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xbellaxcarolinax · 8 months

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn��t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

��It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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inthelittlewood · 4 months

Note

How do you deal with hate mail so casually?

I think like most people it affected me in the earlier days (late teens / early twenties) when I didn't have really any confidence and I severely lacked life experience. But I've done so growing and exploration this past 15ish years whilst doing YouTube that I've been granted the power of PERSPECTIVE, which is the greatest firewall of all.

The perspective that my key goals every day when I wake up are to be a great father / husband, attempt to inspire and humor others with my work and be creatively fulfilled in the process. And those tasks alone gobble up my energy almost in its entirety every day, so I truly don't have time to waste fretting on some faceless 1's and 0's on a screen ya know?

And that's not to say all comments are worthless, but I give priority / luxury to positive comments, or ones that offer constructive criticism or rightfully hold me accountable for any mistakes I make via lack of understanding / perspective as we never stop learning.

99% of negative comments are from people wrapped up in a ball of frustration, jealousy or anger. Some use it as a vehicle to blow off steam if their own lives/situations aren't so great with no real perspective (take a shot every time I say it) on the impact it may cause because it's so easy to write one, but desperately harder to read hateful words. That's why I'll still respond to the odd comment but usually in a comedic or disengaging manner to hopefully act as a wake up call that things aren't that serious or they could be better spending their time on other things.

I have such a strong self of self worth / love now and I know in my heart I conduct myself honestly and warmly every day, so I find peace in that :)

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britany1997 · 27 days

Text

Man of Your Midsummer Night’s Dreams

Dwayne x GN Fae Reader

Hope y’all enjoy this sweet little meet cute fic for Dwayne and Fae reader! Was really going for a ‘intimidating tough guy x sunshine reader’ trope hehe.

Comment to let me know you’d like to be added to my TLB taglist.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Dwayne awoke with a start, fumbling around in the dark. He patted around his necklace, only to find another piece missing.

He growled lowly to himself and jumped down from the ceiling, waking the boys.

Paul yawned, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong man, why ya up so early?”

Dwayne frowned. “It happened again.”

Marko leapt down to the floor beside Dwayne. “Dude that’s crazy,” he scratched his head in confusion. “How could someone…I mean how did they…” he sighed.

“I don’t know,” Dwayne’s hands balled into fists. “But I’m gonna find out.”

You zipped around the boardwalk, snagging pins from jackets, buttons from bags, and dangly earring from ears, leaving a glamor in their place so as not to alert the owner to your thieving. You filled your arms with any shiny object you could get your hands on.

Humans were simple, you thought to yourself as you weaved in and out of the massive crowd of people, so easily charmed and tricked.

You paused to watch the sight of them bumbling around the boardwalk, unaware of your presence and the mischief you were causing. You laughed to yourself.

While you were largely indifferent to humans, there were a few you liked more than others.

Like this one. You cloaked yourself with invisibility, allowing your catlike smile to disappear into the sea air.

You tailed the dark haired man, his beauty beckoning like a candle in the dark.

You toyed with his hair, taking a strand between your fingers and pulling lightly. You stilled when his head turned just slightly. Could he see you?

He shrugged and returned to joking around with his friends, probably blaming your ministrations on the wind.

You smirked. He was just some silly human…some silly, pretty human man.

You picked at the charms on his necklace. You’d been visiting him every now and again, taking piece after piece and building a necklace of your own.

You wanted to remember this human when you eventually flitted out of town. They didn’t usually come this cute.

You reached out to pull at the necklace, but before you could, his hand sealed around your wrist.

You gasped, your invisibility fading, causing you to materialize in front of the four men.

You were so shocked, you couldn’t contain the glamor keeping you in human form. Translucent wings, soft and thin as silk, sprouted from your shoulder blades.

The blonde men’s eyes filled with awe as they took in the sight of you, but the dark haired man only scowled.

Your first impulse was to compress to your true form and fly away, but the man growled under his breath, his fangs poking out of his mouth. “Don’t even try it,” he warned.

Your jaw dropped, “you’re- you’re not human,” you stuttered.

The bleach blond man chuckled, “not quite sprite.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “I’m a fairy,” you corrected.

He smirked at you and the dark haired man, “you’re all the same to me.”

You scowled.

The bleach blond man grabbed the two other men by their collars. “We’ll see you back at the cave Dwayne,” his eyes narrowed on you, “seems you’ve got some business to deal with before you head home.”

Your eyes widened in fear. You turned towards Dwayne. “You wouldn’t want my blood, it’s poisonous for vampires,” you lied.

He yanked you into an alleyway nearby and pushed you up against a cold stone wall. “You’re a liar little thief,” he purred.

You squeaked.

“Why did you steal from me?” He demanded.

You gaped like a fish, your eyes taking in his beautiful face. You could lose yourself in those big brown eyes.

You longed to touch his chiseled jaw and feel his stubble beneath your fingers.

You blushed.

He pushed you harder into the stone. “Tell me.”

“Stop! My wings,” you whimpered, the pressure threatening to crack them.

Dwayne’s firm expression never wavered, but he did loosen his grip. “Spit it out,” he demanded.

“I- I liked you,” you confessed. “I just wanted something of yours to keep with me.”

His brow furrowed and he let you down. “What?” he asked.

Your face turned bright red. “Fae we um…we like small little trinket things,” you gestured to his necklace.

“But we like pretty things too,” you shifted on your feet nervously, you felt caught in two different ways.

Dwayne cocked his head. You waited nervously for his reaction.

His lip pulled up into a smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” he teased.

You huffed, your already red face going full tomato. “You don’t have to make a big deal about it,” you pouted.

“Don’t be shy,” he purred, “I think you’re pretty too.”

He ran the back of his hand along your wings gently. “You’re such a delicate little thing, arentcha baby?”

You giggled, your wings twitching with excitement. “Vampires are so interesting,” you leaned in to stroke his chest lightly, “I’ve heard all about your sharp teeth, but no one’s ever told me about your silver tongues.”

His smile was all fang.

You flashed him a pouty look with big puppy dog eyes, “do you forgive me?” you asked, “for taking your things.”

He raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand to you, “why don’t you give them back first.”

You pouted, but reluctantly handed over the charms from his necklace.

“How bout I make you your own baby?” he offered. “Come back to the cave with me, I’ll make you anything you want.”

You beamed, nodding and shrinking down to your true fairy form. You landed, sitting down in the palm of his outstretched hand.

His other hand came around to stroke your cheek with one finger. “You’re adorable like this,” he whispered, “so precious.” He held you reverently.

You blushed, smiling up at him with admiration. You wouldn’t be leaving Santa Carla anytime soon.

TLB Taglist❤️:

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @crustyboypix @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @sad-ghost-of-garbage @hypocriticaltypwriter @lostboys1987girl @solobagginses @gothamslostboy @arbesa-mind @dwaynesluscioushair @dwaynedelight @chiefdirector @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @arenpath @ria-coolgirl @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @f4iryfxies @katerinaval @softchonk @walmart-cereal @warrior-616 @rynsfandomsfun @fraudfrog @mack-attack420

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kagamesayu · 5 days

Note

I loved ur bimbo x shidou- you wrote him so well omg- pls make more with shidou <33

shidou ryusei x bimbo!reader pt 2

c/w . implied female reader, smut MDNI, fluff, shidou ryusei is INSANELY CRAZY for you wc: 1.2 k a/n . omai gah my first ask 🥹 TY I WAS SO WORRIED I WROTE HIM TOO TAME!! blonde demon fuck 🥰 ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!! reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

pt 1, pt 2

imagine...

shidou who loves putting a hand on your thigh when he drives. he has the music turned down - probably something from 'hide' - while he rests his cheek against his fist, staring and listening to you rambling about a cute puppy you saw.

the hand on your thigh squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers absentmindedly. though he's looking at you, he probably isn't thinking about too much (when does he ever though) other than the fact that you look so fucking cute.

your shiny lipgloss, the animated way your hands move when you talk about how the puppy just kept hopping about and licking your 'fingies', how your eyes light up and shine.

he taps his pointer finger against your inner thigh twice, getting your attention, before leaning close, lips puckered. "got me all winded up doll~ ya look soo cute right now~!" and you pause, face turning hot before you giggle and peck his lips.

i hc him to have insane road rage, and you can tell by how angry he is by how he squeezes your thigh.

if it's just a long line, he'll squeeze your knee slightly, pinching and playing with the flesh while waiting for the traffic to move.

however if anyone does anything else like cutting in front of you or stopping suddenly, he immediately becomes to furious. his hand grips onto your thigh harder, digging his fingers into your flesh in an almost bruising grip. he does it both to relieve his rage and to keep you from flying too far away - even with the seat belt keeping you safe.

"these fuckers don't know how to fuckin' drive? almost made my baby fly out the damn car!"

he has a crazy look on his face. this is the only circumstance his hand leaves your thigh. it flies up to the horn, blaring it and staring right at the car that dared to put your safety at risk.

and the poor people who cut in front of you are non the wiser of the demon they angered. shidou will purposely drive to be beside the car and look inside with his piercing eyes.

safe to say the offenders will zoom tf away.

and when they do shidou will look straight at you wide smile on his face. 'praise me!' and what else can you do when your man protects you as well as he has?

anyone driving past your car would think there was a dog inside because of all the howling

shidou who clings and whines when he had to leave your side. every so often he has to go overseas for a match, and you almost always forget to request for day offs.

"my dumb little doll, makin' me suffer for their actions..." he always sulks, pouty as he snuggles deep into your neck.

he hates not having you be his side, hates not being to hold you, touch you, smell you, kiss you. he'd rather die than not be able to be with you.

for the days leading up to his departure he clings onto you. early morning runs are delayed cause he stays in bed longer, either with his cock buried deep inside, having you cockwarm him or with his head between your legs enjoying what little time he had left.

and when the time finally comes for him to leave has a few memorabilia to keep him going through the days. pictures of you, promises of calls every morning, afternoon and night, your undies, the usual!

might explore this more it sounds kinda fun ngl

shidou who loves your trampstamp. you'd gotten it while he was out of the country and took a picture of it to cheer him up.

you'd heard some of your girl friends got it and it made their significant others happy, so you did it too!

what could go wrong?

apparently a lot. the moment shidou saw the picture - accompanied by the text "got a new tattoo! isn't it cute?" - he went feral.

the picture of you in front of the mirror with your shirt off, undies pulled low to show him the fresh ink on your skin, killed shidou ryusei.

immediately he books a flight home. he doesn't care if the match is tomorrow, his doll got him a present and he needs to have them in his arms and on his dick right now.

he texted you that he was coming back but you didn't believe him. he has a match tomorrow, there's no way he's coming home!

oh sweetheart.

and you have no one else to blame other than yourself when he shows up ay the front door, dripping in sweat and lust, demanding you show him the tattoo.

the look he has in his eye is exactly the same as when he's on the field. the same look he has when he wants to shoot a goal. when he explodes.

and there is a goal here. right in front of him.

you.

shidou who makes you swatch new lipstick on him. red, pink, purple, green, he wants you to paint the whole damn rainbow on him with your lips.

you can bet the moment you return from a makeup store - using his money too, of course - he's grabbing you and sitting you on his lap on the couch and making you bring out your haul.

and you show it to him like you're a makeup youtube creator, hand behind the product and reading out the names to shidou. and he nods along, smirking and watching your child-like excitement over your newest palette.

"oh my god ryu!! look!!", you pull out a cute pink eyeshadow palette.

"ooh, that looks cute doll."

"it's the trixie mattel 'girl talk' palette!! i just saw it and had to buy it! look this hot pink is to die for!!"

and he thinks your rambling is cute, he really does, but all he's really excited to see is the new lipstick or lipgloss you bought.

"and look at how pink this lipstick is baby!"

you're too oblivious to realise how much he perked up, hands gripping your sides tighter, expectant look on his face as he watches your hands take out the products.

"i got this pink, and this one which is a little darker, and this one that's sparkly~!"

"well? what're you waitin' for then pretty?"

and that's your cue to start unboxing them, putting them on your lips and marking up your man.

30 minutes is all it takes for you to finish trying out all your new lipsticks. but you're not even focused on swatching it anymore.

now he's looming over your panting form, strings of drool connecting your lips. your eyes are teary, mascara dripping down your face as your hands grip onto his blond hair.

his face is littered with pink kisses. on his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his chin, his neck, everything all the way down to his naked chest is covered in kisses.

he's gorgeous. that's all your dumb little brain can think when he kisses you like this.

she's perfect. is all shidou ryusei can think when you kiss him like this.

#x bimbo!reader #x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #✧. bllk

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joelsmochi · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller — There You Go

Part 2 here.

warnings: post-apocalypse, pre-ellie, age change + gap (joel is 53, reader is 33), smut (minors dni), unprotected piv sex + creampie, outdoor/public sex, reader has a thing for joel’s hands, joel has a thing for reader being a pillow princess, joel also has a thing for praising reader, joel loves spoiling reader what more can i say, definitely ooc joel, pet names (baby, pretty girl, doll, etc.), dirty talk, vanilla sex (? should this even count as a warning LMFAO), possessive!joel (only a little it's kinda cute), fluffy!joel, probably an over-usage of the word “pretty”, i always lazy proofread so there may be some typos <3

wc: 4k

a/n: there are so many mean!joel or rough!joel smuts (don’t get me wrong i be eating that shit up!) so i thought i’d do something a lil different & give y’all a sweet and endearing joel smut <3 this is lowkey inspired by the scene from jason’s lyric + inspired by a comment i saw where someone said pedro/joel would definitely talk you through it .-.

“The sun feels so good,” I think aloud. “Come lie down! You should try it!” I glance over at Joel who is cleaning the pot that we just ate dinner out of.

“You’re gonna get sunburnt,” is all he says. I don’t respond, enjoying the warm blanket the sun is providing. A few minutes later I hear him sit next to me which makes him block the sun from my face so I open my eyes and smile up at him.

He and I aren’t that close, but it never hurt to try and grow closer with him—sometimes he’d give in and laugh with me, but most of the time it was like talking to a brick wall that occasionally grunted at you or rolled its eyes. I understand though. I’m sure he lost someone he loved so deeply and that kind of shit changes you. I’ve lost more people than I can count and no matter how much you try to prepare for it, you’re just never ready. That’s why I always try to get him to smile, I want him to know that someone still cares about him even if he doesn’t care for anyone anymore.

But I know he does. I know for a fact that he cares about me. He never let’s me hold him when we’re trying to sleep but the second I hear his breaths deepen I always wrap my arms around him and he shuffles his back deeper into my body. I loved the way he was too emotionally calloused to warm up to me because it makes me want to fight harder for him which reinforces the fact that I care about him.

“Thank you for dinner, you sure know how to whip up some twenty-year-old ravioli,” I joke.

He just nods and looks at the trees in front of us.

“How old were you when this all started? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-three,” he corrects.

“Hmm, same age I am now.”

“Ain’t that a bitch?” He huffs, clearly exhausted from our hike. I sit up in front of him and grab his hands; he tries to pull back while giving me a dirty look so I just grip him harder. “What are ya doing?” He asks.

“Holding your hands,” I say with a cheeky tone and a grin.

“Why?”

“Because I think about touching ‘em all the time,” I tease.

He takes a few breaths, watching to see if I break my smile. “You think… About my hands?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, “I think about your fingers.” I hold one of his hands up to my face and analyze his digits, memorizing the cuts and bruises and wrinkles along them. Even though my words are true, I still played as if I were joking endearingly, but the more I looked at his fingers the more complicated it got. I feel my nipples perk up underneath my tank top from the cool breeze and… Well, from being horny. “I think you’re a cool guy,” I say after looking at him and dropping his hand.

“Why?”

Shrugging, I say, “Because you take care of me. You teach me a lot.”

His eyebrows rise and force wrinkles onto his forehead. “I teach you a lot?”

I hum again, nodding slowly and blinking even slower not able to hide my true intentions anymore. “Yeah, you… Taught me how to use a gun safely… You taught me how to get past an infected… You taught me how to hunt a buck.”

“Shit your parents shoulda taught ya when your were a kid,” he retorts, letting me know he doesn’t see my desperation.

“Maybe,” I whisper. I carefully move onto my hands and knees, slowly crawling closer to him. “Maybe I was just meant to have you as my teacher.” The look in his cold eyes shifted yet he continues to leave me confused. I may be overstepping here, but his lack of resistance only urges me to push further and further. I bat my eyelashes at him and reach my nose just in front of his. “You could even teach me how to fuck.”

His eyes bat shut and he exhales as if he were committing the worst of sins. His eyes reopen after a few quiet seconds and they flicked between both of my own eyes. His cold irises were now warm with dilated pupils and his pulse is beating so strong I could see it pump against the skin along his collarbones. I glance at his lips more than once and press one of my hands to his thigh.

“Is this okay?” It comes out shakier than I intended it to as my breathing feels much heavier than before. Joel makes me feel so small but in the best way possible. It’s as if he were my sworn protector and I could always count on him to be there for me. Like a lovestruck twenty-year-old, I cling to him in my most desperate of times even though he pretends to hate it. I could tell he likes having someone to take care of, and I love that he takes care of me.

Hesitating, he nods and carefully reaches for my forearms.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he whispers sounding more desperate than me.

I can’t help but simper at both his confirmation and touch, finally touching my nose to his. A knot twists deeply into my stomach, and my chest fills with waves of nervousness. “I’ve only done it a couple times,” I whisper.

“That’s okay,” he hums against my lips, his chest rumbling at the low vibrations from his voice. “I’ll teach you.”

I snicker and giggle at his words earning the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on him in the time I’ve known him, then he presses his lips to mine so softly I thought I was imagining it. The smack of his warm mouth dazes me momentarily and I grasp onto his shoulders before completely falling into his touch. He lies back onto the blanket and encapsulates my body with his thick legs and firm arms. He whines into my mouth and holds onto my waist as if I would fall apart if he let go.

I pull away after a while to look down at him, wondering how we should start. It’s been well over a decade since my last time and I don’t want to disappoint Joel.

“Lie down,” he instructs while admiring my flustered look.

I do as he says and allow him to take my shoes off, which he does so carefully. I always pegged Joel to be a bit rougher, and eager for it, especially after a long time of waiting.

His fingertips nuzzle the hairs along my calves and thighs up until they reach the hems of my shorts and this is where my expectations become true; he wraps his fingers into the folds and tugs gently, probably trying to pace himself, but the rise and fall of my chest catch his attention and his patience runs out. He yanks my button undone and doesn’t even bother taking my shorts off, he just slips his hand inside to feel around. I prop myself up with my elbows to get a better view of everything. He strokes the stubble along my pelvis, then around my clit, dipping down to my entrance and slightly parting my lips to see how ready I am.

I inhale at the feeling of his warm finger coming into contact with my cool precum, locking eyes with him to watch the subtleties in his face change at every new feeling he notices. He just barely whispers, “Fuck,” when he rises his finger to my clit. He gives it a gentle stroke and watches me breathe slowly for him. “You’re doing so good, staying still like that for me,” he praises. I bite my lip and confidently smile at him. He starts to rub soft circles onto my skin, eliciting a gentle coo from me. The space between my eyebrows tightens at the relief and my eyes close softly. “Fuck, look at’ya… So eager for me already, huh?” I look at him and nod. “Tell me how bad you want it, doll.”

“Do you remember the night we first met?” I ask between moans. “And I had that cut on my arm that you had to clean and wrap? All I could do was stare at your fingers and—and imagine how good they would feel rubbing my clit the way you’re doing right now. It was the first night I had touched myself in almost a year.”

He squints at me sharing this information and rewarding me with more pressure from his fingers. “And how often do you touch yourself now?”

“In the past two years I’ve known you?” I sheepishly ask; he nods and halts his moving fingers. Desperately wanting him to keep going, I shout, “Almost anytime I get left alone for longer than ten minutes.”

“Since we’re being honest…” He leans down to my ears to whisper, “…Sometimes I leave you alone to touch myself as well.” He takes his hand out of my shorts to slide them off of me.

He looks around the trees, and I do the same to make sure no one living or infected is around; once we’re sure it’s clear he sits to remove his boots which I laugh when it starts to take a long time. I reach for his shirt buttons, undoing them carefully as a few were hanging literally by a thread. I push his flannel shirt off of his arms while he finally kicks his boots off, then he hovers his head over mine and just barely pushes his pants down to reveal his swollen cock. I reach for it despite my intimidation at the girth but he stops me, guiding me to lie down again.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?” He asks against the skin above my collarbone whilst placing lovely kisses all over my neck.

“It’s really big,” I say tensely, laughing at myself.

He gives me a juicy kiss and shares a winsome look with me. “I’ll be gentle if you want,” he promises. I barely smile, not realizing how harshly my nails are digging into his arm. I give him a slight nod and spread my legs slowly for him. “I promise I’ll be real nice to your pretty pussy.”

I lift my head up to kiss him again and he shifts to rest his body weight on top of me with his hand reaching between our bodies to line his tip up with my entrance. His tongue folds over my lips and into my mouth restlessly and I feel his hips push forward against me. I prepare myself for the discomfort, squeezing my eyes tightly and pulling away from the kiss to brace myself.

It’s difficult to breathe with my ribcage pushing against him and I feel him leave a trail of kisses along my jawline in an attempt to soothe me. I constantly squeeze around his thick cock, trying to ignore the slight burning and get used to the pain faster. He notices how long I remain tense and anxious, so he taps my cheek gently with his fingers and I open my eyes to look at him which relaxes almost every nerve in my body.

“Just relax, honey, okay? Can you do that for me?” My eyes roll to the back of my head as his raspy voice continues to beg me to relax. “Hmm? Can you relax for me, baby girl?” He pulls back a little and begins to slowly pump himself in and out of me, chuckling as he watches my body actively relaxing around and beneath him. “There you go… There you go… Here.” He adjusts his knees to be flush against the back of my thighs and moves my arms and legs to wrap around his back. “How’s this?”

I wait for him to start moving again, noticing the difference in closeness. “Yes!” I hiss. I feel his hand pop my boobs out of the top of my tank top and I look to his fingers to watch them rub against the sewn-in rose in the middle of the shirt, but soon enough his hand cups my boob and gives it a delicate squeeze. I notice my pussy get wetter at the steady pace he is going at, feeling the curve of his cock hit the deeper parts of me.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Joel,” I moan. I slide the straps of my shirt off of my arms to get a better grip on him making him smile at the now bunched-up fabric around my waist. All I can do is moan and roll my eyes back and forth at his cock filling me up repeatedly. With my thighs trembling around his hips, my nails digging into his back, and my back arching deeper into the ground, he lifts his upper half off of me more than likely to see me—all of me.

He drives his hips faster, not fully entering inside of me but using the curve of his shaft to his advantage. As my hands flail around either gripping the sheet or his arms, I accidentally dig my knees into his stomach, and I can tell it’s hurting him but he doesn’t stop.

“Come on, baby,” he grunts, somehow managing to go even faster, “cum for me, pretty girl, I can feel it—oh, look at’cha!”

I whine at the ticklish feeling of his tip rubbing against my g-spot, feeling sudden shocks in my nerves from my stomach to my feet. I feel my muscles stop squeezing around him and start pushing against him as my orgasm creeps up. Joel hunches over to pop one of my nipples into his mouth adding waves of electricity to swim through the rest of my body.

“Joel, I—“

“Shh, shh shh shh,” he mumbles against my breast. “Look at me, darlin’. Hold onto me.” My fingers wrap into his curls and I watch his eyes trail over my face. I feel myself fall over the edge and into my orgasm, and his words seem to only exist to intensify this burst of energy. “God, look at you cumming for me—oh, my God, I can feel it," he repeats. "I can feel you cumming, it feels so fucking good."

“Yeah?” I whimper. “Fuck, please don’t stop!” He grunts and gets a bit more sloppy with his thrusts which help ride out the rest of my orgasm. I release his hair and drop my legs down next to his, feeling soreness spreading throughout my thighs from them being stretched. “Do you want to switch?” I ask after seeing how tired he is.

He pretty much pouts and shakes his head, cupping my face in one of his hands. “No, baby. I wanna take care of you,” he says. “You look so pretty in the sun.”

I blush to thank him, then take his scruffy face into my hands and give him a few kisses until they turn into our tongues dancing together. I moan at the taste of his skin, pushing my hips down to get his shaft deeper inside of me.

He listens to my body and instead of thrusting he rocks his hips after resting some of his weight on me again. I feel the layers of sweat from both of us stick his skin to mine but we just ignore it. All I care to focus on are his groans and the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of me.

“I was made just for you,” I moan, reaching out to run my hands along the hair on his chest.

He shoves one of my legs up on his shoulder, bending forward to somehow fuck me even deeper. “You were made just for me?” He asks, kissing the inside of my knee.

I mewl out, cursing at how smoothly his hips continue to roll in between my thighs. “Yes, Joel!” I shout when he shoves his dick all the way inside of me, stopping once he presses against my depths. “My pussy was made just for you!”

I watch his pretty eyes roll under his twitching eyelids, and he whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. I gasp at his shaft throbbing inside of me and cradle the back of his head.

He lifts himself to his knees again, forces my legs to spread apart, and pulls out. “Fuck, baby,” he groans with furrowed eyebrows. “You keep talking like that you’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Grinning wide, I sit up and turn around to my hands and knees like earlier. I figured a change in position could help excite things a bit more, plus my ass is starting to hurt. I moan and giggle while I tauntingly wave my ass for him to grab. Instead, he yanks my knees back knocking me down to my stomach which admittedly hurt a little bit, but I didn’t care. I finally got to have Joel and that was all I needed.

He pushes my legs apart with his chest pressing against my back. I shudder at his warm breath on my sweat-covered cheek and ear, flinching when he nibbles on my lobe—not from pain, but surprise. He moves down to bite my shoulder, then my spine before I feel his hand push his thick cock back inside of me.

I kick my limp legs up to meet his wide thighs and lay my face against the ground. He fucks me like he’s desperate for me to know how strong he is, how weak he can get me. I arch my neck up for my lips to meet his chin; listening to his little whimpers has my entire body weak for him. I didn’t want the noises to stop, I don’t want him to stop.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpers some more, “you feel so good. S-oh good.” His breath is shaky as are his words.

“I want you to cum inside of me, Joel,” I beg before pecking his chin. I relax the arch in my neck to instead bury the back of my head into his shoulder. He stops for a few seconds to absorb my words, using this time to wrap his arms below and around my stomach. “I love the way you fuck me,” I whisper against his jaw. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“That’s my job, honey,” he tells me, thrusting a couple of times. “Oh sh—oh my God,” he mewls. He bites my cheek which makes me giggle and turn my head to kiss him. He starts to drill in and out of me while our lips fold over each other, our moans and begs and whimpers falling out occasionally. I feel that bubble growing inside of me again just itching to be popped, and I completely crumble when he says, “You take my cock so good, princess, I know you got another one in ya.”

I can’t even speak whilst he wraps his strong hand around my neck to hold my head up rather than to choke me. I cry out his name shallowly and squeeze around him so tight I’m sure his cock started to ache. He curses into my neck, not letting up on my pussy one bit. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

“You look so fucking pretty when I fuck you. Look at how helpless you are, fuck. You’re mine, pretty girl.”

“I love the way you fuck me, Joel,” I say breathlessly as my orgasm doesn’t let up.

“My sweet girl,” he coos in my ear. “Keep talking to me, mmm, I love hearing you beg for it.”

By this point, I am suffering from the pain of overstimulation, which I never thought could hurt so bad but feel so damn good at the same time. “You’re so good to me, Joel,” I tell him doubtlessly. “I want you to cum for me, please.” His body jerks a few times and it instills confidence in my tone. “I want you to use me… Use me to cum, please…”

“You want me to cum in that pretty pussy a’yours? Hmm?” He cuddles his face into my shoulder blade, striving to reach even deeper inside of me. “Turn around. I wanna see you,” he whispers; I turn around and he lifts me onto his lap, still standing on his knees. His burly forearms manage to hold me up enough for him to keep doing all of the work, but by this point, I was thankful for it with how much he’s worn me out. “You take my cock s’good. Look at your pretty face, your pretty little helpless face.”

I watch as he takes his lip between his teeth into his weeping mouth, breathless gasps leaving my own. He looks so majestic with how the sun casts subtle shadows along his face; his vulnerability coats the look in his eyes as his face begins to relax which tells ms he is close. His nails dig into my spine and he looks to me for reassurance.

I run my fingertips over Joel’s broad shoulders and blink slowly, drawing my tongue out to lick his lips briefly. “Can you cum for me, baby?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he says, heavily nodding his head. “Anything for you, honey.” He kisses me swiftly, smiling at me and stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

We both moan out little praises against each other's faces and lips and sometimes kiss roughly. My chin burns from his stubble but I don’t pull away from him. I don’t want to. I just want to feel all of him.

He tells me he’s going to cum once more and I say, “Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum.”

I hold his head still in my hands and rock my hips against his, but he stops me by pushing my hips into him and holding me there. I whine but allow it, cockily grinning at him when I feel his warm cum paint my walls. He is a whimpering mess, cowering his face to my chest. His body twitches underneath my legs and his hands fall to my ass, squeezing it enough to lift my hips up and back down a couple of times. Grunting when he finishes, he peels his face from my skin to smile down at me after lying me down carefully. He looks around for a moment before pulling out and laying next to me.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” he says, still out of breath.

I look over at him and twist to my side. “It’s okay. I know you like taking care of me.”

“Do I now?”

I nod and hum. “You’ll never say it, but I know you do.”

Joel also turns onto his side to stare at me. “I like taking care of you,” he admits with a hoarse voice. He reaches to pull my shirt straps back over my arms before covering my boobs, then grabs my panties to slide them up my legs but stops when he gets to my vulva just to place a kiss on it. He half-dresses himself before pulling my warm legs onto his lap; I sit up to get more comfortable and stare at his hands massaging my legs. “Your face is sunburnt,” he tells me.

I touch my cheekbone and flinch when I feel it is indeed sunburnt. “Dammit.”

“Doll, I want ya to know that this doesn’t mean nothing to me. It isn’t nothing, I mean… It’s something… If you want it to be.”

“Something?” I question with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah…” He shrugs, looking back down at my legs. “If you want.”

I crawl into his lap, responding to him with a loving kiss. “I want you. Not something.”

“Oh, pretty girl…” He moves some hair from my face and bashfully smiles at me. “You already got me.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut

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serene-destruction · 3 months

Note

Oh! Listen I love Husk and I need him to have more love! Maybe a Fem!Reader x Husk x Angel. Angel Dust and Reader would be a qpr quite obviously, just besties who want to give love to a grumpy cat. Other than that I give you creative freedom!

The first request! Just for future reference, my stories are gender neutral unless otherwise plot relevant. Anyways, enjoy!

I Could Get Used To You

(GN) Reader x Husker x (Queer Platonic)Angel Dust

TW: drunkenness, vague mentions of past trauma.

Work count: 5.6k

Summary: Life in hell isn't an easy one, but it's a lot easier to get through it when you find people to care about.

You and Angel had known of each other for quite some time, given that he had often attended the bar you worked at in his early years in hell. Despite how aggressively flirtatious he was you didn't mind him as much as some of the other regulars. He at least had the restraint to make those comments in between sets or after the show. You spent the first few months mostly ignoring him, as you did with all the other patrons. That became harder, though, when he had decided to see you after the show.

“Heya sweetheart!” he called out to you as you left the bar. You rolled your eyes and held your coat a little tighter, hoping that hiding your body might get him to leave you the hell alone. You had a rough night filled with drunken idiots disrupting your show with their shameless attempts to touch you and you certainly didn't need his comments to top it all off.

“Say what you want then leave me the hell alone” you nearly growled out your words. It was hard to stay composed after having spent hours keeping that fake smile for the crowd.

“Woah! Got it, bad night” he held his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Just wanna talk” he explained, his smile a little less cocky than when he made his usual comments at the bar. Truthfully it had caught you a little off guard, considering how you had ascribed total arrogant confidence to him. So you let out a sigh, motioning him to walk with you. You just simply didn't feel like arguing and you were pretty confident that he was mostly talk. Something you could easily placate until you made it back home.

“Just to be clear, if you lay a single one of those hands on me I'm cutting all of them off” you warn and he flashes a bright, teasing smile.

“Kinky~” his voice was sing-songy as he spoke. You crossed your arms, glared, and hoped he got the point.

“Right, right. I won't touch ya” he agreed and you were able to grow a little more comfortable. Still, you remained on guard.

“Names Angel by the way” he sounded so sure of himself as he spoke, a set of hands held on his hips in a show of confidence. He had only just started his career back then, his fame in its early stages. It wasn't a surprise when you didn't recognize it.

“Y/n. Though I'm sure you already knew that” your words held an edge, your tense posture clear. But he simply nodded along.

“Yeah. Still a nice name though” his smile widened a little and, despite the minor disdain you had started with, you could see him already growing on you.

“Right…any particular reason you decided to talk to me tonight of all nights? I've seen you around the bar for a while now” you questioned him, rather curious about why exactly now of all times he wanted to suddenly meet you.

“I just wanted to let ya know you did good tonight. I get how much of a bummer pricks messin’ with your show can be.” the genuine compliment surprised you so much that you're silent for a moment. A moment too long apparently as he speaks again.

“If it means anything it was one’a my favorites so far” At that you turned and searched for some sort of humor in his eyes, maybe something that said he was lying. But when there wasn't anything you finally returned his smile with a weary one.

“Glad you enjoyed it” you took the compliment, though you still didn’t fully believe that he was being truthful. It was rare someone ever complimented you to start with, but you had yet to have someone do so without an ulterior motive.

“And y’know, that happens again tomorrow and I'll personally knock ‘em around for you, yeah?” his smile turned into a grin and you couldn't help the short laugh that left at his expression.

“If you feel so inclined. Though if anyone asks, I told you to leave the poor sods alone” you tried to make it clear that you definitely weren't supposed to be harming the clientele with how dramatic the last part of the sentence was. Luckily he seemed to get the point.

“Course. They've been gettin’ on my nerves anyway” you couldn't help but agree.

The two of you continue on with your conversation, getting to know a bit about each other's lives on the short walk. Despite his behavior at the bar, he was actually surprisingly personable one-on-one. He had a kind of natural charisma with a bit of faint genuine kindness. It was, frankly, one of the better conversations you had since you fell into hell. But all good things always come to an end. This time it was because you stopped your feet outside your residence.

“It was nice getting to actually meet you Angel” he stopped with you and you could have sworn you caught the faintest glimpse of his smile falling.

“It was nice meetin’ you too. You workin’ tomorrow?” His question surprises you a bit, but you answer anyway.

“When am I not working” you rolled your eyes, your exhaustion now easy to see. His look turned sympathetic.

“If that ain't the truth. See you tomorrow then?” He begins to walk away but stays turned to you for a response with his hand held in a finger gun motion. You can't help the bit of genuine smile that peeks through.

“As always” you answer before finally tucking into your apartment building.

You and Angel only got closer over the coming years. He would walk you home from your shows from time to time and you would entertain him with whatever story you had of the nights when he was too busy to show up. You too bonded over work and he even offered to be a dancer a few times just to rake in some more attention and get you enough to finally move up from that shit hole. But you always kindly refused, not looking for the increasing fame he carried with him.

Eventually you two even started hanging out in other places. Granted they were always other run-down shit holes given he didn't particularly want the paparazzi and fans that came from his job, but you two always seemed to make the most of it, keeping your friendship on the down low.

Until, one night, he stopped showing up.

You had become increasingly concerned after a month of him just up and disappearing. You were worried something had happened or maybe that his psychotic boss was pulling away even more of his already limited freedom. But then he showed up after one of your shows, face guilt-ridden when you went near frantic.

You were already yelling out question after question at him. Where has he gone? Was he okay? Did something happen? He had to calm you down before explaining that he had moved. You were so incredibly proud knowing that he was finally removing even just a part of himself from the work that had begun to be his entire life, though you were still a bit upset that he hadn't told you sooner.

But then he made you an offer you weren't expecting.

“You know, the hotel has an open doors rule and uh…well I was hopin’ you might…”

“Join you?” You finish the sentence for him. He turned to you with a look more nervous than you've ever seen from him.

“Look I know the place ain't exactly the best- the whole redemption thing’s a joke- but y'know I think you could get a job down there! Get away from all…all of this. Plus, y’know, I'd get to see you more often and-”

“Sounds like a plan” you stop his rambling with your answer and he turns to you with an almost bewildered look.

“Really? You sure?” He couldn't believe you would agree so quickly. You laughed at that.

“A chance to leave this shitty life behind and live with my best friend? Why would I say no? Especially if you like the place enough to recommend it” You lightheartedly shoved him and he almost gleamed with joy, his prior nervousness nothing but a thought now.

“Well shit. I thought I was gonna have ta try a lot harder than that. Had a whole pitch and everything!” he spoke with a laugh and you couldn't help but join in the joy.

You had to say the first few months at the hotel had been rough. For one, your boss didn't like the idea of you quitting very much. You were half the reason he made any money to begin with and he wasn't about to let you go so easily. So for a while you had been harassed and once nearly even killed before Alastor went and ‘dealt with this little problem of yours’. Though you suspected it was only because your boss had sent people to attack the hotel itself and less that he cared about you in any capacity.

You had managed to get a job at the hotel like Angel had said, though you felt more like a resident since there weren't ever enough people to warrant a show. But it had been more than once you were able to lift spirits with a performance, so you did still get paid. It was nice not having to work as much.

Though you would have to say, out of all the other strange people and events here, the bartender was the one that caught your eye the most. A right asshole he was, but there was still a charm he had. You two mostly only had some idle chit-chat, but Angel seemed to be getting pretty close to him, especially after he had one of his rougher nights that you hadn't been around for. Which meant you talked to the cat demon more. Never really one on one, but still you grew to see why your friend seemed so comfortable around him. He was easy to talk to. You mostly saw him as a friend of a friend though. Maybe even a good acquaintance if you wanted to push it.

But then there was that night…

Two in the morning and you still couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Tossing and turning and general frustration simply wouldn't allow you.

You couldn't get it out of your head. It had been so long since the memories had been allowed to invade your mind like they did tonight. Your skin crawled as if it wanted to escape you and if you could you would let it. You felt utterly trapped as it clung to you. Like the only escape from it was to dissolve into nothing.

You knew why the memories had come back swinging, all too aware that it was such a stupid thing to have opened that old wound. All Charlie had done was pull you to the new activity she was so excited to share. But her hands dragged you and made it impossible to pull away and when you made it to that room all the eyes fell on you. It was horrifyingly familiar in a way that it shouldn't have been. You had wanted to disappear right then.

Yet you didn't speak up and instead let her do as she pleased, knowing that it was such a mundane thing that you shouldn't have let upset you like it did. You felt childish at having let the event ruin your night, at letting the entire situation dig itself into old scars. But still, you just couldn't stop the dread it built within you. You couldn't stop that clawing feeling of trying to escape your own body. Of escaping the phantom feeling of drag and pull and the expecting eyes that felt almost as if they'd burn you alive.

It didn't take long before the feeling began to sting your eyes with tears. It was at that point you knew there would be no sleeping tonight. So you finally gave up trying, sitting up in your bed as you wiped away the tears that hadn't been given the chance to fall. You quickly composed yourself, as you were just so great at doing by this point, and tossed on a warm robe before leaving your room. You glance at Angel's door when you do.

You contemplate for a brief moment if you should wake him, though you quickly decide against it. He was tired enough as it was with the shit he had to deal with on the daily, he didn't need you keeping him up on top of that. So you turned down the hall, making sure to remain quiet so as not to disturb anyone.

You needed a distraction, something to get your mind off everything. To numb that horrible feeling. You find that nothing calls your name quite like the sound of a drink and so you navigate the many halls until you find yourself at the hotel bar.

As you suspected, the place was barren and silent. You have no problem getting behind the bar and making your own drink as it most certainly wasn't your first time. You note that you should probably try to keep the place tidy while you're at it, but decide that you'll do so after you enjoy the sweet relief at the bottom of a glass.

And, for a few short moments, you do. The warm, burning feeling spreads through your chest and purges the shivers right on out of you. But it doesn't last after the drink is finished and the silence truly sets in. So you pour yourself another, trying to chase any semblance of peace.

“Can't sleep?” A voice asks from behind you, nearly scaring you off of the barstool as you whip around to see who it was. You're surprised to see Husk of all people, even more surprised to see something that might resemble concern show on him. But you soon calm, giving a nod to him before turning back around.

“Nope…you too?” You ask, catching him rounding his way to the other side of the bar as you do.

“I prefer nights. A lot more peaceful, especially in this place” you acknowledge his comment with a hum before turning back to nursing your drink.

There is a silence between the two of you for a good few minutes. He cleans around for a while and you try to let your emotions leave you with every sip. It isn't long before you poor a third and you try to ignore the fact that this isn't helping.

It's when you go to pour your fourth drink that he stops what he's doing. You try to ignore him and whatever he's deciding to do with his time, but it becomes harder when he leans on the bar in front of you.

“That’s not gonna help you” He states plainly, your eyes turning to glance at him. There's a brief moment where you attempt to pull your facade back up. Where you try to tug your lips into a smile and choke out any words that would deter his potential questions. But it is exhausting and you are already beyond tired. So instead you hang your head.

“I know…was just hoping I'd be wrong” your words are quiet and mumbled, a far cry from your usually quite loud and charismatic self. It makes your insides twist to have let yourself be seen like this.

“Do you wanna talk about why you're up so late?” His question makes you swallow thickly, hands gripping tighter on the glass in your hand. Another few moments of silence pass that seem almost like an eternity under his stare. It takes a while for you to find any words in this state.

“It’s not worth your time” you manage the sentence, eyes fixated on the honey color of your chosen liquor. You hear him sigh, taking a step back as he pours his own drink.

“I'm the one who's askin’. If I waste my time that's my own damn fault” you don't like how hard it is for you to find the meaning in his tone. You can't tell if he's being dismissive or trying to comfort you. So you settled on answering with silence once more. You hear him sigh before he rounds the bar again.

“Look, tell me or don't tell me, but I at least want to hear you say something” this time you do hear an attempt to be genuine. He takes a seat beside you and you finally turn to look at him again. His eyes expect nothing, a rare sight for you. It's…comforting. You aren't sure if it was you or the alcohol talking, but you could have even been able to delude yourself into thinking that he cared. You look away again when you feel that false comfort begins to wrap you. You find your tongue beginning to slip.

“I…” you start and suddenly it's like your insides churn. You put nearly everything into stopping the pull of tears.

“It's just a bad night for me, is all. I…I’m not really used to this” you finally let the words fall and you can't bring yourself to look at him. You don't want to know how he's reacting to your words. You don't want to see just how little he actually cares.

“Used to what, exactly?” he pries further, asking for more. The flood gates were already open and there was no use in trying to shut them now.

“The way everyone is just so comfortable with each other- the way that I almost feel comfortable. It was easy with Angel; both of us in the same shit situation with no one else to lean on but each other. But nobody needs something from me here, nobody's trying to take anything- they don't want anything! And it- I just-...” your hands shake, your breath becoming unsteady. It's been so long since you felt this pathetic.

“I don't think I'm supposed to be here” you admit as your voice wavers. You try to steady your breath and calm yourself. It wasn't safe to be this vulnerable, it was stupid.

“I get it” his words stop your thoughts immediately. You're left reeling from the whiplash and expecting that he must have grown a second head that speaks only lies. But it's just him as he stares down at his now half-empty drink, no second head in sight. There's a look of contemplation on his face that you can see even as he keeps his eyes on the glass. A moment later he speaks again.

“When you've spent so long getting used to people treating you like shit it can be hard to accept when someone doesn't. Makes it feel like they're lyin’, like they're just waitin’ for the moment to hurt you the worst” his words quickly hit a deep part of you, knocking at known insecurities you had long since buried as deep as you could.

“Makes you paranoid too, always checking your back for snakes. Gets harder to believe anyone; harder to care about anyone a lot of the time. And so you stop caring, and suddenly it stops hurting as much” his continued words only dug deeper, tugging away at your walls like they were wet paper. When his eyes finally meet yours again you are surprised to see them soften. There isn't pity in them, nor a look that makes you feel as childish as you felt before talking to him. Instead, you are met with a knowing stare, one that says he understands this feeling all too well.

“But the thing is that doesn't mean you feel any better. Makes the suffering pointless if you don't try to let the good in too. You gotta make it mean something” he doesn't look away from you as he says those words and you can't bring yourself to turn away either. You don't want to. Because he's saying everything you needed to hear and you can't find any reason not to trust that he doesn't know exactly how this feels. That he isn't speaking directly from the heart. Your dread turns to a sinking sort of comfort. The kind only broken people could give when they reach out and pull each other from the dark. It's the most seen you've ever felt.

You feel the tears finally well in your eyes but you can't help but smile at him, a sad laugh escaping you.

“Of all the people I expected to give me a pep talk I gotta say, you weren't even on the list” you finally speak again and there is no hiding that he's hit something deep within you.

“Of all the fucked up people here, I didn't expect you would need anyone to talk to” He offers the same smile as he hand you a napkin. You take it without complaint and quickly calm your tears with deep breaths, wiping away the strays that fell. There's a short moment of silence, but it doesn't feel as suffocating anymore. In fact you almost feel a strange comfort in it now that it doesn't feel so empty. Still, you knew you should probably say something.

“You know, uh…” you break the silence as you once again turn to your drink, this time far less focused on ignoring him as much as you were trying to compose yourself enough to speak. At the very least you're able to steady your voice.

“Angel and I were going to head out tomorrow. I don't think he'd mind if you came…if you're free, of course” you invited him but didn't catch the way his smile widened at the request.

“I can't guarantee anything, but I’m not declining” his maybe is better than a no, so you don't particularly mind his answer. In fact you can feel your own smile soften at it.

Since then the three of you have been near inseparable. At any given part of the day at least two of you are off doing something with each other. It's nice, you think, to have people this close to you, to have a reason to care again. The three of you look out for each other and It's the closest you've ever gotten to stability in your life. At this point, you don't think you'd trade it for anything.

Which is why when you start to develop feelings for Husk, you are utterly horrified.

You know him and Angel have…something going on. You know they're not together as you know you would have been the first to know, but you've also never seen Angel smile the way he does when he's around the winged demon. You would say the same for Husk, but you've caught him sending the same soft smile to you once or twice and you honestly can't tell if it's your lovestruck daze or if those smiles are what you think they are.

Your emotions are a spiraling mess within you. You care so much for both of them. You'd live through a thousand hells if it meant you'd have them around. The absolute last thing you want is to fuck this up.

So you choose to say nothing. You bottle your feelings and throw them in the garbage. As far as you were concerned being in their afterlives at all was good enough. You wouldn't risk it.

However, it became hard during nights like these. When you all were giddy off alcohol, conversation flowing through wide smiles and every touch as gentle as it could ever be. It was the definition of home, a place where you were the most comfortable you could possibly be. Your tongue loose and your actions anything but hidden. Your care poured from you openly and only so much could be blamed on the alcohol.

“I fucking love you guys” the words fell shamelessly from you. Granted you were pretty fucked up by this point as you tried to keep up with them, but it wasn't more than you could reasonably handle without blacking out. They both turned to you, inebriated smiles sending themselves your way.

“Love you too, sweetheart” Angel returned, one of his hands patting your head, a wider smile spreading on your face as he did. You leaned against the bar, your head propped up by one of your hands as you turned to Husk. You just barely notice the way he leaned ever so slightly closer. But he says nothing and you can't help but feel like you deserve at least an acknowledgement of your words from him.

“I'd be happy to show you if you don't believe me” the words slipped and once more you didn't notice what you were saying. You do, however, catch his eyes widen, pupils dilating a bit. When he continues to say nothing you roll your eyes and pull back just slightly. You don't catch the way he almost follows you before he pulls himself back, nor the stare Angel is giving from beside you.

“One of these days I'll get you to say it back” you speak before downing yet another shot. You miss the quick glance they give to each other.

“It’s getting late. We should probably head to bed” Angel suggests as he stands.

“Really?” You whine mostly to yourself.

“You two go ahead. I have to clean up anyway” Husk gives his excuse and you groan but ultimately agree to the end of your night. You take one of Angel's hands as the both of you begin your stumble down the halls. The two of you are a giggling mess against each other, nearly falling about twenty separate times, but you do eventually make it to your room. You quickly notice that he hesitates on his goodbyes though.

“Hey uh, can we…talk?” He asks and, though you are a bit surprised it doesn't show.

“Of course!” You agree, opening your door and allowing him inside your room. You make it to your bed where you both quickly sit, unable to stand unsupported for long.

“What's up?” You ask, bleary eyes turning to him. You have to admit you're a little worried, but you hope that whatever he wants to talk about isn't too serious.

“You and Husk are gettin’ pretty close” his words don't strike you at first, so you give him a smile.

“Yeah. Same for you” you comment and watch a wave of confusion hit him.

“What?” He seems to almost not Believe the words that have left you and it takes you a moment to realize why.

“Oh come on Angel, don't tell me you haven't noticed how he looks at you! With that little smile of his- and don't you think I've missed you staring either! You two are absolutely thirsty for each other” Your voice is louder than you notice. When he quickly tries to quiet you down you fall back onto your bed with a laugh, trying to escape his hands. He continues to reach out anyway and so you pull him down with you, eventually sending the both of you into another giggle fit.

“Could say the same for you” Angel speaks through his laugh, though there is a hesitance to it. You can't hide the way the implication catches you.

“You think so?” You ask cautiously, almost worried as you turn to look at him, his body beside yours.

“Yeah…Yeah I do” he replies just as slowly, the air in the room becoming tense in the sudden silence. It was a longer silence than you would have liked, both of you turning your eyes to the ceiling in contemplation of the words you both had spoken.

After a moment Angel sits up a bit, just enough to lean his head against his hand and look down at you.

“I love him. Like a whole fuckin’ lot and…I love you too. You’re the best friend I could’a eva asked for in this shithole” he admits and you can't tear your eyes from him. He, however, can't bear to look at you.

“And I was hopin', maybe, if you'd like ta…well if you'd wanna share him with me. If he even does feel that way about us” the words leave his lips ever so carefully and you can't help the wide smile that breaks across your face, all your previous worry disappearing. You reach a gentle hand out, his eyes finally turning back to yours when it lands on his face.

“I'd love that” you let the words leave and watch as he lights up, smile soft and worry dissipating by the second. Then suddenly an idea pops into your head, a mischievous smile crawling to your lips.

“Oh no, I know that look. What are you plannin’?” He asks, amusement overtaking any attempts to look worried. You quickly sat up, pulling him along with you.

“Well Mr. Grouchy Pants likes to walk by my door whenever he needs extra cleaning rags and personally I think he should be going to bed” you explain as you stand on still shaky legs. Angel doesn't seem to catch on for a moment before suddenly realizing what you mean.

“You ain't gonna do that” Angel says oh so confidently. He must have failed to account for how much bolder you are when drunk, because you most definitely plan to. In fact you hear stumbling feet making their way right about now. So you open the door, catching the attention of a certain winged cat almost immediately.

“Still working?” you ask. He has to blink a few times to catch up with the situation and you know then that drank a bit more after you guys left.

“Yeah” he answers simply. A moment later Angel is behind you, peaking out as well. He leans two arms against you for balance and Husk gives both of you a look.

“You ain't makin’ it down the hall like that. You look like you're about ta pass out” Angel points out and Husk turns back to him, almost offended.

“I'm not that drunk, sweetheart” the nickname catches you off guard and Husk seems just as surprised at what just came out of his own mouth.

“Oh? We’re doing pet names now kitty?” you tease a little and he looks utterly floored by the nickname. It sends a grin across Angel's face.

“Yeah kitten, since when did that happen?” Angel's voice is even more teasing than yours and Husk seems completely out of his depth. Every word he tries to speak dies before it leaves his lips. Eventually, he tips his hat down and tries to leave.

“I gotta go to bed-” before he gets too far you manage to snag one of his suspender straps, gently pulling him back a bit. He follows, knowing he would probably fall if he didn't.

“You should stay with us for the night” you offer and watch as his eyes shoot wider than you've ever seen them. He goes to speak but you cut him off before he can say a word.

“Mind out of the gutter. We’re just going to sleep’” you clarify and hear Angel whine a bit. You quickly nudge him and he stops, accepting that there would be nothing else tonight. But, while Husk's face seems a little less horrified, he still hesitates.

“Please?” You ask in as sweet a tone as you can manage. You watch as he uses the last of his resolve to attempt to answer no, but when Angel leans down near you and offers the same pleading look, he simply can't.

“Fine” he mumbles out with his arms crossed. Without a word you tug him inside, the door shutting as the three of you stumble your way back. Each one of you managed to bump or knock the others at least once as you all did your best to make it into bed.

At some point you and Angel are on the bed and Husk is still hesitating to follow. He's only allowed a moment before Angel reaches out and pulls him, his body landing heavily on the two of you with the strings of curses that follow. You all struggled to find your spots, moving and squirming to get comfortable. Your blankets are tossed and tugged to cover the three of you until, finally, you all seem to all be covered. It's then that idle talk arrives, slurred attempts at conversation that distract long enough for you all to get comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise Husk ended up in the middle, the two of you shamelessly cuddling up to him on either side. He's a bit tense for a while, but when he does allow himself to calm down and relax he is a purring mess; a sound that is only intensified when you absentmindedly pet the fluff on his head. Eventually all of you become quiet, eyes heavy with a need for sleep and the most comfortable you all have ever been. It's during this, moments away from drifting off, that husk manages two words.

“Love you” he slurs out, but to who neither you are Angel are sure. So instead you take it as a sentiment meant for both of you. You lay a soft kiss against his head before snuggling closer and Angel does the same.

You could definitely get used to this.

#hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader #angel dust #husker #husker x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin hotel gender neutral reader #angel dusk & reader

335 notes · View notes

stargirl-writes · 6 months

Text

devotion

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.3k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

when you decided to sleep with anakin skywalker, you have set an arrangement to keep it purely physical. but it was getting harder to repress that you've fallen for him. and tonight, you aren't sure if you can keep seeing him in like this anymore.

tags : angst, hurt/no comfort, pining.

warnings : !mature content! (implication of sexual themes, but not discussed) and drinking. kind of a cliffhanger (i'm debating whether i should make another part still)

notes : hello lovely people, i'm currently hyperfixiating on media referring/relating love to faith and cannibalism (as smone with religious trauma haha!) so here's my tiny drabble on that, i hope ya like it 🪽

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Corruption begins at the mouth. To consume the flesh— the wanting. The thought of being ready to devote entirely. And to be devoured with the same intensity.

So when you agreed to have sex with Anakin Skywalker, you convinced yourself it was purely physical. The attraction has always been there, one of you is bound to break, and to your favor, Anakin had been the one to come to your quarters.

But it doesn't matter. Whatever you feel is overcome by your fear of intimacy. You can satiate the physical sensations without ever needing to commit.

He wanted you. And you wanted him — in the same manner. Purely physical, that was the arrangement you set.

The days are most exhausting but you can give into the relief of coming apart by Anakin's touch, and his hungry kisses, and his deep thrusts. You'd forget the stresses of the galaxies. You'd allow him to hold you, without him knowing that no one has ever stood to your soul as he does when his eyes fix on you at the edge of your climax.

And Anakin would fuck like you were the most beautiful thing he'd got his hands on. He becomes greedy, he'd become the closest thing to intimacy you can define.

It never mattered how you felt before.

He always made sure to have you feel good first, and you'd always make him crumble by your touch after.

It was a mutual exchange.

There's no need to complicate such a clear line by confusing his kisses as something romantic.

You knew he was carnivorous about love— he'd want to be teeth deep in possession. He could love you, if you let him, you could become his God.

And that terrified you more than your fear of intimacy.

You stood up from the sheets, legs still trembling.

Despite the moments earlier, you wrapped your robe around your body, feeling exposed.

You know Anakin would never stay after. It was good that he didn't. At least, then you can reestablish some space after such a binding ritual of fucking and vows that leave his lips in the heat of the moment.

You sat down by the chair away from your bed, pouring yourself a drink. It was a vice you developed during the war. One you can't entirely quit because it sends you straight to sleep.

Anakin was steadying his breath. You heard him shuffling, as if he too was trying to come down from the high.

You downed your drink and poured another. Begging for that warm buzz to come over quickly so you'd stop feeling so... excessively.

Through the mirror, you saw Anakin put back his garments— his hair stubbornly a mess.

You take your gaze away from lingering on his bare torso. Or his sharp jaw. Or his tight back.

You drank your shot once more.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Anakin says, his profile the only thing you could make out from the reflection.

Your heart aches, torn between wanting to say yes, i'll see you tomorrow, please come find me tomorrow, hold me tomorrow, and no, i can't keep doing this tomorrow, i don't want to see you tomorrow.

You cannot admit that you knew loving would destroy you. if he comes tomorrow, you fear you'd break and finally tell him. But then again, if you refuse, he'll know how you felt.

The stage is finally set; for you and Anakin to dance and circle around waiting to be consumed by one another.

Possession is cruel, it corrupts. You thought, with all the love you have— you could eat him whole.

You don't speak, Anakin steps forward, standing very close to your back.

The heat of his body emanates to your robes— casting imprints on the fibers of your soul.

You saw Anakin's gaze land on the drink you were having. He never did like how you turn to alcohol for some sort of relief.

"Did you not want me to come tomorrow?" He insists after noticing your silence.

Your lips purse, "No"

He tilts his head, lost by what you meant.

"No— no, you can, if you want to" you clarified, unsure how committed you were to your own words.

You downed the rest of your drink— feeling the familiar haze of its effect.

"Then what's bothering you?" Anakin speaks softly, you hated how much you didn't want to ruin this.

You sigh, shaking your head "Nothing"

"Nothing at all"

Anakin kneels down, wanting to see your eyes. His eyes were dark, intent, you wondered what they'd look like if he fell in love.

"Did I—" He begins, Your eyebrows furrow at the concern coating his voice.

"Did I hurt you? Did I do something?"

You pressed your palm against his cheek, forcing him to look up. "No, Anakin"

Under your touch, he looked like everything you asked for. Underneath your sinful fingers, he becomes something you could worship.

You caught yourself dreaming and withdrew your hand, taking the glass of alcohol instead.

You could feel his eyes burn at your skin watching you drink.

"I'll see you tomorrow" You dismissed, standing up, trying to establish some space, so you can stop being so encased by his warmth, or his eyes, or his hair, or his hold on you he was so blissfully unaware of.

Your head spun, you fought through the blurriness.

You found yourself at the balcony instead, a breath of fresh air would do you good.

You waited to hear your door lock— held your breath til he left.

But he stays.

"You know, you really should stop depending on alcohol" Anakin appears next to you.

You ran your finger to the rim of your drink, huffing a breathless laugh.

"It's the only thing that comforts me nowadays" You sigh, not intending the double entendre.

Besides, you doubt he'll interpret your attraction to him as anything else.

The silence hung once more. The cold of the midnight air felt crisp against your bare legs, so you hugged your robe against your skin.

"I worry about you" Anakin's voice was husky, exhausted. "We used to be able to talk about everything before"

Your heart tinges in guilt. Along the way, you somehow have pushed him farther away by denying how you felt.

"I'm sorry, I've just been trying to figure out some things"

You're doing it because of love. And for love, you disappear.

"Well, come to me. You know you can always come to me, whenever you need me." Anakin stresses.

You look up, biting your tongue. Begging to stay in one piece.

If you offer yourself— it'd be the most selfish thing you'll do.

You'll be mine. You thought as you get lost in his eyes.

Burning devotion. For all eternity.

"Anakin, we can't keep doing this anymore" You said finally, submitting to your truth.

Anakin's eyes furrow in focus. "Doing what?"

You frown, trying to explain something incommunable.

You've always felt ashamed for wanting. For taking. It wasn't a virtue, it was a disguise. Because you can't love without giving yourself entirely, bones and all. Ravenous, intense, unforgiving devotion.

Because isn't bite also a form of touch?

Finally, Anakin seems to understand the expression painted on your face. You held your breath, bracing for his reaction.

"You wanted this" He reminds. The sterness of his voice made you flinch. It felt like the cruelest rejection.

"I know"

"You said clear lines. No attachments"

"I know" You felt like you were being caught in the act of doing something forbidden.

Anakin's expression hardens, seeming to process your admission.

Your tears were threatening to fall, but you refused to let them. You didn't want him to feel sorry you felt that way. You didn't want him to know how far you've pathetically fallen for him.

He turns to his heel and your heart breaks.

The tear finally leaks your left eye, as your hand reaches out, just enough to grip on the end of his robe.

"Stay"

part ii?

243 notes · View notes

420korn · 4 months

Text

BY THE SEA

⛧ when you and dwayne leave the dreadful beauty pageant to get some fresh air some things spill out, more than intended for the day.

- no warnings!! maybe mild cursing

(dwayne x fem! reader)

as you and dwayne flop on the worn-out chairs in the random room you two stumbled in you sighed.

this whole roadtrip that dwayne basically begged you to go on was chaotic to say the least. his grandpa passed away, he found out he couldn’t fly jets, that damn horn on the car wouldn’t shut up, but you still were there for dwayne.

you really liked dwayne. it was a miracle that he actually allowed you to talk to him and become somewhat apart of his life. he didn’t let anyone do that. you had to admit you have a crush on him. but you knew he didn’t like you, most definitely not.

you snapped out of your hazy thoughts as two little girls ran across the hall. giggling in puffy skirts, tons of makeup they didn’t need, and reeking of fake spray tan mixed with strong fruity perfume.

you had already had enough of that shit after seeing a room full of girls who looked like that. as you were about to sit up and ask dwayne to leave he spoke for you

“let’s get out of here.”

“yes please. my head hurts from all the colors.”

-🦇

you two ended up on the pier, watching as the waves clashed with each other and people screaming with joy. you smiled to yourself.

you took a glance at dwayne, knowing that it was stupid because if you looked you wouldn’t be able to pry your eyes away.

you looked at his dyed jet black hair flowing in the wind, his shirt going in all different directions as he leaned up against the wood.

he finally looked up at you, feeling the pair of admiring eyes on him.

“what?” he said with a grin

“nothing.. im sorry for everything that happened today. it’s been fucking crazy.”

“it’s okay really. im sorry for making you come with me. if i knew it was gonna be this bad i wouldn’t have even thought you should’ve came.”

“no it’s okay! im happy i came. im happy i was able to comfort you..” you said taking a risk with this response.

dwayne’s face slightly heated up at this comment, even if the winds made it as cold as ever.

“i have a question though..why did you ask for me to come?”

dwayne’s face heated up even more. he thought it was obvious why he asked for you to come, why he said if you came he would go. dwayne was head over heels for you. you both had the same music taste, sense of humor, style, and he thought you were stunning. the way you tried so hard to adjust to him and his calmer life style made him even more in love.

he honestly didn’t know whether to hide his admiration by making a quick white lie..or to truly show his feelings.

dwayne stared down at the ocean with one thing on his mind ‘fuck it’.

now dwayne would never have this type of confidence, but some random talk with his uncle frank about how you only live once, and to do whatever you want and fuck the rest, got him to change his thinking

“i thought it would be obvious.” he said trying to make it subtle.

“what do you mean?” you said confused.

“i like you.”

it was silent..the wind blowing across the sea becoming louder and louder as dwayne looked and read your face.

nothing…

but then..a shy smile. he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a deep sigh.

“really?”

“yeah..i’ve liked you for a while ya know..”

you smiled even harder at him, more red and pink tints filling your cheeks. he was trying hard to not smile but couldn’t help it.

“youre so cute” you said focusing on his eyes.

he looked down, embarrassed by how hot his face was.

you slowly crept over to him, closing the distance between you two. you reached for his hand on the railing and held his pinky with your own, not wanting to move too quickly.

he picked himself up off the railing looking at you for a moment and back to the ocean

that’s when he felt a pair of lips softly kiss his cheeks, the gloss in which covered your lips definitely staining it. he looked down at you, a grin on your face.

“you ready to go inside?” you said now taking his hand in yours.

>🎱🐼📖

THATS IT!!! bro i know months ago i said i would post more, BUT I HAD NO IDEAS. this just came to mind when i was randomly watching little miss sunshine for the 20th time. plzplzplz request some stuff so i can have motivation to post and have good ideas PLEASE!!!!

thank you for reading !! 🦈💤🤍

#danonation #paul dano #dwayne hoover x reader #paul dano x reader #little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover #fem reader #emo boy #dwayne hoover x you #dwayne hoover imagine #the riddler #jets

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jhoneybees · 4 months

Text

Out of nowhere

Damn...looking fine as hell☝️

This very small drabble is written for @elvisalltheway101 I really hope you like it! It's very short and I apologise about that, my brain isn't doing what I want it to do. Your writing that you did for me is so so so lovely and made me fake sob, it's adorable! Thank you for <your> support and little comments you leave under my posts, they also make me giggle and kick my feet and same goes to everyone else!! Love ya all dollies :)

Characters: Late 60s/70s Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: Crying, crying for no reason

(I thought it would be kinda good to write something about this since I think some people just cry randomly, having the urge to yk?)

_____________________________________________

Being at home, all wrapped up in a blanket on the couch as you stare into the abyss and hearing shuffling noises from Elvis making both of you hot chocolate in the kitchen while listening to the rain trickling on the windows is so calming. It really is so calming that the urge to cry bubbles inside of you- What? You shake your head and hide your face in your hands, a pitiful sob squeezing out of your throat as tears slide down your dry cheeks. Your breathing increases and your heart thumps in your chest.

“Honey?” The faint sound of someone’s voice echoes into your mind, a voice that is oh so familiar “El-” you whine in frustration, you don’t know why you’re crying, it just bursted out of you. “Oh oh sweetie…” ceramic cups sitting on the coffee table and a hand lying on your knee that is covered by the blanket, sniffling and hiccuping as you lift your head out of your hands seeing him kneeling on the floor in front of you. Another sob escapes and your cheeks and nose grow pink “Oh- now now Satnin, what’s gotten ya so upset hm?” Elvis asks in his famous low sultry voice, his eyes filled with worry, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. All you could do was shake your head again whilst burying your face in your crossed arms. “Just felt like crying?” a quiet and sad whimper leaves your mouth and a slow silent nod follows after. “Alright then..it’s alright” the couch shifts and you feel the pressure next to you.

“C’mere…” gesturing with his arm around your shoulders, shuffling up against his side. Tear droplets falling from your face onto the back of Elvis’ hand that caresses your thigh with his thumb.

Head resting on his collarbone, your hair brushing along his jaw. Elvis pulls you in closer, kissing your temple lightly as his strong, safe arms wrap around you. His cheek resting upon your head, rocking you back and forth “Feel like taking a nap? Did ya sleep okay last night?” nodding with a small hum “Slept fine…” your voice croaky and tired from the unexpected sobs. Elvis replies “mhm… but wanna take a nap?” shaking your head again. “Ok, just want my cuddles?” His tone softens at every word, you don’t say anything and just push yourself harder against his body earning a “Aw okay..” lifting you up onto his lap with a slight groan, rubbing your back and thigh, his head tilts to watch as your eyes droop close. He snickers softly, pecking your forehead before he returns to leaning his head against yours.

“Don’t go sleeping on me yet…made ya some hot chocolate here”

#elvis fans #get yourself sorted brain please #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #elvis imagines #elvis imagine #elvis fluff #elvis fluff fanfiction #60s elvis #70s elvis #i love him

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phillippadgettwrites · 4 months

Text

The First Time, Every Time: Lazarus

Rated X / 2231 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s been glued to her couch for hours, lost in the melancholic churn of regret. She can’t help but feel partially responsible for Jack’s death, in some tangential way. Perhaps the vacancy left by her departure was too vast to be adequately filled, even three years later. Perhaps he never really got over her. Just as soon as she has the thought, she dismisses it as terribly self-important.

The phone rings, and she half expects it to be Jack on the other end of the line, admitting that it was all a prank that went way too far.

“Hey, it’s me. Just checkin’ on ya.”

Scully smiles and moves the phone to the other ear.

“I’m okay,” she says with a sigh.

There’s a stretch of silence that begins to make her nervous.

“Most people wouldn’t be okay after going through what you just did, you know. It’s okay to…not be okay,” Mulder says gently, and Scully cringes and closes her eyes.

“I know, Mulder,” she tells him with just enough insistence that he’ll drop it. “I really am fine, though.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Message received. What are you up to?”

Scully looks at the open box of photographs strewn across her coffee table and the half empty bottle of wine sitting in the middle of them.

“Not much,” she says, leaning forward to pick up a candid shot of Jack with a cigarette dangling from his smiling mouth. “Just…thinking, I guess.”

“About Jack?” It’s a rhetorical question, one she responds to with only a hum. “He seemed like a good guy,” Mulder comments, somewhat detachedly. It’s the kind of thing you say about people you didn’t know well after they die. The kind of thing that’s said more for the comfort of the living than the benefit of the dead.

“He was,” she agrees, equally detached.

They are both quiet for a beat, but it’s a comfortable silence.

“I reviewed his case notes,” Mulder says carefully, like he’s unsure whether she’ll find it intrusive. “He had some interesting insights on Dupre and Lula’s relationship.”

“Such as?” Scully asks, curious but guarded.

“He said that he envied their devotion to each other. That they lived in a world where nothing mattered but their own needs, which he found intoxicating,” Mulder recites without much affect, leaving his opinion on Jack’s musings up to her interpretation.

Scully thinks back to the desperate, lovesick way Jack carried himself through their relationship, like he could never quite get enough of her. At first it had been exciting and addictive, but soon became overwhelming and burdensome. The more she withdrew, the harder he tried to get back in her good graces, and she finally came to the conclusion that he wanted something from her that she was simply unwilling to give.

“That sounds like Jack,” she says, tossing the photograph back on top of the haphazard pile.

“I hope you don’t take offense to this, but I was surprised to learn that you’d been romantically involved with him.”

“Because he was my instructor?” she clarifies.

“Not necessarily,” he tells her, pausing to consider his words. “I guess I just…wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”

This makes Scully smile.

“Oh? What did you think my type would be?” she asks, somewhat playfully.

“I don’t know,” Mulder admits. “Somebody less…intense. Obsessive. Single minded.”

Somebody less like you, she thinks to herself.

“I’m not sure I have a type,” she says, knowing it’s a lie even as it leaves her lips. Her type is older, assertive, and unavailable. Bonus points if they make her work to earn their affection.

“Well,” Mulder says in a markedly more upbeat tone, “my type is canadian bacon and pineapple. You hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

“I could eat,” she says, and her stomach growls in agreement. “But you don’t have to drive across town, Mulder; I can feed myself,” she adds, feeling undeserving.

“I need to return a movie, so I’m going out regardless,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that he’s already up and moving around his apartment.

“I’m sure the late fees at the adult video store are steep,” she teases, and he humors her with a wry chuckle.

She tidies her apartment while she waits for him, stashing the photos of Jack and corking the rest of the wine for another night. When she hears his “shave and a haircut” knock at her door, she answers with a “two bits” rap of her knuckles before she opens it and takes a pizza box from his hands.

“I got a movie,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “I know it’s a school night, but I’m feeling reckless.”

“When are you not feeling reckless?” she says mirthfully, gathering plates and napkins.

The movie is something silly that neither of them pays much attention to. It’s clear that Mulder’s intention in coming over was to lift her spirits, and he hits it hard with little self-deprecating quips that make her feel equally entertained and sad for him. She can’t help but see the similarities between Mulder and Jack, their shared restlessness and obsessive nature. Their stalwart belief that if they could just solve this one case, the world would tip back on its axis.

At one point she turns away from the TV and catches Mulder looking at her. He does this sometimes, perhaps much more frequently than she’s privy to. He’s quite good at averting his eyes almost immediately, but she still catches the tail end of the pained, longing expression on his face, and it makes something warm blossom in her belly. She can’t help but wonder why she’s so drawn to these broken, chronically unfulfilled men. She can’t help but wonder why they are so drawn to her.

The movie ends, and he helps her collect their dirty plates and cups and move them to the kitchen sink, offering to take the pizza box to the dumpster on his way out. While prone to thoughtlessness when he’s chasing down a lead, he’s the most considerate man she’s ever known, and she wonders for the first time if he’s like this with everyone, or just with her.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says, following two paces behind him as he moves toward her front door reluctantly, shuffling from one shoeless foot to the other like he has something else to say.

“Anytime,” he tells her.

They stand there awkwardly for a beat, and an uncomfortable smile stretches across Scully’s mouth.

“What?” she asks, and Mulder laughs and looks at the floor.

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he says, running his hand across the back of his neck. “I was just going to say…I just felt like I should tell you, or that you should know…” He lifts his head and meets her eye with a level of intensity she wasn’t prepared for, and her stomach drops a little. “I was really scared when you went MIA,” he says. “Just thinking about the possibility that we wouldn’t find you alive was…” He stops and swallows, pausing before he speaks again. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he finally says.

She steps forward and opens her arms to him and he greedily accepts her embrace, scooping her up into a bear hug that nearly lifts her feet off the floor. It feels like this is what he came here for, to ease his own mind and see for himself that she continues to be alive and well. She feels the beat of his heart thrumming against her rib cage, hard and fast, and her own heart follows suit in anticipation. He holds her for much longer than is customary, and when he finally loosens his grip enough for her to pull away a little, she presses her lips to the corner of his mouth without giving it much thought. It just feels like the natural thing to do.

Mulder stiffens, but doesn’t let go of her. A bolt of shock at her own out of character behavior makes her ears ring, and for a moment she doesn’t move at all. Mulder turns his head slightly, which makes his bottom lip brush across hers, and an involuntary little whimper escapes the back of her throat.

His mouth tastes like sweet pineapple and acidic tomato sauce, and it’s so abundantly clear that he’s wanted to kiss her since long before tonight. She’s wanted to kiss him too—of course she has—but they can’t. They can’t, but they are, and she’s not sure why she’s doing this but she knows she doesn’t want to stop. His tongue is in her mouth and they’re pawing at each other like horny teenagers, and she doesn’t want to stop more than she doesn’t want to find out what will happen if they don’t stop.

“Wait,” Mulder says, grabbing her hands to stop her from unbuttoning his fly right here in her foyer. It hits her like a ton of bricks just how stupid this is. How reckless. “What are we…what does this mean?” he asks, his eyes questioning and his cock visibly hard.

Scully shakes her head softly, dazed and aroused beyond rational thinking. “I don’t know. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she says, and she means it. She knows he has nothing more to give her, and she knows that she is unwilling to sacrifice a larger slice of her life to him than she already has.

He stares at her for a beat, debating, and then his mouth is right back on hers.

When she was with Jack, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. His arms around her waist were an anchor, and his kiss stole the air from her lungs. His love was an obligation. Being with him felt like drowning, and she had to swim for the surface to save herself.

Mulder is nothing like Jack. She’s never felt as safe in anyone’s arms as she does in his, and when she kisses him her whole body lights up. He’s not asking her to love him, though she thinks she could. He’s not asking anything from her at all, and yet she desperately wants to give herself to him. Give him her mind, her dedication, her body. He treats each of these with equal reverence, and whatever the opposite of objectified is she’s feeling it now as he peels the clothes from her body and lays her down gently on top of her bed.

He crawls over her, nude and stiff to the point of leaking, and nudges her leg to the side with his knee. He watches her face while he touches her with two gentle fingers, mapping her body by feel, and his undivided attention is the most erotic thing she’s ever experienced. He makes her come embarrassingly quickly, first with his fingers and then his mouth, before she manages to get her hands on him. He tucks his face into the crook of her neck while she strokes him firmly, murmuring little words of pleasure and affirmation that make her feel like a goddess.

It’s been so long since she’s been with anyone that she doesn’t have a condom, but she trusts him enough to rely on her birth control and his promise to pull out. He pushes into her slowly, kissing her all the while, and the stretch of him makes her gasp with surprise and pleasure.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks quietly, his hips stilled.

“No,” she whimpers, wrapping one leg around his hips to pull him closer. “You’re not hurting me, Mulder.”

Somehow it feels like fucking and making love at the same time. His mouth on her neck, his hand clasped with hers, his cock buried deep inside her. Being with him feels like flying, like an endless endorphin rush. She may never be able to get enough.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he sputters.

Suddenly his slippery cock is laid out on her belly, streaks of hot white cum shooting up onto her breasts. She wraps him up in her fist, stroking him through the final few throbs until he begins to grow soft in her hand. He looks up and smiles at her, a kind of uncomfortable was that a mistake? smile, and she smiles back at him.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he says, and she averts her eyes out of habit as he makes a run for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later they are back at her front door, fully dressed. Scully picks the pizza box up off her dining room table and hands it to him sheepishly, and he drums his fingers against the thin cardboard lid as he tries to think of something to say.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she says casually, like they just ate pizza and watched a movie, nothing more.

Mulder sighs, potentially with relief, and nods.

“I’ll bring you a coffee,” he offers.

“That’d be great,” she says casually, opening her front door for him.

They wave at one another awkwardly, and she watches him walk down her hallway and out the building before she closes and locks her door.

Mulder is nothing like Jack, she’s sure of it. And she’s not going to run away this time—she’s going to see where he takes her. Where he takes them both.

She’s never felt more excited in all her life.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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piccionethepigeon · 1 year

Text

Helping hand part 2

Part 1:

Part 3

Simon Riley “Ghost” X fem! Medic! Reader

Summary: in the following days ghost is acting weird and when forced to go out for drinks with his teammates Ghost runs into you things get complicated

Warnings: I don’t know jack shiii about Cod I’m just horny for beefy masked men so he could be out of character and other things inaccurate, sexual content, injury and blood, pining, clueless reader, also probably bad writing and grammar as this is not even my first lenguage , size kink, obsessive! Ghosts, marking, belly bulge, lots of shit tbh, go away minors

You were pretty sure Ghost was avoiding you, he did buy you coffe as a thanks the next day but he almost threw it in your hands and with a quick “see ya” he was gone again, and whenever you ran into him while doing your duties around base he seemed to just…puff vaporize, he would not be in a room for more than 30 seconds with you and it was kind of upsetting.

He could not be angry about the pain you caused him while mending the gunshot, he had wounds way worse than that, ugh before that your relationship with Ghost could have been considered friendship, a thing he did not give freely, he talked to you more than most, never snapping at you and always being polite, with some jokes sometimes you could even make him snort and that was the closest he got to laughing, the only think he was quite uncomfortable with was touch, if you patted him on the arm or grazed his side with yours while passing in a corridor or something his whole posture demeanor would straighten and stiffed up and quickly put distance between you two…. But he seemed fine with occasiona pats on the back and playful hitting with Soap and Alejandro… even if with Soap it was often reciprocated with a punch, but that was more of a game between them than anything since Soap just smiled and punched him too.

Huh maybe he had trauma with women? Or just didn’t feel comfortable with you like that. Fuck maybe that was also the reason he was avoiding you, you touched him too much to medicate him and he was angry or upset, maybe he felt harassed .

Panic flooded you, did you harass the man?! You did maybe overdo it with the touching but that was the only thing that came to your mind to comfort him, and now you could have lost your friendship to him…. The thought gutted you.

After avoiding y/n for days Ghost would have been pretty content laying in bed all day sulking and jerking his cock till it bled but of course the others wanted to go out for drinks and just had to drag him with them.

Now he was in a crowded pub with a glass of bourbon in his hand with his skull balaclava on looking like a freak. But drinking bourbon with a straw was better than showing his face, lately it was harder for him to go out without his mask, in crowded areas more so, all fault of the PTSD and shit.

So there he was nursing a glass of bourbon with a straw watching Pierce and Alejandro cracking jokes and ordering drinks like they were free, Soap was flirting with a tall blonde girl. Ghost usually secretly loved the nights out with his team, they made him feel normal. But his mind was still buzzing with the images of y/n kneeling between his tights, and the shame that followed it, also the shame of avoiding you for days because he felt like a bastard for beating his cock at the thoughts of a woman doing her job, but it was not any woman...but y/n….and that somehow made it worse.

So he wasn’t really in the mood for jokes or watch Soap try to fuck some girl.

The Blonde got up and slapped the shit out of Soap for a comment on her tits, and it made Ghost chuckle, the same chuckle died in his throat when he saw someone walking to their table.

Out of all fucking people it could have been it was Y/n, in the tightest and shortest black dress he ever saw in his bloody fucking life, leaving nothing to the imagination, and she was waving cheerfully at them, fuck, he drank the last of his alcohol.

“Hi guys! Having a boys night out?” Why did y/n have to be so goddamn pretty and cheerful all the time.

Alejandro replied “yes bonita, want to join us for a drink?”

You looked unsure “uhm yeah why not, but only one tough, I’m waiting for a friend and she’s going to be here soon”

Ghost was relieved… relieved that you were dressed like a dream come true only fro a friendly outing and not a date, he was not the jealous type especially for a girl that was not his…. but the idea of you with another man made his hands itch.

But it was also not ideal that you were joining them and also that the only place in the boot with a free seat was next to him. You eyed him unsure and that made him gaze soften, he was acting like a dick avoiding you for something you didn’t do, he patted the seat next to him. “Come here”

You smiled happily at him and sat right down.

Having you around was sweet sweet torture, your scent, your soft voice laughing with everyone, your warmth that he could feel radiating from you as you brushed arms with him on accident, and if he looked down accidentally with you being shorter he could look right down your cleavage.

So he started drinking alcohol like water joining his friends hoping it would help numb and calm himself.

Of course it did not, it just made his desire harder to control.

Oh and his friends definitely knew.

Soap spoke to you “Y/n come on let’s go dance a bit, the music is fucking awesome and I’m a great dancer” but as he said that to you his eyes were on ghost the whole time, being met with a sharp gaze that screamed a warning.

You laughed and playfully smacked soap on the hand he offered you “I’ve seen girls falling for your charms but I’m not charmed so easily” Soap just laughed back and then full on smirked when Ghost extended his arm on the back of the boot caging your shoulder without touching you.

When you looked inquisitively he just shrugged, “starching” he muttered while finishing another glass, alcohol definitely made him bolder and making his restraint thinner than paper.

He knew so by watching the smirks on Pierce’s and Alejandro’s faces too. The only one clueless was y/n.

He was going mad, every time he shifted his good leg it brushed on yours making him suppress a shiver, and with all the alcohol flowing in his veins he even had trouble holding his head up. On top of that y/n phone flashed with a message: her friend was sick and could not make it, meaning he had to endure that for hours.

Ghost looked around, Soap was supposed to bring drinks but he was nowhere to be seen…fucking hell there he was: going out the door with a smile so big he looked like a child with candy…holding a dark skinned brunette by the hand. He was glad for his friend to get laid but that wanker was also his ride home, well not anymore.

“That fucking wanker” he slurred.

Pierce shot him a sympathetic look “he was your ride to the base wasn’t he? You can ask y/n to give you a ride her house is close to base”

You smiled “yeah sure it’s no problem”

Ghost was tense, but nodded, didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.

You were tense, still scared that Ghost was somehow upset with you, lost in tough you didn’t even notice the 6’2 man get on his feet, and trip over them to almost crash into you steading himself at the last second putting a hand in the table.

Alejandro laughed “Ghost you’re way drinker than I thought, I’m going to help y/n walk you to her car” it was almost amusing seeing such a powerful man usually so stealthy, quick and precise struggle to keep his balance while standing.

After saying your goodbyes to Price you were grateful for Alejandro’s help, him supporting ghosts right shoulder, you the left, since the man was probably more than double your weight so impossible to carry on your own, he seemed pretty unhappy to be escorted like that but didn’t complain if not with his eyes.

Alejandro made Ghost sit in the passenger’s seat of your car, and you fastened his seatbelt your cheeks heating at the closeness.

“We’ll drive save and tuck Ghost in hoping he doesn’t throw up in his mask, goodnight”

You replied “goodnight!” While Ghost just gave him the middle finger.

The drive to the base was silent and tense, once there you helped unfasten Ghosts seatbelt and tried to get him to get up witch was pretty challenging, thankfully once out he walked on his feet. “Uhm I’ll walk you to your room so I’m sure you don’t pass out in the corridors” he just glanced at you and nodded. “Are you able to clean and change the bandage to your wound in this state?” He sighed “no I’m not but I’ll be fine” “oh that’s bullshit I’ll help you, you risk getting an infection otherwise” you argued, Ghost just grunted not having any excuse, but he knew things were stepping into dangerous territory.

The walk to his barrack was fast and when he ulivi ed his door untori heart was pounding like crazy, an you felt silly, it was just to clean his would and make sure he was not feeling sick nothing alse.

He opened the door and let you in, his place was so much like him, few posters and personal items, tidy but not perfect, a king size bed with grey sheets and just one pillow. He sat on the bed just gazing at you with an unreadable look on his eyes.

“Uh take off your pants please, that way I can reach the wound” you wandered off in the bathroom to grab gauze and give him some privacy, even if eventually you had to see him in his underwear and that made your heart pound hard in your rib cage. You could admit to yourself you had kind of a crush on him… it was silly and you could not let it make him uncomfortable.

Eventually you had to get back and there he was sitting on the bed with his legs spread, his black boxers doing nothing to hide how uhm well endowed he was. Don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it. You walked over and got on your knees, Ghosts inhaled a sharp breath.

You felt guilty he was clearly uncomfortable, starting to clean the would you were carful to touch him only when necessary then spoke “Ghost… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I patched you up I really didn’t mean to, you just seem to be avoiding me” you looked up and his gaze was scorching and glued on you.

Ghost was still feeling bold from the alcohol and could not pretend anymore. “I was acting weird only because I could not stop imagining you on your knees for me, your pretty mouth on my cock” your face was burning “oh fuck off your drunk stop joking around” you squealed. He just cocked his head and just kept staring a you.

You finished changing the gauze and stood up abruptly just to find yourself still in between his legs and your tits almost to his face. “ Oh I- I have finished you can go to sleep now and I’ll leave you a-alone” “I’ll go to sleep only if you give me a kiss goodnight” his gaze was piercing, you wanted to so bad oh fuck but he was drunk he didn’t really want that… if it was over the mask it could not count right? Trembling you lowered your face and spliced your lips where his shoulder be under the mask they were so warm even under the fabric and the heat spread from your lips to your core.

“H-happy now?”

“That was a shit kiss, this is a real bloody kiss”

Before you could even comprehend the sentence a hand was on your eyes and a sound of fabric shifting before hot chapped lips smashed on yours, it was just a peck at fist but then his lips gently coaxed your mouth open and his tongue entered your mouth, it felt like e was devouring you the best way possible.

Fuck he was so good with his mouth that it made your head spin. Nonono this was wrong he was drunk he… felt so good fuck. A moan escaped your lips only making him kiss you with more fervor.

After a while his lips sadly left yours and you were pretty sure you were wet not only on your mouth.

He placed his mask back before removing his hand from your eyes. Then you felt Ghosts strong arms cage you while his heated eyes gazing straight into yours still. In less than a second he shifted and moved you like you weighted nothing, before realizing it you were on his bed under him, his huge body caging yours.

His hips flush to yours and you could feel it pressing on your core… it was hard and huge making you grind on him without meaning to and his hips bucked making you moan, his breath on your neck Ghost spoke “I want this, I want you so bad… so you want that?” His voice betrayed uncertainty.

You whimpered and nodded.

“I need you to say it? Please doll” he asked.

Your mouth was still full of his taste and you gulped. “ yes yes please, touch me Ghost”

He looked at you and something in his eyes snapped, he grabbed your dress and ripped it off you making you yelp.

“H-hey I liked that”

“I’ll buy you a new one” his voice was deeper than usual thick with his own arousal.

He discarded his shirt then making you stare in awe, he was so damn hot, he was muscled but beefier than models or people who trained for aesthetics but even more gorgeous, because those were muscles made for strength. Every scar he wore on his torso only bothered you because it was a visual reminder of all the pain he went thru.

Ghost was breathing hard “ you’re so fucking beautiful, fuck” his hands were all over your body caressing, squeezing, teasing, like he was trying to memorize the look and feel of your body.

Then out of nowhere he snapped your panties and bra off, one hand on your boobs groping them gently before giving attention to the nipples tweaking them gently between his fingers then with the other hand he began touching your folds smearing the slick “Fuck you’re so wet and soft, looking like a damn dream, and I bet you’ll feel like one too, can’t wait to have my col buried in you” the dirty talk made your face burn and your pussy clench “but I’ll have to prepare you well or this is going to hurt, I’m much bigger than you, and I want you only to feel good” you thoughts were barely coherent any only moans and his name could leave your lips “G-Ghost” your hips raising to get more friction on his fingers, he started to pet your clit and fuck he was also good at that making you moan shamelessly.

He then inserted one digit while touching your clit with his palm , then a second digit, then a third and the stretch was stinging but he moved his fingers gently and the palm on your clit was pleasurable. Meanwhile you palmed him though is underwear with one hand and the other on I’m his huge tattooed arm to keep yourself grounded. He moved his fingers faster and faster your cunt making squelching noises. “G-ghost gonna c-cum soon!” You slurred “not yet doll the first time you’ll come is going to be on my cock” he said in your ear and removed his fingers, the emptiness was unbearable for a few moments before he discarded his underwear letting you see him in all his glory, a deep v line ending a thick uncut cock that was now very hard and dripping.

The sight alone was overwhelming but existing, he grabbed it and started to rub it in your folds to slick it up then centered it to go in but stopped “i’m going in alright?” Is voice was hoarse.

“Yes yes please Simon”

He groaned “I love my name on your lips” then bottomed out in a single slow thrust.

It felt like too much and stung a bit but it was also so fucking good you could not stop mewling.

“Fuck that’s it you’re taking me so well, good girl”

His voice made you shiver and you looked down, he was stretching you to the limit and there was also a small bulge in your lower belly.

“Fuck Simon please move” and so he did slow at first to get you used to his size then harder and harder making you moan and sink your nails in his back, was groaning and occasionally swearing in your ear adding a lot to the pleasure together with the delicious friction of his pelvis on your clit every time he bottomed out, his top kissing your cervix.

“Simon i-I’m gonna cum gonna c-“ you moaned.

“Cum for me doll milk my cock” and so you did clenching and screaming his name.

But he kept on moving stretching your orgasm impossibly long turning it into overstimulation but even that was fucking delicious.

“Love I’m going to cum can I do it inside of you? Hell I want to so bad”

“Yes yes I’m on birth control please fill me up”

At that he lifted up his mask to kiss you passionately while he grunted and fucked his seed lmpossibly deep into you.

You were struggling to catch your breath and si did he after lifting his mask up again, but he was still hard inside of you.

“Doll are you up for another round?”

His soldier stamina would probably kill you but it would have been a glorious death.

“Yeah”

And he went again making you scream even louder.

After that you probably fell asleep because it was now morning, you were sore between your legs and a bit sticky even tough you were sure he cleaned you up with a towel before joining you in bed again.

His tattooed arm was draped over you squishing you a bit but it was comforting. It was the best night of your life but… what if he was only drunk and rejected you as soon as he woke up? That thought was crushing.

You didn’t even have time to think about that, work was in half an hour, I guess thankfully the barracks were so close to base.

With some struggling you slipped away from under a sleeping Ghost and took a shower, noticing in the mirror after that he left a huge hickey on your neck during the night. Uh that would be hard to hide.

With the dress ripped you had no choice but steal a shirt and hoodie to wear, and thankfully emergency leggings into your bag. The problem was the hoodie was clearly too big on you, meaning all base would know you hooked up, making all day a walk of shame, and his scent o the clothes would remind you all day of the previous night.

Slipping out the door you glanced at a Ghost once last time, what a dork he even slept with that mask, the feeling in your chest was more than a crush and you knew it.

Author note: I just wanted to to thank you all for liking the first part of the fic I never expected that many likes 💗 I never expected so many likes, that means y’all are probably mentally ill like me and spend your free time reading or writing about masked men’s dicks and I respect that, let me know if y’all wanna be tagged in part 3

(Also I know hitting the Cervix isn’t that fuck irl but it sound hot so let me be delusional)

Tags: @atlantic-sugar

#mutual pining #angst #simon riley x f!reader #call of duty ghosts #call of duty #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod imagine #cod simon riley #mw2 #fluff #mw2 imagine #Simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley #smut #ghost mw2

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melusinealarice · 10 months

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in that case… could i request a member of his team reader and house fanfic abt house realising his attraction towards reader isn’t actually just sexual (they’ve been sleeping together for some time) but he’s actually in love with them. so he asks reader on a date, but they think he’s just joking and being an ass. so house has to go on a full on rant about how he developed feelings for reader and they just stand there in shock completely flustered (pls make reader say yes at the end tho 🙏💞) either gn!reader or fem!reader

this is totally ooc for him but whateva im a little delusional 🥰 in my head he’s my silly husband

Def delulu, but arent we all, anyways here ya go

Warnings: cursing, sexual themes,

Fem reader x dr house

You had been sleeping with dr. House for a few months now. It all started when you joined his team, while his rude comments usually repelled people, they attracted you. You found him hilarious as-well as insanely hot. Him being smart was a bonus as-well. He always made sexual comments towards you wich left you flustered more than anything. It all started one night when he was staying late and you came in to find him in a bottle of whiskey. It ended with you leaving his house before he could wake up. After that you both just would have casual sex, thats all it was. You never asked for anything more, even though you desperately wanted it, because you knew him, and he would surely mock you for it.

House’s POV:

I walk out of the on-call room, not even saying anything to y/n, this has just been our routine, she figured words would just make things complicated. I went straight to Wilson. “Wilson.” I said walking in, not bothering to knock. “What is it House?” He said looking up, “i think, I think Im attracted to y/n in more than just a sexual way.” i said, sitting on his couch, “what?” He asked stoping what he was doing. “I think, Im falling in love with her.”

Your POV:

Back to work, you just finished hooking up with House and now you had to go along your day, pretending you aren’t in live with him. No problem.

After the case you all were working on was solved you stayed back in the office while everyone else left. House was there, “so how about I buy you a drink, like a date?” He said, leaning against the door, pinning you to the wall. Shit, he knows, he knows you like him and he is making fun of you for it, who told him?? You scoffed trying to play it off, “ya know just because I like you being an ass doesn’t mean you have to make fun of me.” She said, trying to find away out of the situation. “Me? An ass? Never.” He taunted, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help how much harder you were breathing, “whatever,” you said, wiggling out of the position you were in. “Im serious.” He said, staring at you, “I thought it was just sexual, i did, and ive tried to pretend it was, but god, you are so much more than that. Ive been falling deeper in love with you every damn second, and I want you, all of you. You are so beautiful and smart, and funny. And I want commitment and I want to take you on a date.” He said, his face was straight, he wasn’t joking. You stood there flustered, “really?” You said still in shock, he walked up to you and took your hands in his, “really.” He said. “Okay, lets go get a drink.” You said smiling up at him.

The end

Ok its kinda short, but im not the best at writing fluff, and it was super hard to do it with House without totally betraying his character.

#greg house x reader #dr greg house #gregory house x reader #greg house #house md

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

music notes of the heart

Genre/Tropes: Study dates but its unestablished relationship? Floyd is flirting with you LMAO + Slow Dancing!!

Summary: Your tutor for musicology may not be other people's first choice, but he's yours.

Author's Comments: inspired by this tumblr post!! we truly do need more intelligent floyd content and i've already written for jade's dorky goofy silly side so many times sigh. also seriously, do not ask about the slow dancing merpeople rituals. you can infer. LMAO (@tinyletterz i hope you dont mind me tagging you but i was thinking of you when i wrote this bc yk. Floyd Leech. C:)

~~~~~

You set your books down on the table tucked in the corner of the library and sit down, shifting anxiously as you await your tutor. The smell of old papers and the sound of scratching pens from a few bookshelves away does nothing to dispel your nerves. If Ace and Deuce could see just who you’d asked for help, they surely would have yelled at you for hours and wrung out your neck in frustration.

It’s not like anyone else held the same passion for musicology, though. Besides, Floyd Leech wasn’t that bad once you got to know him.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you think as he waltzes into the library, a lazy smirk on his face and his hands shoved into his pockets. His back is hunched slightly as he looks around the library, eyes scanning over each face with an almost predatory grin. You raise your arms and wave him over, trying not to make much noise to avoid being yelled at by the crabby librarian.

Floyd does not share that sentiment.

“Shrimpy!” he yells (honestly you don’t think he’s capable of yelling any louder) and bounces over to you.

He sweeps you into his arms in the blink of an eye, cackling madly as he nuzzles you. The librarian shoots the two of you a glare, and you shrink into his chest with shame. You’ll have to apologize to him later.

“Were ya trying to hide from me?” he breathes, sharp teeth on display as he grins down at your bundled-up form, “You know I’d sniff you out, right?”

“I wasn’t.” you protest, but it falls on deaf ears and Floyd squeezes you closer. His nose brushes against your cheek and he borderline snuggles you and you’re glad you’ve picked a table in the corner because if you were any closer to the center everyone would be staring.

“Alright Shrimpy,” he murmurs, setting you down in your chair with two quick taps on your head, “Ya said you needed my help with musicology?”

“I didn’t know who else to ask.” you say, sliding your textbook over to him with a furrowed brow, “You’re the best in that class and I can’t seem to grasp any of it.”

Floyd sits down next to you and leans in close, so close that you can smell the cologne on his clothing. You let him read through the notes you made on the sheet of lined paper you used to mark your page, gnawing at your lower lip self-consciously. You know you aren’t the best at this subject but it’s Floyd’s best, and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid.

He seems to be able to read minds because Floyd looks over at you with a pout.

“Shrimpy, I’d tell ya if you were stupid. So quit worrying.” Floyd scolds, snatching your hand up and squeezing it as he intertwines your fingers, “The fun thing about musicology is that you can analyze and learn from any angle ya want!”

“Freer subjects are harder to work with, though.” you confess, “I’m not sure how to go about...figuring something out when it doesn’t have structure.”

Floyd sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry as if to say “Boo, Shrimpy. Now you do sound stupid.” You can almost hear his voice.

“Just pick something and we can start from there. What kind of music do ya like?” he bumps you with his shoulder, a huge grin on his face, “Ya gotta have something.”

You answer him, and he makes an “ah-ha!” noise. He mumbles a page number and flicks through the textbook before coming to a stop at a chapter that goes into that exact type of music. There are music scores printed on the right page and some kind of tree diagram on the left one. You stare at the words incredulously, already lost.

“Come on now, Shrimpy. Work that tiny little brain of yours.” Floyd teases, jabbing your temple with a giggle, “I know you can do it.”

You swat his hand away and wiggle your hand out of his hold, feeling a foreign heat creep up on your cheeks. Floyd giggles again as if he knows, and leans in even closer to you.

“Hey Shrimpy.” he whispers, eyes gleaming in the corner of your vision, “I changed my mind, let’s ditch the reading. I’m getting bored. What are ya gonna do about that, huh?”

You’re not sure you can do anything honestly, but you expected him to leave pretty early on in your study session anyway. It’s a miracle you got him to agree in the first place.

“Oh, you can leave.” you offer him a quick smile and turn back to your textbook, pouring over the words, “I didn’t expect you to stay the whole time- Woah!”

You’re swept out of your chair but the second time that day, and your body thumps against Floyd’s. He stares at you with a cheerful grin as he takes your hands and places them on his arms. You jump a bit when his lanky arms wrap around your waist, but when he starts swaying slowly you get the idea.

“Let’s try something else, yeah?” he snickers, “Can you tell me why people slow dance?”

“Um...to feel emotional closeness?” you say, eyes glued to his rumpled purple shirt so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“Bingo.” he chuckles, “Merpeople also have dances like this.”

You’re tempted to ask what those dances are for, but you don’t. Floyd sweeps you around and your feet lift off the floor for a second, but you don’t feel like you’re going to fall. Floyd squeezes you a bit tighter as he guides you, somehow avoiding any tables and chairs and bookcases with master precision.

“I didn’t know you could slow dance.” you whisper, “I thought you were more of a fast paced dancer.”

“Meh. Normally.” he shrugs, “But I like dancing like this with ya. It’s fun.”

Your heart flutters.

“Can ya tell me anything else about it?” he hums, lifting his arm and spinning you around. Your breath catches in your throat as he dips you, the arm carefully holding up your waist your only support.

“Um...” you stumble over your words, grasping for any thoughts as you stare into his eyes, “Uh, it’s- um, slow dancing brings people physically closer too? Because you can feel their movement and everything-”

“Good little Shrimpy.” he giggles, hoisting you back up and resuming his more soothing swaying, “See? You’re doing good. I told ya you’d figure it out.”

Did he? You don’t even remember.

“I think I need more instruction.” you mumble, eyes darting away once again.

Floyd laughs loudly at that, but this time you don’t care when the librarian shushes you.

#auburn's fics <3 #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd fluff #floyd leech is a silly guy #floyd x reader #floyd leech fluff #uhhh i dont rlly know if this counts as intelligent floyd?#I HOPE IT DOES.....#I GOT SIDETRACKED #uhhhh its fluffy and thats what matters #BYE NOW LMAO

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thevestigeofvanillaan · 5 months

Text

Bullworth Academy.

south park - bully scholarship edition (2006) au.

part one.

sorry this is SO delayed.. ive been so busy and my phone broke but hopefully this is good enough for now, the juicy stuff is coming soon guys😭👍.

content: swearing, stereotypes, hateful/discriminatory comments, groping of a minor, "y/n", smoking, >18 characters, alternate universe (characters aren't canon), alcohol, lot of dialog, talking through facial expressions (partial)

summary: at bullworth academy, you'll never get your way. beyond the cliques of jocks, nerds, greasers, preppies, bullies, and even non-clique students; are a bunch of assholes who attempt to make anyone's life harder with the snap of their finger. and when you met the people in the cliques, you realize how real it all was.

tags: @h-harleybaby @p1-f1 @hannah-h-pleb @milkyhere @cristuit @z-zephyrr @bro-flov-ski @59candelas

"Don't forget your suit case in the trunk!" Your mom said as she pulled in front of the large black gate.

"Not gonna." You reply, scoffing at her giggly tone. She's gonna run off and have a blast without having to take care of her teenage daughter, isn't she?

She pouts, "You know this is for the best, darling. I mean, you have been acting like a fool at your normal high schools; so maybe a change of scenery will do it for ya."

You sarcasticly smile and slam the door, walking to the trunk to grab your bag.

Grunting, as it's heavy with your needs for however long you'll be sleeping in those damn girls dorms.

"Need help with that?" An older woman asks, walking up.

You finally get it out, close the trunk and tap on the car hard so your mom gets the message to leave. "Uh, nah, I've got it."

"You've been expected, you're a week late Miss L/N." She says.

"Yeah, who are you?" You ask trying not to sound too disrespectful as she leads you through the gate and towards the main school building.

She cacks like a dog before whispering, "The one who's fucking the principal, little brat. Get inside." Practically shoving you into the building.

It was horrendously spirited on the second week of school. Football season was pretty huge for Bullworth. They went all out.

Getting acquainted to all this was weird to say the least. You'd gotten a tour of the school and the dorms by the same woman who never actually introduced herself.

"So, 'one who's fucking the principal'.." You start. "Thanks for the tour, but I need to get settled on my own now."

With a coy smile, she says "Farewell then. Bullworth will treat one like you good." She then winks and walks away.

Couldn't tell whether that was meant in a sweet way or not. You enter the dorms and attempt to walk to your room with the background full of moaning and coughing likely from smoking. You find your way to the noise of the coughing which sounds like it's in the direction of your room anyways.

How lucky, it was in your room. Two girls, one blonde, one with black hair, both smoking a joint.

You walk in awkwardly and set your suitcase somewhere, putting ur backpack on the floor as they watch your every move.

The blonde stands up. "Hi! You're the new girl.. you're Y/N, right?" She offers the blunt to which you take a hit as you nod.

"Sure." You cough and blow out some smoke.

"I'm Bebe, and this is Wendy." She points at the black haired girl. "This is Wendy's and your room, and I'm sure you'll get along. She can be shy sometimes, but once she's used to you and smoked up, you'll love her." She introduced.

Handing the blunt back and nodding at Wendy, you make your way to sit on the empty bed.

"You been helped around by Ms. Fuckface?" Bebe asks.

"I'm assuming so." You shrug and Wendy hands you the blunt.

Bebe giggles, "Let us introduce you to Bullworth."

The duo walks you around the premises.

"You kissed my Eric?!" A tall brunette cheerleader screams.

"He's not yours, bitch!" A similarly brunette girl screams back before plunging forward and grabbing the others' hair.

"Melody Adams, and Delilah.. nobody knows her last name." Bebe says as we walk past the cat fight.

Curiously asking, "Who's Eric?.. The.. guy they were yelling about.?" You ponder around.

Bebe hums. "He's actually new too. Wrestler, fucks around, but does good deeds to keep out of shit between the cliques."

"Dreamy." Wendy adds quietly and Bebe scoffs.

She points, "There he is! Eric!"

He walks over in all his pride. "Well hello there, who's this sweet piece of pie?"

"Quit it, Cartman. This is Y/N L/N. She just started today, we're getting her to know the place better." You wave as Bebe introduces you.

You notice that Wendy squeezes a finger of yours, and has a devious look on her face when you look at her. All you do is smile back

Eric chuckles. "Alls I know is don't get into shit with any of the cliques, keep your reputation good throughout all them and you'll be fine." He winks and walks off."

"Dreamy." Wendy repeats.

You giggle, "As if. Seems kinda extra.. and—"

"Horny, right?" Bebe interrupts.

"I guess." You shrug and watch him skate until you can't see him anymore.

The bell rings indicating its lunch time. You had both classes in the afternoon so you didn't have to worry until later.

"Let's go to lunch! Show you all the cliques." Bebe winks and grabs your hand, dragging you inside the school and to the cafeteria.

Once you're there, you see the groups of people wearing different uniforms. "Over there are the non-cliques, they for the most part leave people alone and are.. lone wolves. There's not that many so you'll see Eric, Kyle, Butters, and then a bunch of other unimportant people. But they're like, the trio of the non-cliques.. that can be us just.. guy version!"

Bebe went on a mission to deeply explain who everyone was before taking you to the non-clique table. "Hey guys!"

"Shut up, Bebe." That red head she called Kyle spoke with a mouth full of food.

Butters, the blonde wearing a pink shirt reaches out a hand, "Butters, it's uh, nice to meet you." He nervously smiles as you shake his hand.

"Y/N."

"Aren't you just adorable, 'Y/N'.." Kyle mocks before laughing.

Eric scoffs, "Leave her alone, man."

He only laughs harder before standing up, "Come on, Cartman. Let's go egg some prep scum houses."

Butters hastily follows but not before he gives an awkward wave goodbye as to say "nice meeting you".

You wave back and once they're far enough to where they can't hear, you ask "Why do you all call him Cartman?"

"It's not rare for Bullworth students to be known as their last names.. don't be surprised if you're called L/N a couple times or more." Bebe responds, drinking from a water bottle in-between sentences. "Vodka." She shrugs with a smirk. "Want some?"

Contemplating before taking a large sip, you stand up. "I'm gonna go for a walk, see you soon?"

"Later, L/N." Bebe winks and you wave to Wendy who returns it.

You walk around campus on your own, earbuds plugged in and music playing.

Eventually when you're done walking, the bell rings alarming to go to class, in which you make your way to.

Scoffing to see Kyle in the same Chemistry class as you. But at least you knew someone there.

Walking up to the teacher, saying "Hi, I'm Y/n. Where do I sit?"

"Ah," He smirks. "You're the new girl."

You nod and awkwardly smile at his weird facial expression.

He wraps an arm around your waist, which was odd but you were too stunned or scared.. or.. something to even move away. His hand moved up and down the side of your waist as he introduced you to the class.

"You can sit next to Stan, sweetheart. Stan, raise your hand so the pretty girl can see who you are." The teacher says and your face scrunches up.

You see a boy raise his hand, closer to the back of the classroom. You finally leave your teachers hold and walk over to Stan.

Stan only looks at you when you sit down. And once the teacher begins teaching, Stan whispers, "He's a weirdo.. seriously. The groping? Was that really at all necessary?"

Giggling slightly, you respond, "It was uncomfortable."

"Understably. Dude's got at least 15 years on you." He laughs quietly.

There's silence until he speaks again a few minutes later. "Do you got a pencil? Don't got one ever and I think there's gonna be a pop quiz today."

"Yeah, mom made sure to give me extras because 'you need to take notes'.." You scoff and reach for your bag to grab a pencil.

When you look up, you see a familiar pair of eyes staring into yours.

Kyle.

He looked fierce. And it was then when you got a good look at him. Scar on his left eye brow. Freckles among his face. And small yet noticable beauty mark below his right eye.

As you look down for just a moment you see how his arms are crossed. The rest of his body is facing diagonally, but his eyes are on you. His posture was laid back, and his legs were manspread.

At that, you make a dirty face as to say, "What are you looking at?". His face responds with his eyebrows raising, like he was cockily saying "You.", before he smirked.

His eyes fall down to your chest and his smirk only grows. Your curiosity leads you looking down, to see cleavage hanging out of the too tight uniform.

Mentally scoffing, you look up and quirk an eyebrow, to say "Like what you see?".

He nods slowly, and only one time with a grin.

You covered your cleavage with your hand, almost like saying "Too bad.".

Sitting up and handing Stan the pencil, saying, "Keep it."

He looked at it, then at you with a crooked smile. "Thanks."

Class ended after a ridiculously long wait. There was a pop quiz, which he didn't make you take since it was your first day.

As you leave the classroom, a familiar red head catches up to you, walking beside you. "What?" You ask.

"Can't walk with the new girl? Jeez." He scoffs sarcastically.

Giggling at first. "No, you can't walk with the new girl." You respond and breifly look at him. He raises both arms as to retreat, though he keeps walking. "What do you want?"

"Wanna walk you to your room. Is that a problem?"

"Sure is. You know if you get caught by any prefects you'll be in big trouble, right? Even I know that and I just got here."

He chuckles as you both exit the school building, making your way to the girls dorms. "I'm the star student of this school. I wouldn't get in trouble."

"Okay, 'star student', what's it mean when a girl says 'go away'?" You ask, not expecting an answer.

And he didn't give one. Just kept walking by your side until you reached the building. You watched as he looked around before walking in with a smirk.

To that, you were appalled. And now you're the one making sure nobody sees him in there.

Checking around to make sure no girls are walking around you quickly guide him to your room before shutting the door.

"Okay, why are you even here?" You ask genuinely.

He chuckles. "Hang out, get to know what the new girls motives are."

"Motives?" To that, you laugh. "I have no motivation or clear purpose of being here other than the fact that my mom hates me and wants me to stop getting kicked out of regular school systems. There's nothing different or 'new' about me. I don't even want to be here so would you just—"

He cuts you off by aggressively kissing you. "God, I thought you were quiet but you're just talk, talk, talk, aren't you?"

You couldn't seem to form a sentence that would even fit this scenario anymore. Only sitting down on your bed and staring at your shoes.

Not long later is when Kyle sits beside you, you could sense he was looking at you but you didn't want to look at his face. "Wanna know my motive?" He asks.

There's silence. "Do you?" He asks once more.

To which you respond, "I'm waiting."

"To kinda make like uh, a statement. A lifestyle. To change the Bullworth way to be.. Kyle's way. You know?"

"You're not always gonna get your way." You look at him. "Nobody does."

"Well what do you think im trying to do? I'm trying to make it so it can always go my way!"

You laugh. "You're an asshole. Is this supposed to make me like you? Because it's not working."

"No." Silence appears for longer. Nobody spoke for what felt like several minutes. But you noticed how when he was thinking his leg bounced rapidly up and down.

He finally stood up. "You wanna go somewhere?"

to be continued..

#vanillaan #south park #kyle south park #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #bully scholarship edition #eric cartman x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #eric cartman #alternate universe #adult animation

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