a little nervous too. "You Con's boyfren'?" His lips curled a bit, "Fuck did that nigga tell you ma?" Shit. He spoke so softly you could barely hear what he had to say, only the low base of his voice helped you hear him. You bounce onto your other leg, swallowing hard, "'M just teasin', you 'Ony'?" He licked his lips and hummed with a nod, "Yea, 's Onyankopon." Not one for small talk? "Yea, come in n' lemme get it for you." You eye him and try your hardest to make small talk as he puts his hands up on your door frame, you already had to look up to see his face.

The packets were in the pockets of your shorts, really, with free stickers in 'em too! But you were not about to fumble some potentially lethal dick. You gulp feeling the softness of his body brush against yours as he accepts your invite in, the music from your speakers gracing his ears as you follow him to the living room. You pat the couch for him to sit and walk to the half bath, wasting a few seconds to 'get the packets'. With each interaction you became increasingly aware of what you were wearing. You peeped in the mirror and the heart shaped print of your nipple piercings becoming more prominent.

"Ya'know, youn' really talk dat much... or loudly, do you?" You shuffle back into the living room. He rubs above his lips and manspreads, hands moving to rest beneath the band of his sweats. "If I'm bein' deadass, I'ain got much to say, Con' ain't tell me you was cute ma. Ion really ever like raising my voice eitha'." Somehow, your body temperature just kept going up and your eyes kept drifting back to his lips. You plop down onto the couch, "You got a bitch ri-now?" He leans his head back against your couch and your peer at the way his lips purse out, and his adam's apple bobs. He seemingly manspreads wider, his large build making your couch cushions seem tiny. "Nah, why?" "Jus' wonderin'." Your lips began to feel shaky with every word. The entire encounter was like a meaningless dance around the elephant in the room. And fuck, you were gonna' fuck Constance punk ass up when this night was over. "So listen, I can give you the packets now, 'n you can pay me," You toss the packets onto the coffee table, his eyes remain trained on you. "Or, you c'n getcho dick wet." You mumbled, eyes drifting to connect with his.

A sharp inhale and you see the way his eyes open slightly to peak at you. Fat thighs squeezed together as you sat back with your socked feet up on the couch. "Don't that sound good, Onyankopon?" The way his chest rose with his breaths paused for a minute, reveling in hearing your sweet voice utter his name. His hands push further into his sweats, giving his dick a few long strokes before slipping it out his sweats. It was heavy, so heavy that he held it up for you and let it rest on his wife beater, on his belly button. Being the 'pretty dick' fiend you were meant you needed him in your mouth, immediately.

Quickly lurching forward, you press glossy lips to his pretty cock. His dusted pink tip was fat, and as his dick got darker down the shaft so did it get fatter. The nigga was HUNG, and you could mearly slide your tongue around the circumference of his cock head.

"C'mon mama, do watchu wanna do." It was enough incentive for you to swallow his dick down, relishing in the way it squished down your throat as your held your breath. With each stroke that relieved your airway you took a breath, folding your lips in to glide across his cock as globs of spit dribble across the shaft. You slurp and gag a little with each slip of his dick in your mouth, his hips gyrate and buck up. Ony keeps his eyes on you. Frowning as he interlocks his hands behind your neck, stuffing and forcing your face down on his cock. His head drops back against the couch, fucking his dick up into your mouth with heavy groans filling the room, even above the slow beats of your music. You needed him to tear your shit up within the next two seconds before you start to go crazy.

"Fuck, take all dat shit off, ma." Ony grips your jaw as he pulls you off his dick, spit dripping down your chin and lips plumped up. You wobble on your knees to stand up and undress yourself while he shrugs off his hoodie and wife beater. Tattoos decorated his pecs and arms, the dark ink prettily accentuating his melanin. He nods his head to the side, "Lay back right there, pretty." Plump pink lips pout a little but you follow his directions regardless, laying back into the cushions and spreading your legs. "Ain't nun' wrong with puttin' it in dry," you mutter below your breath when his lips connect with your clit. He mumbles something like 'don't piss me off' and his tongue is all over you.

His hands are big enough to grip the entire spread of your thigh, forcing your leg back as he worked his tongue in circles around your clit, sloppily spitting through your folds and caressing your hole with his tongue. He ate it like a starving man, his frowning and groaning into you growing more frequent as he pushes his face deeper. Your nails ghost the back of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groans while the other played with your nipple. He tilts his head at an angle, flattening his tongue against your clit and you flinch, the electric pleasure shooting through your tummy and he smiles.

"Right there?" He peers up at you just as your eyes started springing tears. He bites down on his lips, and gives your clit a few kisses. You gasp and start pushing on his shoulders, understanding where he was going . Ony, undisturbed, curls his tongue into your clit, sucking and spitting on your cunt and maintaining the angle. Your tummy begins to tighten, clit pulsing with every lick, holding your breath and arching up into him. A sharp smack on your clit forces a cry out of you, "Stop holdin' yo' breath or imma' leave you right here," Fuck. You let out exasperated breaths as you desperately gyrate your hips into his mouth. Your clit, swollen and fat started to feel almost numb, you can't help but slap his shoulders and whine. "Shit, shit, shit— Ony, that's enough." It only edges him on, sucking up your creamy releases and forcing himself impossibly closer to you. You head was already pressed up against the armrest leaving you no escape, eyes rolling in different directions and mouth agape. Ony's mouth is latched onto you, bouncing your entire body into the couch cushions. You could only moan 'yes, yes, yes' with each rocking of your clit in his mouth.

Your toes curl and you're pushing his head into your pussy, chasing a bigger release than the one you just had. "Fuck, yeah, eat it just like that, baby," Your grip on everything begins to loosen and your lower body feels like static; milky slick squirts out of you as your body begins to relax and you hold Onyankopon's head in place as he drinks it all up. "You're fucking insane," You huff out at him when he lifts his head up to look at you, your release dripping off his nose and chin. "Watchu' said? Put dat shit in dry?" he rasped. "Turn over and put yo leg up on the seat." You give a start and look at him, feeling a mess.

"You not gon' let me recover, bitch?" He licks his lips and sits up on his knees, grabbing your ass like he was preparing to put you in position if you didn't do it. Consistently maintaining eye contact. "Don't call me no bitch," You hear him say low, "And turn the fuck over," He gives your ass a hard shove. You flop over onto your stomach, arching your ass up for some backshots, before sitting up to pull your right leg from out under you and kicking it up onto the top of the couch. You feel your inner thigh burn from the near split position, gripping onto the arm of the couch. Ony's fingers toy with your cunt and spreads you about the length of his dick, pumping it a few times before moulding circles around your clit with his tip: movements calculated. "Shit," You mumble softly, noticing the ever-increasing slip of your pussy. He slows the teasing of your clit, a large hand gripping your ass and pushing you down simultaneously. He lets his tip catch your sopping entrance, pushing in slightly and ignoring your whines as he basks in the wetness pressinh on his tip. "Ony stop playin' 'n put that shit in, God." He pulses his tip back and forth, slowly sinking deeper but not deep enough for you to even get two inches of his cock.

He whispers something lowly and you're unable to hear him. Just as you opened your mouth to ask 'Watchu sayin' nigga?', so did it hang open when he stuffed his full length into you swiftly. "Holy fuck," Was all you could force out of your mouth, his girth pushing against your walls as he sit in it. His hand spreads your ass and you feel him sink his thumb into your ass, his grip on you tightening. Your eyes already start rolling back into your head with the slight movements of his dick in you while he shifts to adjust his knees on the couch. You grip the couch hard and press your head against it when he starts using your ass to gain leverage, momentum.

"Think you c'n take sum fat dick?" Onyankopon mutters above you, the hand with his thumb in your ass slowly dragging you off his cock and back. "Yeah, yeah, gimme— gimme whatever you want, baby." You swallow, attempting to comprehend his question amidst the aching of your pussy that hungrily slobbered all over his dick. Maintaining the slow drag, he reaches down with his other hand to grip your neck, giving you a few tugs to manhandle you into a comfortable groove; before finally hammering his hips into your ass.

Ony groans and curses low while you struggle to hold onto the couch, his strong arms on your neck, forcing your ass back onto him. "Fuck! fuck— fuuuck, Ony," You let out a sob with each stroke he put on you, feeling incredibly full with just his thumb and girth combined. Your pussy was spread and aching around him, slippery and loud and nasty. "Fuck— she talkin' to me?" Onyankopon grins above you and only snaps his hips down into your ass harder, letting it sting. Your pussy was dripping, strings of slick falling from your cunt onto the couch and dripping down to tickle your sensitive clit with each stroke.

You were a mess, with every curse and 'ah!' came drool spilling from your mouth, slobbering about the couch and spreading it down to your fattened nipples. Your hand toyed with the piercing and you only felt more full, your tummy swelling more with each invasion of his dick against your walls. "C'mon take it, take it," Ony removes his hand from your neck to slap your ass hard, forcing his other thumb deeper in you, moving the other to play with your clit. White, foamy, release plops down like whipped cream onto his fingers as he rapidly and roughly guided them around your swollen clit. The same realese making his cock hot and melting in your pretty pussy, coating his every inch and forcing low moans out of him. "Ain't this watchu wanted? My dick wet as fuuuck, mama," You moan back some unintelligible response, you could barely hear the words coming out his mouth. Your entire being was totally focused on the way you began to tremble and squirt small spurts of cum gliding down your legs.

Onyankopon holds you still, hiking one of his legs up and fucking into you unimaginably deeper, sloppier, nastier. You squeal and grab his hand that's at your clit, slapping his arm and biting the softness of the couch's limb while your cry and whine. Ony ignores your attempts to tap out amidst the convulsing of your legs and hard quivering of your body. Your head was pounding now and you go completely blank for a split second, your full releases forcing itself out of you for the second time without your consent, in thick streams.

Your gasps and desperate as you attempt to get yourself together, all while Onyankopon can't help but nut deep in you before pulling out and slapping your clit a few final times with his dick. Your body refuses to move from the complicated position, Ony silently pulls your leg off the seat and carefully moves you onto your back. He wipes some tears off your fucked out face, hesitating before getting up and digging in your fridge for water before returning with two bottles. He opens one for you, feeding you the cold comfort that soothes your thoat while you hold onto his wrist.

"You straight?" He asks before leaning to dig in the pockets of his sweats and pull out a bit if cash. "Mhm," was all you could muster, watching him throw the money on the table before grabbing his phone. "Shit," He half grumbles with a soft chuckle before showing you the bright screen. Six missed calls from Connie.

#onyankopon x reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon #aot connie #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x black reader #attack on titan #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon #onyankopon snk #onyankopon x black reader #﹒﹒﹒💗 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦: 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 💌 𓂃 !

2K notes · View notes

eternalgyu · 17 days

Text

2:08 am

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ genre: fluff, crack

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: sungchan x reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wc: 0.7k

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: kissing + hot sungchan...

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: this was written for @ywnzn BCUZ THE SUNGCHAN BRAINROT IS SO REALLL I'm so delusional for that man.

You stretched your arms, pajama shirt riding up slightly as you yawned, dramatically walking into the bathroom. Sungchan was already standing there with a toothbrush in his mouth. Once he saw you, he smiled at you, wrapping his arm around you. Both of you had busy schedules and your alone time was a gift from god. Your night routine consisted of this, Sungchan sitting on the bathroom counter and yapping away to his heart's content as you did your skincare. At times, he would be curious and ask if he could try a particular serum or face mask, or when he was feeling bored he would ask if he could do all the steps for you. After you were done, both of you each other's arms, reveling in each other's warmth. It was a comfortable routine to fall into and you both made sure to clear out your schedule for this.

“And then he fell headfirst,” your boyfriend explained. You gave him a concerned look through the mirror as he fiddled with one of your headbands.

“I’m sorry what??” he looked up at your slightly concerned face “is Anton okay??”

“Babe Anton is a growing boy, it’s just gonna make his bones stronger.” you nodded unconvinced, while patting your face dry.

“OH i almost forgot i bought these face masks for the both of us.” you reached down into the drawer to pull out the 2 face masks.

“Kuromi for you and Melody for me.” Sungchan noticed you were struggling with the packet, and leaned forward and grabbed it from you, jumping off the counter and walking towards you slowly. Once he was cornering you, he ripped the packet open with his teeth, making straight eye contact with you, before grinning widely.

“I was thinking we could put them on for each other!” he beamed at you. You shook your head, so done with him using his pretty privilege over people (you).

Sungchan had struggled with your mask (he put it on upside down… twice, and was sticking his tongue out adorably when you opened your eyes for a second). When it came to his turn, to your surprise, he held you by the waist and hoisted you up onto the counter.

“Because you’re short.” he patted your head. You narrowed your eyes at him and snatched the mask out of his hand. Sungchan leaned forward, and you cupped his cheeks.“Close your eyes, Channie,” you patted his face gently.

“But I won't be able to look at you, pretty.” he said, frowning and leaning forward to peck your lips. You felt your cheeks heat up and Sungchan closed his eyes with a dopey smile on his face.

“Oh I bought a bunch of these as well.” You said, scooping up the assortment of lip balms on the table. Sungchan looked up from his phone, his eyes crinkling endearingly, when he saw u applying the pink one. “Do you want to try?” he nodded, and you looked down to choose one when he grabbed your jaw and placed his lips on yours.

“Hm, I think you should try all of them on,” his grin was evident on his face. “And then I'll choose.” You smacked his arm and he chuckled, wrapping his arm around you, his lips joining yours once again.

Sungchan’s head was leaning against your shoulder, placing kisses there every few minutes as you typed away at your laptop. You could tell he was beyond tired but only staying by your side to keep you company, his breathing slowing and turning into snores. You gently shook him awake.

“You're gonna end up with cramps all over tomorrow Channie,” he got the hint and lay down fully but as soon as you opened up your laptop he started whining. “I guess I'll just finish it tomorrow… it's not fair you always get your way.” You said putting your laptop on your bedside table and going under the covers with Sungchan.

“It's because you love me.” he muttered lazily, throwing his arm over you. You smiled to yourself running your fingers through his hair. “I love you too, maybe a little too much,”

riize taglist: @slytherinshuahua @weird-bookworm (taglist open - send an ask or comment to be added!!)

297 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 6 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious. Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ?

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up.

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table.

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes.

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek.

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare .

“What about you? Did you sleep well?”

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this.

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips.

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips.

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up.

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.”

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft.

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has.

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away.

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile.

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer.

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t.

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes.

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ”

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight.

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin.

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better.

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open.

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself.

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in.

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply.

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens.

“Or what?”

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long.

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #mutual pining

789 notes · View notes

hoony2k · 4 months

Text

WINTER BLUES

Synopsis: A road trip where Sunghoon can't tell the difference between car sickness and a fever but thankfully you and the boys can.

PAIRING: sunghoon x reader

GENRE: fluff, angst with comfort, established relationship

WARNINGS: throwing up (implied), sickness themes, sunghoon whines a lot, both are simps

WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

NOTE: hii first request so I'm very excited. I hope you like it and enjoy :)

requested masterlist

"I get car sick sometimes", is what Sunghoon said three seconds before clambering into Heeseung's hand-me-down Honda Civic. You waited for an elaboration, for him to continue yet he offered none. Jake, stood next to you and smiled with all his might. Whether he ignored your puzzled face or just didn't hear his friend was unknown to you but you followed your lover in the car as Jake nudged you.

Twenty minutes into the highway, Sunghoon announced that he needed to throw up or he would die. Heeseung groaned, " My guy, we just started. Can't you hold it in?"

You kicked the back of his seat and he squeaked in shock. "Hee, that's the one thing you don't do when you need to throw up". You turned to your lover and inspected him.

His usually bright complexion appeared dull and flushed under his woolly scarf, eyes lidded from sleep or dizziness, you couldn't decipher. When you grabbed onto his palm to provide solace, you realised just how warm he was, how his sweaty palms soaked your gloves, and the way his fingers trembled with each heavy breath. A peek at the car console showed that the heater was on but the car wasn't even warm which is why Jake kept shivering next to you. The conditioner had been jammed ever since teenage Heeseung dropped coffee on the controls so it would only blow lukewarm air in all seasons.

You leaned closer to your lover who graciously accepted your warmth. He tried to bury his head in the crock of your neck but you pushed his head until it gently hit the headrest. He groaned in dismay at the loss of contact and, next to you, Jake groaned at what he thought was an act of love.

"God, I wish I was in Jay's car," he grumbled," Niki keeps sending me snaps". He turned his phone to face you, a blurry pixilated Niki and Jungwon showed off their bounty with large smiles, several packets of chips, cans of juice and one healthy granola, presumably for Jay.

Your heart gleamed at the sight until you remembered the problem at hand. You pushed his phone away. "Doesn't Hoon look sick? I don't think it's car sickness"

Jake peeked over your form to look at Sunghoon, he scratched his head, "Sick? He looks seconds away from ascending. What did you do?"

You gaped at him and spluttered to defend yourself. "I didn't do anything! He's been like this for a while".

Next to you, Sunghoon tsked loudly. He had closed his eyes, thick brows furrowed and his plush lips were pulled back in a thin line. "He's right here And it's just mild car sickness", his voice was sharp but there was a slight crack. You gave Jake a pointed look when he stifled his giggles behind a hand.

From the front seat, Heeseung glanced at you three through the rear mirror and spoke up," Just an hour until we reach the first stop, Hoon, fighting!"

Sunghoon groaned loudly, then mumbled a quiet "don't call me that" so delicate, only your ears caught it. This time when he snuggled into you, you accepted him and wrapped your arms around his shivering frame in a warm bear hug. His dark locks tickled your nose as he tried to bury himself even further in you, or maybe he was trying to fit himself in your (read: his) coat. You placed several delicate kisses on his crown.

Jake pretended to throw up. Next to Heeseung, Sunoo paused his chewing to laugh and then turned his torso to offer a water bottle. His cheeks were curved as he also offered a smile and you didn't feel so chilly anymore. Even though Sunghoon was snoring in your embrace you took the water bottle in case he woke up.

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open and his gaze concentrated on light brown wood that levitated before his eyes. Far too disoriented, he tried to puzzle his surroundings. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realise that he stared at a wooden roof and was cushioned under several duvets, sweat dripped from his hairline and his thick sweater clung onto his back like a parasite. The cabin, he rationalised, though he had no memory of entering it or even waking up in the car.

His head thumped as if he had smashed it against the wall, eyes pinching with every blink. Thankfully, the room was lit up by a small lamp that didn't blind him. each part of him ached, begged him to drift off to Lala land again but the sticky, dirty feeling of being caged under all the materials annoyed him to his core. He tried to sit up but his arms could not support his weight. So much for the gym. He barely lifted a couple of inches before he fell onto the pillows, the movement, albeit small, shook his vision and he scrunched his face in pain.

His conquest to brush his bangs out of his face halted as his ears picked up snores emitting from his left side. He thought of you and how ethereal you looked asleep and the butterflies inside his rib cage danced wildly, a dimple appeared on his face and he leisurely turned his face towards your body...except.. his gaze landed upon dark hair with curled tips and a nose that did not resemble yours at all. He groaned loudly when he connected the face to the name. Jungwon was cuddled next to Sunghoon, softly snoring and blissfully unaware of how Sunghoon was mentally writing the sequel to Inferno in his head.

He wrongfully glared at the innocent boy when suddenly, from the corner of his eye, a bright flash that momentarily dazed him, caused him to fling his arm in the direction to protect himself. A loud cackle that was far too familiar made his heart sink and alerted him of another presence.

Sunghoon pulled the duvets over his head and wallowed in the darkness to save the small shred of sanity left. Niki continued laughing as he climbed the bed and softly shook Sunghoon.

"All of these are going in the blackmail folder soon," he sweetly reminded Sunghoon who wondered where the hell you had gone off to. His lack of reaction spoke loudly to Niki. "Your girl's in the kitchen with Jay".

At the hopeful prospect of food, Sunghoon's ears perked up like a cat, he peeked out to glare at Niki, lax beady eyes stared at him but Niki was unaffected. He casually pocketed his phone.

"You better not be lying Niki," Sunghoon tried to warn the younger boy but his voice came out wrong, too nasally and unlike himself. It caught him off guard and his face flushed out of slight humiliation. Sunghoon hated his moments of weakness to manifest in front of others, gosh he missed you. The one person he could let his walls crumble in front of. He wished you were here, cradling his face in your lap as you cooed him in a sweet voice, and brushed your fingers through his hair.

"What the hell is wrong with me?", he lamented at his inner turmoil. Niki shrugged, and a lazy smile hung on his face.

the oak door opened to let out a slight breeze of chilly air and you emerged through it like an angel. You were carrying a tray of food, two bowls that smelt heavenly and made his stomach do backflips. Your eyes lacked their usual mirth, instead, there was nervousness stitched on your face and Sunghoon felt awful for worrying his lover.

In an urgent need to fall back into routine and do tasks for you, Sunghoon pushed down his blankets to reach you so he could grab the tray from you but Jungwon, now wide awake, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Sunghoon immediately sat down. Jungwon offered him a dimpled smile and he returned it with an uneasy one.

When you came closer, Niki grabbed the tray from you and placed it on a side table Sunghoon hadn't noticed before. He had zero time to soak in his surroundings but he didn't need to anymore since his tunnel vision zoomed on you.

Your cheeks lifted when you smiled at Sunghoon but he saw how it didn't curve your eyes, how the tips of your smile quivered. Physically, his body ached, his eyes burned and he felt gross and heavy for a different cause. He cast his eyes to his hands and tinkered with the furry blanket to distract himself.

You sighed softly and took a step toward him. Pulling his shivering frame to rest on your torso, the heat his body radiated did not soothe you. But what disturbed you more was the solemn expression he wore.

You raked your fingers through his hair, something only you could do as permitted by Sunghoon's law and you felt his giggles before his shoulders shook. He chose to look up at you, eyes slightly watery and red nose scrunched as he showed off the smile you cherish. You imitated him.

Finally feeling lighter and not as gross, Sunghoon circled his arms around your waist and brought you as close as possible. Your knees hit the mattress and he slowly leaned backwards until you flicked his forehead.

Immediately, he barked in pain and let go of your hips. You clicked your tongue.

Sunghoon let gravity pull him onto the cushions with a loud huff and whine but you paid no attention. Carefully, you scoped some porridge and gently blew on it to cool.

From the corner of his eyes, Sunghoon observed how you placed your palm under the spoon to catch any hot droplet and he felt fuzzy inside. Quickly he sat up and parted his lips to take the first bite and immediately he was sent to heaven. He wasn’t sure if it was the flavours on his tongue or your presence next to him but he could see his health bar regenerating. He closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively, finally eating after hours.

When you turned to the bowl for his second bite, he spoke up.

“There’s no need to eat more. I feel so much better just by looking at you.”

It was your turn to groan at his dramatic antics, grip on the utensil loosened as you turned to pinch his cheeks but he swatted your hand away. Interlocked your fingers tightly.

“You’re so stupid,” you faux insulted to distract him from how his genuine words affected you, and he dared to giggle, shoulder shook with every melody that dripped from his mouth. Gosh, you missed his laughter. You hated seeing your loved ones sick.

Another bite was brought near him with precise care as the first one. His eyes gleamed when he ate the porridge, you assumed it was because of Jay’s delectable famous cooking but the boy was on cloud 9 because you were hand-feeding him. You aka his lover aka his beloved who cared for him. Usually, he fed you from his plate but the role reversal made him melt.

Before you could spoon another mouthful, he squeezed your hand to pause your actions.

“Have you eaten?”, he whispered the words with a tile of his head, a stray lock fell onto his forehead. Sunghoon saw the twinkle in your smile and, mirth in your eyes and he anticipated your response.

Thinking about it was one thing, but saying the words out loud made you bashful, your gaze moved to your hand which he held so tight.

“I feel so full just by looking at you”, you mimicked his words.

His response was immediate, like a cat that licked a sour lemon, he scrunched his features, nose crinkling and fangs appearing, he cringed with his entire body and fell onto the bed once more. His dark hair draped across his face like a curtain and he pressed his face into the duvets, wailing loudly like a siren.

Now you just felt embarrassed. So, you slapped his back with little force.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad!”, you defended your crumbling dignity. He ignored you and began to crawl under the duvet until you said his name. It made him spring out of the covers to face you with a big frown, thick brows stitched together, he glared at you with a pout and flushed cheeks. You waited for him to say something, a couple of seconds passed until he heaved a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to call me Sunghoon”. His explanation gave literally no explanation so you stared at him, puzzled and he whined at your lack of comprehension.

“That’s literally your name?”, you stated.

Did he get so sick he forgot? Sunghoon sighed once more, this time it wasn’t exaggerated but it came deep from within your soul, as if this very conversation burdened him. Then, he grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth, head swaying. Based on his behaviour you started to believe that Jay added magical healing potions when you weren’t looking. He seemed to be recovering too quickly.

“Hoon”, he said with too much emphasis. “That’s my name to you”.

You rolled your eyes and removed his clammy hands from your shoulders.

“Well, Hoon you need to finish this to get better. And when you get better you can finally spend time with us”.

He nodded along and seemed satisfied with you; his nose scrunched again as a dimple poked his cheek. He took several bites and finished the first bowl with ease but was reluctant to even begin the second one.

“I want us to eat it together”.

He couldn’t meet your eyes. It wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t either. You glanced at the miso soup in your lap, steamy and savoury. The single utensil almost drowned in the broth, awaiting its next commands.

Then thoughts of the boy next to you consumed you, the boy of your dreams, lovesick and quite sick in general. Your lack of response made him fiddle with the loose threads, lip tucked between his teeth. Your heart felt sore in the best way possible, seeing how much he cherished you, and how he desired to do such mundane activities but as a shared couple. A number of beats passed and Sunghoon could hear his heart thump in his ears, head ringing due to another reason now. You heard the faint sound of the boys laughing and yelling over the TV, catching bits of their conversation.

You slid your hand across the small distance between his legs and yours and instinctually Sunghoon turned his palm upwards to clasp your hand into his. A smile threatened to break on his face, cheeks already hinting upwards.

“Hoonie, if I get sick, I’ll make sure they go skiing without you and you're locked in this room with me”.

Deep laughter erupted from him and vibrated in his chest. He let go of your hand to cradle your face in his warm hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like you were delicate and made of glass.

He leaned closer and closer until your noses touched, feather-like. You stared into his cinnamon eyes and saw a small reflection of yourself in them until Sunghoon’s lashes met as he closed his eyes and tilted his head to take your breath away.

Maybe getting sick was worth it, maybe it didn’t matter as long as Sunghoon was by your side, happy, healthy and full of passionate love and vibrant life.

thank you for reading!

all rights belong to me. please do not translate/edit/copy.

517 notes · View notes

miirohs · 5 months

Text

piercing [y.j.i]

pairing: Tattoo Artist!Yang Jeongin x Reader wc: 0.8k cw: n/a an: the choker pics bro.... the way these choker pics have a grip on my fucking psyche is insanity. yang jeongin stop please. for my sanity.

“You ready for this?” Jeongin asked, back to you as he rearranged his materials.

The lights above you shone brightly, illuminating the surroundings of the little room, little stickers and doodles slapped all over the blue-gray and beige walls.

You observed him from your seat on the examination table, eyes flitting over his neck, tracing the flowers down his back until they disappeared under his white tank top.

The jacket he had been wearing sat abandoned next to you, shrugged off as soon as you were in the room alone. When he turned around, you averted your eyes, pretending to be looking at the worn fabric.

Watching you, he spoke again, slower this time as you hadn't responded to him the first time.

“Are you sure you wanna go through with this baby? I can’t promise it won’t hurt,” He warned, pulling his gloves on and ripping a packet open with his teeth, “and it’ll be pretty sore for the first couple hours.”

“It’ll be fine,” you answered, looking down at your scuffed up sneakers. You were already slightly regretting it, and you weren’t even 10 minutes in.

“Hey- hey look at me? You’re doing great, just hold still for me, yeah?” He deftly grabbed your chin with his hand, forcing you to make awkward eye contact with him as he moved your head side to side. You watched him, tapping his pen against his dimples.

“What kind of piercing did you want again babe?” Pen in hand, he paused to look at you, expectant.

“A- uh, a helix, I think?”

He nodded in response, messing with his lip piercing as he tried to mark down the area on your right ear. He always did that. Fiddled with his lip ring when he was nervous.

“Did that hurt when you got it?” You pointed to the lip ring.

“A little. I’d say recovery was worse in my opinion,” he stated matter-of-factly, letting go and handing you a mirror. “Does the placement look okay to you?”

“Yeah, it looks great-“ You said, giving it a small glance before turning back to his ring, reaching out to run a finger over it. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly.

“You didn’t even look at it,” He groaned, flustered as he grabbed your face again to double check.

“Hey! I’m not the professional here,” You mumbled, trying to pull down his hand from your ear, “but I think it’s fine right where it is!”

“Okay then,” He said, a little flustered, turning away from you to grab whatever was on the cart, “if you’re sure, I can start right now.”

Your stomach dropped as he held a packet, inching closer to you. It was almost as if he was treating an injured animal.

“Can you please hurry up, you’re making me nervous,” you peeped, shaking slightly.

“Just stop moving,” he said nonchalantly, needle tip pressing against your helix.

As it pushed through, the pain flared, earning a whimper from you. It was very brief, fading into a dull yet prominent throbbing in your upper ear as he inserted the cool metal.

“Looks like you did it,” he whispered, running a finger over your knuckles as he held you, “good job.”

“Y-yeah,” you winced, watching as he discarded the needles, running you through basic procedures as you reached up to grab the piercing spot.

“and if anything happens- hey, are you even listening?” You blinked, finding him looking at you quizzically. His hand was wrapped around your wrist, pulling it down.

“I just told you no touch! You’re supposed to keep that area clean while it heals!” He whined, pinning your hand to the table as he brought something to your ear.

You grinned, pulling him in by his choker, lips smashing into each other.

The metal was warm, tasting of something artificially sweet as you caught your teeth on it, tugging on it.

He hissed into the kiss, yet pressed even deeper.

“Yeah, I’ll just check to see if one of our piercers other than Felix is available- Oh!” Chan had the door wide open, foot halfway in as he stared at the both of you.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Chan yelped, hands over his eyes as if you had done something offensive in front of him.

“Hey, I was just giving him the kiss i owed him!” You giggled, earning another whine from Jeongin as Chan stepped out, obviously embarrassed.

Through the crack of the door, you could make out him whispering: “please hurry up and finish if you will.”

“I think we have to go now,” You whispered, and he trapped you in between his arms, leaning against your ear.

“This isn’t over.”

“I doubt it is,” You smirked, tracing his arm as you let go, prancing out of his room, “I’ll see you later Innie.”

483 notes · View notes

thesuperiorrobin · 1 year

Text

Damians never question why your hair has always been up since you two met. He figured you just didn’t like your hair getting in your face all the time. He’s never really question it though. It was normal for you to spend the night at his house or Vise versa. But you prefer his house because you get a room for yourself.

You’re sitting on the ground right next to the bed, a small mirror in hand, Titus joins you—kicking the door open—and lays down next to you placing his head on your thigh. You let out a chuckle as he lets out a loud sigh. You pat his head gently and put the hand mirror down beside you and get up from the cold ground. Titus follows you as you walk around the bed. You watch him jump on top of the mattress and go around in circles before he sets himself comfortably in the corner of the bed. You shake your head as you remove the covers and climb in. Getting comfortable yourself before you draped the blankets over you legs and right above your waist. Damian walks into the room moments later.

He eyes Titus “he’s sleeping with you tonight?” You shrugs as a reply sliding the hair tie out of your hair. Damian watches your hair go loose from it being tied up all day.

“It’s fine the beds big, so he won’t take up space” but he isn’t listening at all. Maybe he’s to mesmerized by the fact that you look different—and not in a bad way! Your hair being loose and Wild has a much better look then it being tied up all day in his opinion.

“Damian—dude you listening?” You say and throw your hair tie at him—which hits his face and fails straight to the ground. He crouches down to pick it up and lifts his head up slightly— He spots your bag on the ground and goes up to it. Confused, you crawl out of your spot and go towards the end of the bed, peaking your head over. You watch him unzip it open and dig through it. You don’t say anything and after a few minutes he pulls out a small packet of your hair ties. His green eyes pierced right through yours as he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Never put your hair up again” and he’s gone just like that with your ties in hand. For a few moments you stare at the door. Waiting for him to come back with at least one hair tie but he doesn’t.

You sigh and look at Titus. “Your owner is so weird”

REQUEST

—————————————————————————

I’ve been sick for the past weeks so I haven’t been able to get anything done. I’m a getting better but I’m working on request that I haven’t been able to get too.

Sorry if it’s taking a little longer :/

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #batman x fem!reader #robin x reader #batfamily #damian x reader #batfamily x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x you

3K notes · View notes

onyourowndaisymae · 8 months

Text

lucifer is a very particular man.

he wakes up early to enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning, the way the house of lamentation creaks wearily in the silence while his brothers sleep sounds in the their respective rooms. it's sobering. for a moment, he gets to be alone with his thoughts before the day begins.

he'll walk to the bathroom and clean himself up for the day in silence, before dressing and making his way to the kitchen. he appreciates the little things. the silence, the warm light illuminating his room as he unhurriedly prepares for the day, the way the permanent darkness of the devildom retreats ever so slightly as morning breaks. it's nice.

but when he enters the kitchen, lucifer realizes something is wrong. it takes him a minute to realize it, but when he does, his lips curl downwards into a disappointed frown. the kitchen is completely dormant. it doesn't seem like an issue, but it's a stark difference from his usual routine. because this morning, the smell of coffee is absent from the air.

that's right. you spent the night at purgatory hall last night, didn't you?

your relationship is a cycle of small, considerate gestures back and forth. notes on mirrors, doodles on post-it notes, and his favorite-- coffee prepped and scheduled to brew for him in the mornings before he wakes. it's a gesture that has always made him feel loved. he didn't realize how much a missed day would sour his mood.

lucifer starts to brew his own coffee, but his fingers hang suspended over the grounds a few moments before he abandons the idea altogether. he pulls his D.D.D. out of his packet and drafts a short text to you, only satisfied when he hears the whoosh of the message sent.

i missed your coffee this morning. it's never as good when i have to make it myself. message me once you wake up-- we're going to that cafe we like down the street to make up for it.

#in case this wasn't clear: there are some coffee makers you can set to brew in advance #like you can put the grounds in the night before and then set it to start in the morning while you're getting ready #my parents used to do it #anyways #is this canon considering they don't understand kitchen gadgets in s3? probably not. oh well #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me drabbles #obey me imagines #otome

898 notes · View notes

preqwells · 9 days

Text

♡︎♡︎ SWEET.

simon riley x reader synopsis: you and your fiancé were settling in for the night, ready to go to bed until you insisted on doing a little skincare with him— he didn't know it'd bring about old memories. tags: fluff, slight angst/lots of comfort, mentions of blood word count: 1.8k

There you were again— another night of standing in front of the mirror, your menagerie of face products messily lined upon the white-marbled sink, the hum of a low fan serving as white noise as you got ready for bed. The bathroom’s humidity welcomed you, having just gotten out of a well-deserved shower. A white towel wrapped snugly around you as you reached your hand out to press it against the fogged glass, rubbing the condensation away in short and swift motions. You leaned over the sink in a feeble attempt to get closer to it, the edge of the sink poking at your stomach as your eyes squinted in concentration. An exasperated sigh left your lips, eyes daring to roll back into the back of your head out of sheer annoyance from the inconvenience. A sudden hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into its warmth as you jolted up out of surprise, your shoulders loosening once you put two and two together.

“Boo.” The gruff voice whispered, his voice reverberating from his chest into your frame. A huff of amusement escaped through his nose, seeming quite pleased with his ability to still catch you off guard doing such mundane things as taking care of yourself. He was met with a gentle elbow to his hardened abdomen, your elbow seeming to take more of the blow than him. “Rude, Simon.. I was busy!” You griped, reprimanding your fiancé for sneaking up on you when he was aware of how much you hated that. Years of military training seemed to only hone his stealth rather than diminish it, his tendency to loom in hallways and corners out of pure habit by now. “Uh-huh. Bet you were, love. Quite a shame.” Simon supplied simply, unphased by words that lacked any venom in them. He slipped past you with ease, extending his arm out towards the lid of the toilet seat, letting it fall as he took a seat atop it, legs spreading as he drank in your figure. Simon did this often, almost following you around like a lost puppy— dark eyes simply fixated on you and enamored with your movements. “I was! I was about to put on a face mask.” You said as your hand reached for a nearby packet, the small gray packet crinkling with each movement. Simon’s eyes narrowed in examination of the product, brows slightly furrowed as he took it from you without further hesitation, his eyes scanning it, practically burning holes into it. “Charcoal... paper mask. What s’all this for?” He asked with a hint of interest in his tone, his brows knitted in skepticism. He was aware of your interest in skincare, yet the topic remained foreign to him for the most part. He had no need for it although his skin was beyond needing care. A couple of ingrown hairs from messily shaving in the wrong direction, and purple under eyes that did anything and everything but blend into his skin. Skincare— what the hell does anyone need skincare for? Are soap and water not enough these days?

“It’s supposed to reduce oil by pulling blackheads out or something, I think.”

“Your skin’s oily?”

“Isn’t yours too?”

“Dunno. Just usually scrub the shit out of it and roll out of bed good as new...” He mused, rotating the packet between his index finger and middle, offering it back to you after he was done. Being in the military left little room to worry about the condition of his skin, the only liquid meeting his skin being water, sweat, and blood— his own... most of the time. It was a folly thought to think you believed he was informed about the condition of his skin, stifling a small laughter caught in his throat. You gently took it from him, attempting to rip the top of the plastic packaging off and absentmindedly setting it aside before an idea crossed your mind. Simon sensed this, his eyebrows slightly raised as interest peeked through his poker face.

“Si…” You began sweetly, your voice comically raising an octave in an attempt to persuade him. As predicted, Simon’s resolve slowly crumbled at the sweetness in your voice, mentally cursing himself for being such a sucker for you. “What is it?” He softly inquired, his head cocked slightly to the side as he awaited your words. “Would you want to try this with me?”

"Try what?"

"A face mask— don't act stupid."

"If I wanted to act stupid, I'd take notes from you, lovie."

"Oh, ha-ha." You stuck your tongue out at him, eliciting a huff of amusement from him. He remained quiet as he gently took ahold of your hand, getting your fingers to loosen their grip on the packet. His eyes scanned the foreign piece of plastic, reading the ingredients it contained. You caught his attention, moving closer to him as you pointed out the ingredients.

"These are just all the things it's mixed with. Niacinamide is supposed to help with oil reduction, the aloe is for calming inflamed skin..." You trailed off as you gestured for him to read the rest. He gave you a look that practically screamed, 'You don't need any of this', but he obliged in the directions you gave him anyway. Everything checked out with what you said, not that he'd doubt your knowledge. You always knew about little facts, odds and ends here and there-- maybe that's why you kept wiping the floor with him whenever you two would watch Jeopardy.

He inhaled deeply for a moment before letting the puff of air out through parted lips, finally giving you a nod of acknowledgment at your earlier offer. "Yeah, sure." He agreed, shrugging it off as if it were no big deal. The corners of your lips tugged to form a huge grin as he handed the packet back to you to rip open. You took a step forward between his legs, his dark brown eyes watching you with rapt attention. Pale eyelashes flicked up to trail your features as you struggled to open the packet, much to his delight. The shape of your lips, the way strands of your hair would fall into your face and catch against your long lashes that dropped over your eyes— Simon was by no means a saint, but God, did he want to be one for you. His hand found its way to your clothed hip, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric.

"Aha! Got it!" You threw your hands up in the air, fists clenched as you celebrated your small victory of getting the packet opened. "Ready?" You eagerly asked, practically teeming with joy. He stiffened slightly at your words, his eyes straying from yours for a moment. He didn't know what came over him— you had seen his face a thousand times, hell, it wasn't like he was wearing a mask now. Maybe it was the way that all these face products served as a reminder that he didn't have perfect skin. Better yet, it served as a reminder he was far from perfect himself. Scars littered his body, some from even when he hadn't been in the military— each scar on his body told a story, some nastier than others. "Yeah." He responded bluntly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. You were his fiancé and accepted him wholeheartedly— he knew that. Your relationship had been through hell and back to get to where you are now. Countless missions he had gone on that you were convinced he wasn't going to come back from, dreading the day that you'd only have his dog tag to remember him by. You were the only person he had left and gave a promise of coming back to— everything be damned if he didn't claw his way back to you every time.

You fished the paper mask out of the packaging that was soaked in product, his eyebrow twitching in curiosity about how it was going to be applied. "Close your eyes." You cooed as he stared at you for a moment before his eyelashes fluttered shut. Your expression softened as you straightened the mask before placing it over his face, the coolness of the mask sending a chill up his spine. You began smoothing out the mask with your thumb, delicately mapping out his features. His nose was crooked from the time he told you he broke his nose at age 18 for getting into some barfight at a local pub, which served as no surprise since you were well aware of his temper when it was directed towards others. Craters of acne scarring embedded into his cheeks from his nails digging at the painful hormonal acne he had suffered from until the ripe age of 22. The scar on his chin from when he had scraped it on a rock as a rookie in training for the military. All of what made Simon, Simon.

"You're handsome." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it." He replied, his voice mirroring yours. You gave him a weak smile as you shook your head, your thumb still smoothing down the edges of the mask. He always hid behind his cocky demeanor, vulnerability masked by his dry humor. "No, I mean it." You mumbled as a moment of silence fell between you two, filled by the low hum of the bathroom fan. His hand was still resting on your hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh blanketed by polyester. He didn't say anything in response, opting to say nothing as he blinked a few times, his gaze falling on a nearby bath towel that was strung up to dry. Even though his words failed him, you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile threatening to grace his features.

The rest of the evening continued with him learning more about skincare, letting you ramble on about which products you were looking forward to getting in the future. Night fell as quickly as the evening ended, landing you two in the comfort of your shared bed. You fell asleep before he did, practically swallowed whole by the cotton blanket you two had picked out a week ago. Maybe it's too big, he thought to himself. His eyes landed on your sleeping form, watching as your chest rose and fell rhythmically. Your hair was sprawled across the pillow as moonlight filtered in through the curtains, almost giving an illusion of an aureole of light surrounding you— he could've mistaken you for an angel itself if he were half-asleep, honestly. He reached out for your hand, gingerly taking it in his as he admired the ring he had proposed to you with. His index finger grazed across the band of gold, the reality that you were his pulling at his heartstrings.

He fell asleep with you in his arms that night, peppering kisses to your temple before bringing his face down to rest in the crook of your neck with him tucked at your side. He wasn’t burdened by nightmares for the first time in a while— he dreamed.

banner credit: @/saradika

#cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley x y/n #fluff #simon riley fluff

350 notes · View notes