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daisynik7 · 4 months

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Pairing: Ino Takuma x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - minors do not interact!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: next-door neighbor Ino, friends-to-lovers trope, explicit language, smut - cunnilingus

Summary: Ino is the cute guy next door that you’ve befriended ever since you moved in. He’s been nothing but kind to you, and sure, there’s attraction there, but you’ve never acted on it considering you’re already taken. When you find out your long-distance boyfriend is a good-for-nothing cheater, you turn to your friend for comfort, and maybe something more.

Author's Note: My adoration for this man grows everyday! This one is kind of a tease, but I hope you still enjoy it! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune! Taglist: @slvt-for-smut @man-knees @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 5 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It's a cold Friday night in the middle of winter when you find out your boyfriend of two years is cheating on you.

Kenzo is studying for his master’s degree overseas while you remain in your hometown, patiently waiting for his return. You’ve been long distance for almost a year now and while it’s difficult being apart, it’s mostly been manageable. Or so you thought.

You’re eating dinner with your next-door neighbor, Ino, when Kenzo finally texts you back. He’s been busy studying in the library for his upcoming exams and you haven’t heard much from him all day. When you see his name in your notifications, you can’t help but get excited, dropping your chopsticks to reply to him.

Kenzo: I’m finally home

You: Yay! Let’s talk soon

Ino prepared hot pot this evening, offering to treat you for the dinner you cooked the other night. The two of you have grown close over these past several months, enough to call each other friends. You’ve never hidden your friendship from Kenzo, who isn’t typically the jealous type. So when you tell him that you’re finishing up with your meal with Ino, you’re surprised when he sends you a rather blunt reply.

Kenzo: Can you hurry up? I have somewhere to be and can’t talk long

Your heart sinks. He never mentioned having any plans later, so you have no idea where he’s going. Ino continues to slurp on his soup innocently across from you.

You swallow hard, this sense of dread building in your stomach, making you lose your appetite. “Sorry, Ino. I have to go.”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, looking at you, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, avoiding his gaze. “I just have to talk to Kenzo right now before he leaves. I guess he’s going out tonight.” You stand up, guilty about your boyfriend and about abandoning your friend. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll be back later to help you clean up.”

He waves it off, giving you a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry about it. Go do your thing with Kenzo. I’ve got all this taken care of.”

You smile back at him, thankful to have a neighbor so understanding and so sweet.

Back in your apartment, you rush into your bedroom, inspecting the mirror quickly to check your appearance before turning on your laptop for the video call. It takes him three rings to pick up. When he does, he greets you with a surly expression. “Hey.”

You smile hesitantly, nervous that he’s upset at you for whatever reason. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair. In the two years you’ve been dating him, you recognize this habit of his when he’s bothered by something. “Long day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He contemplates, then shakes his head, deciding to change the subject all together. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

It’s doesn’t seem like a genuine ask. Still, you relax a bit, hoping his bad attitude is from exhaustion and nothing to do with you. “Yeah. Ino made hot pot tonight. I wasn’t able to finish it, but everything I ate so far was really good.”

This seems to strike a nerve in him. There’s that distinguishable twitch in his right eye, another indicator that he’s irritated. “Well, I’m sorry for taking you away from him,” he sneers. “Maybe you should go back to your other boyfriend now to finish your fucking dinner.”

In the one year you’ve been long distance, he’s never snapped at you like this, so you’re startled by his current demeanor. “What?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s obvious you want to fuck him.”

Flabbergasted by this accusation, you repeat, “What?! Kenzo!”

“Why do you spend so much time with him, huh? You really expect me to believe you’re just friends?” His tone is so condescending, your skin prickles, grossed out by his behavior

“Where is this coming from? You never had a problem with Ino before.” You’re completely baffled. Never has he mentioned that he’s suspicious of your neighbor. He’s never had a reason to be. Why now?

He continues to huff into the mic, clearly frazzled by the entire situation. “I think this whole thing is just fucked up. So fucked up.” There’s the sound of vibrating on his desk, most likely his phone. You can see his eyes glancing to the side, reading whatever notification he received.

Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, you calmly explain, “Kenzo. I promise you, there is nothinggoing on between me and Ino. He’s just a friend. Please believe me.”

Still distracted, he mutters, “I have to go.”

You’re getting desperate now. “Kenzo, wait. We should talk about this – ”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?” he snaps, glaring at you. “I’ve had a rough day and I need to relax.”

“Kenzo, please,” you beg him.

He considers it for a moment. Then, in the background, you can hear knocking, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I have to go.”

Defeated, you nod, not pushing it any further. Without a proper goodbye, he clicks on his keyboard and rushes off to answer whoever’s at his front door, thinking he properly left the call. However, he’s still logged on, and you can see everything. And soon, you’ll hear everything.

You don’t get the chance to end the call yourself. It all happens so quickly. The thud of the door closing, the unfamiliar voice of a woman, their footsteps and conversation growing louder as they enter the bedroom. You’re tuned in on the laptop, watching them with wide eyes, frozen. Like watching a trainwreck happening in front of you. Actually, it’s more like you’re the one getting trampled.

His back faces the camera, arms wrapped around another girl, his lips smacking noisily from their careless kisses. You sit there, mouth agape at what you’re currently witnessing, holding your breath.

“I can’t wait to fuck this pussy,” he groans, unbuckling his pants. You resist the urge to dry heave at how disgusting he sounds.

“Yeah?” she giggles. “It’s only been two days and you miss it already?”

“Fuck yeah,” he responds, sucking on her neck, groping her chest.

Before they can strip any more of their clothes off, you yell out his name, startling the both of them. “Kenzo! What the fuck?!” You don’t realize until now that tears are streaming down your cheeks, your throat dry and tight, struggling to get the words out.

He whips around towards the laptop, horror surrounding his face as he realizes, gawking at you through the screen, stammering his words. “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doing, asshole?!”

“Ken, who is that?” she asks, genuinely confused, stepping closer to you to get a better look.

“I’m his girlfriend,” you answer, trembling with anger. “Actually, I am now his ex-girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?!” she shrieks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Had a girlfriend,” you correct her. “He’s all yours if you want him.”

He puts his face right up to the screen, his appearance making your skin crawl. “This is a big misunderstanding.”

“I heard what you said. I fucking saw what you did! How long?”

“This is the first time – ”

“A month,” the other woman answers, staring down at the floor, guilty. “We’ve been hooking up for a month. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Kenzo turns to her, then back to you, sputtering nonsense. Apologies, excuses, just complete and utter bullshit. His bizarre behavior from earlier starts to make sense now. He was projecting whatever guilt he was suffering onto you. But while your conscience remains clean, his is sullied. Defiled, dirty, and ruined by his own volitions.

Having heard and seen enough, you hang up, slamming your laptop shut, sobbing into the palms of your hands.

~~~

Half an hour later, you leave your apartment, dragging your feet towards next door. Your eyes are puffy, cheeks sticky from unwiped tears, overwhelmed with emotion. Anger, heartbreak, and betrayal all at once. Kenzo’s been trying to reach you since you hung up on him, but you’ve ignored him each time, tempted to block him and be done with it once and for all However, you can’t bring yourself to do it yet. Maybe there’s just a small part of you that wants to spite him; you just don’t know how.

When Ino answers, you immediately launch into him, burying your face in his shoulder, crying. It can’t be helped. You need a friend. He doesn’t need to process it; being sweet is second-nature to him. He wraps his arms around you, massaging your back gently, squeezing you snug in his embrace. “What happened?”

Between sobs, you manage to reply, “Kenzo cheated on me.”

He tenses up, outraged. “What?”

You nod, wiping your face on the cotton of his sweatshirt, making a note in your mind to apologize for this later.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hands still gentle along your spine. His touch is comforting, exactly what you need to dull the pain. He lets you indulge in his warmth for a moment, not speaking, listening to your ragged breathing steady.

Once the tears stop and you’re composed enough, you remove yourself from him, wiping your wet cheeks with your sleeve. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

He laughs softly. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I feel bad for bothering you.”

“You’re not.” He holds his hand out. “Do you want to talk about it inside?”

You nod, taking his hand, following him into his apartment, where he leads you to the couch. He passes you a tissue box, though you’re sure you’ve run out of tears by now. You’re alone sulking for a few minutes while he brews you a hot mug of tea, setting it on the coffee table when he returns. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at him. His presence alone has been comforting enough, but you hold the porcelain cup in your hands, basking in its soothing heat.

“Of course,” he grins, sitting next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re a great friend, Ino.”

He slides his fingers between yours, lacing them together. “You are too.”

This kind of intimacy feels natural with him, which is what surprises you. His hand fits so easily with yours, you begin to wonder why you haven’t held it before, why you haven’t been doing this from the start. Ino’s always treated you kindly, more than a neighbor should, better than your good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend ever did, and without asking for anything in return except your company.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, you’re sure that even he can hear it. You turn your head to look at him, so close that your noses are nearly touching. Swallowing thickly, you try to say something, anything, but you can’t, unable to articulate what you’re feeling in this moment.

He shrugs his beanie off, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Since we’re friends, let me take care of you. I’ll make you feel good. Make you forget about that asshole.”

It takes you a while to reply to him, but you do. “Okay, Ino,” you whisper, closing the small distance between you, staring at his mouth. “I trust you.”

He kisses you, gentle and almost too sweet, you want to savor it. When his tongue grazes your lip, you moan into his mouth, letting your inhibitions loose. You’re no longer thinking about the events from earlier this night. Instead, all you focus on is Ino and how good he feels against you. He increases the pace, kisses growing sloppier, your hands running through his hair while his roam your back. He trails along your neck, then down to your stomach, lower and lower until his hands are on your knees, gradually spreading your legs apart. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to spell it out. You know exactly what he’s offering. And who are you to deny his generosity? After all, what are friends for?

“Please,” you beg him, brushing the hair away from his forehead, making sure he gets a good look at your pleading eyes. You need him to make you forget about everything.

He makes quick work of your clothes, stripping your bottoms and underwear off in one fell swoop, positioning himself between your thighs. “Call me Takuma,” he tells you, smooching your plush skin.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he flattens his tongue on your clit, stroking it slowly. He goes faster and messier the more his name pours out of your mouth in pleasured moans. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your first climax, grip tight in his hair, knees trembling from the stimulation. He doesn’t let up, though. Ino continues to eat you out until you’re pliant on the couch, yielding to every lick, suck, and stroke he delivers you. Your pussy throbs for him, wet and slick from your orgasms, ready to be filled with his cock.

Suddenly, your phone rings and you’re brought back to a grim reality, one where Kenzo still exists. His name flashes on the screen, requesting to video chat you for the umpteenth time tonight, trying to apologize for a sin that can’t be forgiven. You reach for the coffee table to silence your phone, wanting to ignore him. “Fuck, he’s calling me again. Sorry.”

“Answer it,” Ino says, still lapping at your puffy clit.

You laugh, looking down at him, certain that you heard him wrong. “What?”

He gazes up at you, lips all wet and swollen from devouring you. Drool leaks from the sides of his mouth, his chin shiny with spit and slick. His cheeks are rosy, eyes laden with lust. He smiles at you, endearing and sweet, with just the hint of wicked intent behind it. “Show him how good I treat you.”

Something stirs inside you. This is an opportunity to get your revenge. And sure, it’s petty and vindictive, but you’re a woman scorned by the man you loved, the man you thought loved you. Why shouldn’t you be?

Before you can chicken out, you point the camera towards Ino, who smirks, diving right back into your cunt, being extra loud this time. You answer the phone, Kenzo’s face maximizing on the screen, calling out your name, relieved you picked up. When he realizes what he’s watching, hearing you moan Ino’s name like you used to moan his, Kenzo’s expression contorts into one of rage, disgust. He starts cursing like a madman, shouting at Ino, at you. You drown it out with your own profanities. “Fuck, Takuma, right there! Right there! Oh fuck!”

Kenzo hangs up the call after he gets one more cruel remark in, but you don’t care. You’ve gotten your payback. Maybe it’s not enough, maybe it is. For now, all you want is to be with Ino, no more distractions. “Fuck me,” you whine, tugging on his brunette strands.

He crawls over you, kissing you passionately with wet lips. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

It’s safe to say that you and Ino become much better friends after tonight.

#ino takuma #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x you #ino takuma fluff #ino x reader #ino jjk #ino x you #ino smut #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #takuma ino x you #takuma ino fluff

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stevie-petey · 4 months

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episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. ��Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chest and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve’s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem, your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

⌑ series masterlist

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⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dart just wanted a quick snack guys #also dustin n bug are so so so sibling rn #i love em

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naeverse · 6 months

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The Black Rose

🖤 staring: Tattoo Artist Miguel O’Hara x female reader

◽preview:

“Let me taste what this pussy of yours is like and then I'll tattoo that rose on your gorgeous ass.”

🖤 summary:

At The Bloody Inks, the renowned Nueva York tattoo parlor, you meet the skilled, stone-cold and attractive tattoo artist, Miguel O’Hara. Seeking a tantalizing tattoo for your rear end, Miguel isn’t hesitant to get what he wants, especially if it’s a doll like you.

◽tw/cw: Butt Tattoo, Cunninglingus, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Lip piercings Miguel, Needles mentioned, Oral sex, Semi-public, Tattooed Miguel, etc…

🖤 Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Muñeca (Doll), Bebé (Baby)

◽Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🖤 Word Count: Around 9.6K

(I do not own any of the fanart or photos used! All credit goes to the original artist!)

You were used to getting tattoos, so what made this time any different?

You found yourself pondering that very question repeatedly, as you approached the renowned Nueva York tattoo parlor, 'Bloody Inks.'

Since the age of 18, you've adorned your body with small pieces of inked art, from your ankles to your shoulders. Despite your familiarity with tattoos, today marked a departure from the norm as you contemplated getting a substantial artwork for the first time.

But that wasn't what made you nervous…

It was where you were getting it.

You had a little bet with your friends about your next tattoo, and to your dismay, the idea of a butt tattoo became the central topic.

Secretly desiring one, you were always hesitant due to fears of pain and discomfort on such elastic tissue, the thought of undressing completely from the waist down only added to the nerves.

Yet, here you were, opening the door to the notorious shop…

A bell rang at your arrival along with the crackle of a searing guitar and thunderous drumbeats playing from a speaker. The music’s furious tempo of punk music overwhelmed your senses as you were hit with the smell of ink and antiseptic, and a hint of sandalwood. You stepped inside, your black tennis shoes, on wooden scuffed floors as your eyes roamed the dimly lit lobby before you.

A black leather sofa sat in one corner, a front desk before you, and a few sculptures and decorations covered the worn wooden floors. Despite everything inside, your attention was instantly captured by the gallery of designs that covered the black-brick walls of the tattoo parlor.

There were many sketches and finished pieces that were put on display, an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate details bringing life to the lobby. Mythical creatures, mandalas, floral designs, phrases, and abstract patterns decorated the walls, each one telling a different story and waiting to be chosen and etched onto willing skin.

The counter was empty when you arrived, a soft, dim glow of light hanging from chains on the ceiling cast an amber hue throughout the lobby. You stood patiently at the black desk, fiddling nervously with the bottom of your white t-shirt and pondering if you should go through with this tattoo…

“Oy! We have a customer!”

The loud outburst from a male with a British accent cut through the rather quiet lobby, making you jump. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest whilst you overheard the small conversation between the British male and who sounded like a female coming from further in the tattoo parlor.

“Gwendy, love, I’ve been dealing with the past few customers for a while now. Why not deal with this one, hmm?” The girl responded with a scoff.

“Hobie, you know you haven’t done shit.”

“Ah…you got me there love.” The British guy said with a chuckle. “Well, stop playing around and help the customer.” The girl laughed as you soon heard the sound of heavy footfalls becoming louder and louder. It wasn’t long before the identity of the British male was revealed to you.

The black curtains that separated the lobby from the back of the tattoo parlor opened to unveil an ebony guy with thick black hair and piercings. His hair was styled chaotically on his head, but you had a feeling it was purposeful with the way he carried himself. He had unmistakable confidence and not a care in the world for anyone. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black jeans, a black t-shirt covering his lean body as his combat boots thudded against the wooden floors.

He came behind the counter, turning his dark brown eyes upon you, instantly making you a little intimidated. “Aye, name’s Hobie, and welcome to the Bloody Inks. Are you here for a piercing or a tattoo, love?” He asked, his slender fingers locating a pen and notepad from his side of the desk.

You chewed your inner cheek, drumming your thumb against the handle of your small bag.

This was your last chance to back out…

To decide to go on with life without the tattoo on your rear or to face your fears and get the beautiful inking.

It wasn’t long before you already had your answer, giving the male before you a small smile. “I’m here for a tattoo.” You said bringing a smile to Hobie’s pierced lips. He glanced down at the notepad, his pen gliding across the page. “Can I see some ID?”

You were used to this question and already had your ID in hand, placing it into the ebony male’s palm. He barely glanced at it before returning it to you. “Nice, have you been to Bloody Ink’s before?” He asked, causing you to bite your lip nervously.

“No, this is my first time.” He looked up at you, his pierced lips pulled back into a smirk. “Ah, great! I’ll make sure the big boss does your tattoo then.” He said with a smile, but you couldn’t help becoming a little more anxious. The boss was going to be the one giving you your tattoo.

The tattoo on your bottom…

You gulped, hoping the male wasn’t scary-looking or a perv.

“O-kay!” Hobie exclaimed, pulling you from your thoughts as he finished writing. “Now, I’ll give you a book to look over the designs whilst the boss finishes up in the back,” Hobie said, pulling a black, hardcover album from under the desk, placing it into your hand, then motioning for you to take a seat on the sofa.

You followed along to his instructions, taking the black book in your hands and moving over to the leather couch where you sat down. Hobie then left, going behind the black curtains and drawing them close once more.

To pass the time and decide upon your tattoo, you look over the many designs inside the book. Each was skillfully sketched by hand and each held their own, unique form of beauty. Your eyes glazed over blazing skulls, graceful elephants, motivating quotes, to lastly land upon a beautiful flower.

You gasped, instinctively reaching out to trace a finger along the intricate lines of the sketch. You could already imagine the rose’s petals on your bottom, sprouting out in full bloom across your right, no… left cheek.

The circular pistil was visible and drawn so full of detail that it felt like it was jumping out at you. A few leaves could be seen peeking out the top of the rose as you felt like this design was for you.

Like it was drawing you in…

…

“Have you decided?”

A deep, husky voice asked inside of the quiet lobby. You jumped in your seat, eyes snapping up to see someone was occupying the counter…

But it wasn’t Hobie…

A tanned male with a muscular, large build was now present. Standing tall and broad, his physique showed proof of his dedication to the wellbeing of his body due to his swell and bulging muscles. His chiseled features were framed by a strong, defined jawline, a sharp nose, and dark smoldering eyes.

His bronze skin held tattoos that were intricately etched on his skin, each design holding a mysterious story across the backs of his hands, on his arms, and even along his chest and neck. They accentuated the contours of his muscles and added even more allure to his already magnetic presence. He placed his hands on the desk, his eyes still trained on you, his taut body dressed in a mere black t-shirt, jeans, and boots, but he made such simple clothes look like it was woven by the gods.

You didn’t know how long you’d been gawking at him in utter shock and disbelief at the magnificence before you. It wasn't until he moved once more, beckoning to you with two inked fingers that you snapped out of your trance.

You gulped, gathered up your bag and the black album, and made your way to the counter.

The closer you got, the more attractive and intimidating he became. His bushy eyebrows were drawn low over his amber eyes and his mouth, holding two ringed piercings on the opposite ends of his lower lip, were pulled into a scowl.

He looked stern, but you pondered if that was just his usual look.

“So have you decided on what piece you wanted?” He asked again, but you were still baffled by how drop-dead gorgeous he was that you almost misheard him once more. “Y-yes.” You stammered, gulping thickly, your finger still holding the page of your desired sketch. He hummed, holding his large hand out to you, motioning to the black book. You complied, placing it open into his palm, the hardcover open to the page of your tattoo choice.

It felt relieving to not have his stern eyes on you anymore, his amber orbs looking at the sketch you’ve chosen in the book. You bit your lip nervously, eyes trained on him whilst he looked over the design before he turned his gaze back up at you. “You know that’s an ass tat, right?” He bluntly asked which made heat rise in the back of your neck.

“Y-Yes, I know.” You replied, causing his eyebrows to rise for a brief second in surprise. “Well…Okay then.” He said, closing the book and holding the page with his thumb. “I’m Miguel, I’ll be your tattoo artist for today.”

Your heart dropped at his words.

You didn’t know to feel excited or nervous as hell, knowing he’d be the one touching you so intimately. “I-It’s nice to meet you.” You replied, giving him a small smile. His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long as he gave you a curt nod, a gesture that hopefully meant, 'You too.'

He motioned with his head to the back of the tattoo parlor, the entrance that was covered in black curtains. “Follow me.” He commanded in a gravelly tone. You gulped, following behind him through the black drapes to venture further into the tattoo parlor.

Instantly when you entered, the smell of ink and antiseptic became more potent, the sounds of the buzzing of the tattoo guns filled your ears along with the playful banter between the two artists from before.

“So Gwendy, you still believe just because you're in your twenties now that you can order me around?” Hobie asked the girl from across the room. She chuckled, looking away from her male client who was getting a skull tattooed onto his leg to over at Hobie. The girl had blonde, wavy hair and black piercings that covered her face. Two studs styled her eyebrow and a hooped one could be seen on her nose.

She smirked at the ebony male. “I didn’t say anything of the sort and stop calling me that. You know my name.” She laughed, eliciting a snort from Hobie. “Aye, but I like Gwendy better than Gwen.”

Miguel groaned in annoyance, looking between the two young artists. “Stop this nonsense and get to work.” He barked at Gwen and Hobie which surprised you, every muscle in his backside tensing up after his outburst. The conversation ceased to be replaced with just Miguel and your footsteps and the buzzing of the tattoo needles, but Miguel’s previous words didn’t seem to affect the two artists’ since after you both left, their conversation started up again.

Miguel grumbled under his breath, his grip on the black album tightening. You walked behind him down the hallway, his tall and broad being completely blocking your view around him. Every time you looked up, you came face to face with his muscular backside that was covered in his black T-shirt that looked to be straining against his musculature.

You clutched your purse while walking down the hallway to watch him enter a room. When you looked over, you saw a name tag on the door that read 'Miguel O'Hara.'

‘This must be his own personal tattoo room.’

You thought, your stomach clenching on cue as you followed him into the room. Your eyes instantly took in the attractive strangers’ workspace, the room you would also be spending the next hour or so in.

The tattoo room seemed to be more grand, more important than the one the two artists’ Gwen and Hobie were in. The walls were decorated, once more, with black and gray masterpieces of artwork, but these were more sci-fi and futuristic than the ones displayed in the lobby.

Spotlights hung from the ceiling carefully positioned to cast a focused radiance upon the vintage leather chair in the center of the room. The space smelled strongly of ink, antiseptic, men's cologne, and…

Smoke.

But not the typical smoke from a fire, more like from tobacco.

You couldn't help but wonder if the fine male smoked. You didn't want to assume or stereotype, but he looked like he would…

Your eyes soon graced over the main attraction of the room, the tattoo chair and station beside it. The seat had a black leather cushion that looked soft and very comfortable. It appeared, overall, brand new as if no one had hardly sat in it. A steel workstation was positioned beside the hot seat, the surface covered in an assortment of tools like a painter’s palette. The main one catching your eye was the needles and the gun.

You gulped, stepping more into the room as Miguel was rummaging through a nearby closet, the sound of metal and items clattering inside. He glanced momentarily over at the flower sketch inside of the black album before returning to get the items he needed.

You’ve learned, so far, that your tattoo artist was a rather quiet man. He barely spoke, and merely did things without providing a reason or explanation. He rummaged through the closet, next to the cabinets of a few counters and then a small chest in the room, trying to find all of the items he needed to, what you can infer, tattoo your desired choice onto your skin.

Your eyes never left him, watching his massive build transverse around the room, moving things, picking things up, putting them to the side all whilst holding an aura of unshakable coldness that dripped from his very being.

It was intimidating, yet alluring, nonetheless.

Once Miguel found the items he needed, he placed them onto the steel workstation.

With the way he was going about things, you would have thought he'd forgotten about your presence; as he was completely engrossed in what he was doing, placing a piece of stencil paper that held the floral design you wanted onto the workstation, along with black ink tubes, napkins, bottles of creams and other things.

However, you couldn’t focus…

You were highly nervous.

You stood nearby, clutching your purse whilst Miguel covered the tattoo chair with a few gray towels, before returning to organizing his workstation, and handling his tattoo gun. His thick, inked gingers deftly glided across the metal tools and inks when he finally looked up at you. You noticed his dark brown eyes roam your figure, meeting your eyes once more as he fiddled with the needles and tattoo gun.

“Which side?” He asked suddenly, placing the gun down on the workstation. You were baffled, confused about what he meant. “W-what?” You stammered, watching him take a seat on a black rolling stool. “You want your tattoo on your bottom, correct?” He asked, causing you to nod at his question. “Then which side?” He inquired once more.

You gulped, biting your lip. You pondered, remembering the artwork of the black rose from the album book and how beautiful it was, briefly deciding with yourself on which side. “O-On the left.” You replied after considering.

He hummed, nodding whilst placing a pair of black latex gloves onto his table.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to undress from the waist down and lay on your stomach.” He directed, pressing a button under the chair with his foot, causing the backing to lean back.

Your heart quickened and your stomach clenched. This was what you were worried about…

The undressing part.

It wasn’t that you had an unattractive body or weren’t familiar with the acts of intimacy, it was the thought of him, a handsome stranger having his stern gaze on your sensitive area.

How he’ll have to be studying your flesh, taking in every curve and dot whilst he worked in etching the beautiful tattoo onto your rear that made you a little reluctant.

You hesitated, clutching your purse once more. Your nervousness started to become palpable as you noticed Miguel looking up at you. He took in your tentativeness, his stern face softening at the sight. He sighed heavily, clenching his jaw as his lip piercings caught in the ceiling light.

“Are you sure about this?” His deep and rough voice filled the quiet room, his movements coming to a halt. You chewed your inner cheek, pondering his question. “Yes…I’m sure.” You replied, causing him to click his tongue. “Then what are all these nerves coming from?” He asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The movement seems to make his pecs more defined against the black fabric.

“I’ve seen you aren’t new to tattoos.” He said, his amber orbs probably taking in the small, tattooed quotes and patterns covering your body in minor spots before meeting your eyes once again. “So what’s the problem?”

You sighed, meeting his eyes.

Strangely, you felt like pouring your heart out to him.

Despite his coldness, you had a feeling whatever you told him would stay in this room…

“I’ve never got a huge piece done before.” You told him, which was partly the truth. Miguel hummed, his gaze on you intense. “That’s it?” You bit your lip anxiously once more, fiddling with the zipper of your purse. “N-No…I guess I’m nervous about…

Undressing.”

You uttered, biting your lip. However, Miguel seemed unfazed, only nodding in understanding.

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly which made your eyebrows furrow. “Y-Y/N.” You hesitantly replied, bringing a tight-lipped smile to Miguel’s lips. “As you can see. Y/N, for the tattoo you’ve chosen, it’s required that you undress from the waist down.” He said, his amber eyes searching the room before landing on a decoration that sat on a counter.

He stood up, picking up the small porcelain sculpture of a gray woman’s naked body. The piece looked rather small in his massive hands.

“You see here.” He turned the female around, pointing to the left side of the gray sculpture’s plump rear end. “This entire side will need to be revealed for me to work.” He explained, lowering his finger to point underneath the left cheek. “And the tattoo would end underneath the left buttock.” He said, setting the sculpture to the side, and turning his eyes back onto you.

“For other tattoos, I wouldn’t have asked for such things and simply allowed you to keep your undergarments on and work from there.” His tone was gravelly and rough as he spoke to you. “But I'd like to be cautious, so I ask you to remove everything.” He informed you, which made you feel better about the process, but still wary.

Miguel, looked you up and down, tapping his finger against his thick thigh, noticing that you were still hesitant. “How about this,” He began, his words instantly piquing your interest. “I can turn around and allow you to undress and get into a comfortable position on the chair.” He said. “I’ll even give you a towel to cover yourself with.” He proposed with a straight face. “How does that sound?” His demeanor and gravelly tone contrasted greatly with his kind and understanding words.

You thought it over for a while before nodding at his suggestion. He rose from his seat, retrieving a black towel from the closet, and placing it onto the tattoo chair that was already covered in gray towels. He then returned to his rolling stool and turned around to face the wall. “Let me know when you are done.” He said, his voice, husky and deep.

“O-Okay.” You told him, the uncertainty, evident in your voice. Your eyes took in his muscular backside that was straining against his black t-shirt. Every bulging muscle was visible through the fabric.

You bit your lip, feeling rather odd but proceeding on.

You closed the door of his tattoo room and set your purse down on the floor. You exhaled deeply, calming yourself down before looping your fingers into the waistband of your black shorts, slowly drawing them down, your eyes trained on him.

Miguel was completely solid and unmoving. His arms crossed over his chest and his back still facing you. He was so quiet, that you could almost forget he was there.

Well, almost…

When the black fabric of your shorts was nothing but a puddle around your ankles, you stepped out of them, tossing them to the side. You gulped, standing in just your white shirt, black tennis shoes, and panties. You heaved a quiet sigh, chewing your inner cheek.

This was the hard part…

You were about to undress completely…

You exhaled deeply, reluctantly slipping your thumbs into the elastic band of your black panties, pulling them down, and exposing your sex to the tattoo room. You hissed, feeling the cool air against your core. Hastily, you removed them from your being, tossing them to the side along with your shorts.

It felt so weird standing in a foreign place with your rear completely unveiled.

You wanted nothing more than to cover up…

Your eyes shifted over to Miguels’ broad backside, still in its same position.

“Everything alright?”

You jumped at his sudden question, his voice was thunderous compared to the total quietness that had once filled the room. “Y-y-yes.” You squeaked, swiftly moving to climb onto the tattoo chair, laying on your stomach, and placing the black towel over your bare rear to conceal yourself.

After Miguel’s abrupt question, he didn’t say anything else, and neither did you, despite being ready. It took a while for you to tell the sexy, and rather intimidating tattoo artist that you were all set. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest every time you thought you were prepared to do so.

You rested your chin upon the backs of your hands, laying flat on your stomach. You heaved a sigh, feeling rather ridiculous at how scared you were.

You chose to come here, just like you chose to get this tattoo.

‘No reason to back out now.’ You thought, wetting your lips before getting the artist’s attention. “I-I’m ready.” You muttered, causing an instant creak from Miguel’s stool to be heard.

“Good.” He uttered, the sound of the wheels from his seat gliding across the black marble flooring filling the room. You soon felt his presence to your right, seeing him in your peripherals, sitting tall and large on his stool next to you on the tattoo chair. His dark brown eyes continuously glanced over at you before roaming your body, his facial features unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was checking you out, or was merely looking at you to see if you hadn’t fainted on his chair.

“You seem…tense.” He commented in his usual dead tone. You looked over your shoulder at him to see his large hands attaching a black ink tube to his tattoo gun. His black tattoo arm sleeve was visible under the projecting light of the ceiling as his amber eyes were trained more on what he was doing rather than you.

“Y-yes. I’m still a little nervous.” You confessed, feeling your hands begin to tremble slightly. Miguel looked up at you, the light bouncing off his two lip piercings on his lower lip. “If I start and your body is not relaxed it’s going to hurt like a bitch.” He said bluntly, setting his tattoo gun onto his workstation. His words didn’t help, only causing your heart to quicken in pace and freak you out even more.

Because how could you possibly calm down?

It felt utterly impossible…

You weren’t nervous about the needle, or getting tattooed to begin with. You were experienced when it came to the inking process. What was working the nerves was the thought of his stern gaze and calloused hands feeling up your bare bottom. His gloved thumbs pressed into your rear, his amber eyes trained on every piece of you from the waist down which was making you nervous as hell.

Miguel eyed you, taking in your troubled expression as you lay upon his tattoo chair. Your bare bottom, covered in a black towel and your chin resting on your hands.

“Let me relax you.”

He abruptly said in almost a commanding voice rather than as a proposition. His suggestion made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t help the naughty thoughts that came to your mind at the thought of him ‘relaxing’ you.

"And h-how would you do that?" You asked, watching him rise from his stool, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you.

"I'm going to give you a massage."

He declared. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected proposal, your entire body suddenly heating up. "I've never heard of a tattoo parlor doing something like that." You admitted, feeling him adjust the chair's height to match his towering 7-foot frame, bringing the seat up to his waist.

"That's because you've never been to the Bloody Inks before," he said, a hint of amusement found in a usual cold voice. "There's a reason we're notorious in Nueva York, Y/N " he explained. "If we did what every other parlor did, we'd be just like any other tattoo shop…

Isn’t that right?”

He whispered, his voice sending shivers down your back. “I-I guess so.” You replied as without warning you began to feel his thick fingers on your shoulders, caressing small patterns into your blades. You gasped, the feeling instantly making you melt into the chair.

“You okay?” He asked, every touch of his thick fingers against your tensed muscles making you shudder. “Mhm.” The hum being pulled from your very being and coming out more forceful than you attended whilst Miguel continued his massage.

Miguel’s tattooed hands were large and strong, tracing the contours of your muscles and pressing gently into them. Suddenly, you winced slightly, the tension resisting his skilled touch. “Relax,” He uttered, his voice a low rumble that reverberated from the depth of his broad chest. You shakingly nodded, eyes fluttering closed at the wonderful sensations. “O-Okay. I’ll try.” You replied, trying to calm yourself.

You shakingly exhaled, feeling Miguel’s hands move down your back, his soothing caresses focusing on the crease that began the arch of your ass.

“Damn, there's a lot of tension here.” He commented, adding more pressure into his fingers and kneading the soft tissue in that area. You let out a contented sigh, his large hands enclosing around the sides of your waist. His thumbs pressed into your skin through the fabric of your white t-shirt, rubbing small patterns into your lower back. You groaned softly, the sensations he was bringing to you felt so good.

His touch, mysteriousness, voice, coldness, everything about him was so hot.

His fingers soothing places in your back that you didn’t even know existed, bringing you closer to tranquility.

“How do you feel?” He asked, pressing and running his palm along the center of your back, making you shiver. You exhaled deeply, your limbs feeling heavy and relaxed. “Mmm, good. It feels good.” You replied with closed eyes.

“That’s good to hear.” He said, his hands leaving your body.

“But I can’t help but notice you are still tense.”

Miguel said, making your eyebrows furrow as a sense of emptiness filled your being without his touch.

“W-what do you mean?” You inquired, entirely puzzled. You didn’t feel a single bit of tension in your backside. A feeling of pure relaxation filled your being, leaving you confused about what he meant by such things.

But it wasn’t like you were skilled as a masseuse yourself, so you could be mistaken.

“Yes, you are still tensed.” He uttered, running his fingers along the center of your backside, over the curve of your ass to rest a hand on your rear that was covered in the black towel.

“Here, it needs my attention.”

You were shocked and in disbelief, instantly becoming speechless; but despite your bewilderment, Miguel continued talking. “It’ll only make sense to massage where I'll be working. It’ll help loosen the muscles of your rear, making tattooing it less painful.” He explained, but it still didn’t stop the huge blush that spread across your face. You didn’t know how to respond, stuck between your own uncertainties and desires.

“T-this will be… beneficial?” You asked shakingly, trying to push past the naughty and erotic things that were filling your head. Miguel hummed. “Yes, I’ll be tattooing your left buttock, so it’ll help make the tattoo process smoother…

For you, I mean.”

You bit your lip. The butterflies, going rampant in your stomach. You didn’t know what to do or what to say, but then the realization that he was going to have to see and touch your bottom anyway when the actual inking process began led you to put your worries to the side and agree.

“No. I don’t mind.” You said, thankful that Miguel couldn’t see how red you were due to your face being away from him. Miguel hummed, his previous touch seeming to linger upon your skin.

“I’ll have to remove the towel. You okay with that?” He asked, which made your heart skip a beat. You shakingly exhaled, nodding. “Yes.”

You felt him lift the black towel from your bottom, the cool air rushing over your bare rear. You sucked in a breath as before, Miguel didn’t warn you, his warm hands groping your cheeks and instantly beginning to knead the fat of your ass.

This time, the sensations were different.

On your backside, the massage was more relaxing and tranquil, but on your rear, it felt more personal, more…

Intimate.

His touch made you feel pleasure beyond anything…

You bit your bottom lip harshly, trying to muffle the erotic cries that wished to escape whilst Miguel’s calloused hands worked wonders on your rear. His fingers pressed firmly into your left cheek, squeezing the fat before moving along the sides. It was a process that you pondered if it was professional or not, but it wasn’t like you cared.

His fingers knead into your soft flesh, like dough, making you see stars every single time. You were slowly becoming wet, your arousal spilling from your exposed sex to gradually coat your thighs and drench the gray towels underneath you.

The massage was good.

Dangerously too good…

A sudden moan broke free, filling the tattoo room when he roughly groped both of your cheeks in his large hands, spreading them apart. You instantly blushed horribly, embarrassed beyond anything.

“O-Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry.” You briskly replied, wanting nothing more than to hide. You didn’t know how the hell Miguel would react.

Would he cease his wonderful massage?

Tell you to leave?

Would things get hella awkward now?

You felt like a complete idiot, mentally facepalming yourself for giving into the pleasure of a total stranger.

But to your surprise, Miguel did something you weren’t expecting.

He chuckled.

For the first time since you met the menacing and large Latino artist, he showed an emotion that didn’t make you feel so freaking intimidated. The sound of the small, deep laughter that passed his lips was honestly breathtaking, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again.

“No need to apologize.” He replied, drawing your attention back to him and his wonderful massage. His touch on your rear became more soft and gentle like he was taking his time with you.

“It just shows I’m providing you what your body needs.” He replied, moving his hands onto your thighs, caressing them with his thumbs before running his hands up to fully cup your asscheeks into his hands. You moaned softly, your body instinctively arching up into his waiting palms. Miguel snickered, giving your ass another squeeze when everything stopped.

His movement on your rear ceased, his small laughs, movement, everything!

You lay there, waiting for anything to happen when you suddenly felt his pierced lips against your ear.

“Let’s drop the act, Cariño.”

He whispered, his breath warm on your face and his piercings, cold against your skin. Your heart dropped, and your body instantly became hot.

You tried to speak, to deny what he was saying, but your quivering lips wouldn’t form the words.

He snickered at your speechlessness and how flustered you were, the sound sending tingles throughout your entire being and going straight to your throbbing core.

“Let me relax you how we both desire, Y/N.”

He hummed, resuming his touch on your rear, but this time it was different. It was purposefully more erotic. He gave your bottom a sensual squeeze with one hand, his other moving up to stroke your hair.

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

It felt surreal.

Something you'll fantasize about your sexy tattooist…

But Miguel’s fingers running through your hair, massaging your scalp whilst continuing to tease and knead your right asscheek with his fingers made you think otherwise.

You were speechless yet again. You didn’t know how to respond, but your body was doing the speaking for you.

Your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the gray towels under you, spoke volumes on its own. You shakingly exhaled, trying to calm your excitement.

Miguel chuckled, his fingers continuing their tantalizing play on your rear, tempting and taunting you to give in to the sexy artist.

You bit your lip harshly, eyes fluttering as he, teasingly, brushed his thumb across your slick folds. You gasped at his attempt to entice you more.

“Mmm, you are soaking, Muneca.” He growled against your ear, his lip rings brushing your lobe and making you shudder. He sucked in a breath, running his fingers up and down your slick folds, coating his digits in your never-ending arousal. He groaned at your wetness, cupping your mound, to circle his two fingers around your sensitive bud. You moaned helplessly, trembling with pleasure.

“Muneca, you want this, just as much as I do.” He uttered, pressing his fingers more against your throbbing bud, eliciting a cry to escape your lips and making you wetter.

“Let me relax you.” He whispered, his deep voice filled with desire as he removed his hands to place them on your hips, caressing gentle circles against your sides.

“Let me taste what this pussy of yours is like and then I'll tattoo that rose on your gorgeous ass.”

He proposed once again. His words alone made your stomach clench in want. The gray towels underneath you completely soak with your arousal.

You couldn't stop yourself. The desire blinded you as your head slowly nods at his erotic proposition.

“P-Please.” You practically begged; voice tainted with desperation for more of him. You felt his pierced lips pull into a smirk against your ear.

“Good girl, Y/N.” He praised, nipping softly at your ear before pulling away. His touch left you cold and empty.

“On your knees. Ass up.”

He commanded, his coldness resurfacing right before your eyes. His sternness was even more attractive and made your core throb in anticipation.

You bit your lip, lust blinding your every action, thought, and word as you rose on the tattoo chair. As he instructed, you stood up on your knees and forearms with your ass thrust up into the air.

The cool air continuously brushed along your heated core, making your breathing hitch every time. The position gave him a full display of your wet folds and the gradual drip of your arousal down your thighs. The sight alone revealed your evident desire for him which made you excited, but also ashamed.

This sexy stranger was intimidating, scary, and someone you would, normally, never align yourself with.

So what was different about him that had you practically soaking his chair?

In your peripherals, you saw Miguel move. The mere motion snapped you out of your thoughts as his massive being disappeared from view. Instantly, you became anxious, oblivious to his next actions.

A sexy groan escaped his lips, feeling his amber eyes trained on your exposed sensitive area. “That's a pretty pussy you got that.” He purred, making you blush horribly. You buried your face into your inner elbow, embarrassed for liking the compliment from someone as sexy as him.

Miguel chuckled. “Does someone like my praises? You are a naughty one, Cariño.”

He snickered. Your face, reddening even more. His fingers continued their dance along the skin of your ass, your breathing becoming more shaky and your body burning hot.

His words and touch alone were enough to make you lose control. Beads of your essence running down your thighs.

“Cariño, I've only known you for about 30 minutes, yet, there is something about you that fascinates me. Something that I love so very fucking much….

Want to know what that is?”

He asked, his voice deep and husky, yet sending a shiver down your spine; his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Y-Yes.” You shakingly inquired, curious about his answer, but also anxious for him to cease his teasing and touch you.

He chuckled at your cluelessness, running his nails along your bare rear making you shiver.

“I love that despite your obvious hesitance and, dare I say, fear, you give into your wants, Muñeca

Your desires.”

He uttered, the pads of his fingers barely touching you, but forming goosebumps, everywhere along your skin.

“I-I don't understand.” You breathlessly and honestly replied, trying your hardest to look over your shoulder at the large male but failing every time.

“You don't understand, bebé?” He purred, his fingers leaving your bottom. “Then let me turn those gears in that sexy head of yours.” He whispered, his heavy footfalls slowly walking to stand in front of you. You gulped, glancing up to see him right before you, the growing bulge in his black jeans being the main attraction.

“You come into my shop for an ass tat, yet you were nervous as hell to get it.” He acknowledged. “But despite your nerves, here you are on my chair with that sexy ass all ready for me." He said with a smirk. His hand moved to run through your hair, massaging your scalp with the pads of his fingers once more.

Your eyes fluttered, sinking more into the soft leather, your rear rising. “And even now, I intimidate you, don't I, Cariño?” He asked, his male cologne and the faint scent of cigarette smoke filling your nose, increasing your desire for him.

Regardless of your lust, Miguel did intimidate you. His massive body, bulging muscles, stern-drawn face, tattoos, lip rings, and cold aura made you nervous around him.

That you couldn't lie about...

“Y-yes. You do.” You confessed, eliciting a deep hum from Miguel. “Yet, you are giving yourself to me.” He whispered, moving his hand from your hair to take your chin into his calloused fingers. He turned you to look up at him, your eyes darting to take in his chiseled cheeks, massive neck tattoo, enticing rings on his plush lips, smoldering amber eyes, and dark brown hair that loomed over his eyes.

He smirked, his canines peeking out from his lips. “You are delivering yourself to me on a silver platter, Y/N.” He rasped, caressing your chin and holding your stunned gaze before pulling away. You were left breathless, gasping for air, you didn't know you were holding.

You tried to track him, his huge, menacing form returning behind you and out of your sight. “So love, despite your worries, reluctance, and inner thoughts telling you to stop and turn back.

If you desire something, you go through with it...”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You wondered if Miguel's observation of you was correct.

Were you the type to follow your desires, even though everything in you was telling you otherwise?

You pondered, if the sexy stranger was right, despite only knowing you for a short time.

But that thought soon became nothing but mush in your brain when his sudden grip on your asscheeks made your entire mind go blank. As if dipped in warmth, your body instantly melted like chocolate under his fingertips, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Miguel hummed, his breath brushing along your heated core, only making you wetter.

“And I love a woman that knows what she wants,” He uttered, pressing a kiss to your left ass cheek, making you gasp,

“What she needs…” He whispered, pressing another kiss to your other eliciting another soft moan from you.

“I can tell you are going to be tasty…”

He rasped before finally giving you what you desired and swiping his tongue along your folds.

You cried out, slumping against the tattoo chair whilst Miguel licked at your rear. He groaned, squeezing your ass and pressing his face more into your bottom, licking, sucking and completely devouring you.

You moaned uncontrollably, gripping the leather seat tightly. “O-Oh gosh.” You whimpered as Miguel continued his pleasurable assault, running his skillful hands up and down your spine, brushing your shirt up to feel more of your skin. You were becoming hot and increasingly wet, your love juices spilling from your entrance to be swallowed by Miguel’s eager mouth.

With every suction of his lips and the swipe of his tongue, it made your mind complete mush, time and space becoming non-existent. “So delicious, Muñeca.” He groaned, sloppily ravaging your core, and fucking you with his tongue.

The tattoo room was filled with your whines and whimpers, Miguel’s low groans, and the squelching of your wet pussy. Your entire body was clenching and squirming the closer you got to that sweet end.

Like his hands, Miguel’s mouth worked wonders on you. His tongue moved rapidly across your pussy, seeming to be everywhere at once. Swirling your throbbing bud, thrusting into your entrance, and lapping your delicate pussy lips. a

When it came too much to bear, Miguel held you close, preventing you from moving away from him. It only made you tremble, the pleasure consuming your entire being.

“M-Miguel, I-I’m close.” You cried out, pressing your face into the tattoo chair. He hummed, the vibrations rumbling through you and making your stomach tighten even more. “You want to cum, pretty girl?” He chuckled, moving from your desired spot to kiss along the skin of your bottom. His hooped, lip rings brushed along the skin of your ass and made you even more wetter.

You moaned softly, frantically nodding. “Yes, yes. Please, Miguel.” You whined, wanting him to bring you to your release. You felt his pierced lips pull into a smirk. He pressed a kiss to your right cheek before returning his skilled mouth to your puffy pussy lips once more.

You gasped loudly, his tongue darting erratically along your dripping folds. The feeling was more extreme than ever before as he continued, tugging and lapping at your sweet pussy.

You were so wet, your thighs dripping with your arousal like a relentless rain, its non-stop downpour completely soaking your legs and the gray towels underneath you. You gritted your teeth, the burning in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear, begging for a release.

Everything felt so good, you wanted to hold on, to feel more of Miguel’s tongue and hands that roamed your body, caressing you in ways that increased the pleasure by 10-fold;

But you just couldn’t…

With a loud cry, you climaxed hard onto his waiting mouth. Your vision saw white, eyes rolling as your sticky juices covered his pierced lips and ran down your legs. Miguel groaned in pleasure, gripping your cheeks harshly, widening you and licking you clean, whispering, 'So good. Such a good girl for me,’ over and over again.

It was like music to your ears.

Your eyes fluttered as he finished; tugging away from your pussy lips with a wet plop. You were dazed, falling flat against the tattoo chair, and trying to calm your breathing and come down from your epic high.

Faintly, you could hear Miguel’s boots against the black marble flooring, moving around to stand beside you, coming into view once more.

With glazed eyes, you looked over at him, breathing heavily. His chin and pierced lips were completely covered in your arousal. Like a king who had just feasted on a buffet fit for royalty, he used his fingers to wipe it off in satisfaction. “So delicious, Muñeca.” He praised again with a smirk. Your entire body and face flushed at his erotic compliment. You were speechless, not at all knowing how to respond.

For a moment you just stared up at him, still trying to figure out if what just happened, happened.

His amber eyes roamed over your form once more, lingering on your bare rear longer than anything else. He growled, stepping closer once more. “But don’t think we’re done here, Muñeca.”

“I want more.

Just one more taste”

He uttered, the words surprising you, but not as surprising as what he did next…

Everything was a blur, his large being moved so quickly it was hard to follow, especially in your dazed state.

You soon found him underneath you on the tattoo chair, his massive body laying under you and your puffy pussy lips right over his waiting mouth. His large hands roughly groping your rear, and holding you tightly in place.

Certainly, you wouldn't be able to get out of his hold, even if you tried.

You gulped, staring down at him between your thighs in shock. Your mind, not keeping up fast enough. “M-Miguel, w-what-”

“Let me relax you, chica.”

He cut you off, gripping your ass in his large, inked hands and pushing you down onto his mouth once more. You cried out, his mouth even more intense than ever.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled as his tongue circled your clit, teasingly applying more pressure and making you whine. Your fingers, instinctively, found his dark brown hair, gripping and tugging at the chocolate strands and making Miguel groan.

He caressed your bottom with his large, calloused hands, sucking at your sensitive bud with his hot, wet mouth, expertly flicking it. You moaned helplessly. “M-Miguel, g-gosh. It feels so good.” You cried out, instinctively, grinding your hips against his mouth, chasing another steady rising climax. Miguel's eyes fluttered close, savoring your taste on his tongue as he lapped and sucked at your sticky folds.

Your breathing quickened, his piercings grazing against your sensitive skin with every lap of his tongue against your entrance. You were slowly losing it, feeling him gradually ease his tongue inside of you before thrusting you repeatedly with the wet muscle.

You moaned loudly, rutting your hips and continuously brushing his nose into your clit, his tongue continuing its torment. A strangled moan erupted from your throat, the pleasure becoming too much. You shook uncontrollably, gripping his hair tightly and squirming on his mouth.

“A-Ahh, Miguel, I-I can’t-” You tried moving off, but Miguel firmly held you down on his mouth, his tongue, darting in and out of your entrance, fucking you with his warm, wet muscle.

The familiar feeling of scorching heat began to rise in your stomach. You gritted your teeth, his metal ringed, lip piercings brushing against your pussy lips with each suckle. He reached around, parting your lips and sticking his tongue deeply into your opening, messily lapping and sucking you.

Your love juices soaked his lips and chin to be sloppily devoured by Miguel. The room was filled with the erotic sounds of your pussy’s squelches. Silent moans passed your lips, as your head limply fell back to be caught by Miguel’s large hand.

He took your chin in his tattooed finger, pulling you back down towards him. He moved his mouth from your heated core as his intense dark eyes met yours. “I want your eyes on me.” He said, his breathing rather stable, despite almost drowning in your pussy for what felt like an hour. His tattooed hand caressed your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I want to see you cum, Muñeca .” He whispered, pressing kisses along your inner thighs and nipping softly. You bit your lip, a soft moan passing your lips at his pecks. You weakly nodded, almost completely dazed.

He smirked, pressing a long searing kiss to your thigh. “Hmm, good girl.” He uttered parting your pussy lips with two thick fingers and attacking your swollen clit once more. It took everything in you to keep his intense gaze. His dark brown eyes stared intently back at you whilst his tongue and lips moved in a frenzy along your pussy.

Your body trembled horribly, fingers gripping his hair tightly to stabilize yourself.

“M-Miguel.” You whined his name over and over again. The desire to tell him of your reached peak was on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure was too overwhelming; leaving you unable to say such a thing as your release unexpectedly slammed into you.

With a loud strangled moan, you orgasmed for the second time.

Your body shook uncontrollably as your thighs squeezed around Miguel tightly. Your juices gushed out onto his eager mouth whilst a sensation of pure bliss sprouted throughout your being.

Your eyes rolled as silent and breathy moans busted from the depth of your chest. Miguel didn’t cease his torment, continuing to suckle on your puffy pussy lips, swallowing all of your sweet nectar. His lips and chin were completely drenched in a mixture of saliva and your love juices, but it didn’t seem as if the massive tattooist cared.

Until he was satisfied, Miguel continued to slurp messily at you. You were highly sensitive, squirming on his mouth and whimpering uncontrollably as he held you down with a firm grip on your thighs. When his thirst was satiated, you were relieved to hear a deep hum of delight escape his glistening lips and soon feel him effortlessly lift you from his mouth to rest your bare bottom on his clothed chest.

You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. When you finally came down from your high, you glanced up to see his dark eyes peering back at you. His gaze was intense and stern as always, but your attention instantly went down to his mouth and the mess you’ve made upon it.

His tanned lips and piercings glistened with your arousal. Your essence dripping down to coat the entirety of his chin. Your entire face burned up at the sight.

“Oh my gosh, I’m s-so sorry.” You hastily apologized, still a little jittery from your explosive orgasm. You reached over to grab the black towel that was left discarded on his stool to try to clean him up.

“Don’t.”

He simply stated, capturing your wrist in his large hand to halt your movement. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching him take the towel from you and toss it to the side.

You were confused, your eyes taking in his mouth and chin that was still covered in your juices. His pierced lips pulled into a smirk, his hands moving to caress your bare ass.

“I want to taste all of it, Muñeca. I'm not letting none of you go to waste…”

For the next hour or so, the room was filled with the buzzing of a tattoo gun and Miguel’s deep voice occasionally trying to soothe you.

“Beautiful Muñeca. You are doing well.”

“I promise you, this rose will look good on you when I’m done.”

“Just a little longer, I’m almost finished.”

He whispered, his gloved fingers pressing into your flesh as he applied the last finishing strokes of black ink onto the rose on your rear. You bit your lip harshly, gripping the leather cushion when finally, the buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased. The needle, no longer, harshly pricking of your sensitive skin.

“I’m finished, Muñeca.” He said, placing the gun to the side and soothingly, caressing your waist. You exhaled a sigh of relief, your eyes a little teary.

“You did well, Cariño.” He praised once more, proceeding to clean the tattoo, applying an antiseptic ointment and covering it, all whilst speaking to you.

“Although, you’ve surprised me.” He said with a chuckle. “I thought you’d become a crying little mess on my chair.” He teased, making the two of you laugh. “I won’t lie, I thought so too.” You confessed, feeling him finish up putting a protective sterile bandage over your freshly inked tattoo.

“I wouldn’t have let that happen on my watch.” He said with a smirk, motioning to you with a finger for you to stand up. “Carefully.” He sternly said, giving you a pointed look. His voice had its usual coldness but also held a hint of affection in his tone.

That maybe the sexy tattooist might actually care about you.

You gave him a small smile, watching him begin to pack up his tattoo items and place them back into his closet. You followed Miguel’s words, cautiously rising up and off of the chair. You winced softly, your left cheek a little sore.

You walked over to the body mirror in Miguel’s tattoo room, turning around to admire the fresh inking on your rear through its sterile bandage.

It was beautiful…

Just like you thought.

The black rose was wonderfully sketched and etched onto your rear end. Its petals, pistils, and leaves, were all defined perfectly and coated the entirety of your left cheek.

You couldn’t stop looking at it, finding something else about it that you loved.

Large hands settled on your waist, snapping your attention from your tattooed bottom to up at the hot male through the mirror. He smirked, meeting your gaze through the glass. “It’s sexy, isn’t it?” He asked, caressing your sides as you smiled, nodding.

“You did really well, Miguel.” You complimented, both of your eyes, taking in the intricate linings of the rose on your rear. “I’m happy you like it.” He said, cupping your chin in his fingers to turn you to look up at him.

“But make sure you properly treat it every day. I’ll send you a list of aftercare instructions.” He said, his amber eyes taking in your face whilst he spoke. You bit your lip, nodding. “I will.” You replied. He smirked, glancing down at your lips before meeting your eyes once more.

“Good, now kiss me.” He said in his cold tone, but his amber eyes held a look of fondness in them. You smiled, cupping his face in your hands and leaning in to press your lips against his.

You moaned softly upon the impact, his metal lip rings, smooth and cold, only making the kiss even hotter. You passionately kissed his lips, savoring the feeling of his lip rings and the taste of his plush lips against your own.

When the two of you pulled away, breathing heavily from the heated exchange, he smirked, squeezing your waist before stepping back. “I hate to tell you this, but I have a client in the next 10 minutes.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’ll see you next time, Muñeca, for your check-up.” He smirked, handing you a business card with his contacts and the address of the Bloody Inks on it.

You smiled, taking the card from him, your hands touching during the small interaction that sent a spark straight through your being.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Miguel felt it too…

There was an unmistakable pull that was drawing you towards him. You didn’t want to leave him, despite only meeting him that day.

The desire to snuggle up in his muscular arms, to feel his touch on you once more was overwhelming, but he was right.

It was time for you to depart…

So after carefully getting dressed back into your panties and black shorts, you pressed one final kiss upon the sexy tattooist’s pierced lips. The kiss oddly felt unending, but not long enough when you finally pulled away from each other, leaving you, even more, hungrier for him than before.

You exited out of his room, walking through the tattoo space of the shared artists of Gwen and Hobie who thanked you for coming, to then leave the tattoo parlor altogether.

You walked down the sidewalk, feeling like a completely different person. You twirled the business card that Miguel gave you in between your fingers. A feeling of bursting adoration for the beautiful inking that adorned your left cheek, knowing it was created by the sexy tattooist.

To you, the stunning piece of art wasn’t just a tattoo.

No…

It was the marking of a memory of a day when a serious, cold, sexy, and dedicated artist came into your life, revealing a different side of yourself- a daring, more confident side that would forever be engraved in your mind.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel excited to see the sexy tattooist again, anxious for all the fun you and Miguel would get up to on your next visit to the Bloody Inks…

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed 'The Black Rose.' Make sure to like, comment, follow, and reblog!! Love you guys!

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedevax @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywattyy @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #the blue panther #miguel ohara #miguel #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x reader smut

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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What its like kissing the creepypasta characters

excluding the characters that im not comfy writing romantic for, for obvious reasons similar to the hugging post this is more so a rating thing instead of actual scenarios! honestly in love with these kinds of posts so im formally asking you guys to give me ideas in this vein because i love making hcs in this format/for general stuff eheheheh

SLENDERMAN:

if youve been on this blog for a while, you would know that i love when characters who dont have mouths/have nontraditional mouths nuzzle and press their face into yours. and i still love the idea, especially with slenderman ! the first time he 'kisses' you its probably the first time hes kissed ANYONE so the movement itself is probably a little... clunky... doesnt press too hard, actually i think he would struggle with the opposite. theyre gentle and fleeting, almost as if his inhuman strength and size would crush you if he let himself truly lean into it. i mean think about it, he hardly ever interacts with humans and when he does its for 'food', he has always only seen them as vulnerable and fragile. and whether malicious or not, he treats you as if youre made of glass. likes kissing the back of your hands too. 7/10, he gets bonus points since hes my fav + its the thought that counts

SPLENDORMAN:

very eager about showing you any level of affection, probably early in the relationship that he gets bold enough to kiss you. first kiss is probably more of a "in the moment" thing than "i planned this out and im going to ask" thing if that makes sense... similar to slenderman in regards that he presses his mouth to you, as i personally headcannon that his smile isnt exactly.. a real mouth, more so a false one. think like a layer of 'skin' covering his real one that he can rip out at any moment (same case for slenderman btw. same also apply to splendors eyes, more so markings than actual eyes). going back to his energy, hes very eager about it, might even lightly push you back with how much hes putting into it; he doesnt mean to, hes just so excited! likes cheek kisses and nuzzling your noses together 8/10

EYELESS JACK:

very wary about kissing you outside of those little pecks, for multiple factors. for one, his teeth. sharp teeth, he can accidentally cut you. other reason thats much darker, given that admin personally hcs that he goes into "frenzies" when hes hungry and reacts to blood like the sharks in finding nemo, if he accidentally cuts you when hes not.. well fed.. for lack of a better term... theres a risk there. REFUSES to kiss when he needs to go 'hunt' soon, not because he doesnt want you or your affection, but he doesnt want to take any risks. outside of that, he doesnt often seek out affection, so youre probably going to have to initiate it, unless hes feeling particularly clingy that day or jealous... hes very cold, please cup your hands on his face and warm him up. likes kissing your lips 6/10

LAUGHING JACK:

has to lean in at an angle in order to not poke you with his nose. has probably accidentally lightly scratched you with it when he got too excited. likes giving you forehead kisses for this reason because you can just angle your head down and he can go to town like that... sometimes leave lipstick marks on you.. if you personally hc that he can take off his makeup then please offer to fix it! hes going to be absolutely over the moon! likes wrapping his arms around you when he kisses you. does lots of kisses in quick succession rather than singular longer ones. probably wakes you up with kisses and greets you with kisses when you come home 8/10 i love him

MASKY/TIM:

nope, sorry. for masky hes not going to be taking off the mask around you at all. so if you want a kiss youre going to have to kiss the mask. though on rare occasions when youre alseep/half awake he will lift up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and give you a kiss on your face. no particular place that he prefers to kiss you. though as said, its rare when he does this. in fact its not common for masky to seek out affection unless he feels more possessive of you than usual, be it because hes jealous or you are stress or you were just in a dangerous situation. 5/10, not much action but there is still care behind it

now as for tim... i think he would be more willing to give you kisses. probably gives you a quick one before you leave for work or something else, and greets you with one when you return home. thats a sweet thought, i think. more likely to give kisses during cuddle session, tends to kiss your cheek and neck (non sexually) while hes holding you to his chest. ponders. will give you a look if you mess with his sideburns and start giggling 6.5/10 love this man

HOODIE/BRIAN:

hoodie is a little more willing to lift up his mask around you, but only really up to the bottom of his nose. also has no preferred place to kiss you, but he seems to kiss your lips more than the other parts of you. sometimes his facial hair scratches against your skin and tickles. between him and brian i think hoodie is a little more blunt and serious about kissing. not to say hes not a little playful, love me some vaguely playful s/o hoodie hcs. probably picks you up off the ground too to 'trap' you, especially if youre fairly shorter than him (personally hc brian/hoodie is 6'') 7/10 love him

very similar to hoodie but i think he would be even more playful when it comes to you. leans into it when his facial hair starts tickling you, in fact i think it would devolve into him just tickling your sides. funny man. put him in the corner/j. like lj, he likes wrapping his arms around you when kissing you, this man is very into physical touch. will touch you any chance he gets; hand holding, cuddling, hugs, ect ect ect... sometimes starts smiling when you guys kiss so you have to give him a minute because he just has this huge grin on his face 8/10

PUPPETEER:

so you know how i said in the hugging post hes kind of a little shit? you know, literally basking in the fact that youre giving your time and self to him? i think that still applies here, maybe even more so since this is explicitly romantic. likes teasing you if you get flustered during your make out sessions, sometimes bombards you with kisses just to see your face redden... has probably leaned down and tapped his cheek as a silent yet teasing gesture, as if taunting you, letting you be the one to kiss him this once. also very cold, like physically. what being a spirit does to a mf. VERY tall, can easily evade any retaliation you throw his way (ie returning the favor of bombarding him with kisses), though im not sure how long he'd be able to resist.. 6/10

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman x reader #slenderman x you #splendorman x reader #splendorman x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack x you #masky x reader #masky x you #hoodie x reader #hoodie x you #puppeteer x reader #puppeteer x you

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bluecollarmcandtf · 7 days

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Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

#gay bros #male transformation #hypno story #gay ai art #gay hypnosis #gay mind control

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thedovesaredying · 8 months

Text

Zombie!Ghost x F!Reader | Smut

Synopsis: You and Zombie Ghost play a fun game. Based on a brief convo with @konigsblog I had on my main account.

Words: 600~

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Teratophilia, PnV, Unprotected Sex, Muzzles, Predator/Prey Kink.

Reminder, this is an 18+ account!

You’re glad that you managed to convince your lover to wear a muzzle while playing your little game together. For as much as he loves you and would do anything in his power to keep you safe, even he can’t fight down the urge to try and bite at you, his delicious prey. It’s dangerous given his state, but that merely adds to the thrill.

Adrenaline has his senses clouded and his iron grip on his behaviour slipping. His teeth, inches from your soft, supple flesh, are snapping at you with the occasional growl slipping from between them. It’s instinctive, the way he tries to sink his jaws into your throat. His hips, desperately grinding against your ass is also entirely instinct.

He wants to devour you, in each and every way he can.

Zombies lack any kind of impulse control, driven only by the need to survive, to consume. And it seems, reproduce too.

Ghost’s pure, baser needs are all that matter with his head swimming in a sea of pleasure chemicals. He’ll come back to himself soon enough, but part of the enjoyment is letting him have his way with you when he’s too far gone to even consider being gentle. He’d won the game after all. He deserves a reward for a successful hunt.

Running through the deserted streets with such a monstrous creature hot on your heels is one hell of a method of foreplay. The other undead pay you no mind, you smell too strongly of Ghost’s musky scent for them to realise you aren’t one of them. But Ghost can still tell, able to track your scent like a bloodhound on steroids. Your arousal just makes it all the easier for him.

He chases you all throughout the winding streets of the city, always getting close to catching you, before letting you “escape” his clutches at the last second. It isn’t until you start sprinting across a park that he decides to end the game, his broad mass tackling you to the ground. Thankfully, you land in a pile of fallen leaves so the landing isn’t too harsh, but that’s the last courtesy Ghost plans on extending to you.

It was certainly a good idea to do some prep before your little hunt, considering your partner doesn’t bother to wait, tearing both your pants and panties down in one firm yank. The chilly air meets the wetness of your cunt for only a moment, before something hot nudges at your opening.

The man curled over you lets out a loud grunt as he pushes inside of your warmth, rough and swift with his strokes. Your breath is punched from your lungs the moment he bottoms out, heavy balls slapping against you as he very quickly picks up speed. He’s still trying to snap his teeth at you, and while the muzzle keeps him from getting too close, that doesn’t stop the drool from his eager snarling and biting from dripping onto your neck.

He’s been running exceedingly hot ever since the infection took hold, so his every inch feels as though it’s burning you from the inside out. The heat of him only helps feed into the building warmth in your gut, the little coil inside you curling tighter and tighter until, with a gasp of his name, you clench down around him, milking Ghost for everything he’s worth.

Unfortunately for you, his infection hasn’t damaged his stamina, and he continues to pound into your overstimulated hole. Your pleas for him to slow down fall of deaf ears.

He plans on breeding you and breeding you good.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #reader insert #terato #dyingdovefics

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 4 months

Text

Birthday Pie

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

SPOILERS! set between seasons 7 and 8 of supernatural, there are spoilers for both these seasons

summary: you celebrate his birthday even when he’s gone

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: sad, not at all a happy birthday for our beloved lil guy, language

author’s note: i’m sorry, okay? i’ve had this idea in my head for months and decided that today is a good day to release it? anyway, happy 45th birthday dean winchester! love you and very glad you’re alive and well and the series finale never happened! :)

January 24th, 2013 — Dean’s 34th Birthday.

You were barely able to drag yourself out of bed and into the living room where you were now seated and watching TV. It didn’t matter what was on, you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was completely focused on Dean. Your beloved Dean; who shouldn’t be wherever the fuck he was but instead safe in your arms.

He shouldn’t be spending his birthday terrified, missing you and his brother. He should be spending it with you, Sam, and Cas.

Sure, he wasn’t really the birthday party type of guy but each year since you met him you’d gotten him a pie and put candles in it for him to blow out. It’d started as a half-assed attempt to put a smile on his face when you learned it was his birthday and you couldn’t find a cake at the store.

He’d loved it.

“How’d you know I’d rather have pie?” he had asked, his face lighting up even more when you put two candles—a two and a four—in the center.

“I…had a feeling.” You had shrugged it off as not a big deal but deep down you both knew how much it meant to him.

And each year since then—come rain, shine, monsters, or the apocalypse—you made it your job to get Dean Winchester a pie on his birthday.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, joining the half-dried ones there already. You hadn’t been sad on Dean’s birthday since his year before hell. But it was different then, you had him next to you and you were savoring every second. You might have been terrified of what would soon happen, but you were still with him.

“If you’re not already aware, Dean,” Castiel started, “you turn thirty-four today.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “Cas we—”

“Granted time seems to be passing differently here, but on earth it is currently your birthday.”

“Happy birthday, brother,” Benny joked.

“Yeah real fuckin’ happy,” Dean scoffed. “We’re stuck killing our way through this fuckin’ nightmare while the love of my life is spending my birthday alone.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Dean,” Cas assured him. “She has Sam, he’ll look after her until we get back.”

“No, you don’t get it. Birthdays were…they were our thing, if that makes any goddamn sense.”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you smiled, placing the pie in front of him.

“Twenty-six! God, that sounds old,” Dean laughed a little.

“You’re kidding right?” you asked after singing for him as he blew out the candles.

“What?”

“Twenty six may sound old to you, but trust me you are still fuckin’ adorable.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He grinned.

“You wanna do the honors, cutie?” you asked, handing him the kitchen knife.

“Gladly, sweetheart,” he said, taking it from you. You watched him cut a slice for you then an even bigger slice for himself.

“Dean,” you started as you watched him begin eating the pie. “I love you.”

He stopped eating and looked at you; “What?”

“I know there’s a lot about your life you haven’t told me, you’re lore you could call it, but I need you to know that I really do love you, Dean Winchester.”

“But how? I mean, I’m not exactly an open book and there’s no way…” he trailed off.

“No way, what?”

“There’s no way in hell you’d feel this way if you learned everything about me.”

Your heart broke at his words, and your expression definitely showed it.

“The amount of pure love I have for you is beyond measurable, Dean. And I might be crazy for saying this, and feeling this, but there is truly nothing you could say or do that would make me stop.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared to press his luck.

You nodded with a soft smile; “Really.”

“Well, look I’m not really one for…that…but I do…I do feel that way about you too. I guess what I’m saying is, uh, right back at cha?”

“See to any normal person that would sound like the ramblings of a crazy man,” you said, his smile only growing. “But to me? Absolute poetry.” You leaned over and kissed him. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He simply kissed you back, smiling against your lips.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you whispered, blowing out the candles on the small pie you’d bought. It was a one-person pie because you knew if you bought a regular one that at least three-quarters would not have been eaten.

You took out the candles and picked up your fork. Staring down at the desert, you let more tears fall.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to eat a fuckin’ pie,” you laughed humorously. Your phone rang next to you and you answered it; “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he sighed. “I just wanted to call and check up on you. It being Dean’s birthday and all, I figured you might…you know…”

“Be huddled up in bed sobbing my eyes out?” you said.

“Yeah…”

“I’m holding it together Sammy, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“I always worry about you, you know that.”

There was a short pause in the conversation as you took a deep breath and let a few more tears fall; “I miss him, Sammy,” you admitted. “I just really miss him.”

#dean winchester x reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester birthday #happy birthday dean winchester

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cinnbar-bun · 3 months

Text

The Heartless Giant Pt. 3

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: You try to get the cigar for the giant, and uncover a few tidbits from the past that leave you with more questions than answers....

Notes: Smoking. Uhhhhh don't smoke if you don't want to I know I made it sound cool here but do recognize they're not that cool and also that you don't need to smoke. Reader is kinda convinced to try it once.

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

Procuring a cigar would not be difficult to achieve. Procuring a cigar that your father would enjoy, however, was a different matter. You had heard your brothers discussing the outrageous costs of them before- they were so expensive and special that other royal or noble families had presented them as gifts or tributes to your father. He rarely ever smoked, but on the few occasions he did, it was always with those expensive cigars.

You knew where he kept them, in a small, cedar humidor in his study on the third shelf. That was the easy part but taking them from the box would be difficult. The humidor was locked with a tiny key, a fact you knew after your brothers attempted to steal from his stash when they were young teenagers. Considering your father was almost always in his study, it would be hard to sneak in and look for the key.

For a moment, you thought about just giving the man in the cell a cheap cigar to stave him off. Surely, he wouldn’t know better, would he?

You sighed and shook your head at your own foolishness. The man was in the lowest cells and could kill you without flinching. Why were you going to test his patience by giving him an obvious fraud? You walked past the door to the study, contemplating what to do next when your father stepped out of the office with a raised brow.

“Ah, (Y/n), good afternoon,” he smiled as his eyes met yours.

“Father, good afternoon,” you smile back, before the gears in your mind start spinning as an idea forms in your head. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll around the gardens. Care to join me?” He asked politely.

“Sorry, I have to decline today. I was going to read,” you fib to throw him off. “May I see one of your diplomacy books?”

Your father shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Feel free to, the books are always for you to enjoy.”

You grin and thank him, waving him off as he begins to descend to the gardens. You close the door to his study and breathe a sigh in relief. What good fortune you had to have gotten the study clear so easily. You wait a brief moment to make sure your father doesn’t come back before you grab the humidor from the shelf and then rummage through his desk. On top is a bunch of files and reports talking about budgets and possible forecasts- rain should be expected soon as well as a bountiful harvest- and his “lucky” pen he adores so much.

In the drawers is nothing but mementos of you and your brothers. Stationary. More pens. Clips, stamps, ink, folders, and old papers. No key.

You sigh and get frustrated as you open the last drawer, gasping as you see only a flintlock pistol inside. The pistol is shiny, obviously well-kept and maintained. You’ve been into this office many times, yet you never knew such a weapon would be kept here.

It made sense, you tried to assure yourself, but the fact your father always had this pistol and maintained it made a shiver run down your spine. You closed the drawer without a second thought, not wanting to think of the implications of such a thing being in there.

Still, no key. You frantically looked at the shelves for any sign or hint of a key. Nothing. You glanced at the humidor and angrily tried to pry it open with force. Barbaric? Perhaps. It was similar to something your brothers would do, but you knew you didn’t have much time to waste if you wanted to get the answers your mind was screaming for.

Damn that man and his need for expensive cigars!

As you were continuing to scuffle with a box, the door to the study opened wide as your father stood at the door.

You gasped and flung yourself back, accidentally bumping into an armored statue that he had near his desk. You knew you had been caught, your hands were all over the crime scene and the guilty look on your face did nothing to give you even a semblance of plausible deniability. You nervously raised your eyes from the ground to look at your father, but instead of an angry or accusatory expression, he seems quite amused.

“My, my, I didn’t expect you would be so bold as to snoop through my office like that,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, knowing your cover has been blown. He hadn’t been gone long at all, barely even a few minutes, yet the way he snorted seemed to confirm everything he needed to know.

“You were that desperate to smoke?” He asked.

“No…” you begin.

“Ah. Were you attempting to get them for your brothers?” Your father questions. Your eyes widen when you realize you couldn’t deny it, since he’d get more suspicious of your intentions.

“Maybe,” you lie.

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to smoke,” he rubbed his chin. “Then again, I guess it would be silly for me to assume you would remain the same as when you were a young child. Although, lying to me to sneak in did hurt me a bit.”

“How did you know?” You ask. Your father chuckles again.

“You and your brothers have been acting suspicious all day. I figured something must have been going on. I also know that you have plenty of books on diplomacy, many of which I already own here. You would not gain anything new, so I wanted to see what you were really planning.”

You sigh, forgetting that your father- although a noble and gentle man- could be so observant and calculating in his plans. “Well, you weren’t called the ‘Hero King’ for nothing, I suppose.”

“Now, now, I may be your father, but even when I was a young lad, I too liked to indulge in some bad behavior,” your father says, walking over to his shelf. “If you would have looked a bit closer…”

He pulls out a red book titled A Key to Diplomacy and hands it to you. The book is rather light despite its size.

“I don’t really need this-”

“Just open it,” he sagely nods. You’re confused by what he’s trying to do before you open the book and find the inside of it is hollow. In the hollowed book, there is a small key. You pull it out and your father nudges his heads towards the humidor.

“I had it hidden in there since I doubted your brothers would ever try to open a book like that.”

You laugh at the absurdity of this situation as you open the humidor. Your father leans over to grab two cigars and a cigar cutter.

“Two?” You comment, while your father begins to light one up.

“I figured since you were so curious, I could allow you the chance to try one. Lord knows I need one.”

He brings the cigar to his mouth while he hands you the other one. You watch as he inhales the tobacco and exhales a large puff of smoke. The smell is strong, wafting and covering the room in a short amount of time. It’s a bit intimidating, but you continue to watch.

“Do you really feel better after smoking one?” You ask curiously.

“I think I do. Maybe it’s the fact I’m doing something else besides paperwork that eases me. Or maybe I put it in my head that it does. I can’t be certain, but I can assure you that a nice cigar does relax me when times are tough,” your father admits, tapping the cigar against the ashtray.

You look down at the cigar in your hands as your thoughts drift to the man in the cellar. Is that why he was desperate for a cigar of all things? Does it really ease his mind?

“You’re off thinking again,” your father comments.

“What?” You ask, focusing back on your father.

“You’ve had a dazed look on you since the morning. Are you troubled by something?” He asked with a gentle and sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Oh… no, I just was thinking of… things,” you try to say.

“Do you wish to speak of these ‘things’?” “No, father. I’m sorry. I’ll get over it soon,” you reply. After all, once you get the man’s name then… perhaps you can rid him in your mind. Your father shrugs casually and smiles.

“I understand. Do know that I’ll always be there to help you, dear. You are my precious child, a gifted one that I am lucky to have,” his face softens. The compliment makes your cheek flush and your lips curve upwards.

“Thank you, father. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, my child. Now, since we have a few moments to spare, why not catch up with me?”

The talk with your father lasts for a while, with you two discussing random topics of interest. He muses on his rebellious youth, admitting he was a troublemaker. He says he once enjoyed fighting anything and everything, a habit he was lucky to have grown from.

“It might seem strange to admit, even whilst I charge headfirst to battle, but the best weapons one can wield… it is your mind and your heart.”

“Mind and heart?” You say, unconvinced. You do value your mind, but something about the way he said that makes you curious.

“Yes. If I had no conviction or love for my people and kingdom, there would be no kingdom left standing. If I was simply a violent tyrant who enjoyed blood for the sake of blood, there would be no happiness or joy in here. That is what separates humans from beasts. I love with all my heart, proudly and without fear.”

You let his words sink in and mull over them.

The giant below… does he count? Is he worthy of love? Can he love?

“Do you think everyone is worthy of love?”

“Now that’s a good question,” your father hums, looking less like the wise king and more like a regular man with every second of this conversation. “Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. As the king, I make tough choices every day. I would love to be able to forgive and pardon everyone. I would love to have no enemies, no strife, no war- I would love for my position to simply cease from existence as we explore what the world has to offer.”

Your eyes widen as you hear your father’s admission. “You don’t wish to be king?”

“It is a heavy burden, my dear child. It weighs down on you constantly. And deep down, no matter how much I dream of being the ideal king, the best ruler, the kindest and noblest man in the world…” he stands up, pushing his cigar into the ashtray as he has his back face you while he looks out the large window behind his desk. The shadow of his figure covers you, shielding you from the bright light of the evening sun. He reaches his hand out to caress the suit of armor.

“But you are that king, father. You are that- to the people, to me-,”

“You do not understand, my child… once in a while, I think back to those battles, to those wars I’ve fought. I’ve slain and nearly been slain countless times,” he sighs. “I think of the way I was near death, near exhaustion, bleeding, bruised, broken. Sometimes…”

He glances back to you, with a somber smile and blank eyes that sends a chill down your spine. “I miss it.”

You gasp as your father’s eyes return to the warmth it once had as he sits back down.

“I am not the perfect man. That has always been true. But I can do good, and as such, I choose to do so, no matter how the monster within me screams. I am a father, a king, and a leader- I no longer work for myself. I work for my people. And that means I must be stricter with myself.”

Your hands tremble as you grip the cigar and look down at your lap. You don’t know what to think of what your father just said, admitting to the fact that deep down, he enjoyed battles and killing. The gun in his desk, was it for protection, or was it possibly for his desire to return to the days of his old glory? You try to exhale. Your father wasn’t so careless and bloodthirsty. Even though he admitted this, he had also said he restrained himself for his duty.

And yet… why did the thought of his true nature repeat over and over in your mind?

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Your father asks sweetly.

“Y-yes. I am. I asked a question and you answered,” you try and force a smile on your face. “I never knew you thought that way.”

“It does run through my mind on rare occasions. But I do not let it stop me from doing my duty. I truly do love what I do and my life. That is why I fight for it.”

You nod along, eager to take a break from here. “Thank you, father. I think I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Oh, dear, you’ve made my day better. I enjoy talking with you and listening to you. It makes me feel I’ve done right as a father,” he grins. You feel guilt inside your heart as you glance at the cigar in your hand, knowing you only talked to your father in order to give this to his sworn enemy.

“Father, here,” you give the cigar back to him, not feeling worthy of the smile he has given you. After what he discussed with you, perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. Your father, however, pushes your hand back to you and shakes his head.

“I’ve no need for all of these cigars. Please, keep it, whether you intend to light it or not. At least as a memento of my trust for you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you nod feebly.

“Thank you. I’m happy you trust me.”

Your father chuckles and hands you a cigar cutter and lighter. “For whenever and whatever you decide to do. I will always support you.”

You grip the items in your hand and thank your father again before leaving to your room.

Guilt, guilt, guilt- it eats away at your heart while your mind screams for you to not continue with your plan. There is no point, no worth, no use to seeing that man. Oh, but your heart… but what if he is different than what once was assumed? What if he was simply in need of love? What if all he ever needed was just one more chance?

Do it. No, don’t. We don’t need to be in more trouble.

But can’t we? Why would we?

Oh, damn you! Don’t you see this is difficult?

The two sides of you disagree and argue, until you huff in frustration and grab the items.

Forget it, we’re going.

You sneak back into the dungeons, not even noticing the chills due to your anger at your torn feelings.

You’re an idiot, (Y/n). What good is this? Father said he trusted us, and now look what we’re doing!

“You think too loud,” a voice cuts through your inner thoughts as you look up to come face to face with the giant. He’s smiling, eyeing the things in your hands.

“What do you mean?” You ask in an accusing tone.

“You look as if you’re in a fight, dear. Are you always this lost in thought, your highness?” He mocks you.

“Oh, quiet you, you’ve put me in a rather big bind. You should be thankful I’m even giving them to you,” you frown, holding the singular cigar and cigar cutter to him. He waves his hook dismissively while his one hand expertly cuts the cigar.

“Yes, yes, thank you very much. My… your father really must have an eye for quality. These are perhaps the best cigars out there,” he says as he examines the cigar. He curls two fingers in a repeating motion. “Lighter,” he commands.

You fumble with the lighter in your pocket and shakily try to ignite it. The man rolls his eyes at your incompetence and guides your hand with his hook to the cigar. The flame slowly roasts the cigar as he takes a deep inhale of it. He immediately throws his shoulders back and lets out a pleasured sigh.

“Ah… oh how I missed this,” he mumbles, his body relaxing.

“Well, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” You fold your arms.

“Patience. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate to get to know me,” he teases, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. You grimace at the scent while the man revels in your disgust. His hook reaches through the bars again and tilts your chin up. He gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk. “You look so stressed, your highness. Why don’t you relax?” “I’m not worried about that right now. Besides, I’m fine,” you huff.

“Nonsense. Here, let me help,” he twirls the cigar around to you and holds it in front of you. You glance between it and him while he hums. “What? Never smoked before?” “No,” you admit to him.

“What a shame,” he bemoans, going back to take a puff of his cigar. “And here I thought we were bonding something special. Although, perhaps it’s good you haven’t taken up such bad habits.”

“Really?” “Yes,” he eyes you. “I wouldn’t want you of all people to end up like me.”

“True. Why do you like to smoke so much? You could’ve asked me for anything, yet you chose a cigar of all things.”

“It’s a hard vice to let go of. I once was free to do as I could. Forcefully being unable to pick up one whenever I chose drove me a bit… mad,” he laughs humourlessly. “I find it clears my mind. You look as if you desperately need that.”

He faces the cigar to you once more. You feel your previous conviction falter when he gives you that eager look and nods his head for you to try it.

“I guess once could not hurt…” you begin as you grab the cigar and put it to your mouth. You inhale a large amount of the smoke before you feel your lungs screaming. You remove the cigar quickly and cough out puffs of smoke, wheezing while the man pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You really are too much, sometimes. You don’t breathe it in to your lungs,” he chastizes you, grabbing the cigar from you. “You breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, let the taste settle on you for a few seconds, then exhale. This is expensive stuff, not a cheap joint.”

He shows you the motions and hands it back to you. You cough once more before trying it again, just the way he did it. You exhale some smoke, thankfully not choking, but not enjoying the taste.

“I don’t get it. It tastes like crap.”

“It’s an acquired taste. Maybe you should bring me another, and we could try again.”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to do all that again to try and smoke some lousy cigar. You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Crocodile,” he casually states. “Hah, hah, how funny. Be serious,” you frown. He shrugs and continues to smoke.

“Oh well. You don’t believe me.”

“There’s no way you are named Crocodile. That’s a ridiculous name. Not to mention, that was once from the hero of-”

“Alabasta?”

“Yes! Alabasta! And that…” your eyes widen as you see his shoulders bounce due to his laughter. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. It’s not my fault you don’t take my word.”

“Then why is a hero in this jail?”

“Reasons. Reasons you will not know or understand,” his voice evens out, looking down at the floor.

“What, am I supposed to give you something, then you’ll tell me?” “I’m afraid my motivations can’t be bought, my dear,” Crocodile admits. “Entice me with something, though, and I may change my mind.”

“I don’t think I have anything ‘enticing’ to offer.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong…” he leans in closer to you and eyes you up and down. “Perhaps another time.”

“What? What are you-”

“Mmm, nothing. It’s just a thought came to mind.”

You roll your eyes at his vague words. “Never mind, I can see how someone as cruel as you ended up here.” “And yet you keep coming down to talk to me, dear. Why don’t you give me your name as well, since it’s obvious you are interested in me.”

“I am not. I am just repaying the favor from before,” you quickly correct him.

“My mistake, yes, that’s what’s going on.”

“I don’t like your attitude!” Your face flushes as you fan yourself. “It’s (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)...” Crocodile repeats, like a prayer. “I will admit, it is definitely a beautiful name. Far better than Crocodile, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. (Y/n), it sounds like royalty. It fits you well, your highness.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure of why your heart is elated he was complimenting your name.

“Would you look at the time, your highness,” Crocodile states after a few quiet moments. “You should be getting back upstairs. I’m sure your father would be wondering where you are. He wouldn’t want to find you messing around down here, now would he?”

“Right,” you shake your head, pushing aside all the strange feelings inside you. However, despite him saying you should go, you find yourself reluctant to move from your spot in front of him. Crocodile chuckles and this time, reaches to you with his right hand. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and looks down at you.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit me, your highness.” “Who said I wanted to?” you lie.

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken your feelings again,” he plays along. “Although, you could always keep me company. It’s very lonely down here.” “No. You have nothing else you wish to share with me,” you retort.

“I did say if you entice me, I might change my mind. And what is more enticing to a prisoner trapped here for life than a companion?”

You shouldn’t do this. But then you see those dark eyes and you feel tempted to try and learn.

“I can see that…” “You’re very kind, (Y/n),” Crocodile says as he removes his hand from your face. “Now run along. But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #reader insert #x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #crocodile #the heartless giant #heartless giant

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alldevilsarehere90 · 8 months

Text

Title: Pretending Pairing: Daryl x Female Reader Summary: You'd been waiting long enough for Daryl to make it clear how he felt about you and now you were tired of waiting. Rating: 15+ (SFW) W/c: 1.6k Setting: Alexandria / Abandoned town Genre/Warnings: One shot / fluff / Romance / Friends to lovers / Bad language / slightly suggestive if you squint Prompts: "You wouldn't second-look me before the world went to shit, so don't pretend otherwise.' Requested by @ravenrose18 A/n: Tried to make this as fluffy as I could, I had to re-write it because I made it too angsty the first time, I can't help it, it's in my nature lol Enjoy

You'd had enough, enough of waiting for Daryl Dixon to make a move, enough of not knowing if he even wanted to. The mixed signals he gave you were sometimes enough to cause whiplash.

Your mind was made up, today was the day you would confront him and find out once and for all how he felt about you.

This morning, as you showered and got yourself ready to go on the run with him, you had been full of confidence, consumed by your plan and practising your confession repeatedly to yourself in the mirror. The words ran through your mind over and over, like a script you were trying desperately to memorise, as you head down the pathway leading to the gate.

As soon as you spot him waiting for you however, your bravado runs off, abandoning you, leaving you feeling vulnerable and second guessing your decision.

"Yer ready?" He asks, already seated on his motorbike and sends his cigarette shooting across the road with a flick as you approach him.

Nodding, you climb on, hands unsteady as they make their way around his waist.

Your clammy palms lock together to keep yourself in place. His scent instantly claims your senses; tobacco and leather with an added note of something so him, you couldn’t put your finger on it but breathed it in and relished it just the same.

The gate opens and as soon as it's a wide enough exit, his hands move and you speed off, leaving Alexandria a blur behind you.

The wind whips through your hair, sending it flying wildly around your face. You enjoy feeling the cool air ripple against your skin, calming your nerves and clearing your mind. Before you knew it, you found yourself leaning your cheek on Daryl's back, closing your eyes, enjoying the closeness and warmth radiating from him but when you notice him stiffen under you for a brief moment, back muscles pulled taute against the softness of your face, you almost sit upright again before feeling him slowly relax back into the journey.

But all too soon you had come to your destination and were forced to unwrap yourself from him.

An abandoned town sat a fair few miles from Alexandria that had been discovered by the two of you on the way back from another run. It was getting dark when you came upon it previously and you were both tired and dirty and just wanted to get home. Investigating in the dark is never a good idea if it is not necessary.

You'd agreed to come back a few short days later in the daylight to explore it and here you were. Staying near him, eyes constantly surveying your surroundings, while Daryl hid the bike in the opening of the woods.

The place seemed deserted, eerily so, with no sight of any one dead or alive. Odd but not unheard of.

You both get your weapons out ready and head into the surrounding buildings, searching one by one and finding a surprising amount of supplies and only a handful of walkers to deal with. It was shaping up to be a very successful run. And once you'd swept through the empty little town, taking anything you could use and putting it in your packs, you journeyed to the final building; a clothes store.

You both grab standard clothes in different sizes so there could be something for everyone and fill up the last of the space in your packs in the process.

Wandering the store and surveying the racks looking for anything new and interesting, when you spot a black cowboy hat, taking it off the shelf and searching around the rails for your companion. You spot him pulling items off hangers and shoving them into his bag. Quietly walking up behind him and placing the hat on his head with a giggle.

"Why, howdy there partner, fancy seeing ya in these neck'a the woods." You mock, in a deep southern accent. He turns to you, smiling, that same smirk that you've grown to love so much and never fails to make your heart beat faster.

“Ma’am.” He nods, flicking the brim of the hat, attempting to join in with your playfulness.

Your stomach quivers as you relish seeing this side of him, a side it seems only you can bring out. “Well, well, ya can take the boy outta the country but ya can’t take the country out the boy.”

He scoffs and tosses the hat at you, managing to land it on your head. “Suits yer better.”

You hold the brim and incline your head, “thank yer, thank yer very much.” You say, spinning off towards another section of the store, hearing his quiet laughter causing butterflies to fly rampant inside you.

A perfect cobalt blue sundress catches your attention and you head over to it. The material felt soft and thin against your fingers, perfect now the warmer weather was here. It wasn't until the sound of Daryl clearing his throat behind you, you realised he'd been watching.

"Why dun yer take it?" He asks, his bag full and slung over his shoulder.

Turning back to the dress, with your bottom lip caught between your teeth in hesitation, you shrug. "I've got no reason to wear it." You finger at the material one last time, admitting to yourself that you want it more because the colour matches Daryl's eyes than because of the way it feels. "What do you think?" You ask him, peeking at him slyly.

He shifts his weight to the other foot and picks at his nails. "Try it, see if yer like it" he nods his head towards the single dressing room.

You mull it over before agreeing that's probably best. If you don't feel good wearing it there's no point in taking it.

Shutting the door behind you as you enter the small space, you begin to remove your old clothes and slip the dress over your head. A little manoeuvring and smoothing the material down before you brave the mirror attached to the wall. You're not sure what you expected but it wasn't the sight that stared back at you.

You looked pretty. You haven't felt pretty in…well, in a very long time. Seeing yourself in this dress, as silly as it sounds, made the world seem as if it hadn't ended and it was just another day out shopping for something new. You take a moment to adjust to this version of yourself in front of you before slowly opening the door and hesitantly exiting. Peering around outside where you'd left Daryl, only to be met with nothing but still, quiet space.

"Daryl?" You whisper.

His face shot out in front of you, "yea," he replies, as he appears from inside the rack closest to the changing room. He laughs as you jump, clutching your chest but unable to help the grin stretching the corners of your mouth. Your hand playfully hit his chest, "you jerk."

His smile drops as his eyes fall to your outfit and he takes a step back to really look at you. A red tinge blooms across his cheeks as his eyes roam over your body, more skin on show than ever in this strappy, short dress.

Your stomach flips at the way he’s looking at you, feeling more confident than ever in how he feels about you.

"So, what do you think?" You say, giving him a spin and in the process sending the dress flying up a little higher than you intended.

He clears his throat again, "s'nice." His voice more quiet and raspier than usual. You enjoy watching his adams apple bob up and down following the loud swallow.

There was only a few centimetres of space between you, his radiating heat made you painfully aware of his proximity.

Reaching forward, fingers in search of his and when you find them his eyes dart downwards at the unexpected touch but they respond quickly and entwine with yours. It was the confirmation you needed, bringing your other hand to tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. But he dips his head, taking his gaze away from you.

"Hey," you whisper, cupping his face and pulling him up to look at you. "If you don't feel the same, you can say."

He scoffs. "If I dun feel the same?" He repeats in surprise. "I've wanted yer since the day we met."

Your heart jerks at his confession before galloping away your chest, part of its own solo race towards him but confusion spoils your happiness, not understanding as to why he seems so unsure. You wait with a questioning gaze on him, searching his eyes for answers.

Finally, he sighs, "Yer wouldn't second-look me 'fore the world went ta shit, so dun pretend otherwise."

You bring both your hands to either side of his face and wait until his eyes meet yours again. "Daryl Dixon, I can promise you, world ending or not, I would have second, third and fourth looked you."

His answering smile made you feel like you were getting through to him.

"No one is pretending here." You insist as your hands wind around his neck and you lean up on your tiptoes to be closer to his mouth. "I have waited and waited for you, Daryl. How about we don't waste anymore time?"

As soon as the last word passes your lips, his touch yours before you even have a chance to form your next thought.

His hands come up to your face, cradling you softly and caressing the skin of your cheeks with his thumbs. Everything in this moment was gentle, loving and far more passionate than you'd envisioned. You held each other close with a lingering desperation lurking beneath the surface, something to be explored when you were both ready.

When you finally break apart, breathing hard and hearts pounding, he slides his hands down your sides to clasp yours.

"Here's ta not wasting time." He says into the silence, placing a quiet kiss on the back of your hand. "Come on, let's go home."

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #twd

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writer-komaru · 11 months

Text

.♱ 𓆩𖤍𓆪 ♱. Moonlight Kisses ｡✧ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ﾟ｡⋆ 𖤐

✧Rating: Fluff + Smut

✧Characters: Edgar Allen Poe

✧Word Count: 3.9k

✧Summary: Headcanons about Poe and Karl because they’re precious.

Platonic + Romantic + Sexual + Karl

.𖤣 .𖥧 𖡼. ⚘.° :Platonic

✿ Poe’s main interest in life is to write. More specifically, write a mystery novel even the great detective Ranpo can’t crack to get his sweet, long-awaited revenge.

✿ He spends hours, long, grueling hours, slumped over his desk with adorable raccoon freind curled up on his lap, writing none stop. His feathered pen flutters through the air as its ink soaked tip etches Poe’s ideas into words. It’s almost beautiful.

✿ His sleep deprived eyes struggling to stay open, hyper focused on the air taking shape in front of him

✿ Just like a sculptor, he chisels away at the manila paper with the hopes of soon creating a magnificent statue to stand the test of time.

✿ That uplifting dream helps keep his head high and his pen working overtime

✿ But even a talented writer like him often has his off days. Days where he feels his river of rushing inspiration run dry; days where the negation of his health finally finds the opportunity to pounce.

✿ Usually when he finds himself stuck at the bottom of an ocean of despair, he hesitatingly leaves his room and takes a stroll around his mansion.

✿(btw I headcanon, I’m pretty sure it’s cannon but idk, he lives in a secluded mansion on the outside of town with a view of the ocean by his window and a lush garden of roses in his front yard. He usually doesn’t take very good care of it cuz he spends most of his time writing but sometimes he likes to stop by and admire the new buds)

✿(I also headcannon he has tons of shelves and climbing equipment set up up the wall and on the ceiling of his study so if Karl gets bored he can scamper up there and have some play time)

✿He takes note of anything that catches his eye; whether that be intricate designs of the wooden trim on the walls, the feeling of smooth tiles under his shoes, the sounds of leaves rustling against the windows, the faint scent of mahogany and spruce hanging in the air from the numerous candles he likes to light.

✿ Although these senses may sound boring, all it takes is a small spark of intrigue to set of an explosion of fireworks in his mind that leave him rushing back to his chamber to jot it all down, Karl scampering after him excitedly.

✿ But on days he doesn’t even have the will to get out of bed, it leaves Karl with the duty of getting him back on his feet.

✿ He’ll give him tons of fluffy cuddles and licks on the cheek, deliver him snacks leftover from Ranpo’s last visit, and eventually yank him out of bed by the sleeve of his pajama shirt when it’s time to get some sun.

✿ He’s perfectly content with this lifestyle and finds comfort in his solitude. Big crowds of loud, unfamiliar people make him uncomfortable and afraid. All he really needs is his writing, Karl, and Ranpo.

✿ There’s just one thing. The more he ventures outside of his sanctum, the more he begins to long for something.

✿ It’s a solemn feeling; Like the sad cry of a lost wolf pup, endlessly marching through a thick and dark forest, calling out for any signs of its pack. He can practically feel the cold biting at his torn paw pads and the thicket’s thorns scratching at his back.

✿ No matter how many sweet nuzzles Karl gives him, the feeling still persists.

✿ That was until he finally ran into you. In that moment where his eyes gazed into yours, his breathing stopped. The heavy, painful feeling of loneliness suddenly falters, like the metal cuffs weighing from his wrists and ankles unlock.

✿ Even though he has the conversation skills of both a theater kid and a wet rag, he does his best to keep up.

✿ His long, dark locks covering his eyes don’t do much to shield the slight red glow of embarrassment from his cheeks

✿ When he gets nervous, he likes to glide his fingers loosely through Karl’s dense fur. He makes sure to give him a nice brushing when it gets too tangled so it’s usually in pretty good condition. The quiet action helps steady his nerves, and Karl’s almost too willing to get some extra attention.

✿ After meeting you, he begins to leave the house more often.

✿ He loves to rant to you about the next chapter of his novel and how the newest twist will finally prove itself too difficult for Ranpo to deduce. He’ll go into detail, explaining each and every complexity, red herring, and hidden meaning of his writing which will probably go straight over your head. Following everything up with a villainous cackle.

✿ After noticing your lost expression, he apologies enthusiastically and laughs it off.

✿ When Ranpo learns of the new friend Poe made, he will invite both of you out with him to a local arcade. Even though he acts all cheerful and aloof as he urges you to play games with him, he secretly hides the fact he’s just using this as an excuse to scope you out.

✿ He can’t have some unworthy person try to come along and steal his close friend away from him, no matter how childish that sounds. He also just wants the best for Poe.

✿ If you pass his vibe check, you’re now added to the list of people Ranpo actually enjoys spending time with (good for you)

✿ Now that you’re officially a certified friend of Poe, you’ll have to take on some of the responsibilities Karl once did when Poe gets stuck in a stupor of blank pages.

✿ Make sure to get him some groceries (using his card ofc with his consent) and kind words.

✿ Sometimes all it takes to displace the dark, thunderous worries in his mind is a pat on the shoulder and a few words along the lines of “I’m proud of you.”

✿ He’ll look back at you with such a sickeningly sweet smile as tears gush from his shining, dark eyes.

✿ Expect a neatly folded envelope with a ruby red seal and a few jet black raven feathers decorated under it on your doorstep. In it contains a handwritten thank you letter from Poe. (He’s so extra I love him)

✿ But can you blame him? He’s just so glad to have another friend he can count on! <3

° .; ʚ❤︎ɞ ‘｡˚ :Romantic

➷ Having Poe as a boyfriend has to be one of the most exquisitely beautiful yet taxing experiences in the world of dating

➷ He’s a major hopeless romantic and would always find him mind drifting off to thoughts of you while trying to work on his novel.

➷ When he eventually realizes he got off draft he’s already covered the whole page in praises, poems, and hearts. He grumbles to himself for making such an embarrassing mistake and tears out the page.

➷ Right when he was about to crumble it, he stops himself and instead tucks it neatly into his desk, never to see the light of day again.

➷ He turns to a new page and takes a deep breath to calm his mind. Yet, his pen remains stationary. His eyebrows knit together as he tries desperately to push away the surplus thoughts of you and his love for you out of his mind.

➷ “Why can’t I just focus on what’s in front of me…?” He groans in defeat as he flops against his desk. Karl brushes his fluffy tail over his back, nudging his ear with his nose.

➷ “I’m fine, Karl. Just a bit distracted, it seems,” he mumbles, covering his growing blush with his arms.

➷ Is he really reduced to a complete flustered mess, just by the mere thoughts of you? He whimpers at the idea.

➷ Just give him some time to wallow in self pity and he’ll finally pull himself together.

➷ He decides to vent out his feelings into stacks upon stacks of love letters, poems, and sketches, all embodying his undying love for the beauty known as you.

➷ Now that his mind is free of clutter, he can begin work on his novel once more. But, out of the corner of his eye, he doesn’t quite catch the faint blur of gray fur that swipes one of the poems and speeds off to an unknown location.

➷ After around two hours, Poe wipes his brow and stands up from his desk, finally ready to take a needed break for some food and rest. When he reaches to his shoulder to pet Karl, the spot he usually rests while cuddling around Poe’s neck, he finds it worryingly empty.

➷ The adrenaline spike of a mother’s primal instincts shoots directly into his veins like a drug as he jumps up from his chair and scrambles all over the house in search of his beloved friend.

➷ Sooner or later he finds Karl curled up by the fireplace with nearly folded piece of paper in his mouth. Poe gently takes it from him and gasps as he reads it. It… it was a poem… with your name on it? Did Karl steal one of his love poems?!

➷ Without fully reading over the poem, he hurries back to his study and shoves it into his desk, along with the rest of the incriminating material of his love.

➷ “Not a soul shall hear of this, especially not t-them…” He murmurs to himself before preparing a cup of tea to calm down his racing heart.

➷ After a large quantity of time goes by and he warms up to being more open with his love, he’ll make it his duty to write one poem for you each day and have Karl deliver it to you. He could be swamped in work, suffering from a fever, or caught up in a fiasco with the guild and he would still find the time to jot down a few words for your eyes and heart only.

➷ Plus, he makes sure to give each letter a stamp of approval from Karl by dipping his paw pad in some animal safe ink.

➷ No matter how much time he spends with you it’s just not enough for his poor enthralled heart.

➷ Often, he’d find himself lying awake a night, thoughts and dreams of you echoing and spinning through his mind like a carousel.

➷ Just a light touch on the hand can turn his poor cheeks bright red. The picture of his blushing, flustered face barely concealed by his unkempt dark hair is enough to make anyone want to tease the life out of this man

➷ On days he’s not as busy and a little more confident than usual, he’ll take you out somewhere nice. And when I say nice, I mean NICEEE.

➷ We all know this guy is loaded and he’s 100% willing to spend every dime of it on you.

➷ Thousands of servings of food, luxury clothing brands, sparkling jewelry, spa trips every day, fuck it, even a private jet if you really wanted. Just remember to not be too demanding because he can get pretty reckless with money.

➷ One time you told him how much you loved bunnies and the next time you went into your living room it was completely full of bunny merch of all kinds. Plushies, blankets, clothes, I could go on for days.

➷ All and all, his love language is most definitely giving gifts or words of affirmations.

.༺ཐི♡ཋྀ༻. :Sexual

ღ This guy is such a bottom in the kindest way I can put it. Everything about you sends currents of love streaming through his body, setting it ablaze. He’s completely at the mercy of this feeling, at the mercy of you.

ღ The only time he won’t be a bottom is when he’s going through a spout of confidence from either one upping Ranpo somehow or syncing himself up. But even then you won’t get anything more than a service dom.

ღ Let’s start of with his bottom side.

ღ He’s always pining for you, daydreaming about how lovely you are to him and how angelic you look. But his thoughts don’t always stay pure and fluffy.

ღ On days he’s especially pent up from working long days and nights on his writing, he can often find himself sucked into the honey trap of more… explicit fantasies of you.

ღ Sometimes it’s him tied up with you looming over him, sometimes you’re stroking him under the table during a guild meeting, sometimes you’re giving him head under his desk when he’s supposed to be finishing his novel, and sometimes you’re littering his pink tilted skin in hickies and lipstick stains.

ღ He whines in annoyance at the prominent bulge in his pants he now has to take care of.

ღ But maybe, if you’d be fine with it, you could make some of his fantasies come true…?

ღ He let’s put a yelp as he feels your hands slide up his thighs and your smirking face appear between them.

ღ his workaholic brain tries to resist the temptation in front of him in favor of working just a little bit more but… as soon as his fly is down and your intoxicatingly warm tongue laps against his head, he’s once again completely at your mercy.

ღ Even though he may have needy fantasies about you, I don’t see him having a very high libedo. You can expect to have sex maybe every week or so, adjusting around your needs instead of his.

ღ This brings me to discuss his service Dom side.

ღ When he’s in his confident mindset, you can find your back pressed against his mattress and his hands interlocked with his own as his lips trace against your jaw.

ღ You didn’t hear it from me, but his dirty talk is leagues ahead of most people in BSD.

ღ “What an alluring temptress I have below me, if I wasn’t the gentleman I am I would have taken you against every surface of my mansion until we’re both breathless and shaking~”

ღ “I can’t wait to bathe every inch and curve of your body in so much love and pleasure to the point your crying my name so loud even the angels in heaven will get jealous~”

ღ “Just like that, my beautiful goddess, I- Hahh I’m devoted to you and you only. I’ll pray and worship you every… se-second, hour, day of my life, I promise- Promise promise promise I’ll serve you! I’ll please you, I’ll make you feel an unending amount of ecstasy I swear to you!”

ღ “My angel, my love, my life, my everything, let your burning love out!! Nghhh~ Let it burst from your cunt, drip onto the mattress. I’ll clean it up later, I swear! J-just relax and cum for me, I-I Aghh!!! I just can’t hold on much longer! Please cum please cum please- Aghh!!~ I-I gonna cummmmm!!~”

ღ I totally see him as a virgin until he meets you. Either you’ll have to teach him or you’ll try to educate himself.

ღ How will he do that? Well, let’s just say there’s a certain shelf of his room no one, not even Karl, is allowed near. After exploring the world of more… erotic writing, that’s when he started to have fantasies about you.

ღ If you have a corruption kink, you better get to him before his private writing collection does~

ღ It’s pretty easy to make him lose his mind if I’m being honest.

ღ it can be done by giving him a sudden, deep kiss on the lips, a hug from behind where your hands wander further than his stomach, maybe even having him catch you in nothing but a bra and panties.

ღ Now that’s a great way to stay in his mind for hours~

ღ One of his guilty pleasures is marks. Hickies are his favorite because the pain that comes with scratches and bruises takes him out of his romantic mood. On days where he’s out and about with his dearest friend Ranpo and he catches the faint glimpse of a reddish bruise under the pearly white collar of his button up. Dread seeps into every corner of his body like a rock sinking to the bottom of a pond as a sinister smirk stretches across Ranpo’s face.

ღ “My my my, did someone have some fun last night?~ I never took you for the-“ Ranpo’s smirk widens as a hand quickly covers his mouth.

ღ “D-Don’t… allow me to keep at least some of my dignity…” Poe stammers out, using his other hand to cover his incriminating blush.

ღ But he could be caught in the act a million times before he ever even for a second regretted the nights of sinful passion you two spend together. Reaching a new level of nirvana with you proudly riding the life out of him makes him the happiest, most lucky man in all of the world. Even if you tease him, deny him, even degrade him, he’ll still love you more than anything.

ღ “Look at how desperate you are, cumming back to back like this is the best pussy you’ve ever gotten. Is it good? Do I make you feel good, my love?~” You coo to him, stroking his heated cheek.

ღ The lovesick expression on his face, drool dripping down his chin, a cherry red blush, his clumped locks sticking to the sweat of his forehead, it all says more than even a million, trillion love poems could ever hope of communicating.

ʕ(◕ᴥ◕)ʔ Karl

꩜ He absolutely ADORES both you and Poe

꩜ I'd like to think the story of how Poe met Karl is a long and detailed one, but I’ll try to keep it short

꩜ One day after being rejected by the 27th publisher, Poe began his sad walk home.

꩜ He knows he shouldn’t give up home and that soon enough someone would be interested in his stories, but the crushing despair of not being good enough ate away at him.

꩜ he keeps his head low and to the ground, to ashamed of himself to meet anyone’s eye. That was until he noticed the hard concrete sidewalk had now turned into a loamy, grassy mix.

꩜ When he looked back up, he found himself lost in a dark forest of looming trees, pointed thickets, and changing owls.

꩜ All around him was a never ending void, disturbed by only the chirping of small animals and the rustling of bushes.

꩜ He was completely lost.

꩜ After checking his phone to of course find it has no signal and the path he had just taken was now covered in thick bushes his blood went cold.

꩜ Was this his destiny? To get rejected from every publisher in his city and die alone and hungry in the forest at night?

꩜ He sank to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest.

꩜ Tears he has been fighting back for hours finally spilled down his cheeks, swamping the first floor in dirty, murky mud.

꩜ That was until he felt a strange tickling sensation against his back. His head whipped around to find an unexpected acquaintance.

꩜ It was a small, furry raccoon with large, black eyes. It cocked its head like Poe was a weirdly rock and chittered softly.

꩜ Poe backed away slightly. He knows the animals of the forest were never ones to be messed with, including a baby raccoon. Whenever there’s a baby, an angry mom is always nearby and ready to pounce.

꩜ But instead, the raccoon squeaked again and turned his back to him, shaking his tail side to side. Was it… trying to tell him something?

꩜ Suddenly, it began to march away, it’s tail swinging behind him. Did it want Poe to follow it?

꩜ Without any over ideas, the two began to make their way through the forest, weaving between thorny brambles and suspicious ivy. After only a few minutes the glowing lights of the city finally illuminated from the clearing of the forest.

꩜ “Little raccoon, you saved my life. How can I ever repay you?” Poe knealt down on the ground and gave the kind creature a sincere bow.

꩜ The raccoon chittered back at him and stood on its hind legs, reaching up to Poe. The writer’s poor heart is pierced with an arrow of affection for his new furry friend, scooping him up into his arms and carrying him back to civilization.

꩜ Karl was born into a little of cute, healthy raccoons, owned by an unknown russian author.

꩜ But one day after playing with his siblings, he suddenly found himself picked up by the author and sold off to a family looking for an unusual house pet.

꩜ After a series of events, Karl escaped and scurried off into the forest.

꩜ He may finally have freedom, but since he’s still so young, he doesn’t know how to find food or protect himself.

꩜ Just as he was about to curl up in a pile of leaves and sleep, he heard unusual sounds coming from deep in the forest.

꩜ That’s when he found Poe.

꩜ Back in present time, he spends all his time either resting on Poe’s shoulders, curled up by the fireplace, or nestled on your lap.

꩜ His favorite treats are nuts like cashews, acorns, and peanuts. He also likes blueberries, sunflower seeds, and grapes.

꩜ (don’t give him cotton candy he will cry and Poe will scold you)

꩜ Poe won’t let you feed Karl too many snacks in fear he might get even more chunky, but if Karl gives him some big, sad eyes and whimpers, Poe will eventually cave.

꩜ He loves to chase laser pointers and you may or may not have used that to lead him on a wild chase all over Poe’s study. (It was of course Ranpo’s idea)

꩜ You too giggle to yourself like little gremlins as Poe races around the room chasing Karl like a madman.

꩜ Poe makes him wear little boots when it rains and he hates them so much, always tries to pull em off so he can splash around in the mud.

꩜ Surprisingly love baths and will purr the entire time like the attention loving stinker he is.

꩜ Has been caught digging in Poe’s and your trash on occasion. When caught he stands on his hind legs and freezes, slowly backing away with an apple core in his mouth.

꩜ Cuz Poe’s so wealthy he often buys him tons of dog and cat toys, testing each out to find what he likes most.

꩜ Karl loves feathery cat toys to swat at, squeaker dog toys to chew on, and remote control mouses to chase. But his favorite toy has to be Poe’s long jacket and anything shiny or jingling on your outfit.

꩜ Always vies for pets and cuddles, hence why he’s always snoozing away on Poe’s shoulders or lap. He’s like a little baby you both raise together and he couldn’t have better parents <3

Reblog + Comment + Like if you want to see more Bungo Stray Dogs or Poe specific content!

(After taking a few days to recover from writers block I’ve FINALLY been able to finish this. Phewww!~ The schedule I’ve been experimenting with is still being worked on but I might be able to post it soon along with another question. Cya all then!~ <3)

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs poe #edgar allan poe #edgar allen poe bsd #poe x reader #edgar allen poe x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs fluff #poe smut #Poe fluff #gn reader #Karl #karl bsd #bungou stray dogs

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writeyouin · 11 months

Note

I had an idea for the new transformers movie, and like

Imagine being taken by Mirage with Noah, maybe they'd agreed to help him with the job, maybe they had experience, or some other reason, not the point

But as soon as they're both out the car, and Mirage is transformed, what do they do?

While Noah is waving around with a pipe, they're just staring at Mirage

When he finally turns his attention to them it's just

Mirage: Hey! Ya ain't screaming, ain't that nice? Hey man why can't you be more like them?

Y/N, in an obviously flirty tone: Hey~

Mirage: Oh! Oh it's like that ;) why hello you awfully adorable alien

Noah: What- what are you doing?

Y/N: Shut up I'm trying to get a man

Mirage X Reader – Flirtatious Meeting Part 1 of 2

A/N - I should technically be getting to other, older requests, but hey, when inspiration bites you in the ass, you don't question it. So, thanks for this great request, it was a lot of fun. I'm obsessed with Mirage now.

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

You gasped as you were thrown from the Porsche that you had accidentally stolen with Noah. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you had gotten into the situation with him, only that you were trying to stop him from making a stupid mistake, and instead you had gotten taken on a joy-ride by a self-driving car.

At this point you were pretty sure the vehicle belonged to some kind of insane billionaire who had driven it via remote control and that you and Noah were going to some secret, privately owned prison wherein the billionaire in question would have the last laugh.

“Oh my God,” You panted, rolling onto your side.

Behind you, you heard a whoop of delight, followed by a comment about how fun that joyride was. You pushed yourself up, ready to yell at whatever jerk had hijacked the car that you had admittedly been part of hijacking yourself.

“(Y/N),” Noah stuttered your name as he tapped your shoulder trying to get you to turn around.

From your peripheral you saw him bend down to pick up a busted pipe and you spun quickly to face your assailant, gasping again when you saw a giant robot.

You could have described him by his height, or his demeanour, or by the fact that you had no idea where he had come from, or who, if anyone had built him, but instead all you could think was that he was… kind of cute. No. That wasn’t it. He was straight up hot, and he seemed to have a sense of humour, which complimented his arrogant nature well.

“Noah,” You hissed. “Put down the pipe.”

“Yeah, Noah,” Mirage mocked, having revealed his own name in his self-serving speech. “Put down the pipe.”

When Noah refused, Mirage’s hand transformed into a cannon of some sort, pointing straight at Noah.

You didn’t dare speak in case things got any worse, but as it happened, Mirage was just toying with Noah, testing his bravery.

“Hmm, tough guy. I like that. I like it a lot.” Mirage mocked playfully, before turning his gaze on you. “And what about you? I mean, you ain’t screaming, that makes a nice change from the movies.”

Mirage looked back to Noah, “You see that man? Your friend ain’t taking a swing at me. You could learn a thing or two from them, so, what’s your deal cutie?”

You didn’t say much past a bright smile and a small flick of your fingers in a half wave, “Hey~”

“Oh! Oh, it’s like that, yeah,” Mirage winked at you. “Well, you ain’t so bad yourself, even if you are an alien.”

“Wait!” Noah demanded, holding out his hands to stop whatever weird flirtation was going on. “You’re an alien?”

“Well, I mean, to me, you’re the aliens,” Mirage countered.

“This is our planet. That makes you the alien.”

You slapped Noah’s arm, “Be nice.”

“Be nice? We just got kidnapped, and you want me to be nice?”

“Hey, we stole him, remember?”

“And he stole us right back! What are you doing anyway?”

You smiled awkwardly at Mirage, “Hey, can you give up a second, please?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Mirage nodded casually, then began whistling, looking away to pretend that he couldn’t hear you.

You grabbed Noah’s shirt and pulled him close to you, “Look man, I was just trying to stop you from making the worst mistake of your life tonight. The least you can do is let me have this, okay?”

“Let you have what?” Noah asked desperately.

“Hey, that alien up there is cute, funny, and I don’t have to ask if he has a vehicle, because he is one. Do you know how many men there are like that? None. So, you can freak out all you want, but I’m trying to score myself a date, okay?”

Noah didn’t get a chance to respond as Mirage interrupted your not-so-secret conversation, “Hey not to bother you but the big guy’s coming now, so you might wanna chill and you know, not threaten him with a pipe or he might squish ya.”

“I’m sorry, someone’s going to squish us?!” Noah demanded incredulously.

“You, maybe, your friend though, (Y/N) was it?”

You nodded, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, (Y/N) not-so-much. See, (Y/N) seems more chill than you Noah, oh and if all goes well, I know a little drive-in cinema we can visit.”

“We’re not going to a drive-in,” Noah deadpanned.

“Ew, no of course not bro. I meant me and (Y/N) there. You’re not gonna be third-wheeling.”

“Consider it a date,” You grinned.

Mirage nodded along happily, and then you, he and Noah were faced with the other Autobots currently residing on Earth.

#transformers #mirage #mirage x reader #noah diaz #transformers rise of the beasts #maccadam #tf #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #mirage x you #flirtatious meeting

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katareyoudrilling · 2 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales Epilogue (Porn Star AU)

Series: The Sweepstakes

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Porn star Female reader

Summary: You texted Frankie after your evening together, but what happened next?

Word count: ~600

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: descriptions of sex acts

A/N: This follows the events of The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales so be sure to read that first! I did the most minimal of research for this, so please forgive any inaccuracies. I have been overwhelmed (in the best way) by the response to Sweepstakes Frankie. I hope what I’ve imagine here does him justice. Enjoy!

Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or ask me to add you!

“Frankie! Come see this!” you exclaim from the bedroom.

“What is it?” Frankie comes in, running a towel through his shower-damp hair, wearing just his worn blue jeans. You take in the view of his soft tummy and bare feet, momentarily distracted from the news you called him in to share.

You just had him in your bed less than an hour ago, but you’d gladly have him back again. You shake your head to clear the distracting thoughts.

“Right. I was just uploading today’s video when I saw that we hit 1,000 subscribers!”

“What? Really? That sounds like a lot.” He sits down next to you on the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip and bumping your knee against his side. His fresh, clean scent wafts over you and you have to resist the urge to snuggle into his warm skin.

“It is a lot,” you beam at him, and he returns your smile with a lopsided grin of his own. “We’ll be making real money soon.”

It had been after another fun and satisfying fuck with your favorite civilian that you had pitched Frankie the idea of starting an OnlyFans with you.

The way you saw it, there was an untapped market for soft, brown-eyed men, who gave amazing head. Your rapidly rising subscriber numbers are proving your hunch to be correct.

Frankie had thought it over, but he said it was ultimately a pretty easy decision. Why not try to earn a little extra money doing something he loved?

You called your channel “The Pussy Eating King”

Your signature videos were first person POVs of him eating you out. Sometimes he looked directly down the camera with those soulful eyes. Others, he closed them to get completely lost in the pleasure of your cunt. It was devastating… in the best way. And the viewership numbers agreed.

Second to those, were the videos you filmed from between Frankie’s legs, looking up at him while you stroked his gorgeous cock until he came. His disheveled curls and pink cheeks are the stuff dreams are made of.

Dirty dreams.

Dreams you wake up needy and desperate from.

It would be selfish to keep that view just for yourself.

“I think we should celebrate,” Frankie muses, pulling on his t-shirt and running his fingers through his messy curls. “Can I take you on a date?”

“A date?” Your pulse pounds in your ears. Sure, you have sex with Frankie on a regular basis. You have sex with a lot of people. Sure, you often wind up spending the day in bed with him just talking, but being with him in public? With clothes on?

Frankie senses your hesitation. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I just really like you and want to spend time with you.”

“I… ok,” you hear yourself answer.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 8.” Frankie kisses the top of your head and makes his way out of your apartment, picking up his hat as he goes. Before he closes the door, he turns and winks.

- - - - - - - - -

Later that night, Frankie takes your hand as you walk down the sidewalk. He twines his fingers with yours in a way that feels more intimate than anything you’ve done in the bedroom.

He said nothing would change, but things always change.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder if maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

- - - - - - - - - -

A/N: If these types of videos exist, please let me know…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – in reblog

#the sweepstakes #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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yanderes-galore · 7 months

Note

I MISSED YESTERDAY I HOPE IM NOT TO LATE. hello hello, may i request a eclipse concept ? or maybe you can do eclipse with the prompt of 19 ? its up to you ! dm me if you need help with the prompt :) (also also, dm me if you got the request since tumblr tends to eat my requests.)

Hey! I apologize that I didn't see the DM part of this so I hope you saw this in the Current Drafts post :( Either way, I'll try my best since Eclipse unfortunately does not appear for long in the DLC! I haven't seen people write for Ruin Eclipse so here you go!

Note: I hope everyone enjoys the FNAF movie tomorrow! I'm not going to talk about it on here for a week after I see it!

Yandere! Eclipse Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Babying, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Forced companionship.

Eclipse has been shown to be a balance between Sun and Moon after being reset.

Honestly there's a couple directions I think I could take with this character.

One is where you explore the abandoned Pizzaplex and find Eclipse after Cassie resets them.

Another is the classic one where you're a mechanic and feel you have to reset Sun and Moon due to... malfunctions (obsession).

The resulting reset causing Eclipse to appear.

Eclipse is described according to the wiki as gentle, whimsical, and calm.

They're playful yet responsible and aren't as "overwhelming" compared to their counterparts.

I have a feeling towards you they'd be almost parental in nature due to being programmed to work with kids.

The purpose of Eclipse in the series is unknown, at least to me.

Yet they seem to have the same objective as Sun and Moon, be a Daycare Attendant.

If they see you roaming the ruined Daycare like in the first idea, they'd assume you're lost!

You thought the daycare would be one of the safest places to flee to in the ruined Pizzaplex.

However, the sense of security you had is quickly doused the moment you see the damaged Daycare Attendant.

Yet their voice is calm and caring unlike their appearance.

In the first scenario Eclipse shows concern as to why you're in such a dangerous place.

Are you lost? You look too old to be in the Daycare!

As a result you gain a companion on your trip out of the Pizzaplex.

Yet there's a chance Eclipse won't let you leave by the end of it.

If they met you after you trying to figure out why the Daycare Attendant is malfunctioning then their obsession would be faster.

As in the second scenario there's already an established obsession.

You may be a mechanic in that one yet they feel you must be cared for!

They recall you are a close friend of theirs and they simply must help you along with the kids!

Pretty soon you start to regret activating the secret third mode of the Daycare Attendant.

Overall Eclipse displays traits more mature than the others.

While Sun and Moon act childish with you and drag you into games or naps, Eclipse stays calm when redirecting.

As Eclipse the two are one and no longer fight over you.

Regardless of how they feel about you they like to observe you.

They keep watch to make sure you're safe.

If you got into a dangerous situation, an event more likely in the first scenario, they quickly pull you away.

Reminder, Eclipse is still as tall as Sun and Moon.

They could easily scoop you up into their arms and out of danger if they feel you could get hurt.

Their overly caring nature makes them baby you more than their counterparts.

They aren't forcing naps or games, but they are much more concerned about your well-being.

The bot is always scanning your body to see any changes in heart rate or injuries.

Even if you are an adult I can see them playfully calling you a kid.

There's times they treat you like your glass, like if they don't take care of you, you'll break.

As a result they feel more like guardian than anything.

They pride themselves on being your "bestest friend" like their counterparts.

They also easily get attached to you.

For example, after traversing the ruined Pizzaplex in the first scenario, they'd be so torn at the idea of leaving their friend.

Were you planning on leaving them this whole time? Forever?

No, that can't be!

As a result... they may just drag you back with them.

In the second scenario they'll stick around you as you work.

They don't want to leave their special friend!

Eclipse would definitely be physically affectionate.

They'd love to hold you and not let you touch the ground.

The like to pinch your cheeks and coo.

They just adore you.

Meanwhile you feel embarrassed as their programming just knows how to treat you like a kid even if their feelings are more intense.

If you tried to leave them they're rather calm.

No... you aren't leaving! What are you saying?

Don't worry... you're just lost! They'll just pick you up again to calm you down!

Eclipse is delusional, while their counterparts are frantic when you try to leave, they just don't acknowledge it.

There's no need for their special friend to leave!

They can take care of you right here.

After all, to them, the Pizzaplex isn't closed.

Eclipse isn't violent so they wouldn't try to harm anyone.

They just want to care for their special friend, even if you panic and scream at them.

Why do you fight them?

They're just trying to show they care!

They aren't as jealous as their counterparts.

It's good to have friends!

But they're your special friend, aren't they?

Overall, Eclipse is the more parental Daycare Attendant.

They'll be calm with you and treat you with gentle care.

Why do you act like they'll hurt you!

They'd never!

Eclipse promises to take good care of you.

Even if it means trapping you in a dilapidated Pizzaplex.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf security breach #yandere eclipse #yandere fnaf eclipse #yandere fnaf ruin

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miniwheat77 · 7 months

Text

Denim. (Gaz x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blood, injuries, reader gets hurt, sorry if I missed any.!

Inspired by that famous blue denim button up Gaz’s operator has on 🥰

Not edited.

This one! ^^^

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor of the Humvee, you were sitting in the passenger seat, watching for any signs of an ambush.

This was an important mission, one for the books. Since Hassan had been killed, someone named Amir had taken his place. After he’d attacked an American Military base, he had a target on his back of course. It was a big day. You could feel that this was right, that you were going to take him by surprise. You could feel it in your gut. You weren’t apart of the fight with task force 141 when they took down Hassan, but you were now. Here you were. This was a good chance to prove yourself to them. You had all reinforcements. The plan was to surround the building he was inside, take cover. And hope that he would surrender.

“You okay kid?” Captain Price asks you. You nod your head. “Something just doesn’t feel right.” You mumble.

He nods his head. “Yeah. I feel it too. But we take orders and if Laswell is okay with it, I suppose we will be too.” He nods. You swallow hard. “These people..” you pause. “They’re different.” You look out the Humvee window, keeping an eye out. “What do you mean?” Gaz asks. He’s in the back seat. “They don’t surrender. If they feel trapped, they attack. I mean.. this is the place with the highest rate of suicide bombers. I just think this is a bad idea.” You mumble. You can hear the both of them sigh, like what you’ve just said changes everything. “I mean.. for christs sake, they send small children in with bombs to do their dirty work. They don’t care. They’re dirty and don’t care who they hurt. They beat and rape women out in the street, behead each other for small mistakes. I think we should turn back. He’s not going to surrender, we have to come in guns blazing.” You mumble.

Your heart races in your chest. So does John’s.

You don’t think he’ll listen to you, but he does. “Change of plans fellas.” He calls into his radio. “We’re going to go in hot. Forceful.” He mumbles. Hearing everyone call back. You sigh a breath of relief. Thank god. “Refuse to be a sitting duck to a terrorist.” John mumbles. He knows he’ll have someone to answer to, but he can’t find it in him to care all that much. Gaz can sense the relief in the way you relax your shoulders, reaching by the window to place a hand on your shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. Feeling you lean back into his touch. You and him were fairly close, but pretty much all of the task force was. It was always strictly platonic and had never stretched any further past that, it was forbidden obviously.

When you arrive, you can feel that same sense of nervousness filling up your stomach. It’s got it in knots, something still didn’t feel right. Like something bad was going to happen. When the building was surrounded, everyone raised their guns. Creeping closer to the building, le easy to file in through the doors. “Watch close. We don’t know what we’re going into.” Captain Price says, everyone agreeing. When given orders, everyone bursts through the doors, making their way through the first floor. “Watch the doors close. If he’s here, he’s going to try to run.” Ghost orders. Everyone agrees. Flowing through the building like a bad case of termites.

The top floor is where the problems start.

As soon as they caught sight of your cavalry, they fled to the top floor and set up traps.

“Okay. Gaz, Y/N. You guys start on the left. Me and Ghost will go to the last door on the right. Everyone else keep a close eye on the stairs. Watch close.” He nods. Everyone agrees, splitting up and going their separate ways. You push open the door, raising your gun quickly. Gaz looks past you. “Looks clear to me.” You nod. He agrees, the both of you stepping forward. A yell leaves your lips when a man emerges from behind the door, slicing right through your cargo pants. Gaz is quick to fire at the man, dropping him where he stands. He lifts you up, sliding you back behind the door and closing it. A few others come running. “Just one. He got her thigh with a knife.” Gaz breathes, tugging his first aid out of his pack and wrapping a bandage around your thigh. The cut looks deep. He’s worried. Gunfire makes everyone perk up, coming from the direction Captain Price and Ghost have gone. “Go, I’ve got her.” Gaz nods. “Shit. This did not go to plan.” You laugh. “Never does. You alright?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yes. I’m all good.” You smile. “I’ll be fine.” You breathe. He kneels down on one knee behind you, letting you lean back on him. He’s got his sidearm ready, just in case. After what feels like forever, he’s getting antsy. You need a doctor and he’s tired of waiting. Captain Price and everyone else emerges. “Did you get him?” Gaz asks. “Yep. He didn’t go easy but we got him.” Captain Price breathes. “They had 3 or 4 bombs. Ready.” Price kneels down in front of you. “You did good Y/N. Saved us from a big catastrophe.” He smiles. You send him a lazy smile. “Let’s get her back to base, yeah?” Gaz says, nervously. He’s worried about you.

The both of them each take an arm, helping you down the flights of stairs to the Humvee you arrived in. Getting worried when your head began to hang. “Shit. Y/N?” Gaz asks, stopping. They let you down. “Y/N?” Gaz asks again. Shaking you slightly. “Think she passed out.” Price says. Gaz presses his fingers to your throat, feeling your heart beat. “We got to get her back.” He nods. He lifts you up, hurrying down the remainder of stairs, Price throwing open the door. Gaz gets you inside, holding you. Price hurries to the drivers side, getting in.

—

You don’t remember much, but you wake up in the infirmary. You try to fight your way out of the wires and lines you’re connected to, resulting in you being restrained until you fully came to. Finally understanding that your leg had been cut pretty deep, barely missing your femoral artery. You were a little out of it from the meds they had you on, but you were doing better. “Do you want us to go get Kyle?” The medic asks, resulting in a confused look from you. “What?”

“Kyle, you kept asking for him. Do you want us to go get him?”

“Oh uh.. no. I’m okay.” You mumble. You must’ve been asking for him when you had to be restrained. You remember him sitting with you, when Captain Price emerged from that room. But that’s all you remember. “We’re going to work on some release paperwork and we’ll get you on your way, how does that sound?” She smiles. You nod your head. “Sounds amazing.” You sigh.

She disappears and a few minutes later, Gaz is pulling the curtain back. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi.” You send him a lazy smile. “How are you feelin? Better than earlier I hope.” He chuckles. “Much. It hurts but it’s better.” You mumble. “Gotcha. Captain sent me down here, I’ll help you get back to your room.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He’s wearing his full set of gear. Vest and all. “I’m sure I could’ve handled it.” You laugh. The medic comes back with all of your paperwork and sets you all up to leave.

He walks alongside you, a hand on your lower back. He’s ready to catch you if you fall. All you have on are socks and the tied up gown they’d put you in. “Hey Gaz. I forgot to give you some bandages for Y/N’s leg. For any bleeding on her stitches just in case.” His radio goes off. “Uh. Here, come inside my room. I’ll run back before we go all of the way to the women’s barracks.” He leads you down the hallway a little more. You complain about the hospital gown the whole time.

“You can borrow something of mine. I’ll be right back.” He laughs, closing the door behind him as he makes his way back to the infirmary. You sit on the edge of his bed for a minute. The throbbing in your thigh is relentless. You stand up, step over to where he’s got his clothes, picking up the first shirt you see.

He steps inside his room, closing the door behind him. He’s got a washcloth in his hand for your thigh. He’s watching his feet until he steps inside, finally bringing his eyes up from the hard concrete floor.

His lips part, mouth falling open slightly. You’re finishing buttoning up his shirt, one of his favorites. It falls slightly over your hips, your white cotton panties still visible. “Oh.. uh. Sorry.” He looks away. You look up. “Sorry.. it’s the first thing I saw, I didn’t want to dig through your stuff too much.” You blush, crossing your arms over yourself. “It’s fine. No worries. Here, I brought you this.” He nods. Holding out the washcloth. “I can help.” He smiles. Seeing the blood seeping from the bandage on your thigh. He nods for you to sit back on his bed. He kneels down in front of you, hearing you swallow hard at his close proximity. He bites at his lip in concentration, unwrapping your wounded thigh. Still fresh from where the knife had sliced through the skin and flesh. He’s gathered up everything else he needs. Some more bandage, some stuff to wrap it. He takes the wet washcloth, beginning to dab at the blood around the wound. Your bleeding was mostly stopped by now, just gently seeping through. He pats it all the way clean, lifting up an antiseptic spray. “Might burn a little.” He looks up at you.

His eyes shine in the moonlight that peeks through the window that sits high up on the wall. You nod your head. “I trust you.” You smile shyly.

The typical friendly relationship you’d had with Kyle is gone. Completely gone.

He sprays it onto your wound, being generous with it to avoid an infection. He sees you flinch, clutching at his sheets. This surely isn’t how he wanted to see it happen. He could imagine a million different reasons you’d be clutching his sheets like that. This isn’t one of them. He swallows hard, bandaging it up and wrapping it up once more. His fingertips brush against your inner thigh and he feels you shiver under his touch. “Sorry.” He blushes, looking down. “It’s okay.” You breathe. “Thank you, Kyle.” You breathe through your nose. He sits up, sitting down next to you on his bed. “Kyle hm?” He smiles. “We’re using actual names now?” He laughs.

“Seems like a more genuine thank you.” You smile. He bites at his lip, clearly nervous about something. “No problem, dove. How does your head feel.” He mumbles. “It feels okay. Doesn’t pound anymore..” you trail off. Playing with your hands nervously. “You alright?” He asks. “Yeah. Today just… scared me. That’s all.” You look down. He nods his head. Leaning into you closer. “Today scared everyone. The most anyone has been hurt in this Task Force was getting shot on our vests, it hurts but it doesn’t bleed or incapacitate us.” He trails off.

“My shirt looks good on you.” He smiles. He can see you blush, looking down. “Thanks. It’s yours after all.” You laugh. “I promise I’ll wash it and give it back.” You nod.

“No rush. I think it looks better on you anyways.” He smiles. “I don’t think that’s true. It looks pretty good on you.” You giggle. “I don’t know about that one.” He laughs. It’s low, sexy.

He rests his hand on your knee below your wound, running his fingers over your knee. He can feel chills rising on your skin underneath his touch. “Kyle?” You breathe. “Yeah honey?” He breathes. “I.. I’ve never had sex before.” You breathe. He smiles. “Hey.” He laughs. “I’m not..” he laughs. He lifts his leg up onto the bed, taking your hands in his. “I have to say this right because I want you to know.” He pauses.

“I do like you, and trust me, I would love to have sex with you. But I don’t expect you to at all. I would never pressure you into anything.” He smiles. His cologne smells amazing, and you’ve never been so close to him before. You grasp his hand that lies on your knee, bringing it up to the very top of your thigh. Above your wound. He smiles. “That’s a good girl.” He breathes. He glides his hand back and fourth over your bare skin, fingertips rubbing across the edge of your panties. He lowers his hand to your center, fingertips brushing over your clothed opening. He can feel you breathe out. Pressing ever so slightly into you, rubbing his fingers back and fourth. You tilt your head back slightly and he takes this opportunity to kiss your neck, you sigh out. The relief and warmth he makes you feel is intense and immediate. “Kyle…” you breathe. Body seeming to melt into him.

“S’alright sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He breathes. He pulls you into him, gripping your chin and turning your head to look at him. “You look so fucking stunning. So beautiful.” He sighs, pressing his lips to yours. He rests his right hand onto your left thigh, the one that isn’t injured. He’s a really good kisser and when he pulls away, you still have your eyes shut. He can’t help but smile. Your breathing has picked up slightly. He rubs his nose over yours, you can feel his warm breath on your face. “You can stop me.” He breathes. Resting his massive hand on your thigh, toying with the shirt you’ve got on. You shake your head. Your eyes clench shut. “I don’t want you to- I don’t want to stop.” You breathe. He leans into you, kissing you again. He pushes you back slightly, lifting himself up. He opens your legs, avoiding your wound as he pushes himself between them. Laying you back, lips moving with yours in sync. His jeans sit low on his hips. He presses himself right into your pelvis, you can feel how hard he is against you. You moan gently into his lips, and he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth.

Kyle has never been so turned on in his entire fucking life, he’ll swear by it. You’re so fucking beautiful, and the way you look in his clothes. It’s everything.

He rocks his hips into yours, feeling you wrap your legs around his lower back. “Fuck sweetheart. Driving me fucking crazy.” He pants. He sits up slightly. He can see your panties have a wet patch of your arousal. He knows you want him just as bad as he wants you, and that fuels a fire inside of him so big that an ocean wouldn’t be able to put it out. He rests his fingertips at the top of your slit, rubbing gently through the cotton fabric of your panties. Gentle circles just right, right where you need him. Hearing you whine. The way your lips part in surprise. The small sounds you’re making. It’s nearly too much. You’re overwhelming him already and he’s barely touched you.

He works at his pants, getting them off as quickly as he can, his vest and shirt following after. He toys with the buttons on the shirt he’s let you borrow. Tugging them open so that he can get a good look at your bare chest. So pretty, just like every part of you. He takes his time with you. Hands cupping your breasts and massaging them, feeling your relax into him. He leans down, kissing your skin, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, hearing you gasp. You try to be quiet.

He moves lower and lower. Fingers sliding into the hem of your panties. He tugs your panties down, avoiding your bandage. You’re shy, closing your legs slightly as he pulls them off. “Nothing to be nervous about. I’m gonna take good care of you.” He breathes. He can see the redness on your cheeks. He spreads your legs gently. His touch feels like gentle brushes. His breath hitched in his throat when he sees you, so bare for him. He inches closer, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. You shiver at the feeling of it. Eyes slightly going wide when you see the size of him.

You swallow hard and he smiles. “It’s alright. I’ll be gentle.” He breathes. “You can always stop me.”

You nod your head. You’re not going to stop him. He circles your clit with his index finger, collected your arousal on his finger. Feeling you going tense beneath him. He can tell he’s working you up. “S’alright darling. Try n relax for me, yeah?” He breathes. His accented voice sends chills up your spine. He rests more of his body weight on you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s going to muffle your sounds. He pushes his index finger into you, hearing you gasp. He starts slow, not wanting to push you. His finger fucking into your wet hole. You clutch the edges of the shirt you’ve got on. Knuckles going white. He pulls back, sitting up onto his knees. “Feel good?” He asks. You nod your head eagerly, moving your hips down into him slightly. He can’t help but smile.

He slides it out of you, hearing your whine in protest. He collects more of your arousal with his middle finger, pushing both of them into you. Your thighs shiver slightly, your eyes shutting. “O-oh fuck Kyle.” You mewl. The way you say his name has his cock jumping slightly. He’s so turned on. He scissors you open, thumb rubbing against your clit. You’re so soft, and wet. You’re driving him crazy. Right when you’re on the edge, he pulls away. Hearing a frustrated whine leave your lips. He can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.” He smiles. Seeing your cheeks redden. He inches closer, the tip of his cock drawing over the expanse of your pussy. Gathering your arousal at the tip. He moves himself between you, pushing your legs up slightly. He spits right on the opening of your pussy, sliding his cock up the cavern. Once his cock is lubed up enough, he nudges the tip right at the entrance. Watching his tip disappear between them. You sigh.

He inches deeper, pushing your hips into his bed. “It’s gonna hurt baby. Just try to stay relaxed for me.” He mutters. Seeing you nod your head. “I’m okay. Been through worse.” You smile.

When he starts to hurt you, you reach your hand down. Pressing down onto the wound on your leg. The pain spikes up on it, drawing the pain away from Kyle’s cock stretching you out for the first time. When he bottoms out, his mouth falls open. You finally draw your hand back from the wound on your thigh. The worst of it is over now. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes. “F-fuck. I feel so full.” You whine, lifting your hips slightly. “Yeah baby. So full of me.” He gasps. He can’t contain the way he feels. He doesn’t want to. “Oh fuck.” he whines. Burying his face into your neck again. He draws his hips back, thrusting back inside of you. You stiffen underneath him. Wrapping your arms around him. Your eyes get heavy, you can’t keep them open. Shutting them tight as he starts to fuck you, he pulls his cock almost all of the way out of you before thrusting back in. He’s got a steady rhythm. Feeling you shiver. “Feels so good Kyle, so good.” You whine. “Yeah baby. I know. Got me so close already. Fuck.” He grits his teeth.

“Look at me.” He breathes, tilting your chin up to look at him. “You okay?” He asks. You nod your head, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Keep looking at me sweetheart. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He breathes. You shiver at his touch. It’s unbelievable how fast this happened, how fast you have right into him. “Kyle.” You wince. “M’I hurting you?” He pauses immediately. “No. Don’t stop.” You breathe. He pushes your legs up, spitting on the base of his cock to make sure he’s not going to hurt you. “Thank you.” You breathe, looking up at him. The moonlight shines perfect on your eyes. “What?”

“For taking care of me. For reassuring me. And for staying with me earlier when I was h-hurt.” You hiccup. Your teeth are gritted. He keeps the same steady pace, he’s a perfect fit for you, his cock slipping between your walls perfectly. He laughs slightly. “I got you.” He breathes. “Nothing to worry about now. I have you, I always will. Just try to relax for me.” He breathes. “Keep looking at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his. Chills rising on your skin. You’re right there, right on the edge. It’s intense, the unfamiliar build of an orgasm. Kyle is fighting off his own orgasm. He hisses when you claw down his back. The burn has his brain spinning. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out before he finishes. He leans down to kiss you again. It’s sloppy and wet but desperate. He raises himself up slightly, rocking himself into you at a slightly different angle and that’s when you lose it. He forces you to look at him, your eyes getting heavy. He clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. Body shaking and convulsing as you reach your orgasm. You clamp down around him, walls throbbing with your orgasm. The coil that’s wound up in Kyle’s is about to snap. His body shivers and he bites down onto his lip. Just a couple more thrusts and he’s growling out, eyes rolling back into his head. “Oh fuck-“ he whimpers. He relaxes into you. Avoiding your wound as he slides out of you, moving himself next to you.

Right there he knows he’s gone. You look more beautiful than ever. Face flushed, his shirt half buttoned up. Skin sweaty and flushed too. Full of his cum. It’s a good look for you. He laughs after a few minutes of silence and you can’t help but laugh too. “That escalated quickly, ah?” He laughs. “Yeah, yeah it did.” You let out a breath of relief. He moves to rest his arm on you. “Hope I didn’t hurt you too bad.” He breathes. “No, I’m good. Really good.” You blush. He pulls you into him, “you look really good too.” He smirks. Seeing you roll your eyes.

“We should make this a thing.” He sits up slightly. “What?”

“I mean.. I’m not doing anything next weekend.” He smiles. “Are you asking me on a date, Garrick?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

“Of course, I’d love that.” You smile.

“Great. It’s a date. Now get some rest. You’ve got some healing to do.” He smiles.

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