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bi-writes · 2 days

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mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)

his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.

she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.

he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.

he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.

I SEE YOU

you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.

no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.

he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.

"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.

ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.

"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.

"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."

you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.

"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."

you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.

"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."

you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.

"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."

she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.

"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."

he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.

"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"

you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.

"w-was scared."

"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."

"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."

he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.

"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."

"i'm not lying--!"

he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.

"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."

you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.

"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"

you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.

you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.

you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.

"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"

"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.

"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"

"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 day

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Second Time's The Charm II

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You, your kind of ex-wife and a baby

Alexia was practically floating on air as she burst out out of the car.

"I've got her! I've got her!" She told you, practically falling over from the force she used to pull open the car door," I want to get her!"

"Go ahead," You said, slipping out of the car as well and grabbing your bag.

Alexia grabbed her, holding her close as she hurried towards the building. She had to stop by the door though because her hands were full and she anxiously rocked back and forth while waiting.

You huffed out a laugh as you opened the door and she burst in.

Alexia was off like a shot down the corridor while you followed at a more sedate pace. You knew she would wait for you, having forced her to agree to do so before leaving the house.

It had been a hard-fought battle this morning that had you promising things like cooking for the week and giving over your cabinet space in the bathroom.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" Alexia said impatiently from the door to the locker room.

You made the point of going even slower, taking pigeon steps just to annoy her.

"Come on!"

You slowly raised your foot and brought it down even slower.

"Please?" Alexia begged," Please? Please? Please? Please?"

"I want the wardrobe in the spare room."

"Wait, no! That's mine!"

"Sharing is caring, Alexia," You mocked her words from last night," Isn't that how you want to raise her?"

Alexia huffed. "Half the wardrobe."

"Half the wardrobe and the cabinet."

"That's so unfair!"

"Do you want me to hurry up?"

"Fine! Half the wardrobe and the cabinet!"

You started walking normally again. Your hand rested on the door handle as Alexia adjusted her grip. "Ready?"

She nodded, a blinding smile on her face. "So ready."

You pushed open the door, stepping aside to let Alexia walk in.

"No!" Mapi said," No!" She stood up on the bench and pointed at both of you. "No! No! No! No!"

"Mapi-"

"No!"

Alexia ignored her. "This is our baby!"

On her hip was your newly adopted baby. She was five months old and all smiley and giggly. Alexia was so proud of her, constantly holding her and playing with her and carrying her absolutely everywhere.

"No!" Mapi could do little but repeat the same thing over and over again.

Alexia's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between Mapi and sweet baby Maya. "But she is our baby. We signed the papers." Her frown deepened as she turned back to look at you. "We did sign the papers, right? She's ours?"

You stifled a laugh. "Yes, Ale. She is ours. We signed the papers."

Alexia nodded before turning back to Mapi. "She is ours! This is Maya Putellas! She's a baby! Our baby!"

"That's right, Ale. She is our baby."

"Baby!" Alexia insisted, head bouncing around to look at each of her teammates," Our baby! A little Putellas!"

"No!" Mapi kept saying," No!"

Ingrid very awkwardly patted her girlfriend on the back before demonstrating she was fluent in Mapi by explaining," I think Mapi's a little worried about how quick you're moving. You only got back together a few months ago."

"Mapi shouldn't worry!" Alexia said quickly, bouncing Maya on her hip," We're taking great care of our Maya! Look, she's got my eyes!"

You laughed as Mapi was presented Maya like she was Simba, unable to back away as Alexia cornered her between the wall and your baby.

"Just to clarify," You told the rest of the room," Maya's adopted. Alexia's very proud."

Lucy scoffed, watching as Alexia waxed poetic about everything Maya did last night. "Clearly. How long have you had her?"

You winced. "Two days."

"I'm surprised Alexia waited this long to tell us."

"She nearly posted Maya in the group chat. That's what she did for Eli and Alba. No context, just a picture and then ignored their calls. She's in baby heaven right now."

You turned to look at your wife, who had well and truly trapped Mapi and was now explaining every little detail of Maya's outfit.

Ingrid and Lucy both followed your gaze.

"I think she's providing Mapi with free birth control," Ingrid joked," I think we're only going to have pets if Alexia keeps talking like that."

You winced. "Don't mention the p word in front of Ale. She wants a puppy too. I've been trying to tell her not while Maya is so little but she's got a powerpoint prepared so it's better to just avoid the conversation entirely."

"Right," Lucy said," No mentioning pets. Got it."

Alexia's head whipped around to face you. "Pets? I think we should get Maya a puppy!"

You groaned. "No, Ale."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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satorusugurugurl · 2 days

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My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warning: Fluffy fluff! Happy endings 🥹💚

A/N: And with that, My Wedding Date is an Escort is complete! I am open to writing one shots for our fluffy couple if y’all have any requests! God this has been a journey thank you all so much for the love and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my other series as well! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Epilogue:

Two Years Later.

Gojo stirred in bed, reaching for your side and finding it cold like every other morning. He knew where you were from the smell of cinnamon rolls baking downstairs. He fucking loved cinnamon rolls. Satoru walked out into your living room with a stretch and a yawn before strutting towards the stairs that led down to the bakery.

You stood there talking to one of your customers, handing them a bright pink box tied with a white ribbon. He stood at the top of the stairs, just watching you for the longest of times. You moved elegantly over the floor to the display case packaging and different pastries for your customers. Before heading into the back, one of your workers took over for you.

Seizing the opportunity, Satoru followed you through the metal swinging door into the back. You stood there, checking the contents inside the oven. When you had your back turned, he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The sudden contact had you jumping at first before you turned to look over your shoulder up at him.

“Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Mornin’ Toru.” Soft lips pressed lovingly against his cheek. “I made you an omelet. It’s in the microwave.”

“Fuuuck,” he happily sighed, “I love you so damn much.”

Turning to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “Mmm, I love you too, Toru.” Satoru kissed you back eagerly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your flesh against him. “Ah, Toru~!” Giggles were music to his ears; he growled, wanting to do nothing more than toss your pastries to the ground and take you into the kitchen. “Satoru~ haaah,” You gasped as his lips hurriedly trailed down your neck. “We can't.”

“Yes, we can~” he growled hungrily, “come on, I'll be fast.”

For a second, Satoru could see your eyes searching for a place where you two could have a quickie. Just as you were pulling him to the very back, where the cooling racks would conceal you, the door to the front swung open, and Suguru walked in, duffle bag over his shoulder, backpack on his back. The three of you froze as Suguru glanced between you two, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

“Please tell me,” Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “you both weren't about to fuck back here.”

“W-What! N-No!” of course, you would be the first to deny his accusation, quickly shaking your head.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, pouted, throwing his head back in dismay. “Such a cock block Suguru!” Both of his best friends turned to stare at him. The silence was palpable until Suguru groaned, his eyes landing on you, giving you the most disappointing look he could muster.

“Really?”

“S-Suguru, I can explain.”

“I should report your ass to the health department.” He teased, striding forward and smacking Satoru upside the head. “Stop corrupting my best friend, you horny blue-eyed freak.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. Faux hurt, painting his face as he furrowed his brows together. A look that didn’t stop Suguru from snatching a strawberry off the counter and popping it in his mouth. Not that it phased you as you walked back to the oven, pulling out a tray.

“I thought I was your best friend?!”

“Nah, I like your girlfriend more.” Suguru tossed a strawberry at you. “Even if she's a little freak, too.”

You placed the cookie tray on the counter, tossing an oven mitt back at Suguru. “Hey, I was minding my own business! Satoru’s the one that woke up and chose to be horny.” Satoru slowly smirked, nodding his head.

“Can't help it; seeing the cute pastry chef working in my bakery just does things for me.” Both you and Suguru turned to stare at him. “Wanted to bring you back here and give you an in-depth evaluation.”

“Gross.” Suguru chucked a strawberry at Satoru’s face.

“I didn't know you were my ‘boss’ last time I checked; You lived with me.” You put both hands on your hips, smirking as Satoru blinked.

“Live with you?” Satoru gaped, eyes turning towards a smirking Suguru. “Did I, or did I not invest in her shop?”

“Technically, he did.”

Satoru strode forward, cupping your cheek. “He just wants me for my pastries.” You teased, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him.

“That and your body.” he teased, kissing you back, growling against your lips.

“Oh my god, please stop. We have a train to catch.” Suguru grumbled, rolling his eyes at the groan from his best friend.

“Suguru’s right, baby; hurry and eat.”

Satoru grabbed the omelet from the microwave, pausing to look down at you. “Say~ you busy on Saturday?”

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes, one that has Satoru head over heels. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. “Hmm, I have a wedding to go to.” Satoru’s chest swells with excitement as he eats some of his food.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~!”

“Need a date?”

“Oh yeah, I totally need one.”

The adoration and love in your eyes mirrored his own. “Great, sounds like we got a plan.” He lovingly kissed you on the forehead. “Three days, sweetheart! Three days!” Satoru ran up the stairs, humming happily; three days to him would feel like three decades. Saturday, needed to hurry up and get here already!

Luckily for Satoru, three days flew by. His stomach fluttered as Suguru smoothed out his suit jacket. Suguru’s eyes focused on his best friend's neck, where he could see his racing pulse.

“You remember what you told me when you got back from Kyoto two years ago?”

“Uh, thanks for telling me I was a fucking idiot?” Satoru said before taking a deep breath.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “You said that which you're still welcome for.” The dark-haired man straightened his back before patting his best friend on the shoulder. “You told me you found the one. Then proceeded to ask me to be a witness at your wedding.” Blue eyes followed Suguru; he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket. “I honestly thought you were out of your mind back then.” Satoru was a second away from recording back with a snarky remark. “But, I’m happy to admit I was wrong, and you were right. She is the one meant for you.” without another word, Suguru pulled his best friend into a tight embrace.

“Suguru—”

“I’m happy for both of you.” Silence spreads between the two. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you myself.”

A knock at the door sent the two men flying back from each other. “Satoru.” Your mother peeked her head inside. “It’s time.” she has tears in her eyes as Satoru takes a final deep breath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding date to get to!”

Two years ago, he received a call from a girl desperate for a wedding date. The same girl had proceeded to steal his heart over the course of a week. In two years, the two of you had moved in together, shared meals with one another, and planned a future together. A future that had come true thus far.

You owned your bakery, and Satoru helped manage it with you, being your number one customer and investor. The two of you happily lived in the loft above the shop, furnished to make it your home. Everything you both wanted had come true. Today, you both will finalize the plans that you had made two years prior.

Satoru stood in the gardens of your family's inn, decorated with vibrant flowers. He watched as your closest friends walked down the aisle one after another in pairs, but he honestly didn't care about them. All that mattered to him was seeing you.

His wish was granted as the official told the guest in front of him to stand. His eyes met yours down the aisle, his breath catching in his throat at your breathtaking appearance. Your wedding gown was elegant and suited you perfectly. Showing off your figure, he loved it so remarkably much. Your face was visible behind the veil, and your eyes never left his as your father led you down the aisle toward him.

Satoru felt his eyes burning as tears streamed down his cheeks. How was it possible for you to look even more stunning than you already did? You are like a goddess compared to him.

Suguru gently pats his shoulder, grinning as his best friend wipes uselessly at his eyes. He finally regained some form of composure once you’re standing before him, taking his hand in your own. His heart is thundering as he pulls you in and turns to the official with the biggest smile. He had told your mother two years ago that the next wedding they hosted at the inn would be yours.

And he had been faithful to his words.

The ceremony was sweet and quick; you exchanged your vows and beamed at the official. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Satoru threw your veil back, cupped your face, and kissed you as if the word was ending.

The crowd cheered and clapped as you both held hands, running up the aisle and back into the gardens. The second you were away from peering eyes, Satoru kissed you again, and again, and again until pulling away with a happy sigh. You felt lighter than air as his cerulean eyes roamed over your face.

“I think that was the best wedding date I’ve ever been on.” You proudly announced as he intertwined your fingers.

“Is that so, Mr. Gojo?” Your husband perks up, eyes darting down at you with sparkles in them.

“Why yes, Mrs. Gojo, it was.” You giggle at the use of your new last name. “Ooh, someone likes that new name~!!”

You shake your head, grinning softly. “No, I don't like it.” For a moment, you think Satoru is about to die of shock. “I love it!”

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you as passionately as he could. With wide eyes, you moan into the kiss as he pushes the toy back against the wall of the inn. One hand grabs your hip, and the other remains on your face. You melt against him as he pulls back, your hot, desperate breath mingling together before he squeezes your hip, meeting your lips again, this time with a gentler kiss.

“And I love you. I hope you got enough sleep in the last two years, because I plan on showing you how much I love you on our honeymoon.”

“Oh my god, Toru~!” A squeal of pure joy rocks through you as he lifts you up carrying you across the gardens towards the photographers.

“Hey~ save that for the honeymoon suite baby~!” Your giggled as you both took the steps towards you very long and happy marriage. A marriage that all started with a wedding date.

Tag List:

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify @majanggeum @solarrexplosion @tbzzluvr @username23345 @demonboyssss @sakui1 @strychnynegirl

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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jayflrt · 2 days

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 37. go piss girl

YOUR HEART WAS POUNDING WHEN YOU HEARD THE LIGHT KNOCK ON YOUR CABIN DOOR.

It wasn't that you were nervous—okay, maybe you were a little nervous—but it felt as if butterflies had swarmed your stomach with their fluttering wings. Now, the space really did feel small. You weren't sure how Jay was going to fit in the same seat as yours, but the idea was strangely exciting.

"Hey," you whispered when you pulled open the door for him. You scooted to the wall so that you could make some more space for him. "I just pulled up the movie."

"Oh, we're actually watching Shrek," Jay deadpanned. When he took his seat and closed the door again, you both became hyper-aware of the proximity once your arms were pressed against each other. "Kinda cramped in here."

"It should be fine," you said quickly, trying to mask how flustered you were by gesturing toward the screen. "Look, they have all three movies!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying around for three whole movies."

You shot him a dark look, feigning great offense as you folded your arms across your chest. Jay seemed to not realize the weight of his words until after seeing your reaction, and he immediately flooded with panic.

"Wait, I meant, like—not that, just—"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." You giggled, diverting your attention away to start the movie. "Have you ever watched Shrek before? I used to watch it every single day when I was a kid, apparently."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my mom was mortified when I wanted to"—you turned back to look at him and your breath caught in your throat for a moment; Jay was looking down at you with those sincere eyes that were far too easy to get lost in—"dress up as Shrek for Halloween."

"Shrek, huh? Did you ever get to dress up as him?"

"No, I ended up being Fiona. All of my friends back then were dressing up like princesses, and my mom wanted to dress me up."

"Ouch. Well, you can be Shrek this year."

"You'd have to be my Princess Fiona then."

"Whatever you want."

His eyes went a touch unfocused, and you started to get the feeling that he didn't exactly care about Shrek costumes anymore. You weren't even completely sure he was talking about them.

You only started realizing it recently, but why did he always look at you like that?

Like he wanted to kiss you.

You couldn't pinpoint it before because you weren't really looking. It was hard to catch most of the time because he was so well-guarded, but in fractions of seconds, you could catch him looking into your eyes as if they held the world, as if he would fall apart if he tore his gaze away.

So, hypothetically, if you made a move on him, it wouldn't be a completely miscalculated step, right? It was obvious something was going on between you two, and there were clear signs, right? You weren't clinically insane?

Your mind was swimming with questions when you realized that almost half of the movie had gone by, and you were zoning out for its entirety. Reality only sharpened when you realized Jay had leaned back to put his arm around your shoulders. Unfortunately, now you couldn't care less about Shrek and Donkey; you could only think about how warm Jay's body was and how hot your chest felt.

Your chest must have been rising and falling too fast because Jay asked, "Are you good? Am I taking up too much room?"

"No! You're good, it's just a little tight in here—yeah, that's all," you replied absentmindedly.

"Oh, well..." He looked around helplessly. (There wasn't much to look at, anyway.) "Wanna sit on my lap?"

Your heart jumped, leaped, imploded—whatever. So much adrenaline was pumping through your blood that you hardly even processed whether you replied to him or not. All you knew was that you were climbing onto Jay's lap before he could even get adjusted.

"Whoa," he murmured, holding onto your hips to keep you steady (but all he managed to do was ignite a fire inside you). "I thought you said no."

"Did I? Sorry, I mix up yes and no sometimes." What the hell? No, you don't, your brain reminded immediately after.

He grinned. "Oh, yeah, common mistake."

You were too busy staring straight ahead and trying to ignore how badly you wanted to crumble into his arms that you nearly jumped when you heard Jay's soft chuckle against your back.

His hands slid up to your waist, and he murmured into your ear, "I'm gonna move you to sit between my legs—hold on."

(Normally, this would make you horny, but Lord Farquaad and Gingy were getting into their exchange of The Muffin Man nursery rhyme that never failed to make you laugh.)

"This good?" Jay asked once you two were settled. You were leaning back against his chest as you laid between his legs. Jay had his hands on his thighs, but you swore they were inching closer to you.

"Really good."

"Yeah?"

His pointer finger grazed your skin ever-so-slightly, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. After all, you didn't want him to think his hands weren't welcome. As you two fell into complete silence, watching the movie but not really watching it, you found that Jay's hand was getting closer and closer until four of his fingers were on your thigh.

He used this time to ask (in a much lower voice now), "How about this?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, your voice hitching in an almost humiliating way, and you could feel Jay's chest swell as his hand moved fully onto your thigh. "I like that."

The movie was nearing its end by now, and you were both still silently watching, Jay's hand hardly moving from your thigh. There were a few times where he moved it down, only to bring it back up again, but you were careful not to react in a way that would make things awkward.

But when you realized that he was probably going to leave, you figured this was your chance to make him stay, to see if things could progress. Wasn't this the perfect time, anyway? With everyone asleep and a cabin to yourself, this was probably the most privacy you would get for the weekend.

You turned your head just enough to look up at him, and those butterflies swarmed around in a torrent when his gaze dropped to your lips for a brief second. You straightened up a little to place your hand on his shoulder, angling your body a little to face him.

"Um," you started in a small voice, "do you wanna stay a little longer?"

Jay's hand moved up to grip your inner thigh with just enough pressure to keep you at a comfortable angle, and, again, you fought down the gasp. "With you?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

The space between you two was getting smaller and smaller. It was as if some magnetic pull was drawing your bodies closer and closer... and your lips were inches apart... and then Jay jerked away, as if he had snapped out of some trance.

"I can't, sorry," he said quickly, removing his hand from your thigh to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "It—it's getting late, and I should really get some sleep before we land."

Disappointed, you started moving so that he could have an easier time getting out of your cabin. You were half-expecting things to end up like this; moving fast with him wasn't going to work, but at least you knew now that he definitely felt some way about you.

"Goodnight," you told him, managing a smile. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"Yeah, it was fun."

He gave you that look again before closing your cabin door. You felt yourself deflate a little. It was an odd feeling, but you felt lonely when he was gone. You never really felt this way about Sunghoon since you got used to the loneliness, but Jay, who made an effort even as your friend, made you feel different.

Suddenly, your cabin door flew open again, and Jay was standing with regret painted all over his face.

"Look, I didn't mean to do all that and just back off," he said in a rush, sitting at the edge of your seat so that he could mutter everything to you in a low voice. "I just... it's hard right now, like, right now, as in—"

"Stop," you said, smiling ear-to-ear as your chest flooded with relief. Yeah, maybe you just needed to move a little slower. "I get it, don't worry."

"It's not that I don't..." he trailed off, gazing at you with deep longing etched in his eyes before he sighed. "Just... doing this right now is—"

"Jay, please," you tried again, reaching out to grab his hand. You tilted your head. "You can just make it up to me later. We can grab dinner in Monte Carlo?"

He seemed to be much less distressed now, merely sighing with contentment and nodding over and over again. "Yeah, let's do that."

"Goodnight, Jay," you sang with a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

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joelalorian · 2 days

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Sarah, Tommy, Emily, and JB unknowingly banding together for the win. Joel is his own warning. Inappropriate (or entirely appropriate?) use of a massager. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eight | Main Masterlist

“Girl, you’ve got it baaad,” Emily teased, watching you eye your phone every five seconds. The pair of you were getting drinks at your favorite watering hole the Saturday before your first full week of officially teaching.

“I can’t help it, Em. He’s got this, like, hold over me or something,” you replied sheepishly, one hand tucking your phone away in your back pocket. You were starting to annoy yourself with how often you checked for texts from Joel.

“You’re in love, that’s what happens.” Emily shrugged and sipped at her fruity mixed drink. “How’d the holidays go?”

Your expression lit up as you told Emily about your first major holidays with the Millers. Having spent some holidays with them while you were still away at school, your dad already fit into their family dynamic seamlessly. You were a happy and much-loved addition to the festivities and there was plenty of laughter among the adults at how badly Tommy botched dinner for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Why Joel and your dad ever let him try again after the wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner was beyond you. Thankfully, your dad saved the day both times with his unparalleled grilling skills.

“So, it’s safe to say that JB’s still happy about you and Joel being together?” Emily asked after your own laughter at recounting the mess died down.

“Is he ever,” you replied with a shake of your head. “He loves to rib Joel on making an honest woman out of me. Joel takes it in stride, but I’m kinda afraid that it’ll scare him off if my dad keeps it up.”

“Oh, please! That man is clearly head over fuckin’ heels for you. Hell, he’s already told you and JB that he loves you, he’s not goin’ anywhere!” After taking another sip of her drink, Emily shot you a pointed look. “When the hell am I gonna meet Joel, anyway? I feel like you’re actively hiding him from me.”

You stilled.

Were you doing that? You didn’t think so, not at first, but… If you were honest with yourself, there was an element of truth to Emily’s accusation.

“Shit, Em. I’m not doing it purposefully, I swear,” you replied beseechingly, pausing to figure out how to properly explain things. Finding a scratch in the tabletop suddenly fascinating, you stared at it while continuing. “I just have to share him so much already, between Sarah and my dad, even his brother – not that I begrudge him spending time with any of them, especially Sarah! It’s just… when I have time with him, I want to keep him to myself. You know what I mean?”

God, that made you sound so selfish. You looked up to find Emily grinning at you.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen you so in love. It looks good on you.” Emily clinked her now empty glass against your half-full one. “Just promise me that I’ll get to meet him soon. We could do a double date or something, so it doesn’t take away too much of your precious alone time.”

Over another round of drinks, you made plans for a few Fridays from now, quietly hoping Joel wouldn’t mind.

Heading home, you longed to see Joel, but it was late, and he was spending time with Sarah. He went to great lengths to make sure his daughter did not feel left out or neglected while the two of you explored your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of them to hang out. You loved that about him and knew how important that quality time was for Sarah. Besides, you planned to head over there tomorrow to get a little quality time of your own ahead of the busy week ahead.

In the morning, you slept in and lazed around the house for a while, taking the opportunity to relax and ease into your day while your dad puttered around until mid-day. You hadn’t heard from Joel, but that didn’t bother you – he knew you planned to come over. Around one o’clock, you headed over to the Millers, picking up some pizza and beer on the way.

Pulling up in front of the house, you found your usual spot in the driveway taken by your dad’s truck while Tommy’s truck blocked the remaining space. With a huff you parked along the curb. You would have ordered more pizza if you knew everyone would be here.

“Howdy boys,” you greeted as you walked in. “I come bearing pizza and beer, though I fear we’ll need lots more with this crew.”

Only one set of eyes turned away from the football game playing on TV as they all greet you in return. Getting up from his beloved corner spot on the couch, Joel took the pizza and beer from your hands and placed them on the coffee table before pulling you into the kitchen for a proper greeting.

“Hi darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Joel murmured, his voice already raspy from yelling at the TV. He pulled you close until your bodies were flush together and kissed you deeply. Like a magnet, your fingers threaded through his messy curls, tugging gently as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Mmm, I missed you, too, handsome. Didn’t know you were having company.”

Joel flashed his big cow eyes at you, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. “’M sorry, baby. I didn’t know they were coming by to watch the game ‘til they got here. Apparently, my TV is the best, so here they are. Hope that’s ok. I’ll kick ‘em right the hell out if you want me to.”

The thought did cross your mind.

“Nah, enjoy the game with the boys. I’ll sit with you guys for a bit then hang with Sarah until they leave.” Still wrapped in each other’s arms, you nuzzled the tanned skin of Joel’s neck and he hummed.

“You gonna stay over?”

You shouldn’t, not on a school night – your first as a bona fide teacher – but you had so little time together. “Sure. Just don’t keep me up too late, Mister. Those kids are exhausting, and I need my energy for the first day.”

“Miller! Stop neckin’ with my daughter and get your ass out here!” your dad’s voice bellowed through the house, causing the two of you to spring apart.

“Jesus, Dad,” you sighed, pecking Joel on the lips one last time before following him out to the living room. When would the game be over?

Surprisingly, you enjoyed the time watching the game with everyone. Even Sarah came down to join you all at half-time, book in hand, and sat between you and Joel reading. It was a lovely afternoon and a lovelier night as Joel held you in his arms, whispering words of praise into your hair until you fell into a deep slumber.

Your first week of teaching passed in a blur. After a month of assisting the prior teacher before his official retirement, the students knew you and respected your authority, setting the stage for an overall lovely experience. You started off with earth science lessons and most of the kids were engaged and eager to learn. Of course, you had a few little challenges with difficult students testing their boundaries, but you felt good about the way you handled each situation.

You stayed later after the students were dismissed, using the time to organize the room to your liking and get the lesson plans in order. Sarah perched at one of the long wooden tables working on her homework while you completed your tasks. The pattern offered you and Sarah some quality time together and the young girl found great enjoyment in putting you on the spot, especially when her dad was the topic at hand.

“JB keeps telling dad he needs to marry you,” Sarah blurted randomly Friday afternoon. “Do you want to?”

Staring at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say, you merely shrugged. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you getting married? You only started dating a few months ago!

Tilting her head to the side with a little smirk, Sarah replied, “That’s not a ‘no’.”

She was getting to be as bad as your dad and Tommy.

“You could be my stepmom! I always wanted one since I didn’t get to have a regular mom.”

Despite Sarah’s cheerfulness at the idea, your heart ached for all the real mom-related experiences she didn’t get to have. You knew exactly how that felt. If marrying Joel wasn’t already something you hoped for in the future, it would be after hearing Sarah expressing her desire for a stepmom, for you as a stepmom.

Sarah kept talking, while you lost yourself in thought.

Would you be a good stepmom?

God, you hoped so.

You never had one, JB chose to never get too serious with anyone after your mom, but you heard enough horror stories from your friends about their own stepmoms through the years. It sounded like a thankless job. But all the people you knew with stepparents had both birth parents still in their lives, so maybe your experience would be different.

The late bell chimed, drawing you out of your ever-spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, nugget. Let’s get you home,” you said, pushing thoughts of marriage and step parenthood to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“If you’re not gonna marry my dad, could you at least move in with us? It would be so great if you lived with us!”

Jesus fucking Christ in a handbasket. This kid sure knew how to keep you on your toes.

Leaning over the bar top with hunched shoulders and an aching back, Joel picked at the label on the beer bottle. He didn’t often visit the bar after work, not since Sarah came into his life, but he finally had some extra money and felt like treating himself. You stopped letting him pay you months ago, when the two of you became more to each other than just babysitter and boss, and he stashed that money away each week, saving it for what he didn’t know.

At his side, Tommy carried on about some chick he met a few weeks ago. A pretty attorney who was way out of his league and already turned him down twice. Like a dog with a bone, Tommy showed no signs of giving up yet.

“You better be careful, brother. She may get a restraining order against you if you don’t take it easy,” Joel said, voice a rich rumble.

Tommy waved him off with a chortle. “Oh please. She’s loving it. Chicks like that like being pursued.”

“If you say so.” Joel didn’t know this woman or what she liked, but he knew for a fact that you would hate it if a guy relentlessly pursued you after turning him down, not once, but twice. He smiled at the thought of you kicking a guy like that in the fucking balls to prove that you were very much not interested.

He full on laughed at the thought of you kicking his little brother in the balls, causing Tommy to glance sideways at him.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” Joel grumbled, clearing his throat. Thoughts of you continued to invade his mind, just like they always did. You were always on his mind, and he loved it. If only you were always in his bed… Joel cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. How do you know if it’s too early to ask a girl to move in?”

Tommy groaned. “Why you always askin’ me this shit? How am I supposed to know? I have less actual relationship experience than you do.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask, huh? JB? Don’t imagine that’d go over too well,” Joel replied with a defeated shrug, but Tommy conceded the point.

“You need more friends, man.” Clearing his throat, Tommy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, the way I see it, you love her, and she loves you, everyone knows it, and JB and Sarah are both happy for the two of you. Moving in together seems like the logical next step, right?”

Joel nodded, still uncertain.

“Only the two of you can know if the pace is right. Seems to me like you both waited long enough for the right one to come along. You’ve both been through some shit, why waste any more time?”

Damn, when did his little brother become so insightful?

“Alright, I get your point. Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask?” As secure as he was in your love for each other, Joel still floundered a bit at each new step in the relationship department.

“I dunno, brother. You’re just gonna have to grow a pair and find out.”

“Fuckin’ grow a pair,” Joel grumbled, punching Tommy in the arm, hard.

The pair bickered through another round, like brothers do, before calling it an evening. Eager to see you and Sarah, Joel didn’t want to waste away the evening in the bar with Tommy. As they walked out to their trucks, Tommy stopped Joel with a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, brother. In all seriousness, I think she’ll say yes, so just ask, ok?”

Joel nodded his thanks and confirmed plans for watching the game at his place on Sunday, before climbing into his truck. The trip home didn’t take long, and for that Joel was grateful. His back ached after a busy week of hard labor followed by an hour sitting hunched over the bar. He’d kill for a massage.

The house was quiet when he walked in, no sign of you or Sarah on the ground floor. Kicking off his work boots and dropping the truck keys onto the hook near the door, Joel slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Light flooded into the hall from Sarah’s bedroom, the sound of giggles and low voices echoing in the air. He moved slowly, quietly, until he could just peek around the door jamb. You sat on Sarah’s bed, the little girl perched in front of you, as you braided her wiry curls.

The sight melted Joel’s insides into a gooey puddle.

This. This was exactly what he wanted to come home to everyday.

He had to ask you to move in.

Just as he straightened up with a silent groan, ready to enter the room, Sarah’s sweet little voice left him frozen in place.

“I think you’d make the best stepmom.”

“This again,” you griped playfully. “You do, huh? Why?”

Was this something Sarah brought up before? Joel held his breath, waiting for Sarah’s response.

“Because you love my dad and you love me, you’re always kind even when things go wrong, you’re smart, and you like spending time with me. But most of all, because you do the things a mom does even though you’re not my mom and you don’t have to.”

He caught your gasp even though you tried to hide it from Sarah. You were as affected by Sarah’s heartfelt, innocent confession as he was. His adorable, sweet little girl knew you’d make a great stepmom and he agreed with all her reasons. If possible, he fell further in love with you in that moment after seeing you through his daughter’s eyes.

“Well, you’re right, nugget. I do love you and your dad, and I hope that one day, when the time is right, I can be your stepmom. Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, ok? I’ll still love you to pieces even without the official title.”

You choked out the words, on the verge of tears, and Joel felt his own eyes begin to water. Unable to bear it any longer, he swept through the doorway and pulled you both against his chest in a big bear hug. His precious girls. He loved you both more than words could express.

“Daddy! You’re squeezing too tight! Imma burst!” Sarah shrieked with laughter as he tossed her onto the bed and began tickling her with one hand, his other still holding your close.

“Did you…” Your eyes searched his, a hint of worry hiding in their depths, and Joel grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I heard it all,” Joel confirmed, confidence bolstered knowing you wanted to marry him at some point. Conveying every feeling held in his heart through his eyes, he added, “Move in with us. Please.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, searching for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, darlin’.”

The three of you celebrated with ice cream after you agreed to move in with them before putting Sarah to bed. By then, Joel’s back ached something fierce and you offered to use the message gun he forgot he had.

“Lay face down on the bed, my love,” you directed, watching with adoration as he tugged the shirt over his head, jeans hanging low on his hips. The muscles rippled in his arms and back as he settled on the soft mattress. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Joel murmured, huffing when you climbed over him to straddle his ass.

Turning on the massage gun, you put it on the middle setting and pressed the ball against the flesh of his traps. Even through the device, you could feel how tight those muscles were. It must be where he held his tension. Over the next half hour, you worked the massager over his back, soaking in the grunts that bordered on pain and relief. Somewhere along the way, the groans turned pleasurable, and Joel rolled onto his back, leaving you to straddle his thighs as the bulge in his jeans grew.

Joel’s hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, but you batted his hand away with a mischievous grin. With wide, wondrous eyes, he watched you adjust the setting on the massager and run it along the seam of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, cock twitching with interest at the vibration. “Don’t stop.”

Hands gripping your hips, he bucked up into the delightful buzz of the massager, a steady stream of moans falling from his lips as the vibrations spread from his balls upwards to the head of his cock. Fuck, if it felt that good through his jeans, how good would it feel directly on his cock?

“Do you want me to increase the speed setting?” you purred, pressing the massager harder against him.

“Oh God, fuck. Yes… ungh. Please.” The words fell from his lips in a series of whimpers as you adjusted the settings. Within moments, he moaned a bit too loudly and came in his pants. You didn’t let up on the pressure though, the vibration drawing out his orgasm until every last drop of his load was blown and his body nearly convulsed with the overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he watched you switch off the massager and run your fingers along the large wet spot on his jeans, his cock twitching tiredly in response.

“That was fucking sexy,” you murmured, enthralled with the mess you just made of him.

“Yeah? Lemme see that thing. Think it’s my turn now, pretty girl.”

Tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots in love

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intoxicated-chan · 1 day

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ║ ❝𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡❞

(A/n) ➳ I’m back at writing! I thank those who gave me advice that helped me with my writer’s block. Hopefully I can keep a schedule and I thank those who waited! Thank you all!

Word Count ➳ 1.3k

Content Warnings ➳ Alcohol use, drug trafficking, mentions of baby trapping, swearing, mentions of toxic friend group dynamic, threats of violence...

JUDAS Masterlist

DARYL WAS PULLED IN A HUG WHILE ANOTHER MAN PATTED HIS BACK.

Andrea brought the glass of cheap liquor to her lips as she eyed Daryl conversing with the group of men. She wouldn’t say he was friendly with them but seemed to be coworkers of some kind.

“Are you seein’ this?” Andrea asked Amy who quickly agreed with her.

Amy pulled her phone up to take a photo. “(Y/n)’s gotta see this-”

Andrea snatched the phone out of her hands. “Jus’ cause he’s talkin’ to some guys doesn’t make it suspicious. You need hard evidence.”

“Like what?”

“Watch.”

Andrea kept her distance as she maneuvered past people, nearly getting a drink spilled on her when she was pushed by a dancing couple. She blended into the background as she came closer to Daryl and his friends.

She observed his interactions with the other patrons, noticing how he kept glancing around, as if he was expecting someone. He then leaned into a man, like a hug and passed something into his pocket and shook his hand.

She could only see them whispering to each other until Daryl turned around at hand gasping his shoulder.

It was Merle, he leaned in. “How much do you get this month?” He asked, taking the wad of cash from Daryl’s pocket.

“Less, cops been ‘round.” Daryl again looked around. “And one might be pokin’ their nose where it don’ belong.”

“I told you not to get involved with that woman.” Merle commented, counting the cash. “Look at you now.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Merle chuckled, putting the cash into his back pocket. “She ain’t gonna stay for you, tie ‘er down or somethin’. From the way you talk ‘bout her, she’d make a good mom.”

“Ya can’t-”

“Leah called again, need you for the next run.”

“Did ya not hear me?”

“The hell the cops gonna do? They got nothin’.” Merle laughed, ignoring Daryl. “The guy needs his money, some shit ‘bout his wife.” Rolling his eyes, he was annoyed, getting pushed to do more and more work while their boss gets most of their earnings.

“He needs ‘em now?”

Merle shrugged, coming to the bar and ordering a drink for them both. “Friday.” Two days from now. “You goin’ be meetin’ with her-”

Daryl waved him off, remembering the place. It wasn’t like he was the one bringing the shipment to her every time Merle was ordered to do it himself. Daryl walked to the bar, easily drowning the shot given to him.

He just needed to stick it out for a few more runs then he could be free. Free from his brother, free from this mess, he can finally go back to you without everything haunting his mind.

“Another.” He demanded. He wasn’t going to be able to make home sober tonight. He huffed, taking out his phone. He pressed on your contact, bring the phone to his ear as he took his shot. It rang a few times before you answered.

“Daryl? What is that sound?”

“At some bar.” He responded.

“Are you alright? You sound drunk- please don’t tell me you’re drunk.”

“I’ll be drunk soon, darlin’.”

He heard you sigh over the phone. “Send me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yer too kind.” He chuckled.

“Jus’... Jus’ don’t drink too much.”

“Yeah.”

He threw his head back as he took the shot, groaning as the burning sensation went down his throat, clouding his mind as the more shots he took, the more the alcohol influenced him.

What Daryl remembered was slumped over the bar and then pushed into a car that smelled fresh. Your voice filled his mind as you spoke to him to keep him awake. God, the way you took care of him made him relax.

You sat in your recliner, legs crossed as you held a mug of coffee. You watched Daryl’s chest rise and fall, keeping close as it was becoming noon.

He had passed out the second he hit your couch, and you were too worried about him to sleep so you stayed awake.

Your phone had buzzed for the hundredth time for this day. It was a string of text messages coming from Shane, begging you to think twice about Daryl.

You were disappointed in Shane. You knew he was rash, but you didn’t think he’d react this way when he was rejected.

You have no idea what the hell you’re doing

You could hear him say it, repeatedly. It played like a song that you wanted out of your head. It was annoying, frustrating, and somewhat depressing.

“Ya should really block him.” Daryl’s hoarse voice made you snap your head up and see him awake. He rubbed his eyes as he grumbled. “That coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Hand it over.” He weakly demanded, it made you laugh and hand it over with ease.

“Glad to see you alive.” You got up, stretching your legs. “I was thinkin’ I might have to take you to the hospital with the number of shots you took.”

“That’s what work does to ya.” He responded, taking a large gulp of the coffee as he slowly sat up. “Still haven’t answered ma question.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dixon. I'll make some food for you.”

“No, sit down.”

“Daryl you’re hungover-”

“Sit.” He pushed your throw pillow on the ground, having you sit next to him. “Ya don’ block ‘im ‘cause yer worried, ain’t ya?”

“...I never seen him act like this before. Yes, I’m worried ‘bout him. He's texting me every minute!” You explained, feeling your chest tighten as your voice wavered. “Then Lori! And Rick! Who’s next? Carl?!”

“It’s ‘cause of me.”

“Please Daryl, it’s not you. It ain’t your fault.” You immediately reacted, grabbing his shoulders. “I jus’ realized that my place in that group wasn’t as a friend but a prop. They knew I didn’t have much around me and used it to their advantage. If I disagreed with someone then the rest turned against me. I'm better off with Amy, Andrea, and you.”

“Yer gonna regret it.”

“I can promise you now that I won’t.” You retorted. You then sighed, laying back. “Let’s stop talkin’ ‘bout this. I seriously need a smoke.”

“I got some in ma bag.” Daryl looked around, his eyebrows furrowed when he didn’t see around him.

“It’s in my car.” You replied, pushing yourself up to grab your shoes and keys. “Your brother was kind enough to get your ass in my car and bring your bike.”

“Merle?”

“Yeah, met him I pulled up. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Nah. It’s nothing.” You nodded and left, leaving Daryl sitting on the couch.

As he took another sip from the mug, Daryl’s phone rang. He glanced at his phone briefly but didn’t bother to check the caller ID as he flipped open his phone, assuming it was his brother.

��Merle.” Daryl answered, rather annoyed.

“Daryl, my man!” His voice boomed though the phone, all cocky and charming as usual. “How’s my favorite deliver boy doin’ today?”

The voice on the other end wasn’t Merle’s. It was Negan Smith. Daryl’s heart dropped as he recognized him.

His voice made Daryl’s stomach churn. If he remembered correctly, the delivery was for friday, tomorrow and any call from Negan was never good news.

“What do ya want, Negan?”

“There’s been a change of plans. We’ve got an emergency and I need the damn goods by midnight. Tonight.”

“We had a deal-!”

“Fuck the deal, Dixon.” Negan's tone shifted suddenly, becoming serious. “You’ve got until midnight. Don't make me come lookin’ for you. We all remember what happened last time you were late.”

With that, Negan hung up, leaving Daryl staring at his phone in disbelief. He threw his phone and held the scream he wanted to let out, but he held his head in his hands.

He had until midnight... Failure wasn’t an option.

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown , @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @itwasntaphasema , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @itsrainingbisexualfrogs , @ingstadstarlight , @gamingfeline , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @the-lonely-abyss , @number1bashbabe , @xmaeyonaiise , @suniloli , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells , @sexyxdylanxobrien , @mylifeinthetardisforever r , @let-love-bleeds-red , @virginsexgod69 , @scudslut , @devilxbug , @theesexystallion , @yondus-girl , @raoudixs , @tremendousstarlighttragedy , @skulliecadaver-blog , @remusmuse ,

⊰ Chapter 7 ⊰ » » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 9 ⊰

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delicatebarness · 1 day

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bring him home | chapter two

Summary: After you decide to come out of your room again, you get back to your Avenging work.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. A lot of grief and sadness. Mind Wiping & torture.

Word Count: 1274

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A/N: I tried to use as much of the OG Bring Him Home story in this one. Also, oops I changed the schedule time because I’m impatient.

Tags: @wintrsoldrluvr | @mostlymarvelgirl |

Another month passed, and you felt like you were no further forward except for the fact that you now left your room more often. You spent hours with Natasha and Steve surrounded by stacks of missing person reports. They worked diligently beside you, their focus unwavering as they documented each case.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of anger within you as you combed through the reports. Each name and face represents a life lost, swallowed by a mad titan.

“He meant half, didn’t he?” you muttered, your tone laced with bitter venom. The whisper sliced through the silence like a knife. “Stupid, Purple, Prick!”

Your words startled your sister and Steve, their gazes snapped toward you with concern. It was rare that you expressed animosity.

“Hey, you okay?” Nat’s voice cut the tension, her eyes softened with empathy as she put the case she was reading down. You offered a noncommittal hum in response, you sniffed and blinked back tears as they threatened to spill over.

After a beat, Steve’s gentle voice broke through the heavy atmosphere without breaking his concentration on a report. “He loved you, you know,” he said, his words carrying a new weight of their own. “I spent years watching him with girls growing up, and he never looked at them the way he did you.”

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, the sincerity in his eyes brightening a faint glimmer of solace. Deep down, you knew the truth. Bucky’s affection for you had always been unmistakable, even when he was brainwashed, no one could deny the connection.

You shot him a small smile, as you nodded in acknowledgment. Then, the three of you resumed your task, determined to sift through every last detail.

As the hours passed, you began to grow exhausted, the weariness of the long day and night taking its toll. Your eyelids grew heavy, Natasha noticed the telltale sighs, the same you’ve had since you were both children. She reached out to gently nudge your shoulder.

“You need some rest,” she said, her voice soft with a note of concern. “It’s okay to take a break.”

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Natasha’s concern. “She’s right,” he added. “We’ve got this,” he gestured to the rest of the reports that you hadn’t quite got to yet.

With a sigh, you nodded, allowing them both to take over as you retreated up to your bedroom. You sank into your bed, not worrying about getting changed or washing your face, and closed your eyes.

As time passed, you were dragged deeper into the Red Room’s web, your innocence chipped away as you were molded into their weapon.

During your teen years, you began to think you had grown accustomed to the brutal realities of the Red Room, you had witnessed horror. It was around this time you were assigned a mission, one that had been deemed crucial by your handlers. They made it clear that failure wasn’t an option.

You carried out your mission with precision, listened to every order, and stayed quiet. However, circumstances beyond your control led to your mission failing. You knew your punishment would be awaiting your arrival back at the Red Room.

What you didn’t expect was to witness the Winter soldier undergoing a punishment of his own.

Your handlers escorted you toward a room you never knew existed, you caught his gaze as you walked past a window peering into it. He was sat in a large chair surrounded by machinery in the center. To your surprise, they stopped and gestured for you to enter the room.

The Winter Soldier’s expression was impassive, yet you could sense the tension weighing on him. A subtle tightening of his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil as he watched you walk further into the room.

They continued to escort you to one side of the room, “You should have been more vigilant, more thorough,” one of your handlers spoke, his voice dripping with contempt as he leveled his gaze down at you.

You wanted to lash out, you wanted to scream at them, but you held your tongue, only using your eyes to shoot the draggers at him. Saying anything now would only make it worse.

Meanwhile, the technicians continued their work, their movements methodical as they operated the machinery. The Winter Soldier’s gaze never dropped from yours from the moment he saw you through the window. He knew what was to come, if you hadn’t known him better, you would have sworn that tears were welling, threatening to spill.

Before you knew it, they forcefully thrust a mouthguard into his mouth. He was then shoved back into the chair, helpless against the machinery as it clamped around him, keeping him in place.

His cries were stifled by the mouthguard, but the echoes reverberated through the room. Unable to bear what you were witnessing, you instinctively shut your eyes tight and covered your years, trying to block out the harrowing scene.

The handles turned their attention back to you, their faces twisted into cruel smiles, one of the men grabbed your wrist and dragged you forward. “Since you’re responsible for this failure,” he sneered, “you should witness the consequences.”

You weren’t given a second to protest before he was holding your face in place, forcing you to watch as the Winter Soldier’s mind was wiped. With each agonized twitch his muscles made, you felt his pain as a shiver shot down your spine.

It was a punishment unlike any you had seen, it was designed to not only erase his memories but to torment you. It was while you watched helplessly that you realized that between Hydra and the Red Room, there was no room for compassion or forgiveness.

The memories of Bucky loomed large in your mind, all of them playing at once, a constant reminder that he isn’t here anymore. It was added fuel to the flame that began to burn hot and bright without you, a relentless inferno that started to rage.

A gentle knock on the door grated again your nerves, her voice was gentle but an intrusion as she called out to you from the other side. “You awake?”

Erupting from your bed, the fury coursed through your veins. With each step, you thought the ground was trembling beneath your feet.

Swinging your door open, you stormed past Natasha without a second glance, the air cracked with intensity of your anger as you began making your way towards the gym. “Don’t talk to me,” you growled, the words dripped with venom, your tone directed at her was as if she herself had taken Bucky from you.

Her brow furrowed in concern, but chose not to argue and allowed you to pass without protest. Once she heard the sound of the stairs door slamming shut behind you, she entered your room, placing the tray of breakfast snacks on your desk.

Alone with your anger, you made a beeline for the nearest punching bag. With each strike, the bag swung wildly, the force of your blows echoing through the room. Tears started to stream down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat that dripped from your brow.

Each punch was a release, but as you rained blow after blow, the weight of your grief bore down. You cried out in anguish, the sound raw and primal as it echoed around the empty gym.

Exhausted, you sank to your knees, your emotions of the last two months leaving you drained. Your cries faded into silence, replaced by the thud of your heartbeat.

With a heavy sigh, you allowed yourself a moment of stillness.

---

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clemblog · 3 days

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Caine’s Lesson - Part 7

•

Gummigoo wasn't kidding when he said his Ma's food was good. Caine's food from that one evening after the gloinks couldn't compare. It was full of so much more flavour and taste.

"Penny for your thoughts, Poms?" Grinned Gummigoo, coming to sit across from her with his own bowl.

"You weren't kidding when you said it was good-" Mused Pomni, sheepishly.

He chuckled at such.

"We don't lie round these parts Poms, you'll learn that quick if you stick with us."

"I-It'll be fun to see!" Smiled Pomni, shyly with a hum. "So... When do you wanna do the uh shooting practice?"

"Ah yeah! I figured once we've eaten, I'll speak to Ma real quick and then we can get started! Sound good to you?"

"T-That sounds good to me-"

"Snazzy."

The two continued to eat happily with occasional words of conversation, mostly happy to just exist aside one another.

It was the peace Pomni had been wanting for the last few days.

It was the peace Gummigoo hadn't known he'd needed for the last few weeks.

The pair were soon headed over to a little clearing by the main ranch house. It was surrounded by fencing and had a few shabby targets nailed together at the end.

"Welcome to Pa's shooting range, Poms." Grinned Gummigoo. "This is where I learned to shoot, and now it's where you'll learn too!"

"I-I'm excited to learn!" Beamed Pomni, sheepishly.

"I'm glad to hear that! Now come stand here."

Pomni moved to stand in front of the mark. She looked up and saw she was stood inline with the centre target.

"First, we'll work on accuracy!"

He moved to stand behind her and crouched down. He tenderly placed his pistol into her hands, making sure to position her hands on the right position.

"Now, this is how you hold ya pistol! Try to hold it like this as much as you can, otherwise the force back from after you shoot can hurt ya hand. And you don't wanna do that, trust me, I learnt from experience."

"N-Noted! Hold the gun safely- As much as you can-"

He hummed at this approvingly with a nod. "Now, what you wanna do is line up this little eye piece right about here on the target."

He slowly moved her aim into position.

"You would think to aim here, right? Well, these bad boys are different! Pa made em on an angle, so wild shots have a higher chance of being accurate. Does mean however that every casual shot you take is gotta be on an angle."

“Right..” Nodded Pomni, slowly.

“Now all you gotta do is click here.” He hummed softly, guiding her hand with his atop it to the trigger.

*Bang!*

Pomni had successfully shot a gun!

“I did it!” She grinned, looking up to Gummigoo.

“You sure did Pommy!” He hummed, returning the grin. “You were so close to a bullseye but hey, practice makes perfect, aye?”

“Definitely!”

He helped her take a few more shots, only sitting back to watch when Pomni felt confident enough to shoot on her own. She was picking up the skill amazingly fast! It was natural talent Gummigoo hadn’t seen in a while- He most definitely would have to talk to Ma about making Poms her own gun. He watched the way she’d flinch back a little from the force of his gun. If she had one accustomed to her, he had a hunch she’d be shooting better than Max and Chad in no time!

Ma was awfully busy though with all the Candy Kingdom Citizens, so he figured he might as well take some time in the next evening to make Pomni a gun! That way she would be well equipped to join himself, Max and Chad on scouting adventures.

So, that’s what he set off to do! Leaving Poms to her practice.

•

Zooble was sat watching Gangle draw in her notebook when Kinger and Ragatha came over.

“H-Hi you guys!” Squeaked Gangle, softly in her usual tone.

“Hey.” Nodded Gangle.

“Hello!” Smiled Ragatha, gently. “Is it okay if we join you? Kinger thought it may be a good idea if I hung out with you guys for a bit to try and get my mind off Pomni-“

“O-Oh sure!” Nodded Gangle.

The two sat down.

A content silence fell over the group, the only sound being the scratch of Gangle’s pencil. After a few minutes work, she ripped out a page and handed it out to Ragatha.

“I-I know you’re sad about Pomni s-so I figured I might do you a drawing of her so it feels like she’s still with you!” She explained, sheepishly.

Ragatha was quiet for a few minutes looking over the sketch of her with Pomni.

“…GANGLE THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU-“

Gangle squeaked as she was pulled into a crushing hug by Ragatha, her happy mask flung off but was caught by Zooble luckily.

“Gosh! I’ll have to make you something in return- This is to perfect Gangle!” Beamed Ragatha.

“O-Oh! Alright-“ Smiled Gangle, sheepishly as Zooble gently placed her happy mask back onto her face.

“You tell me what you want and I’ll get on it! Or I can make it a surprise-“

“A surprise could be fun-“ Murmured Gangle, shyly.

“A surprise it is then!”

Zooble put an assuring arm around Gangle sensing her growing anxiety from being overwhelmed by Ragatha’s sudden excitement.

Things weren’t perfect right now, but at least they had each other!

Part 8

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crabbng · 21 hours

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i actually got some in process shots for this #WebcomicDay ! they are of an episode 12 page, so this doubles as a sneak peek 🤣 you can see i forgot to take a pic of the finished lines before i started on coloring (whoops)

there are a few secret steps after finishing up backgrounds etc. (scanning, cleaning up) but since this is a sneak peek, i didn't want to put the Final Product out there.

I guess I'll ramble a little bit about The Process below the cut.

SKETCH: I don't plan out my pages as much as I should other artists do. I think about the next couple shots I want, what I can probably fit on the page, and then decide how tall the panel should be. after that I draw a big line across the page 🤣 sometimes the panel gets bisected, usually not trisected. I love it when people consider the whole of the page and make the paneling choices that elevate the art. I just don't do it lmao

luckily for me, I don't have a requirement to make every piece of my comic pages The Best. So, I focus on what I enjoy: expressions and conversations.

LINE DIALOGUE AND PANELS: For inking/lining, I ABSOLUTELY have to put in my dialogue/dialogue balloons first. Since I'm doing everything on the same page of physical paper, I can't really shift things around partway through to make the dialogue and art fit better together. I also have to make sure it all fits within the panel lines I have planned. I've gotten into situations where the WORDS fit in, but in order to make a word balloon with decent space around the words, I cross over a line. Sometimes it works, but for me.. it doesn't work most of the time. So, gotta plan ahead.

You can also see down in the final section, I handwrite my dialogue! So, if I mess up, I sometimes have to add in a few letter that I can substitute in during editing.

FINISH LINES & ERASING: All I have to say about finishing lines/erasing, is that erasing can be such a challenge lmao. JUST YESTERDAY... when I was erasing.. I tore a page a little bit. And I often accidentally crinkle a corner while erasing. The obvious solution, and what I know people do, is to sketch on one page, and then use a light table (or equivalent) to do a cleaner, lighter sketch on a new page, and then do lining on that. Which is a good idea, maybe someday I'll try it lol.

COLOR FIGURES: There's really no good reason I start with the figures, besides that I like watching them come to life with the colors. It feels weird when they're blank on the page. They're also generally the most important part of the page for me, and seeing them colored helps me decide on which panels I want to do flat color backgrounds for.

But! This means I can't go back and edit skin tones etc. to be in different lighting after the fact, unless it's to make them darker! So that's something I have to be cognizant of and plan for in advance.

I use Copics for most part of the figures, except when I know there's going to be several large areas to color, like Aoife's hair or her sweater and pants. I have character's hair planned in Copics, but I have several browns from other brands (Prismacolor, Blick, Winsor and Newton, Artist's Loft) that get pretty close to her hair color. Clothing that has large areas that need to be colored are planned as being from one of those other brands from the start. I don't want to use up all my Copic juice on them!!

Also don't you just love seeing the texture of the paper through the marker? I love it. I love the natural variation you get.

BACKGROUNDS & OTHER DETAILS: Color everything else! Backgrounds and shadows generally. For backgrounds I'm once again using my alternative brands. I've got a lot of space to cover, and those markers, along with being cheaper, are generally larger than my Copics. So it works out.

Sometimes I tend to go a bit wild with the single color backgrounds, to the point where I think it can get distracting. So I have to rein it in and leave some panels with white backgrounds, so the reader isn't just blasted with colors from every angle. My rule of thumb is to try and only have color on one panel in each of my lines of panels, and to alternate sides, if possible. I feel like that guides the eye easier.

Doing things traditionally means I don't really get any shortcuts when it comes to backgrounds, including just flat color backgrounds. Every square millimeter has gotta be colored purposefully by me. And maybe that seems like a pointless use of time and effort! But man, I love the end result. I'm all for shortcuts, it's just a lot of the ones I see floating around don't apply to me 🤣

I'll talk about my other steps here too, might as well.

SCANNING: After colors and everything, I scan the pages. They're too big to fit in my scanner, so I scan the top and bottom halves separately, and stitch them together (I use PhotoStitcher).

From there, I rotate it to (more or less) make it straight on my canvas, make a .clip version, and send it off to my iPad!

I got my iPad in a workplace raffle, and though there's a lot about the UI I don't love, it's been really convenient!

EDITING: Editing consists of: cleaning up things that should be white (like eyes, teeth, and word balloons), and then cleaning up marker that's bled over into areas it doesn't belong, and is distracting. I try not to overdo it on marker cleanup, because 1) it takes a while, 2) it can stress me out if I decide I need it all to be PERFECT, and 3) it feels slightly disingenuous, just TO ME, about my OWN work. I don't think 3) is valid, so I try to ignore that part, but sometimes in my head I'm like 'mm but Jacki can you say its traditional if you have to do so much work in post to make it presentable??' (said in a very snobby voice). I went from not really caring -> REALLY caring -> hopefully I'll get to caring a reasonable amount.

FINISHING: Last steps are to send it BACK to my computer, where I have two auto actions to size the page and to export it as a .png in a large and a small size. I should be rightfully criticized for how I size the pages lmao, it's 2647x3560 pixels. Why that number specifically? That's 1) how I've done it since the beginning, so they are all this very strange size, and 2) it's about the maximum area of scanned page I can consistently get.

I think that's it? I don't know why you would, but if you have any questions, feel free to hit me up and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Hope someone finds this interesting or helpful LOL

bye 💕 happy webcomic day!

#webcomicday #webcomic day #kings of sorts #draws

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morsmordream · 2 days

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it was probably somewhat barty’s fault for letting his guard down, or for walking back from the library on his own after curfew.

he thought any danger would come from the gryffindors, but he wasn’t worried about that. he could take any of them, any day.

of course, with his luck, it wasn’t gryffindors who caught him. rather, his three least favourite housemates- snape, avery, and mulciber. they did tell him he’d regret calling snape a mudblood last week, but how was he to know they’d actually follow up on their word?

he turned his head, spitting blood onto the stone floor of the empty classroom he’d been dragged into. if he could only find a way to slip the conjured ropes, he could easily flick his wand out from his holster…

“if this is about the mudblood thing, you’re only proving my point here, snape,” he said, with his best attempt at his usual easy grin, “you know, punching me like a bloody muggle. did your daddy teach you that? or did your mummy? suppose your blood traitor mother is no better than a muggle with her family magic stripped from her.”

snape’s eyes darkened, and he gripped barty’s jaw, forcing him to look up at him. barty met his eyes, he knew snape wouldn’t breach his mental shields, no matter how good of a legilimens he was. his father couldn’t breach them, and he was the head of the fucking DMLE.

“goading me to curse you instead? i’m not stupid, crouch. leaving you with curse damage so you can run along and tattle. when i curse you, not if, when, it won’t leave a mark anyone will find-”

the door opened then, and barty whipped his head around before breaking into another grin. he knew they’d find him. sirius knew hogwarts better than anyone, and regulus, evan, and dorcas were like bloodhounds.

“you must forgive us for being a little late to the party, snivellus,” sirius said, dusting imaginary dirt off his robes, “you see, our invitations must have been a little bit delayed. surely, you wouldn’t want a little three on one action with our dear barty, would you?”

from the corner of his eye, barty watched avery and mulciber shift into duelling stances, looking rather worried. good, they should be.

snape’s face was twisted in rage, and he gripped barty by the hair.

“we’re just having a little chat, black. getting even-”

“avada kedavra,” sirius said, far too calmly, and the spell shot mere centimetres past snape’s head, crumbling the stone on the wall behind him.

snape released barty as if he had burned him, his face pale and his hands shaking.

fucking morgana, sometimes barty forgot just how close to the surface the black madness truly lay in sirius, and he was truly glad both him and regulus were with him and not against him. and, naturally, he found it incredibly hot that sirius would start throwing around unforgivable curses on his behalf.

“vanish the ropes. i’m not fucking playing around, snape, if i have to repeat myself then next time that curse will hit you.”

the ropes vanished, and within seconds regulus, evan, and dorcas had stunned the three boys. sirius pulled barty up, passing him to dorcas who began to heal him. sirius and regulus moved to the three boys on the floor and began casting in a language he couldn’t quite catch.

finishing with a grin, sirius strolled back over and pulled barty in for a tight hug.

“what were those curses?” he mumbled.

“variation on a nightmare curse, from one of the black grimoires. at the moment, they’ll feel as though they’re being buried alive. they’ll have horrific nightmares about all manner of deaths every time they sleep until the curse is lifted. mind, i don’t feel awfully tempted to do so any time soon.”

barty kissed him, gently, as evan and regulus made gagging noises behind them. dorcas was likely rolling her eyes.

“thank you.”

#sirius black #barty crouch junior #bitchkiller #sirius x barty #deathstar #evan rosier #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #harry potter #hp fandom #marauders era #harry potter drabble #harry potter fandom #yeah anyway ur honour i would kill for them

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jovieinramshackle · 3 days

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Tea and Tenderness

VERY self-indulgence Inky Ribbons one shot because I needed it 🐙🎀. If you guess what book/movie I'm referencing in this you're officially super cool.

Words: 1064

Prompt: “. . . sorry, I talked too much” “No no no not at all. Keep talking” (the prompt was taken from this list)

(if you wonder about the pronoun changes, me and Jovie/my sona use she/they)

(Reblogs and Likes are appreciated 💕)

Jovie had a lot of interests.

And they loved talking about her interests.

As reserved as they seemed, once she was comfortable with someone who would listen, they would not close their mouth until the air left her lungs.

Despite being a chatter himself, Azul couldn't compare to the amount of chatting and information sharing Jovie could do. It was common practice for the two to get together, enjoy a nice cup of tea or coffee, and talk. Or more accurately, for Jovie to talk as Azul carefully paid attention to their words, taking in the information, and storing it in his head for potential future use.

He often didn’t fully comprehend what exactly they were talking about— he lacked the proper context to fully understand, even if she did their best to provide it. What kept Azul focused was his adoration for their enthusiasm— he loved how passionate she was about their interests, the way her eyes sparkled while talking about their favourite books or shows. He, admittedly, found it attractive.

Azul, like the researcher that he was, made sure he researched their interests to follow their conversations better. Although he couldn’t dedicate his time to fully watching all the shows or reading all the books, he made sure he had a general idea of the topics and ensured he remembered the information she would offer him.

As they sat once more in the dimly lit Mostro Lounge, sharing one table long past closing time, romantic soft jazz quietly played in the background, adding to the ambience. This time, they were enjoying a warm cup of tea Azul had prepared beforehand— Lemon tea, Jovie's favourite. Silence embraced the room, ruined only by the constant chatter of the young witch.

This time Jovie had a new fixation to share during their alone time— a dark fantasy novel about a young girl, who discovers a hidden door inside her new house that leads to a supposedly better world, when in reality, it was a trap to lure her in.

Azul wasn’t versed in this book, though he was a reader himself, his preferences laid with autobiographies of businessmen and the economic news. So the dark fantasy genre was a whole new subject of discussion to him, let alone the particular book Jovie wanted to talk about.

Despite that, Jovie went on, animatedly talking about the plot, explaining every point, all the little details in it. They spoke as if she had made a world-alternate discovery, as if the whole world needed to know about this one book they loved so dearly.

If he had to be honest, he would be at a loss at times, especially when Jovie began to explain the differences between the book and its movie adaptation— she wasn’t the best with words, sometimes stuttering while speaking as their voice got tired. He started feeling a sense of overwhelmingness taking over him as they continued. Despite that, it was something he was accustomed to, it had no negative effects on him. So he let her continue, occasionally asking questions to catch up to them.

But then, suddenly, Jovie stopped, fixing their gaze on him as if analysing his current facial expressions and body language. Her face changed from radiating excitement and enthusiasm to becoming completely expressionless.

The abrupt shift in Jovie's demeanour made the gears in his mind start. He couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, since it was unusual for Jovie to go silent so suddenly. Even if they were tired after so much talking, she wouldn't stop and just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Is everything alright, angelfish?” He finally decided to ask, his concern evident with his eyes betraying a hint of worry. “...sorry, I talked too much again.” She turned their look away from him. They spoke quietly, like a kid realising they did something bad and had to apologise. “I know it's not really your thing.”

Azul's eyebrows furrowed slightly in surprise at the unexpected apology. He began wondering— or overthinking— if he had unintentionally shown any hints of discomfort, with Jovie picking up on them. And if he did, he never intended to, he quite enjoyed learning more about his girlfriend, after all.

“O-Oh- no no no not at all.” He reassured them with a smile, part of his worry slipping through his words. “You can keep talking, I don't mind.”

They shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Are you sure?” Their faces turned a slight shade of red while they fidgeted with their fingers, embarrassment running over their body. “I know I can be…a lot when I get like this.”

Azul felt his heart beating as a warm flush spread across his cheeks, this sight of them brought up his own feelings at the forefront. He rarely saw this…unusually vulnerable side of her. Jovie was known for being animated and talking loudly—them speaking so quietly and so unsure of herself was a rare sight, even if he had seen it before. And every time he'd see it, it prompted an urge to comfort them, as if that very moment nothing in the world was more important than that.

“I promise you, it's alright.” His voice sounded smoother as he spoke with such sincerity. “Besides, I do enjoy delving into your interests. It offers valuable insight into who you are."

Jovie's eyes met his once more, absorbing his words. A small, shy smile made its way onto their continuously flustered face “...Thanks, it means a lot.” They admitted quietly.

“Of course, angelfish.” His expression softened at the sight of their smile, his heart melting a bit too. “Now please, do continue— what happens once the girl throws the cat at the monster?” Leaned closer as he raised an eyebrow, his genuine curiosity of the absurd plot point evident in his tone.

“Oh, that's the best part-! You see, in the book…”

They launched into an explanation of both the events in the book and the movie once more, emphasising the biggest differences between the two and why they loved both for their own reasons.

With how much they had talked about it, Azul thought he might as well watch the movie himself.

As he thought about it at the moment, he realised it would make for a perfect date idea.

And as he kept that thought in mind, he continued listening.

tagging: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk @cyanide-latte (lmk if you wanna be added)

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #twst persona #azul x oc #azul ashengrotto x oc #azul x yuu #twst yuusona #twst oc #twst x oc #twst yume #twisted wonderland yume #yumeship #twst writing #jovie's writing #inky ribbons

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mikavlcs · 1 year

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Ricochet

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x fem!telekinetic!reader, platonic!Bianca Barclay x reader

Summary: An outburst ruins Wednesday’s relationship with you. The journey to reconciliation is long and hard, but she eventually finds her way there

Warnings: same as last time, ooc!wednesday

Word count: 6.2k

Notes: here is the semi-highly requested wednesday pov of my first story! i recommend reading the first part because i skim over some events to avoid repetition. hopefully you guys enjoy<3

Masterlist | Reader’s Pov

Wednesday was furious. No, she was well beyond fury at this point.

There wasn’t a word in any man-made language that could describe how fucking angry she was.

She had been throwing herself into her investigation for months now to try and find her stalker. He disappeared after the initial text at the end of her first semester, reappeared at the beginning of the second semester to taunt her for a few days, and now he had gone silent again.

Months of searching for clues and chasing leads only for them to go cold. Months of intellectual and emotional turmoil for absolutely no results. It was taxing.

Tonight was her last chance. The only hint she had left about her stalker’s identity. And it was a dead end. She had hit another brick wall while her stalker undoubtedly laughed from the shadows.

Her frustration couldn’t be put into words. It could only be felt as she stomped through the halls to her dorm. She could tell Thing felt it too by the way he lay still in her bag as if any movement would set her off. For all she knew, it would.

Her dorm came into view along with your withdrawn form. Instinctively, her eyes were drawn to your face, and she could tell by the drooping of your eyes and furrow of your brows that something had happened. Any other day she would be more than willing to listen to you and offer what little comfort she knew how to give, but right now she wanted to do anything but.

Electing to ignore you, she entered her dorm and threw her bag to the floor, barely registering Thing scampering off to her closet. The soft click of her door closing told her that you had followed her inside. Her fists clenched.

She wanted—no, needed you to leave. The white-hot anger in her chest was building steadily and she felt like a ticking time bomb. Any little thing would be enough to make her explode, and she wasn’t sure what she would do in the aftermath.

She prayed you would just leave her to suffer through her failure alone but you were far too kind for that. Instead, you spoke up.

“Do, um… do you need anything?”

During the many times Wednesday looked back at this moment, she could never pinpoint what exactly it was about the question that upset her. All she knew is that it was enough to detonate her.

The outburst itself was hazy to her, even while it was happening. She vaguely remembered turning around and yelling, but mostly she recalled the rush of relief she felt after expelling so much anger, how much lighter she felt.

But the moments afterward, she could still see clear as day.

The shock on your face, and the unmitigated hurt that crept in after. The tears in your eyes. The way her own relief mutated to horror when she realized what she had done.

She had turned her own world upside down in mere moments and she couldn’t collect herself enough to right it before you rushed out the door.

The only thing she could do was call out your name before the door slammed shut.

Wednesday was frozen. Somewhere, she could hear Thing feverish tapping something to her, but she paid him no mind. She couldn’t, not with the way her thoughts were racing. A million different things ran through her mind, but one thought kept rising to the surface.

She had hurt you.

She hadn’t meant to, but intentions meant nothing in the aftermath of a tragedy. And now she had to face the consequences.

Sleep eluded her completely that night.

She laid in bed for what felt like an eternity, replaying your conversation and yet it seemed as if she blinked and suddenly sunlight was shining through the window. She shook herself out of her reverie and got ready for class.

Thing was noticeably absent. He was most likely upset with her for what happened. She couldn’t blame him, not when she felt the same.

Throughout her first class, she couldn’t help but watch you. You were notably more quiet and almost standoffish, avoiding people more than usual. She hadn’t seen you smile once the whole day. It pained her to think that her words had wounded you so deeply.

She kept her eyes on you all day, monitoring you discreetly. Or so she thought. During your last class, you turned and glared at her with such rage, such vitriol that she had to force her eyes away.

She was used to being the target of people’s resentment. It usually overjoyed her to see how negatively she was able to affect people with her mere presence, but it was different this time. This time, it was you, and seeing you look at her with so much anger made something bubble up in her chest.

Guilt.

Guilt so devastating, so overpowering that she couldn’t at least try to act on it.

An hour was all she allowed herself before she went to your dorm.

The walk was familiar, one she could do in her sleep, but this time she was aware of every step she took. Every inch closer to you made her tenser. Her mind was turbulent, in complete disarray. She was anxious, she realized. She had no clue what she was going to say.

Thing had yet to make an appearance so she couldn’t fall back on his guidance or companionship. She was left to deal with this alone.

For the first time in her life, she had no idea what was going to happen next. And as much as she tried to deny it, that scared her.

And it turned out that she was right to be scared because you refused to listen to her. You didn’t even open the door. She couldn’t be upset with you, she knew this was her fault. But she had to try.

“Listen,” she started again, “it is truly urgent. I…”

There was so much she wanted to say but nothing came out. An apology was sitting on her tongue, waiting to be said, and yet the idea of really facing what she did and opening up to you held her back.

“Thing has something important to tell you.”

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Shame bloomed in her stomach.

Coward.

A hard scoff sounded from the other side of the door.

“Yeah? Well, tell Thing that if he ever needs to talk about something then my door is always open to him.”

The finality in your tone told her what she already knew: she had failed.

The conversation had reached its definitive end, but she didn’t move. Her feet were planted in the hall outside your door, at odds with herself about what to do next. Part of her wanted to speak up, to tell you the truth. And yet another part of her, the one she let lead her through most of her life, wanted to just leave and avoid confronting her feelings completely.

She stood outside your door for minutes on end, a war raging between her emotions and her pride. But in the end, her pride stood victorious, and she walked away, heart heavier than it’d ever been before.

The following weeks were long.

She didn’t bother trying to talk to you again after her disastrous visit, knowing it would end the same way. You made it clear that you didn’t want to talk to her, so she wouldn’t force you to do so.

Despite that, she couldn’t bring herself to fully withdraw from you. After months of your constant presence, your sudden absence from her life was surprisingly difficult for her to deal with.

It felt as if everywhere she looked, there was an empty spot where you would usually inhabit. On her bed during her writing hour, the seat next to her in class, the space beside her at her lunch table—all places you should be. But you weren’t anymore.

There was an emptiness in her chest that she didn’t think even the joys of torturing Pugsley could fill.

So she resolved to keep watch over you from afar. She told herself that it was to make sure that no one hurt you or that you didn’t do anything stupid. But she knew better, and so did Thing.

He wasn’t on board with the idea at first, still mad about what Wednesday had said, but after she brought up the group of werewolves that bullied you, he hesitantly joined her. But they both knew this wasn’t about some stupid mutts.

Still though, he preferred to spend more of his free time with Enid, and she allowed it for the time being.

Enid herself had also been acting a bit differently. She was still bright, bubbly, and all-too friendly with Wednesday, but it was clear she knew something happened. The werewolf would cautiously avoid talking about you to Wednesday, quickly changing the topic whenever your name came up in conversation during lunch or class.

Sometimes, she’d catch herself staring for just a little too long and when she turned her attention back to what she was doing, she’d see Enid giving her a certain look. It wasn’t exactly pity, but it was close enough to make her vehemently uncomfortable. She tried to glare, cold and deadly, but her roommate had long since stopped being afraid of her, so she just let it be.

After school, she would look for you. Only to make sure you were safe, of course. If she wasn’t able to go for whatever reason then she sent Thing to keep an eye on you.

You spent a lot of time in the library for the first week, but then your schedule abruptly became more erratic.

She saw you head into the woods a few times after your last period and though her curiosity was peaked, she never had the heart to follow you. Some things deserved to remain private.

Days were long and arduous, but weeks passed, nonetheless.

Exactly one month after you stormed out of Wednesday’s dorm, Wednesday saw you use your powers for the first time. And it happened at lunch of all times.

She was sitting at her usual table, idly listening to Enid and her friends gossiping about something she didn’t care about. Her textbook lay open in front of her, completely neglected. She brought it along to try and distract herself from thinking about you.

Needless to say, it wasn’t working very well.

Her eyes were drawn to your solitary figure across the quad but she resisted. She had to study and she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle seeing you now. Especially given what day it was.

It had officially been a month since Wednesday’s outburst, an entire month without you.

She wished she could say it got easier with time, that the ache lessened with each day but that would be a lie. In fact, it was the exact opposite of Wednesday’s reality. Each day was more torturous than the last, the hole in my chest growing wider every day you were gone.

But she couldn’t think about that—about you now. She had studying to do. She was only two weeks ahead in her classes when she was usually at least a month ahead and that bothered her. So she forced her eyes down to the passages of text and made herself focus on her studies. And she succeeded.

Nearly.

A familiar, obnoxious voice cut through the noise, instinctively making her tense. She looked over and her fingers twitched.

Adrian. The pathetic werewolf that loved to make your life at Nevermore hell.

She couldn’t make out what he was saying but he was looming over you, his equally inept friends sneering behind him.

Her fists clenched. But they relaxed when her gaze settled on you. Because, unlike every other time she had witnessed this, you weren’t scared or resigned. No, you looked more annoyed than anything, either staring up at him blankly or ignoring him entirely in favor of your book. The sight made her brows raise slightly.

No matter how hard he tried to taunt you, you gave him no leverage—just a dead-eyed stare. Instead of just giving up, he riled up even further, his voice raising to a yell that echoed across the quad. The students began to quiet as they took notice of Adrian’s tantrum and Wednesday’s patience was quickly running thin.

She shared a look with a worried Enid, who looked ready to pop her claws out at any moment. Thing had also crawled out of her bag up onto the table, the three of them silently agreeing to step in if things went too far.

He reached for the knife on your lunch tray, and she had enough. She didn’t care if you hated her for interfering, she was going to kill him.

She went to push herself up when suddenly, Adrian froze. There was seemingly no reason for it, he simply stopped.

Puzzled, Wednesday observed the scene before her, trying to put the pieces together. They fell in place only moments later. Her mind flashed back to a few months before, when you finally mustered the courage to tell her about the powers you inherited from your parents.

Telekinesis.

You were doing that to him.

She watched as you leisurely read your book, ignoring Adrian’s friend’s pleas to let him go. The whole quad watched on as you finally stood and approached Adrian, like a predator stalking up to its prey. You threatened him like she did so many times before and she was positively mesmerized by the sight.

The boys ran off the moment you let Adrian go in a depressing flurry of cowardly panic. Wednesday felt her lips twitch.

There was only silence in the aftermath. All eyes were on you and Wednesday wondered if everyone was as entranced as she was.

You didn’t seem to care either way. You said nothing, only used your powers to put the knife back on your tray and turned back to your book. Not a care in the world for the dozens of stunned onlookers you left in your wake.

Hushed whispers began to engulf the quad as minutes passed, but Wednesday paid them no mind.

In front of her, Enid giggled and, much to her embarrassment, Wednesday nearly jumped at the sound. She had forgotten there were other people with her.

“That was amazing,” Enid gushed. A chorus of different positive answers rose from around the table and Wednesday couldn’t help but agree with them.

It was amazing. You were amazing.

Sure, she knew about your abilities, but she had never actually seen you use them—no one had until today. But now that she had, she was obsessed. That must have been why you spent so much time in the forest, she realized. To practice using your telekinesis in private. Suddenly, she wished she had followed you.

For the rest of lunch, she was left to marvel at what she had seen, dark eyes never straying from you as you read.

The incident remained on replay in Wednesday’s head for days.

It appeared that the rest of the school was in this predicament as well. Enid, of course, raved about your actions on her blog, informing anyone that hadn’t been in the quad of your power. Adrian and his pack of dimwits disappeared, much to Wednesday’s unending amusement.

Good riddance.

Overnight, you became the biggest gossip of the week. All eyes were on you and Wednesday couldn’t help but notice the similarities between your current situation and her when she first arrived at Nevermore.

She witnessed the students part like the Red Sea when you walked down the halls between classes. Loud conversations quieted to whispers as you passed and rose back up in volume when you left. Rumors, both bad and good, began swirling around you.

(Enid took it upon herself to try and disprove the bad ones on her blog. Wednesday just glared at anyone she heard gossiping about you. It was incredibly effective.)

The best part was that you didn’t care, at least not outwardly. Only a month ago, you would’ve hidden from this much attention, but now you seemed not to even notice. Disinterest was a good look on you, she noted.

The only downside of this was that it made any efforts to get close or approach without you instantly noticing her much more difficult. Wednesday didn’t want to risk it since she now knew that she had gotten a glimpse of your abilities.

She didn’t think you would use your powers on her, but it was still something she had to consider. So she elected to wait for a natural opportunity to get close to you.

And that opportunity came in an unexpected place: Botany class.

Wednesday despised Botany class. Both because it brought up bad memories from last semester and because the new teacher, Mr. Emerson annoyed her. Badly. His general happy demeanor and gratingly chipper voice made her want to commit unspeakable offenses. Worst of all, the overexcited imbecile loved group projects.

When he announced that he would be assigning another one, it was met with a predictable amount of displeasure from the class. Usually, Wednesday would be among them, but not this time.

One of the only tolerable things about Emerson’s group projects was his tendency to pair students with similar grades together. Given Wednesday’s immaculate grades, she was always put with someone with similar educational prospects.

You weren’t normally one of those people since you always had average grades in the subject. But your scores had risen over the semester, meaning the chances of you being paired with Wednesday were high.

Wednesday sat up straighter in her chair. This was possibly the best situation she could have found herself in now.

You being bound to her by educational obligation meant that she would be given ample opportunity to finally talk to you. It was perfect.

She impatiently waited for Emerson to announce the pairings, eyes instinctually drifting back toward your table.

For just a moment, she dared to believe that the stars would align for her here—just this once.

Then Emerson announced that you would be paired with her ex-archnemesis, Bianca Barclay.

Her jaw clenched as she stared into the space in front of her, not bothering to acknowledge her partner sheepishly approaching her table. She was foolish to waste her time with something as flimsy as hope.

She grimly watched you and Bianca nod at each other. You seemed satisfied with the news, probably because you hadn’t been paired with her.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you was as dissatisfied as she was.

Something unexpected happened after the project.

Wednesday had noticed you were spending time with Bianca but thought nothing of it. You two were partners after all. It was most likely just for the class project. Then, with no apparent reason to Wednesday, Bianca was suddenly everywhere with you.

She sat next to you in class, you joined her table at lunch, you could both be seen hanging around campus together after classes. She had even dropped Wednesday as her fencing partner to partner with you.

It hit Wednesday unexpectedly hard.

It was utterly maddening to watch you use your powers to get a pen Bianca dropped in class or see you laughing together without a care in the world at lunch.

And it was even worse because Wednesday knew she had no right to be upset about it. You weren’t hers anymore, so she had absolutely no say in whom you chose to spend time with. She knew that. She really did.

But something about seeing you so close to Bianca of all people—someone she couldn’t exactly call a friend but also certainly wasn’t an enemy—was too much for her.

Watching the two of you in fencing class was especially difficult. You had never been the best at fencing, having little to no interest, but now you seemed engrossed in the activity as Bianca helped you get into the on guard position. Her hands were on your arms and legs as she got you into position and Wednesday could do nothing but grip her sabre in her ire.

The other students avoided her, and they were smart to do so because she likely would have found a way to maim them now, even with their protective gear on.

She lasted about three classes before she cracked.

You were smiling and laughing in a way she hadn’t seen for nearly two months now and while she was glad to see you in higher spirits, she did not like that you were happier because of her.

As soon as the bell rang, she was on her way over to you, her determination and anger likely apparent in every step she took.

For a brief moment, your eyes met hers and Wednesday felt electricity course through her veins. It had been so long since you had truly looked at her. The eye contact was invigorating. But unfortunately, it didn’t last long because Bianca followed your line of sight and immediately jumped into action.

She watched Bianca drag you away, a new, unpleasant burning sensation making itself known in her chest. As if she had ingested acid and it was eating away at her insides slowly.

It was jealousy, she realized with an internal jolt.

She was jealous. Of Bianca fucking Barclay.

The epiphany nearly made Wednesday break out into hives. This had gone on too long, she decided. Whether you wanted to see her or not, she would find a way to make this right.

It took Wednesday nearly three days to reach an embarrassingly simple conclusion.

She had been searching for a previously unthought of solution. Goody was a witch, so she thought perhaps an incantation or spell of some kind would be of use.

When, in reality, the answer had been in front of her the entire time. Or, more accurately, it had been staring at her from atop her desk.

Wednesday was a writer (still unpublished, but that wasn’t important) so it made the most sense for her to translate her complex feelings into written words.

The letter took two days to finish. She dedicated as much time to it as she could, even putting aside her novel for the days it took to complete, but she struggled much more than she anticipated.

Narrating Viper’s woeful adventures and hardships was easy, but something about transcribing her own feelings and thoughts into words evaded her. It just didn’t come naturally to Wednesday, and it showed.

Countless attempts ended up crumpled in her overflowing garbage can. She grimaced at the amount of paper being wasted, but it needed to be perfect. And eventually, she wrote one that was as close to perfection as she believed possible.

The moment the letter was finished, she put it in an envelope and called Thing to help her deliver it, ignoring the inquisitive look Enid was giving her from her side of the room. She didn’t want to waste another second.

She made the trip to your dorm in record time, pausing before your door. You were rarely in your dorm after classes these days, but she wanted to be safe.

She knocked. No answer. She nodded at Thing, who was resting on her shoulder, and extended her arm for him. Thing crawled down her arm and grabbed onto the doorknob but hesitated. Wednesday gave him a look.

“You wanted me to apologize, now I’m apologizing. I’m not going to take anything, I will simply leave the envelope on the bed and we will leave. Breaking and entering isn’t even a serious crime anyways,” Wednesday muttered, fishing the lockpick out of her pocket and giving it to the appendage. “Now hurry up, we don’t know when she’ll be back.”

With that, Thing got to work, fiddling around with the tool until the lock clicked, and the door opened. He hopped off the knob as Wednesday walked inside, immediately climbing up to your bed. Wednesday took a moment to look around the familiar room.

It had been a while since she’d been there, but it looked relatively the same. Little things were moved here and there but it remained mostly true to her memory. She took a step toward your bed when something on her right caught her eye.

On the wall just above your desk was a piece of paper. It was rather crudely hung onto the wall by what looked like a pen.

The reasonable part of her told her to leave it alone, but the detective within her couldn’t dismiss a possible clue.

She crept forward and braced her hand on the wall, careful not to touch the paper as she swiftly read through its contents. The letter, it turned out, was from your parents and it was appalling. How any parent could say such abhorrent things to their child, she didn’t know but it made her want to pay them a visit and test out her favorite torture methods on them.

Wednesday read through it again, committing every word to memory to quote back when she got her hands on your parents, but her eyes kept getting caught on one word.

Pathetic.

It was repeated a few times in the letter, making it stand out but it resonated with her for another reason. Because when she read it, she was taken back to that night when she hurt you so badly and she realized why that insult made her pause.

She had said that. She had called you the same thing your parents did.

Startled, Wednesday stepped back, her mind racing. This explained a lot—the recent change in your behavior, your willingness to use your powers, why you avoided Wednesday so intensely.

Suddenly, the letter in her hands felt inadequate. With this new information in mind, Wednesday made a decision.

“Change of plans. We’re leaving,” she marched to the door, envelope held so tightly in her grasp that it began to crease. Thing remained on the bed, confusion apparent in his stance. Wednesday looked back, exasperated. “I will tell you what’s going on later. Come on.”

Thing hurried off the bed and over to Wednesday, taking his rightful place on her shoulder as she walked out of your dorm.

Enid was gone when she reentered their dorm, likely off with Yoko and Divina. Wednesday was admittedly thankful for her absence. As much as she had grown to care for the multi-colored werewolf, she could still be a lot at times and she needed peace right now.

Silently, Wednesday stationed herself in her chair in front of her typewriter. Thing jumped off her shoulder and rounded on her, about to ask what was going on, but one look at her face had him running off to her bed.

Wednesday never liked unexpected developments in her cases and that remained true now. Your parents’ letter took her completely by surprise. It recontextualized everything.

The damage she had done was unforeseeable and she saw now that a letter alone, no matter how beautifully written, would be insufficient. You deserved more than a piece of paper after what she’d done.

Wednesday looked down at the envelope in her hand. It contained so much of how she felt and yet it simultaneously said so little in the grand scheme of things.

Because even apart from her regrets, she had so much she wanted to tell you now. She wanted to tell you how proud she was to see you stand up to Adrian and his friends, how incredible your abilities were, how good you looked while using them. But before she could do any of that, she knew she owed you an apology—a real one.

One delivered from her own mouth rather than through stationery.

But you were still avoiding her like the black plague. Approaching you herself had already failed. Deep down, she knew what she had to do. If she wanted an audience with you, she would have to do something she despised.

Ask for help.

A firm knock cut through the silence of the hallway.

Wednesday waited patiently, sparing another look around the corridor to make sure nobody she knew was around to see her. The sound of approaching footsteps brought her attention back in front of her.

The door opened to reveal a casually clothed Bianca Barclay, whose expression instantly hardened at the sight of Wednesday.

“What the hell do you want, Addams?” Bianca asked, an aggression she hadn’t been on the receiving end of since her first semester present in her tone. Wednesday paid no mind to it.

“I have an important matter to discuss with you.”

Bianca laughed. “No.”

The siren began to shut the door but Wednesday shoved her foot in the doorway to prevent it from closing.

“Move, Wednesday.”

Bianca tried to kick her foot out of the way. Wednesday didn’t budge.

“No. I need to talk to you,” Wednesday said, moving to make eye contact with the taller girl once more. Bianca tried to push the door closed. When she gained no traction, she sighed.

“You’re not going to leave me alone about this are you?”

“No,” Wednesday deadpanned.

Bianca stared for a moment, then opened the door. Wednesday strode inside and stood by Bianca’s desk, hands poised behind her back as Bianca sat down on her bed.

“What do you want, Wednesday?”

“I have a feeling you already know what I’d like to discuss with you,” Wednesday stated, unblinking eyes boring into her former adversary. Bianca was giving Wednesday a hard glare. Not nearly menacing enough to compare to Wednesday’s own, but an admirable effort, nonetheless.

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“I simply need to speak with her.”

Bianca snickered mirthlessly. “Yeah, because that went so well the last few times, right?”

Wednesday bitterly swallowed the myriad of insults on her tongue. She supposed she deserved that. And pissing Bianca off further wouldn’t help her case.

Bianca was about as resistant as Wednesday expected her to be. The siren was almost as stubborn as she was.

The logical part of her knew what needed to be done, no matter how much she dreaded it. In order to get her counterpart to listen, she would have to do something downright deplorable: tell Bianca the truth.

She took a deep breath. God, emotions were embarrassing. But even just the chance to talk to you again made it worth it, so she pushed the lingering humiliation down and opened herself up. Just a little bit.

“Listen, I know that I hurt her badly. What I did—what I said has haunted me in the weeks since it happened. My intentions are not nefarious. I truly just want a chance to apologize to her in person,” Wednesday’s fists clenched, fighting every instinct to roll her eyes as she forced out a final, “Please.”

Bianca stayed silent even after Wednesday finished her plea. Seconds turned to minutes and Wednesday was nearly about to walk away when Bianca sighed and pulled out her phone. Wednesday’s brows furrowed, curiously regarding the siren as she typed something out.

Bianca set her phone down and met Wednesday’s questioning gaze. “I asked her to meet me at the library tomorrow at 4:30. You better give her the apology she deserves.”

“I will,” Wednesday asserted, resolute. Bianca nodded.

“Good. Now get out, I have things to do besides listen to your begging.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, but she spun on her heels without comment. She paused by the door, turned back. “Thank you, Bianca.”

Surprise flashed in the siren’s eyes but her expression remained stony. “This is your only chance, Addams. If you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.”

Wednesday gave her a sharp nod and left the dorm.

Wednesday was at the library thirty minutes before your scheduled meetup.

She tasked Thing with keeping the door locked and standing guard. Wednesday herself lingered behind some shelves in a corner of the library, awaiting your arrival.

The seconds felt like hours as she stood in waiting, the hard bookshelf against her back grounding her. She felt as if all of her nerve endings were attached to live wire. Wednesday couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous about anything. Perhaps she never had been.

You showed up at 4:20, early as always. She used the extra ten minutes to further prepare herself for the conversation. She couldn’t mess it up this time. This was her only shot.

At exactly 4:30, she walked over and revealed herself to you.

It started as catastrophicly as she feared it would, but somehow, she got you to stay. You gave her five minutes of your time and she wasn’t going to waste it.

So she swallowed her pride, tore down her walls, and apologized to you with everything she had. Her speech went above and beyond what she initially wrote out. Once she started, she just couldn’t stop. The floodgates were open, and all of her emotions came pouring out to you.

By the time she was finished, she could only hope that she didn’t go over the allotted five minutes.

You were quiet after she finished speaking, enough to daunt her. She offered you an out, convinced you would take it and never talk to her again. But that wasn’t what happened.

Against all her expectations, against all odds, you forgave her.

One more chance was what you told her and she took those words to heart. This was her last chance and she refused to squander it.

In the moment, she had no real reaction to your forgiveness, she couldn’t muster one truthfully. The intense bout of emotional honesty had drained her. When she finally regained a modicum of her composure, she hesitantly wrapped her arms around you, resting her head over your heart.

Later, she would be embarrassed by the tears that gathered in her eyes when she felt you return the embrace, but in the moment she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The feeling of your arms around her erupted a wildfire within her and for the first time in months, she basked in the flames.

Eventually, she let go of you and you both reluctantly left the library with promises to see the other the next day.

Thing eagerly approached her the moment she opened the door, tapping out “what happened?” the whole way back to her dorm but she stayed quiet.

Expelling so many emotions in such a short amount of time drained her. She decided to just tell Thing and Enid at the same time so she wouldn’t need to talk any more than she had to.

Enid was ecstatic that you were back on good terms, as was Thing. The hand wasted no time scurrying off to your dorm, giving Wednesday a gentle pat on the way out. Enid on the other hand jumped on Wednesday, wrapping her in a tight hug. Wednesday rolled her eyes but allowed the contact. If Enid noticed the extra five seconds Wednesday waited before shoving her off, she didn’t say anything.

The next day, she woke feeling lighter than she had in a while.

It was a Tuesday so unfortunately, your schedules didn’t intersect much. She went about her day as usual, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit distracted.

She was finally on her way to lunch—on her way to see you—when someone fell into step beside her.

‘I heard your talk went well,” Bianca said, perfectly matching her strides. Wednesday nodded.

“Indeed. I suppose I should thank you again for your assistance.”

Bianca said nothing. The siren stopped just before they reached their destination, pulling Wednesday to a halt as well. Wednesday looked up at the taller girl questioningly.

“I’m happy for the both of you. Really, I am. But, Wednesday, if you hurt her again, I will use my siren song and make you tear your heart out of your chest with your bare hands.”

Wednesday’s lips twitched, slightly impressed by the threat. She stepped toward the siren.

“If I ever do, I will tear it out myself. No siren song required.”

Bianca stared for a long moment then nodded, and they went their separate ways.

Wednesday stepped into the quad and saw you at her table, listening to Enid’s overly excited rambling about something. Thing sat on the table between you two, apparently also invested in whatever gossip was happening.

Your eyes met hers over Enid’s shoulder and you gave her a small smile as she rounded the table and settled in her usual spot beside you.

“Wednesday,” Enid exclaimed in greeting, “you’re finally here! You have to hear about the drama going on with the Fangs. It’s insane. I’m working on a post for it now-“

Wednesday immediately tuned her out, instead focusing on the way your thigh lightly pressed against hers. Her eyes were drawn to the hand resting in your lap. She fought the urge to reach for it, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

You saw her eying your hand and subtly placed it on your thigh. An offer. Wednesday graciously accepted, gently linking your pinkies, the ghost of a smile on her face.

It wasn’t the same, and it likely wouldn’t be for some time, but what mattered was that you were back by her side. And as long as Wednesday could help it, you would never leave it again.

#take a shot every time i use the word watch #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega

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winterzsurprise · 1 year

Text

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here."

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body.

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice.

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came.

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed.

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same.

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spider-man: into the spiderverse fics #spider man: across the spider verse fics #spider-man fics #spider-man smut #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o'hara one shot

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scoobysnakz · 6 months

Text

Older

||* Maybe it's because he's safe and keeps you warm in times or need. Or maybe it's because he has those unruly salt and pepper hair and worry lines. Either way, you want him and maybe he wants you.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

pt2

||* dilf!miguel, vaginal fingering, praise kink, eye contact, perv!miguel, college-age reader, lap sitting, slight hair pulling, one shot, Daddy issues, Dom/sub, smut written by a virgin, not proof read

You're young. And oblivious. So painfully oblivious.

At first, Miguel had just assumed it was a defence mechanism. Don’t give them a reaction and they’ll leave you alone. But the more you smile at the guys flirting with you, the more you lean into their non-platonic hugs, the more certain he becomes that you’re just unaware.

And- in all honesty- he's jealous. He doesn't want to feel the shame that weighs down on his shoulders each time your expression softens at his praise. He doesn't want to feel guilt for watching your hips sway as you walk away. He doesn't want to be like them but he craves the audacity to leer at you in broad daylight.

Maybe it's his morals or maybe it's because he's a coward.

Either way, you’re young and oblivious. And deep down, he loves it.

It's worse in HQ, these men are meant to have morals, good morals, and yet they treat you like a fuckdoll to the eyes.

Your perfect, untouched, college body just for them to perv at.

And Miguel hates it. He hates how he has to ignore your pretty eyes staring up at him as he talks, how he has to scold every Spiderman for being a pervert, and he hates how he's just as bad.

Maybe if you weren't so bubbly sweet he wouldn't have to spend each night palming himself to the thought of your perky body, every shower spurting his hot cum on the misty glass and every moment alone with his office with the doors locked and hand muffling his moans.

“Migs?” that nickname, that only you can use, that only you dared to think of.

He turns to face you, a lazy smile drawn across his painfully perfect lips. “Princessa?” And you immediately try to hide the blush that threatens to bloom on your cheeks.

You hold out your hands, a tray holding a ‘spidey spectacular’ on top. In reality, it's nothing spectacular- a beef burger with barbecue sauce, large fries and a medium drink.

“Got you some lunch,” you grin.

He hops down from his podium, cringing at how your body tenses at the loud thud. “Why?” his tone is harsh, cold, forced.

He knows why. You care, you check in on him when no one else does, you randomly ask him if he's drinking more water than coffee that day, if he actually went to sleep the night previous- unknowing to the thoughts of you that kept him up.

“You haven't eaten today,” you stick your arms out, a playful smile on your face and he doesn't ask how you know. You just do, “and you can't capture those nettlesome anomalies on an empty stomach!”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nettlesome?”

You laugh, a soft one that makes his core ache with need. “My literature professor has permanently engrained fancy words into my brain.” your shocking professor. Probably some perv who keeps you behind to help you with your tests and oggles at your perfectly shaped ass when you bend over to pick up a pen.

And a painful reminder that as mature as you may be, you’re still young. 18 years too young.

He takes the burger from the tray, gaze lingering on the second as he tries to decide if it's for him or not.

“I’m eating with you,” you answer his question without him asking.

“No, princessa.”

You huff at him, soft, rounded lips falling into a pout. It's a habit you've made- bringing him lunch and sitting with him to make sure he's actually eating the food you've bought no matter how hard he protests.

“Fine. I won't eat with you, I'll just sit and stare and probably piss you off,” you smile smugly at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, turning away from you and throwing the paper from the burger in the bin.

You hum in response, not even caring for his grouchy attitude because it doesn't bother you. Because you're young, and you don't understand how men work yet.

He pulls himself up to his podium, glowing red webs dangling from the large metal disk where you soon follow.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

You pull yourself close to him, hand resting just between his thigh and yours. So soft and delicate and he wants to ruin the innocence within them. Wants to see your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock, wants to see how you use those digits inside of yourself while- hopefully- thinking of him.

“How’s school?” he feels like an awkward uncle at an even more awkward Christmas party. Is this what it's come to? Him having to ask about your college life because that's your main focus because you’re young… er.

A small scoff escapes you, and you immediately cover up with a cough.

“I’m not seven,” you tease, hand held out to shove him but you immediately withdraw it which makes him frown.

“You look it.” it's your turn to frown.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“You’re an ass,” you fold your arms across your chest, nose scrunching in feigned irritation.

Miguel clicks his tongue at you, head cocking to the side in disapproval. “Language, princessa.”

You mutter a feeble “sorry”, a forced waver to your voice that makes him chuckle lightly.

You turn your head to face him, his dark, almost curls illuminated by the neon orange of his numerous monitors. His eyes meet yours, deep maroon paralysing you in place, peeking fangs slowing your breathing, chiselled features pinking your cheeks.

And you smile. A sickly sweet, beautifully innocent smile. Any other person would look away, grow red with shame, and maybe say something embarrassing. But you? You just smile.

Because you're painfully naive.

“Really?” you turn your head to face him, neck craned back so he gets a perfect view of your soft skin. “Do I look seven?”

Of course, you don't look seven. You look twenty, which you are. But you're mature and not in a creepy way. No one else would think twice about seeing if he's okay, and no adult would have their panties organised by colour like you do either.

The sound of his chewing eventually fills the bleak room. You can see him looking straight ahead through your peripheral.

“No.”

“A man of few words,” you grin.

“A girl of far too many.”

You aren't a girl. You’re a woman. You don't spend time chasing boys, you enjoy literature, and you have your whole life planned out. Kids don't do the things you do. Kids don't want a life with a decent man, with him.

“School’s boring,” you cut through the silence, voice soft, quiet, shy.

Relief washes over him like the first rainfall in the Sahara. He swallows- quickly, and brings his attention back to you- not that it ever really left you.

“It shouldn't be, you're smart, princessa, and if your professors are doing their job you should be engaged with their subjects,” he hates that he sounds so parental and demanding when he speaks to you but it's like a default setting. He expects the best from you because he knows you can achieve it.

You scoff and this time you don't bother hiding it at all. “Thanks,” you mutter dryly, “I’ll keep being smart and then school will be more exciting.”

He grimaces at your dull tone. He's used to your sparkly side, the smiles and the giggles and now you're acting your age, all attitude and sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his voice harsher than before.

“What did you mean then, Miguel?” you press on.

“I meant that you're smart enough to entertain yourself, unlike other people.”

And in its own strange way, his ‘complisult’ makes you smile. He sees who you are, that you aren't some immature child.

It feels nice not being viewed as a child for once. A slow, steady warmth travels through you. He's being nice to you, not a rare occurrence but uncommon enough to mean something.

Slowly, you edge your hand closer to his, fingers gently nudging against his own. You pause for a moment, knowing you’re pushing it and waiting for his reaction but when he doesn't pull away you give his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” your gentle voice making his cock harden beneath his suit, “in its own way, that was sweet.”

And you grin at him again. Soft lips beaming up at his plain expression as he tries not to think about how badly he needs some relief.

Against his better judgment, he squeezes your hand back. And the soft, nervous, almost squeak that escapes you makes it all worthwhile.

“It’s true. When I went to your universe,” not to jack off while you shower, “I saw your study notes. You work hard, princessa, and it's good, admirable,” hot.

All your life you be craved words so sweet. Someone to tell you that all those years of dedication to being the best and coming second is too, better than good. Someone to tell you that when they saw your study notes they didn't see you as dumb you have to revise but studious enough to want the best.

You don't even think twice about him being in your universe, just putting it down to an anomaly or another perfectly innocent reason.

He can smell it again, that dopamine rush. You pull yourself closer to him, taunting him unknowingly and let your head rest on his shoulder.

You do this often, allow yourself to lean against him, intertwine your fingers with his, plant endearing kisses to his stubbly cheeks when he helps you out. And you do it so secretly that it's almost sexual but the innocence you perform these acts with makes it feel painfully platonic.

All he can do is ride out this moment of pure torment. Cock stiff and thighs burning.

Deep down he knows he shouldn't be like this, savouring your innocence that he can so easily capture on cameras he can use later. You're so pure, sacred almost, that it feels wrong to even have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Migs?” that nickname that only you get to use because if he gets to call you princessa its only fair.

Your hand slips off of his and moves to rest on his thigh. “Migs?” you say a little louder this time. He hums dully.

“Princessa?”

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how wet his voice makes you. The low rumble that passes through his chest, the silky smooth movements of his lips, the slight tinge of an accent that makes your cunt flutter.

You let your thumb travel over the ridges of his fingers, smooth over the peaks of his knuckles.

His hand is so big compared to yours, something that the two of you haven't ignored.

He wonders how the rest of you feels, past the tight lycra of your suit as it covers your wrists, against the fresh cotton of his bedsheets, flush against his chest.

The dull humming of the monitors accompanied by your heavy breathing and the subtle whirring of the random machinery warms up the silence between the two of you.

You shift yourself to face him, pretty lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Maybe it's because he's so safe right now. Or maybe it's because you failed your paper and his praise is all you need. But he looks painfully handsome.

Broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Soft lips parted in hunger. The sea of deep sepias and carmines that is his eyes.

Miguel has always been there for you. Well, maybe not always, but often enough. Your roommates being assholes? You can sleep at HQ. Suit ripped? He’ll make you a new one.

And in this moment, you can't see past that. He may be older, grey strands peppering his umber locks and worry lines framing his features, but that doesn't matter.

So you lean up close to him, faces inches apart. Just to smell him, just to see him, just to be near him, just to feel him.

He flinches at first, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. His gaze runs up and down your figure, trying to figure out what you're doing, your innocent expression leaving far too much up for interpretation.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other, arousal burning white-hot in your core and bodies thrumming with desire.

A calloused hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Miguel lets out a low sigh, hot breath tickling your face and making your nose scrunch in a way that can only be described as perfect.

Your breathing slows and your heart hammers. He's so close, soft lips just within reach.

“Can I?” his voice is almost a croak, a desperate plea.

He can't tear his eyes away from your quivering lips. He wants to feel them against his own, taste you, have your mouth in his possession.

You don't get time to finish your feeble “please” before he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's soft at first, the two of you gradually warming to the sensation of each other. But when you let out a soft sigh something inside him switches. All morals and guilt go completely out the window and his senses are filled with you.

His tongue probes hungrily at your lips, seeking access to the warmth of your mouth and you happily agree. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh crudely hidden beneath your suit.

“Need you,” you groan, hands gripping his chest with desperation. He silences you with another kiss, tongue immediately attacking yours, too impolite, too hard, too impatient to wait for your sanction.

He's blinded by lust, a desire that's been building up inside him for too long. His arm snakes to the small of your back, protruding talons catching on the material of your suit. He pulls you into his lap and you nearly gasp at the sensation of his erection brushing against your clothed cunt.

You lean back slightly so you can look at him, chest rising and falling with each pant. “Say something,” you pout, his mutism making your head swarm with confusion, “let me hear your voice.”

The neediness of your tone makes him smile, a boyish, cheeky one that makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you want me to say?” he questions, fingers tracing up and down the bridge of your spine.

“Just… talk me through it,” you pause, cunt fluttering and thighs tensing, “it’s my first time,” you admit quietly. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It's something you've never admitted, viewing virginity as a burden more than the blessing men do.

“Who said I'm gonna fuck you?”

Oh.

You purse your lips, your smile faltering and skin prickling with embarrassment as you fidget on his lap. His cock strains against his suit, hips threatening to buck up when you unintentionally grind against him.

You look down and a smirk forms on your face. You press the heel of your palm against his erection, eyes widening with arousal at the whine that escapes him. “This did.”

You swear that for a moment you can see a glint of red in his eyes, much darker, meaner, than his usual cool mahogany.

“Don't,” he grunts, hand gripping your wrist.

The excited grin on your face brings him back. He can't do this to you. He can't take your innocence, be the one to steal what makes you so pure. He's done things he's ashamed of, killed, lied, hated. He isn't deserving of the sweet bliss that’s you.

Your lips fall into a disappointed pout. Have you done something wrong? Maybe you’ve been too eager?

“I… I'm sorry?” you pose your apology as a question, unsure of what's actually going on. You’re inexperienced but this… this isn't normal.

“No, mierda, no, princesa,” and his hands back on your cheek, thumb tracing over the curve of your vermillion. “No digas lo siento.” your brow furrows in confusion but he doesn't elaborate.

He wants to ruin you, corrupt your pretty pussy with his hot cum and watch it seep out in think dribbles before he can stuff it back in with his fingers. But he can't.

That sweet innocence in your eyes, lashes fluttering with arousal from a simple kiss. He can't do this to you.

“Look at me,” he commands and on instinct, your eyes meet his.

“Good Girl,” he croons.

“I'm confused, Migs,” you push his hand off your cheek softly, head cocked to the side, “you’re confusing me.”

He brings a hand to your cunt and he cups it, the heel of his palm digging into your cunt. “Let me do this instead, hmm?” you nod in agreement, head too fuzzy with the strange mixture of arousal and bewilderment to even process the jolt of pleasure that shot down your spine.

The sound of ripping draws your attention down to your arousal-slick folds but he clicks his tongue. “Eyes on me, chica,” his tone is slightly harsher now but his eyes are still warm.

You don't know what he's doing. If he's coming or going. If he's teasing you or allowing this to go further.

“Mi-” he presses his index finger to your lips, not that he needed more than his intense gaze to silence you.

“You said this is your first time?” you nod again.

“No one else has touched you?” his fingers part the tear in your suit, your damp panties on show for him.

“No one.”

His thumb starts to slowly circle your cotton-clothed clit eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princessa?”

Your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs but he doesn't flinch. A sharp talon nips at your weeping bud and you nearly cry. It sends a jolt of pain fused with sickly sweet pleasure coursing through your veins. “Asked you a question didn't I?”

You nod your head again, not knowing how to answer.

“Use your words.”

Your cunt is dribbling its juices all down your thighs- and he can smell it. His mouth is practically drooling at the scent it your arousal. He's trying so hard not to rip your suit all the way and split you open with his cock. But you're gentle, soft, sweet, delicate. So he has to be as well.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you nod your head again, “I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

“Muy bein, princessa,” his thumb slips under the waistband of your panties and comes to rest on your clit but he doesn't stimulate you. Just leaves it resting on the hardened nub.

You whine at the lack of friction, hips trying to grind against his hand but his free hand holds you down.

“Migs, please,” you know you sound pathetically needy but you don't care. The man you've been lusting after since he first recruited you has his hand in your pants.

“Then keep looking at me,” he instructs, “wanna see your pretty face. Can you do that for me?” he grins at the twitching in your cunt caused by his words. That's all the confirmation he needs.

His thumb begins its slow pattern around the hood of your clit while his other hand rests on your waist, keeping you planted firmly on his lap. And maybe so you can feel how big he is.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. You've seen him kill before, seen the plethora of blood he can draw from someone with one fell swoop. Yet he's always been so careful with you, right now being no exception. Maybe that's what’s drawn you to him, the idea of him viewing you as something so sacred that he can't bring himself to damage your fragile body.

The tedious speed he's using is purposefully slow. He wants to draw this out for as long as possible, keep you a squirming mess on his lap, your sweet nectar running down to his thighs. But you want more; you’re too shy to ask for it but you want it.

You press your lips to his again, tongue slipping into his mouth almost sloppily. He's taken aback at first by your sudden burst of confidence but he doesn't protest. The hand that was resting in your hip moves to the back of your head to press you deeper into the kiss.

You whine hungrily and he rewards you with a faster pace. Your thighs clench around him, not actually expecting your plan to work. Your eyes flutter for a moment but he grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“Princessa, I'll stop,” his warning is heed enough.

Your mind’s a foggy blur of arousal and pure bliss. He keeps toying with your clit, slowing down when your gaze falters but speeding up and rewarding you if you've kept eye contact.

“Please, I'll be good, so good for you,” you mewl, craving his kind words of praise again.

“Will you? Will you let me see those pretty lips of yours smile so sweetly for me while I make you feel good?” you nod your head excessively, mumbled “yes I will”’s and “good for you”’s spilling from your lips.

The hot coil of pleasure tightens with each flick of his distal. More and more sweet moans spew from your loose hanging mouth which are just music to his ears. Your leaky hole clenches around nothingness but you're too shy to ask for more. Miguel’s thumb is good enough but what you really crave is that hard cock that's pushing up against your stomach.

Soft, sticky clicking sounds mellow in the warmth of the rooms atmosphere, arousal blending in smoothly along with the scent of your nearing climax. He can sense it, your hips stuttering and your nails digging into the meat of his chest. But he can't let you go just yet.

“Hold it for me,” its a command, not a request.

You bite your lower lip, eyes nearly watering as you try you hardest to hold back. Your poor cunt throne needily while it continues to pump hot juices all over his hand. “I-I don't know how,” you blubber, thighs trembling and hands twitching.

Your body runs white hot with pleasure while your mind teeters on the edge of climax.

“I know you can, be a good girl, princessa,” he pressed earnestly, two-toned lips falling into that signature smirk.

You let your head come to rest in the crook of his neck. He flinches at the warmth of your breath and grabs the back of your hair roughly. You whine at the sharp tug but don't protest further.

“Fuck did I tell you ‘bout looking away?” his voice is almost harsh but you don't care. Your whole body is tingling with so much euphoria, blood pumping hot with pleasure, that you don't even care about his talon catching on your clit.

You’re so close to cumming, to reaching that paradise he's dangling in front of you like a carrot on a stick. “Let me, I-i can't, Migs.”

He frowns.

Once you're done that's it. He has to let you go, push off his lap and keep you at arm's length. But he can't bring himself to do that, get rid of your warmth and tiny frame.

“Migs? Please, let me…” you cut yourself with a silent moan.

Your mouth falls slack, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed. Warmth washes over you, trickling down your spine like honey from a jar. And for a moment you think you've gone deaf because Miguel’s lips are moving but you can't figure out what he's saying.

Your arousal spills from your cunt and all the way down his hands in a warm, blanketing trinket of your pleasure.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment but lets you ride out your high with his thumb remaining on your pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking in a way that only makes his cock harden.

“Mmmm, did my princessa enjoy herself?” you look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

Your orgasm took enough energy for you to be exhausted now. You can barely lift your head let alone reply to him. When you try to smile your eyes just roll back slightly, your lashes fluttering and your nose scrunching.

You’ve come before, plenty of times, but this feels different. This time it feels all warm and gooey like it's going to stick to you forever. Maybe it's because it's Miguel’s fingers instead of your own toying with your cunt or maybe it's because you got to hold onto him. Either way, you've just cum all over his hands and can't form a proper sentence now.

Miguel smiles down at you, revelling in your blissed-out expression. Knowing that he's drawn this pleasure from you makes his insides churn.

“Pretty Girl,” he coos, hand smoothing your spine, “so pretty for me, hmm? Cumming just from me playing with her pretty pussy.” as if to prove a point, he spreads your sticky folds open with his thumb two middle fingers, a soft gooey sound catching your attention.

“Wonder if your cunt is just as pretty?” be slides a harsh finger inside with a grunt, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, “want me to fuck your tight hole, princessa?”

And you nod. Too fucked out, too tired, too needy, too in love with him without either of you knowing it yet, to push him away.

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