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lis-likes-fics · 1 month ago

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Convince Me

Pairing: Stu Macher x gf!Reader Word Count: 6.6k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, knife play, blood kink, mentions of killing, cutting, switch!Reader, switch!Stu, marking, scratching, oral (f!receiving), they're constantly trying to kill each other, established relationship, kinktober... A/N: Hello, everyone! Here I am posting for Stu Macher again for a holiday. I can't help it, he's an idiot. But I won't say he's the only Ghostface you should be looking forward to this month. Stay tuned. Enjoy and Happy Halloween!

You definitely should have reacted differently.

Stu always knew you were a little fucked up. He could just tell—in your jokes, your words, the way you smiled. Maybe it was a little harder for people to see sometimes, but it was easy for him. You're not right.

Of course, he doesn't mind. He's also a little fucked up (which is a vast understatement, but it's funnier that way).

But you definitely should have reacted differently.

He hadn't heard you coming up the steps. He hadn't heard you open the door. All he knew was that you climbed up the side of his house and into his bedroom through his window, like a fucking psychopath. (He taught you that.)

He hadn't even changed yet. His mask is sitting on the bed, covered in blood. He sits at the edge with a hand over his arm where he'd been nicked by the last screamer he slashed. The red is bright against the white of his skin. It's hard to miss.

Stu hesitates as he stares at you staring at him, your eyes wide but full of an emotion he can't place. He's quick to swipe his blade from the bed, gripping it tight as he stands.

“Wait!”

You hold your hands out, bracing for the pain but finding none. That was so quick. It's almost like he didn't even have to think about it.

Stu doesn't want to kill you. He thinks you're hot shit, and he thinks you're so beautiful, and he wants to eat you whole.

You don't want Stu to kill you. You think he's funny and weird and you want to eat him whole.

You look at him, your hands shaking as you keep them held out. You swallow thickly. Your mouth is suddenly dry. He stares at you, and it almost seems like he's begging you to give him a reason not to kill you.

“You're… You're the killer? You're Ghostface.”

Your voice is small, but the underlying fear is too underlied. Something is off.

He doesn't answer you. Instead, he watches the way your eyes look him up and down, dragging your gaze down from the knife to his face to the black robes adorning him.

He could kill you right now.

When you begin to move, he expects you to shrink out of the window and try to run away. But you don't. You climb the rest of the way through and close it quietly behind you, like you're afraid his parents (who aren't even home) will hear.

You clear your throat quietly, staring still. “You…killed all those people? Our friends?”

It's still for a moment. You almost don't react when he approaches you quickly. He shoves you into the wall, boxing you in with one hand pressed to the wall. You hit your head, closing your eyes and groaning lightly. When you open them again, he's inches away from your face with the sharp point of his knife barely touching the underside of your jaw.

He seems conflicted for a long moment before he speaks, his voice a little wobbly but otherwise the same chipper tone he's used to having.

“Killing you isn’t part of the plan,” he says, not quite confident enough to crack a grin. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

You hold your breath, staring at the craze in his eyes and finding it hard to look away. His pupils are blown so wide that the light blue of his eyes appears almost like sapphire. You’re shaking, even as you reach a hand out and place it at his cheek.

His gaze doesn’t falter as the warmth of your palm brushes the cold of his face, though a light sigh passes through his lips.

You keep looking into his eyes. They’re wide with adrenaline, dark with his intent. When he presses the knife a little closer, you tilt your chin up higher and let out a shuddering breath. You know he’s pierced the skin. You can feel the slightest slip of blood pooling from the spot. “Tell me why I shouldn’t,” he says again, his voice a little weaker this time.

“Stu.” Your voice is almost a whisper. He’s confused. You’re not having the right reaction. You’ve got your hand on his cheek, your eyes are dry, and although you tremble, it’s not the pleading tremble he’s used to seeing in his victims. You look…calm.

You raise a hand to the knife, which has become unsteady with his own slight shake. You wrap your fingers gently around his wrist and guide his hand away. He lets you. His hand swings at his side

You drop your hand down to his waist, and he just watches you, thoroughly confused and slowly losing his distress in the way you touch him. Your hand on his cheek shifts and wraps around the back of his neck. His eyes dart between your own, searching for your intent because he is genuinely so confused about the way you’re behaving.

You should be begging for your life, spewing incoherent ramblings about all the reasons he should spare you. Of course, none of them would work. You’ve seen him now. You know it’s him. If he lets you go, you could go run and tell the cops. You could ruin everything. Even if he does let you go, and you don’t say anything, Billy would be pissed. He would handle it himself.

Stu doesn’t want to let anybody else kill you. If you are going to die, he’s going to be the one to hold the knife.

He shakes his head, gripping his knife in hs fist as his nerves begin to fray. You keep staring at him, flicking your eyes from one side to the other. You look like you’re anticipating something. “What are you–?”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’re cutting him off with your lips on his. It’s an aggressive kiss. Your teeth clash, and you’re pretty sure you’ve cut his lip by the taste of blood on your tongue. You lick his lip, tasting the metal and sighing into his mouth. It’s hot and messy. Your mouths keep slipping off one another.

Stu has never been strong against stuff like this. When you’re kissing him like you’re trying to consume him, it gets cloudy in his head and he loses focus. The knife in his grip clatters to the floor, and he presses his body flush against yours, pushing you into the wall as he groans into your mouth.

You pull him down more, attacking his mouth with an intensity that should have been fear, not passion. One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly and pulling a moan from your lips.

You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know there's something wrong. You know the curling in your stomach is a feeling that is likely better left ignored, but you're already here.

Stu tastes like hard candy, the kind that will crack your teeth if you bite too hard (and you've been known to bite). His edge is like lava, and his kisses always cut like a knife. You're certain it's the reason you've wanted him for so long, the reason you were drawn in the first place. It was set in stone when he first kissed you, when he first fucked you.

The boys you've been with were warm bodies sticky with sweetness or bitter with their crass. You sucked on them too hard, and they lost their flavor in moments, dissolved by the acidity of your spit-slicked tongue.

Stu leaves you cuts and bruises, scorch marks and scars on the private parts that no one sees. You've always known you liked them, you just never realized why.

Maybe you're sick. You need to be taken and locked away so you can't hurt anybody, or lose yourself in twisted arousal when someone else gets hurt. You don't know. Whatever the case…Stu likes it, and it's nice to be liked.

You bite down hard on his lip, breaking the skin as he pulls away with it still stuck between your teeth. He laughs, raising his free hand to wag his finger at you. “You're fuckin’ sick.”

You smile, licking his blood from your lips. “So are you.”

You close the distance again, letting rough hands slide from his head to his neck to his chest as you begin to push him back with heavy steps.

You shove him onto the bed. He falls back without a protest, smirking devilishly at you. You stand there, watching him with a rising and falling chest as you bend down to pick the knife up from the floor.

Stu’s grin falls slightly, and he watches you like a hawk as you slowly walk toward him. You stand in front of him, looking down at the knife as it glints in the soft light of his bedside lamp.

“There's something wrong with me,” you say, running the blunt side of the blade over the pad of your thumb before twirling the end carefully at the point. It breaks skin, and a bead of blood pools at your thumb.

When you finally look back up at him, he's grinning. “I coulda told you that.”

You point the knife at him. Some of his amusement dies down, but not because he's threatened. If you try to kill him, he will kill you. He doesn't want to kill you.

“You killed our friends,” you accuse.

“Technically, I killed some of our friends,” he shrugs. “Billy killed the rest.”

You tilt your head. “You slashed them.”

“Like pigs.”

He has no shame. No remorse. You clench your tension slicked thighs.

“No,” you shake your head. “Pigs are slaughtered. Slaughter is systematic, it's unfeeling.” You walk closer, pressing your knee into the foot of the bed and leaning forward until you're looming over him with the knife pointed at his throat, just as he'd had you moments before. “You're not unfeeling. Whatever you did was sadistic. You enjoyed every bit of it.”

His eyes keep going between your own and your lips, parted and swollen with his biting hunger. “Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head. It's a little scary, the desire in you telling you to fuck him. It's the same desire telling you to maim him, to slit his throat or drive the knife through his heart.

You don't want to kill Stu. But there would be satisfaction in doing so.

You brush the tip of the knife along the underside of his jaw. “Then tell me why I’m so wet.”

He knew he loved you. You capture his lips again, careful not to nick him as you do. His hands grip your waist, keeping you where you are.

Your lips stray from his mouth in favor of sliding down his neck, biting and sucking on his throat as he leans his head back and grunts. “So do you normally wear dresses while I'm not looking?”

His hands rub up and down your side, slipping underneath the waist of your jeans. “Not a dress,” he says. A smile curls his lips, “And you like it.”

His long middle finger strokes the seam of your cunt, smearing the arousal that's gathered there over his finger, over your folds. You hum lightly, “Maybe I do.”

You wrap a hand around his neck, forcing his chin up to bare his full throat to you. He grunts as you sink your teeth into it, letting your nails dig into his skin as you go. You chuckle in his ear. “But you're not much better.”

He laughs, cut off by your mouth attacking his again. “Why don't you take it off me, if you hate it so much?” he suggests, biting your bottom lip.

“Never said I hated it,” you shrug. “In fact…I don't think I will take it off.”

His hands squeeze your hips, tilting his head as he looks up at you. “Well, what if I make you?”

You slide the edge of the knife down his cheek. His eyes are hooded, darkened partially with lust and partially with sadism. He doesn't want to kill you, but he would love to hurt you. Just enough to see how you bleed.

“You won't be making me do anything tonight.”

He raises an amused brow. “And why is that, sweetheart?”

“You said to give you a reason not to kill me. I'm giving you one.” You smile, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you chuckle. “But that means I’m in charge tonight.”

He leans forward. You pull back. He's so close, you could kiss right now. But you don't want to give him the satisfaction.

“What if I don't like that?”

You lean in. Just as he goes to meet you, you pull back again. This makes him laugh, because you seem to already think you're in charge. He goes to kiss you again, but you don't let him.

You smile. “What if I don't care?”

“I could kill you right now.” His hands tighten on your waist as if to emphasize his point.

“And I have a knife to your throat,” you state plainly. “It's mutually assured destruction.”

Stu doesn't think so. He knows there's something wrong with you—it's evident in the way you kiss him with his blood on your lips, a knife at his throat, his mask covered in blood right next to your heads. But he's not fully convinced that you'd be strong enough to kill him.

You would hesitate. Stu wouldn't have that problem.

“If you say so.”

You shush him, letting your lips brush as you do. “Reason number one,” you whisper. “I taste good.” You close the distance, latching onto his mouth as you slide one hand beneath his head. He bites you and grunts into your kiss. Your nails dig into his scalp and his hands slide under your shirt to dig into your waist.

You love the way he kisses you. He doesn’t care about gentleness, he doesn’t care about being sweet. He kisses you like his full intention is to break you. He wants to cut your slips and crack your teeth down to the nerve. He wants to split your tongue in two and suck on it.

You pull away with your hand around his throat. He laughs drunkenly. “I’d like to taste something else.” He licks his lips as if to demonstrate.

A light chuckle bubbles in your chest. “Well, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” You shrug a shoulder, pulling on an innocent expression as you shift off of him. “Especially not with my life on the line.”

Stu moves to sit up, but you pull the knife on him quicker than he anticipates. He stops, slowly leaning back down as you guide him away with the tip of his blade. “No,” you tut gently. “You stay right there.”

Stu watches you lean back, moving off his body to stand on your feet. As you bring your hands to the hem of your shirt, he smiles and watches you lift it over your head just to toss it to the ground. And he's definitely happy to watch you dig your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and push them down your legs. Your bra doesn't match your underwear. It's pink and blue, and it looks good on you either way.

You place your hand on his chest to balance, pushing your panties down to the floor before straddling his hips again. The fabric of his robes are soft against your skin, and his hands on your thighs are burning hot. You bend down to kiss him once, moving up the length of his body until your spread legs are hovering over his head.

“Be a good boy?” you tilt your head, bracing your hands on the headboard of his bed. Stu scoffs like the notion is ridiculous, but when you lower yourself on him, his mouth attacks your cunt with a vicious hunger.

He’s in no way gentle or soft. He has no care for it. His hands clasp around your thighs so tightly that you think you may lose blood flow. His mouth sucks and his tongue laps at your folds, which are soaked with your immoral arousal. You’re glad no one is home. It just means you don’t have to be quiet as you let your head fall back and ride his face.

When one hand reaches up to squeeze your breasts, you sigh as you pull your shirt over your head. You thrust up and down the length of his mouth, enjoying every slide and suck and smack as his tongue circles your clit. You curse, the undeniable pleasure of his mouth an undeniable thing. As you let your head shift to the side and see the bloodied mask, the face of a ghost that almost seems as though it weeps with tears of joy at the indiscretions it commits.

When Stu sucks hard on your clit, you brace your teeth into the flesh of your arm, biting down hard as you allow a muffled moan to make its way up your throat.

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be letting him do this. He’s a murderer. He’s killed people—people you knew, people you were close with—and he’s done it with no remorse. You should be running and screaming, begging on your knees for him to spare your life. But instead, you ride his face under the pretense of self-preservation.

And, on some level, it is. He needs you to prove to him why he should spare you (though you’re sure he’s convinced by now that you won’t tell anybody).

You grip a fistful of his hair in your fist, rolling your hips over his face as your pleasure begins to rise in your belly. Your legs begin to tremble so slightly as his tongue flicks and sucks on your clit, coaxing it from you with a cruel sort of need.

Your hips jerk when his teeth lightly scrape your folds, startling more than hurting you. “Stu,” you sigh heavily. “Right there. Almost there.”

You feel him try to pull away, make you suffer for his amusement. But you don't let him. You lock your hands around his head and roll your hips over his mouth, a strenuous back and forth that brings you closer and closer until you're shaking.

You curse in the middle of your gasp. It's this backwards sound that outlines your lust, craven and enthused with no regard to any moral or some kind of calamity. Your orgasm rises in your belly and scours the rest of your body. You yank his hair and listen to him moan.

Once the high runs down, you lift up from his face to pull him off of you, shifting back to straddle his waist as you slouch over his body with unsteady breath. “You like me on top,” you comment, smirking slyly at him as he laves his tongue over his pink lips.

You press your hands to his chest, bending down to kiss him and sink your teeth into his bottom lip in the process. He winces, returning the favor with his own biting Jaws.

You gasp into his mouth when he wraps an arm around you and flips you onto your back. You're disoriented as you catch your bearings, looking back at him to see the knife held at your throat.

You stare at him, your eyes wide with shock. Bring your leg up his side, you lean in slowly. His lip quirks, following your movements with a tightened grip on his blade.

The pain shoots up his arm when you sink your teeth into the meat of his palm, just as your lips had begun to brush. The knife slips from his hand, and you wrap your legs around him to toss him off of you. He falls to the ground with a thump. You snatch the blade, moving to join him as you straddle his waist again.

But Stu is already anticipating this. You're smaller than him, so the only real advantage you have is to be on top. He rolls you both a second time until he's caging you in underneath him, snatching the knife and holding at your throat once more as his other hand pins your wrists above your head.

You're entirely vulnerable and completely naked. He's got the upper hand.

Stu watches you, the knife braced against your skin as he teases you with the freezing metal. You stare at him with wide eyes, and he has trouble deciding what he sees in them. You're like a deer in headlights, not afraid of the danger hurling towards you, but so mesmerized that you cannot find it in you to save yourself.

Stu bends down to capture your lips in his teeth, joining you in a biting kiss as he keeps the knife steady at your chest. You arch your back and hiss when the blade cuts into your skin, reveling the dizzying feeling in your brain.

Stu pulls back to see you, looking down at where a trickle of blood is staining your skin. You look up at him, your eyes unfocused as he examines your cut. It's shallow, but he's sure it'll scar.

He looks at your face, and your eyes are hooded with what he thinks is lust. And he thinks you're crazy for it.

His opinion worsens as you arch your back into his knife again and wince loudly when you're cut again. The blood falls a little easier down the side of your chest, two crossed lines forming an X between your breasts that he admires.

He's got a wicked smile on his face as he watches your chest heave with the feeling of the sting in your skin. When his mouth closes around your nipple, you writhe like crazy as he sucks.

“Stu,” you breathe, fighting against his hand, but not enough to actually escape. You probably could if you tried hard enough.

Stu rolls you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your knees as he forces your head down against the floor. The sting of your cuts hurt, but it continues to haze your mind with a strange mixture of your lust.

“You're fuckin’ messed up, you know that?” he questions, laughing giddily as he does.

You laugh meekly, keeping your position even after he's let you go. “I need you, Stu,” you breathe, running a hand through your wet folds as you do.

“Good. Because I got another reason for you.” You hear a ton of rustling, and then a zipper. Stu lines himself up with the seam of your pussy, moaning when he's buried to the hilt inside of you. You purse your lips and let your voice muffle in your arm. “You feel amazing.”

Stu’s long, he sits deep inside of you. A startled moan comes out of you when he pulls all the way back and drives himself back in so hard that it hurts. You bury your face in your arm and whimper in your skin as he fucks into you with no regard to your pleasure.

And it hurts, but God does it feel so good. You want to tell him to slow down, to go easy on you, but you want him to hurt you. You want to quietly exclaim “Ow!” into your arm when he drives in just a little too deep. You want him to mangle you, and you want to be able to blame your pain on him.

And he's happy to let you.

Stu fucks you from behind. He does it roughly, and he does it regardlessly. You grasp uselessly for the floor to hold onto something.

Each thrust is met with a strangled moan, and when Stu’s hands press against your back, you seethe as he runs his dull nails into the skin. It’s all very disarming, the pleasure, the pain, the bite of his nails and the sting of the cuts in your chest. You let it swirl in your head and render you useless.

“I thought you were in charge, huh? You were gonna tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” He punches hard inside of you, and for a second, you can’t breathe. “But you’re taking it like a little bitch.”

You get your bearings then, bouncing forward just when he’s pulling back. He slips out of you, and a little hiss falls off his tongue. Stu reaches for your hips to put himself back inside, but you’re already on your side. You throw a leg out and jab your foot into his side.

Stu groans loudly at the pain, clasping his hand at his side where you kicked him. A flare of anger rises within him, and he uses it to grab your leg. You use your free leg to push him back by his chest, and he falls back against the floor with a grunt.

You climb on top of him once more, grabbing the knife just as you had done before and bracing it at his stomach instead. “If you move, I’ll gut you,” you threaten just as he’s realizing where you’ve got him. He smiles like you’d just told him the sweetest thing.

Stu lays back. You watch his muscles relax as he sighs. “Whatcha gonna do, huh?” he hums. “Are you gonna hurt me now?” The way he beams at you is nothing but insanity. You slip your hands beneath his robe, which he had pulled up to his waist while he was fucking you. You pull it over his head and make his shirt go with it until he’s half naked beneath you.

You look down at him, your breath steady. He tries to see what you’re thinking, but your face is unreadable. With a gentle smile, you tighten your grip on the knife before pulling it away from his belly. You tease his chest just as he had done to you, and your grip is surprisingly steady.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you smile. “Not too much, at least.”

He tilts his head, only for it to shoot back with grinding teeth as you dig the long end of the blade into the skin below his pec. You watch a line of blood trickle down from the wound, keeping your hand as steady as you can as you begin to carve your initials into his flesh.

You go slow, drawing out every little knick just to see him struggle not to squirm underneath you and ruin your work. You’re already cutting him. Who’s to say you won’t kill him?

You like the way the blade glistens in the lamp light. It’s just a small little gleam, but it makes you feel something. As you look up at Stu, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut. He doesn’t look too much like he’s suffering, but he definitely isn’t comfortable. The blade clatters to the floor by his head.

You pull back to admire your handiwork, wiping uncaringly at the wound with his robe as the blood continues to pool. “Reason number three,” you smile, brushing your thumb over the cuts and admiring the way his stomach tenses. It looks so nice, a mark he’ll bear forever. A tingling feeling nests in your gut, eats away at your fingertips and the very tips of your ears. You lean down to brush your lips against his, your voice a smooth whisper against his mouth as he watches you with hooded eyes. “You’re mine now.”

“Am I?” he asks, his lip twitching with his smirk. You reach up onto the bed, never breaking eye contact as you blindly reach for the mask on his bed. You swipe it up, pulling it over his head as he huffs. The black pits of his Ghostface eyes bore into you. You bend down and kiss the open void of his mouth. If you’d been actually kissing him, he may not have realized you pulling his pants down the rest of the way.

“All mine.” You raise yourself up over his lap, reaching down to line his cock with your pussy as you stare at him. “And I’m gonna show you.”

You sink down on him. You moan at the feeling. It sits in your throat as you slowly guide your hips forward and back, feeling the length of his cock pressing all the way inside. You relish in the feeling for just a moment, but you don’t waste time on it. You brace your hands on his chest, pressing down hard so you can hear his breath strain in his lungs as you begin to ride him.

You ride him fast and hard, with deep strokes and clenching fists. His hands grasp at your waist with a tightness that hurts, and you throw your head back as you continue to ride him with all that you’ve got. Your tits bounce as you do, an up and down motion that his gaze is glued to. You can feel it even through the mask keeping you from watching the way his eyes shut and his mouth hangs open.

“You like when I ride you, Stu,” you breathe, bouncing your ass up and down as you slam yourself on his cock. “You like when I’m on top, fucking myself on you, holding you down and using you how I want.” Your smile is toxic as you chuckle. “You can’t admit how much you like me in charge.”

His voice is muffled through the mask, but you hear every word he says with a clarity that rattles your bones. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you cry.”

You roll your hips in just the right angle to hear him moan. When you laugh, your walls tighten around him, and he hisses. “Promise?” you whisper, straightening your back and burying your hands in your hair. When you bounce, your own eyes flutter shut and your mouth drops down to moan freely. “Fuck, Stu, you always reach so—mmh!—so deep.”

You hear him pick up the knife, but you do nothing to stop him. You wince and whine when he braces it at your stomach, letting little paper cuts clip your skin as the shallow cuts send pleasure rushing up your spine. “You gonna mark me now? Like I marked you?” You smile, your head reeling with everything rushing to it. “Then you really can’t kill me, ‘cause everyone will know who did it.”

The knife trails down to your thigh, and you open your eyes to watch him. The look on your face is sultry. You remind him of a demon, and he wants to taste you. You hold him by his shoulders as you continue to bounce on him. The new angle makes him whimper.

“Just like that?” you mutter. “You want more?” You grind your hips, and he’s a goner as his grip loosens once more. You set your hands on his chest and dig your nails into his skin, scraping your nails down the flesh as angry red lines follow in their wake. You wish you could see the way the muscles in his neck flex, but you settle for his arms straining in his skin, his hands grabbing you so hard, you think you’ll lose circulation.

It’s all a lot to take in. Your clit is aching with need, and it’s becoming harder to taunt him with the tightness of your own need. You slip your hand between your thighs and toy with your clit, a deep sigh escaping you just as you do.

Stu hasn’t done much but moan and wince. He usually talks so much that sometimes you have to tell him to shut up, but when he’s on the bottom and you’re staring down at him without those fucked up eyes, he can’t find words to drown you in.

Your shallow breaths are loud, pitchy when you roll your hips just right. You stare at the bleeding cuts under his pec, and that gratifying feeling you’d gotten when you made it fills you again.

“Did it feel good?” You’re not as taunting anymore. There’s a lilt to your voice that makes Stu want to pin you down and cut you open. He tilts his head, and you think for a moment that you’ll cum right then. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is—his mask is, by no means, terrifying. It’s comical, to say the least.

But, oh, does he look good covered in blood…

“Killing them?” you clarify, losing your gravitas as you brace yourself on his chest and swivel your hips at a spot that makes your brain numb. Stifled moans come out as whimpers as you work that deep, spongey stop inside of you that makes you want to explode. “Did it feel good?”

Stu’s hand reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling down as the other braces at the very top of your thigh to help you move. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear his unsteady breaths hurling toward the barrier blocking you. You think you’ll cum soon.

But it doesn’t happen. Stu turns you again, pushing you underneath him once more. He hikes your legs up his waist and gathers your wrists in his hand as his other keeps your hips steady. You’re in the middle of licking your lip when he thrusts into you so deep that you cry out.

“How good do you feel right now?” he asks, his voice husky and low with lust. “You like when I thrust into you so deep, your eyes roll?” You nod, your sounds utterly useless otherwise. “You like when I fuck you so hard, it hurts a little and you need me to stop?”

You nod again, feeling just that right as he says it. You embrace the pain. It makes your head dizzy and your legs spasm. “Yes, Stu,” you whimper.

“You like when I pin you down and fuck you like I want?” His voice is frayed at the ends, spent with excitement. “You like dripping for me? And then watching me drip out of you when I cum inside of this pretty little pussy?”

You nod once more, your fingers toying away at your clit and stopping just before you tip off the edge. “Please, Stu.”

He bends down so his mouth is at your ear, the black fabric of his mask caressing your skin. He never stops moving as his body moves with yours. “Killing is like fucking,” he rasps. “It’s raw and it’s hot. Your heart races, your body gets all tingly. The fuckin’ power is enough to drive you crazy.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close, but every time you move them, his grasp tightens around your wrists. “When I stab someone, it feels like I’m shoving my dick inside of you. When I choke someone out, I feel like my hands around your throat. When I gutted Casey from side to side and hung her from that tree while her guts spilled out, it felt like I was gutting you. And fuck, did that feel good, baby.”

You’re inconsolable, your breaths shaky and your muscles tensing with every quiver of a faltering release. “D’you wanna kill me, Stu?”

It takes him a moment to respond, caught up in the way your cunt hugs him so tight when the sound of your hips meeting fills the air with wet slaps. “Honest?” You nod. “I don’t know.” Your moan shudders out of you with an “oh” sound, ending with an F that drives out until it’s no longer forming a word. “Killing you would feel fuckin’ amazing…but I can fuck you again and again and again and get the same high. I can only kill you once.”

You smile, and it’s the sickest thing he’s ever seen. He gets drunk off the sight. “Then I guess you’ll have to keep me, huh?”

He doesn’t answer. He laughs, and then he keeps fucking you like he plans for it to be the last time he ever will. He keeps fucking you like he will kill you after. The thought of it should not make you shudder, but you do and you grip him tighter as you beg for a release.

He’s getting close, you can hear it in the way he moans. Beneath the mask, you know his brows are creasing together with that little curve. It makes him look like he’ll cry. You love when he makes that face.

Your release catches you by surprise. You meant to wane off again, but the pleasure was too great. Your back arches and you clench down on him tightly as you let the waves of relief crash down around you violently. It’s like you’re being dunked under water again and again, unable to catch your breath as the water floods your lungs and makes you cough so much, there’s no way you’ll be able to breathe again.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps, and you tremble as the pleasure makes its way through your body. You cry his name, even beg him to do things to you that you probably shouldn’t while he’s so susceptible to killing you.

His thrusts are unsteady now, especially when you suck him in like you’re trying to milk him. Your mind is frayed with the pleasure lingering in every crevice, and you sink into the rhythm of his thrusts with all the excitement of a first orgasm.

“Gonna fuckin’–!” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The way you clench around him is sinister, and his whole body is shaking with his release when he spills inside of you. You grunts and whimpers fall freely as he fucks you to his own need, just as he had been before.

His last thrusts are done in quick succession, deep and spurred by dull aftershocks. His breath is so heavy, you can only assume it’s hot and humid underneath that mask. Stu’s muscles twitch as he lets go of your wrists to attack your sides with gripping hands. He lets out a loud huff as he reaches for his mask, pulling it over his head.

He hadn’t seen you pick up the knife again. He’s met with it at his throat, the tip of it grazing his earlobe as you threaten his jugular. You’re smiling the prettiest smile, and Stu thinks he’s a goner. He’d let you spill his blood in a crimson shower all over your face if it meant seeing you smile like that would be the last thing he saw. He doesn’t realize just how much he loves you sometimes. Not until he’s willing to die for you just as much as he’s willing to kill you.

He smiles, and you know that he’s perfect. You’re so happy that you’re just as fucked up as him, your fingers itching to go the extra step and just…sink in.

“Reason number four,” you whisper in the space between you, “I won’t hesitate.” Keeping the blade steady, you wrap your legs around his waist and make him sit up. You lower your voice to the softest thing he’s ever heard. “Killing you would bring me just as much as joy as fucking you.”

You understand him. It feels so nice for someone to understand him. How sad it would be if you were normal…or if he was the one who was normal. What a shame it would be.

“God, I love you.” He smiles, and then he laughs in the way that compels him to stick his tongue out to his chin.

Your nose scrunches with your grin, it worsens when you feel the warmth of his blood sticking to your chest because of how close you are now. “Good,” you say. “Because you belong to me now, Mr. Ghostface.”

He laughs again. “My crazy woman.” He pulls you into a kiss, and finds himself happy that he’s deciding not to kill you. For now, at least.

Stu Macher taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess @queermaxwooo @mamaemoemu @snailss @bubbledtee @anotherblackreader @motopoppp @a-person-in-many-fandoms @laniirackssss @stealthyadversary @electraphyng Tag yourself here...

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher smut #ghostface #ghostface smut #stu macher x reader smut #reader insert #female reader #scream #scream 1996 #scream fanfiction #stu macher fanfiction #ghostface fanfiction #kinktober 2024

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loviingpedri · 4 months ago

Text

💋 me thru the phone - joão félix

prompt: it’s hard doing long distance.

warnings: grammar issues, one suggestive comment

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

the moon reflected in the window as the trees are shaking from the wind. raindrops covering the glass, slowly falling down.

staring at the picture frame of you and your boyfriend on the nightstand, you sighed.

long distance was very difficult. joão was in portugal for a little vacation, while you were in spain for work and university. joão was in and out of your apartment, meaning there was barely any contact or conversation.

he tried his best. he was the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for. you smelled the fresh pastel tulips in the glass vase. lost in your thoughts, and about to pick up a book, a sudden noise shocked you.

ring ring

a smile formed on your face as a picture of joão holding floki in front of a sunset on a mountain, next to him was you. a memory appearing of how your lips felt against his cheek. a scent of ocean, wood, and citrus flowing through the air.

swiping to answer his call, you were met with a smiley, tan, and dark brown eyed guy.

“hey.” he says on his white couch.

“hey, how are you?” pulling your (his) hoodie over your head to get comfortable, he could tell something was on your mind.

“i’m doing pretty good. did you get the flowers i sent?”

“yeah, i did. they’re really beautiful.” flipping your camera to show him. he admired the pink tulips, reminding him of you.

“i noticed your hoodie. wonder where you got it from,” noticing his smirk, you tried to hide your face in the camera. “is something going on? you don’t seem very talkative.”

you don’t wanna admit it, but he was right. usually, you would explain in detail on how your day was. quiet on you either meant you were mad at him, or just weren’t having a good day.

“i’m okay. not really feeling talkative today.” you gave him a small smile of reassurance. he wiggled in response, not buying the response. he shrugged it off instead of trying to push it on you.

“you look good. i’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” honestly, that small comment made you want to lay flat on your stomach, kicking your feet in the air with a soft pink rising on your cheek.

“thanks. how’s your vacation going?” trying to control your heart rate, you decided to change the topic.

he smiled as you were fixing your hair, trying to noticeably look good for him. “it’s chill, not very eventful. sometimes i think about how i should’ve stayed with you though.”

“you know i would’ve never let you do that. you needed a break.

“yeah, i know. its been awhile. i really miss you.”

with a little sarcastic hair flip, “i’m so glad you miss me,” his laughter made butterflies fly in your stomach. “but really, i miss you too. especially when you would make hot chocolate during rainy nights. i crave it literally almost every day.”

“is that the only thing you crave?” he winked at you. your smile dropped at first in shock, but you two were dying in laughter.

“ew joão, that’s so gross.” you said in between laughter.

“if i had the opportunity to climb through the phone and kiss you, i would take it.”

“and people say romance is dead.”

rolling his eyes, you saw a glimpse of an open suitcase. it was filled with clothes neatly folded and ready for a trip. you furrowed your eyebrows.

noticing your face, “what’s wrong? did something happen?”

“are you going somewhere? i thought you weren’t leaving for another 3 weeks.”

laughing it off, which you did not find it funny (cause where is he going 🤨🤨🤨), he noticed you were being serious. you did not take the hint at all.

“y/n, don’t be sour. i’m going to fly over there tomorrow morning.” your mouth flew open. he didn’t even mention it.

“what? when did you book the ticket? you didn’t tell me anything.”

“calm down, i started packing this morning. i honestly couldn’t wait to see you anymore. i just booked the tickets literally 5 minutes ago.”

“i should probably clean the apartment a little bit then.” scrambling out of bed, ready to spot every dust speckle.

“don’t worry about it. i’m just ready to see you.”

“you should sleep early then for your flight. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

nodding his head, “kisses?” you rolled your eyes. he think it’s so funny how you kissed the camera one time before hanging up. now, he wants you to do it every phone call.

blowing a kiss at the camera before quickly hanging up in embarrassment, you could see his cheeky smile. you laid in your bed, thinking about what just happened. you were kicking your feet, ready to see him.

#football x reader #football fanfic #football imagine #fc barca #fc barcelona #spotify #joao felix x you #joao felix x y/n #joao felix x reader #joao felix fanfic #joao felix imagine #joao felix #Spotify

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tbzhub · 3 months ago

Text

Money Shot

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: a night in with your boyfriend turns into a photoshoot

Warnings: MDNI, smut, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of photos are taken, pet names like twice

Rating / Genre: M, established relationship au, some fluff, smut

WC: 3.6K

Artist Note: this is a little part 2 to this fic: just go fuck him ♥︎ thank you for the love on that story, i'm sorry the title is so misleading alvjbhvxzgfn. i figured i'd revisit these two!

Tagged: @deoboyznet @everykebbie @blizzardfluffykpop

psst i finished it @the-boy-meets-evil

m.list tag list

It’s a wonder how much a person can change in a year or two.

These days your chest doesn't feel as tight. Your thoughts aren’t as intrusive and insecurity visits you infrequently. The smiles that grace your lips are genuine– often prompted by the joy that's found its way into the tight confines of your heart.

With each passing day, came a further understanding of what it meant to live. To experience the world with an abundance of love intertwined with your being.

Hyunjae wouldn’t agree, but he made all the difference. You are far more vibrant now; confident, social, witty. Being deeply in love brought out a version of yourself that was content and yet utterly fearless.

There’s peace, both in knowing someone has seen the harshest parts of you and that they still love you just the same.

Hyunjae gave you the space to be yourself– to show up however you were able to on any given day. With you, he was gentle and understanding in a way that’s reserved for people who care.

Dating him meant never having doubt– not when he made every day feel like a gift. It was easy to smile with him around. He was funny without trying and hilarious in times when laughter was needed most. His spontaneity took some getting used to, but only because you were a homebody. Now, you look forward to the days you spend with him, enamored by Hyunjae’s innate ability to make every moment memorable. He saw the world in a way that left you inspired. Through his photography, he taught you that beauty was found in the most unlikely places. Like at a run-down flea market during sunset, or while walking past a vacant flower stand on a late night– the florist long gone after an honest day’s work. Overexposed shots of your hair dancing in the wind as you slump in front of a fan, trying to survive in the summer heat.

He was always taking pictures of you. Initially– you hated it. You’d go shy or tense up when you saw him bring out a camera, on high alert when he brought out his phone. But over time, you appreciated it. Being his muse– being able to see yourself the way he saw you– helped you in areas that you hadn't realized needed assistance. Through your days in front of the lens, you've learned that you have a brilliant smile. That your hair harbored a different tone in the wake of a setting sun. Sometimes you’d catch yourself anticipating the camera on days when you knew you looked your best, growing confident as more time passed with him by your side.

Now, more than anything else– you both are beyond comfortable and obsessed with one another. Your ears perk up when you hear the bedroom door creak open and the way you immediately step out of the bathroom to greet Hyunjae with a face covered in skin care products proves the aforementioned sentiment.

Coming over to kiss him sweetly, you briefly melt into his firm arms and as you lean back you swipe your thumb over the gray dot of mud mask that sticks to his nose with a chuckle.

“Aww…” Hyunjae coos, taking in your spa headband and the little strip across your nose.

“No…” you groan, shielding your face away from him and his predictable nature.

“But you look so cute, right now.” He whines, peeking from behind the camera while his fingers hover over the button.

“No, I don’t. I look like the moon emoji” you mumble back.

“What do you mean? Hyunjae asks, looking at you with a clueless squint.

“You know, the one that’s like…” you give a side glance to look more like the little gray icon.

There’s a small flash of light as the shutter clicks and Hyunjae chuckles as he looks at the tiny screen while you stand stunned that he tricked you so easily. You playfully push him in response, causing him to laugh harder and you can’t help but join him, finding his antics funny.

You kiss him on the cheek before heading towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” You announce with your back turned. “Don’t miss me too much,” Hyujnae calls out absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the camera in his hands and you smile at the remark as you walk onto the cool tile floor.

You come back to him with a washed face and a silly smile embossed into your pretty features. Bounding onto the bed, you allow Hyunjae to tug you into his arms. He peppers you with kisses, lips smacking against yours a couple of times until he’s pulled a wide smile and a few giggles out of you.

“Wait– stay right there,” he says and you groan but your smile only grows wider.

“Don’t you get tired of taking pictures of me?” You ask, looking him over in amusement as you honor his instructions, holding your current angle. “Nope,” he replies, twisting in his spot to grab his polaroid camera. “Maybe when you have a hot girlfriend, you’ll understand.” He jokes, sending you a flirtatious look over the top of the camera while his finger turns the camera on with muscle memory.

Your laugh is accompanied by the roll of your eyes. Hyunjae presses the shutter and you ready yourself for the flash, relaxing thereafter as the camera goes to work.

The whirring of the film getting developed halts your joking, Hyunjae carefully plucks the film out and shakes it in his hand gently once it pops out of the top of the camera.

Falling further into the comfort of his pillows, you smile up at Hyunjae, observing the way he looks at the picture. His eyes were soft as he swept over the image, the arches of his cheeks raising slowly as a smile blossomed on his lips. For whatever reason the sight struck a chord within you.

“You really think I’m beautiful, don't you?” You voice the thought without realizing it, not until Hyunjae’s gaze shifts to you and you're taking in the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you didn't need him to. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world. The only thing worth gazing upon. His hand trails its way into your hair and you look into the lens again, relaxing under Hyunjae’s touch as the shutter clicks again. You shift slightly on the bed as Hyunjae inspects the second polaroid the same way as he did the first. He puts the two pictures on the nightstand for safekeeping before leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

With your arms looped around Hyunjae’s neck, you steal more kisses off his lips until he drops the camera onto the bed and climbs on top of you. The kiss deepens as one of his hands roams down to grab at your waist and pulls your body closer to his while he props himself up to keep from crushing you with the other. He lingers on your lips, pressure changing from soft and teasing to hard and wanting once you wrap your leg around his hip.

You stay like that long enough for your heart to mimic the rapid thud of Hyunjae’s heart rate.

When Hyunjae pulls away from the kiss you’re left wanting more, grabbing at his shirt in an attempt to bring him back but you stop when you notice what he’s doing.

He hovers above you with a polaroid camera in hand. “Just one more. Your lips look perfect,’ he murmurs as he lines up the shot and you lick your kiss bruised lips before giving bedroom eyes to Hyunjae through the lens. You hear the sound of the camera going off and the flash follows before the whirring begins. You watch patiently as he studies the picture with a smirk on his lips. His hand moves smoothly up and down your bare thigh as his gaze flits across the film.

It was hot seeing him like this, so obviously turned by what he’s doing– by you.

His hand comes up to caress your neck before falling lower, squeezing your chest over the thin fabric of your tank top and you pick up on how he bites his lip before finally tearing his eyes away and placing the picture to the side with the others.

“Wanna take more?” You ask, gingerly tiptoeing into uncharted territory. “I mean… I’d be down?” You suggest lightly while looking up at Hyunjae’s face. His expressions bounce between confusion and surprise before settling on mirth and something else indescribable.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, his voice suddenly low and velvety.

As you nod your head yes, you wrap your fingers around Hyunjae’s wrist and guide his hand down to rest at the hem of your top.

His hand scrunches up the fabric, exposing most of your stomach as he dips down low to meld his mouth with yours hotly. He kisses you slowly, taking his time with you in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before. His hand slides up further, delicately cupping your chest as he sighs against your lips. The sharp sting of Hyunjae’s fingers digging into your skin sends a shock to your center and your lips part in a soft moan in response. His tongue brushes against the tip of yours tenderly as your skin pebbles under his touch.

The kiss remains slow as he savors every last second of having you like this, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking the tender spot and kissing you hungrily. You lay slack underneath him, body and mind being led by the pleasure he pours into you with his sinful lips.

Your back arches as he lifts your tank top up further, pulling the garment over your shoulders. Hyunjae’s hands fall onto either side of your cheeks, holding your face in place as he presses his lips onto yours firmly and warmth floods your chest. His hands travel down your neck and sweep across your shoulders as he drags his lips along your jawline. He continues his descent until he reaches a particular spot on your neck that makes you bite back a loud whimper. He sucks the sensitive area while you squirm underneath him with your eyes half closed. You shake out a soft moan, bliss surging up your spine as he moves to another spot on your neck.

He sucks mark after mark into your skin until you're nearly trembling and soaking wet with need. Your shoulders and neck are covered in splotches of deep reddish and purple hues that you can’t fully see but the look on Hyunjae’s face as he leans back tells you that look to die for. He drinks you in with a lust-clouded gaze, looking you up and down a few times before reaching out for his camera.

“Fuck– you look perfect like this…” he praises, voice imbued in admiration and want. He lines up the shot, standing on his knees above you and you can see just how much he’s into this.

You reply with a moan and glance up, giving the camera a heated look before the camera flashes. His hand comes into the next shot as he wraps his fingers around your slender neck. You catch his dick twitching in his sweats as he takes a second picture with you posed like this. Hyunjae doesn't wait for the film to come out before casting the camera to the side. He yanks at your shorts and underwear, pulling them off of you quickly with your help. You spread your legs wide for him while he works his way out of his clothes. He’s back on you hot and heavy the minute his cock is free, settling between your legs as he devours you with an intense gaze, tracing your form lustfully.

“Eyes on me, okay?” He orders softly, smoothing a hand over your bent knee lovingly as the other snakes its way up your thigh, leaving behind a sweltering tingle that lingers on your skin.

His fingers sink into your wet heat and a sultry moan rings through his bedroom. Hyunjae rocks his palm back and forth, two fingers curled upwards against the soft walls of your pussy. You coat the digits, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you’ve ever heard from your wet cunt but you couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed about that in the wake of what he’d just put your neck and shoulders through.

He picks up the pace and your legs fall open further as a long sigh leaves your chest. You obediently keep your eyes open, trained on Hyunjae while he works you over. The look you share is a charged one as he fucks you with his fingers, his determined gaze contrasting your unbridled blissed-out state. Your swollen lips part as you pant his name, pleading for him not to stop.

Hyunjae blindly grabs ahold of his camera, never stopping the steady rhythm of his deft fingers urging you dangerously close to an orgasm. Your toes curl and your legs tremble as he readies the camera. He lifts it until he’s got the right angle. His biceps strain and sweat trickles down his arms as he pumps his digits in and out of you while rubbing your bud rhythmically. His arm is getting tired but he waits… and waits, finger resting just above the shutter as he waits for the right moment. The one where your face scrunches up and your pussy tries to choke his fingers. He fingers you with just the right amount of pressure to grow the feeling inside you until it bursts–

The shutter goes off and a flash brightens the room.

You toss and turn as you cum all over Hyunjae’s fingers, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it. Gradually his pace slows just enough to gently bring you down from your peak. His fingers slip out of your sloppy folds and he licks them clean without a second thought before retrieving the polaroid from its slot.

You shiver through the aftershocks of your high while you come down further. “How’d it turn out?” You ask, still breathless. Hyunjae looks over to you with dark eyes and you swallow under the passion in his gaze.

“Unreal,” he replies through a husky tone before setting that picture down beside the others. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you repeatedly as he lays his warm body flush with yours. Your legs tangle with his while you make out and your dainty hands mess up his hair as you roll on top of him in bed. You straddle his hips in haste, desperate to ride him but he clamps his strong hands around your waist freezing you in place.

“There's a shot that I want to get,” he hesitantly admits.

You look down at him with an endeared smile. You knew him well enough to know what he wanted. He always say you look so pretty sucking him off. “Okay, baby,” you say, shuffling down the bed until your lips are inches away from his cock.

Hyunjae groans, tilting his head back into the pillows as you take him past your lips. You don’t tease, dipping your head forward to ease more of his cock into your mouth while your tongue glides down his length. Your lips tighten around him, sucking in on your way up and swallowing around the head before gliding down again.

“Fuck–

You grind your nose into his pelvis when he reaches the back of your throat and you feel him squirm in bed. You let up again, going slow as you cover his entire cock in your spit. Hyunjae fists the bedsheets and hisses at the sight of you– his cock, dripping with the attention that you’ve lavished it with, tucked between your plush dewy lips. You sink his cock into your mouth again, moaning as you sense him preparing to snap another picture of you.

Your eyes begin to water as you take him to the back of your throat a few more times, looking up at Hyunjae just in time to hear the shutter go off again. You close your eyes and hum, sending another shiver of vibrations down his cock as he tries to check out the picture.

All you hear is shallow gasps for a while as Hyunjae holds the polaroid up to his face, coaxing you up and down his length with his other hand.

“This one is golden,” he rasps, voice ragged and thick with pleasure as he bobs you up and down his cock for a bit longer, entranced by how sexy your eyes look in the picture. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around before Hyunjae gently pulls you off of him by your hair.

“Let me see?” You ask, sitting up and straddling his lap as he places that picture to join the rest.

He just shakes his head. “We have to round out the set first,” Hyunjae teases, hands going to rest at your hips as he lines you up with his stiff cock. Placing your hands behind you on his toned thighs as you lift your hips, angling them to catch his cock between your wet folds before you lower yourself onto him. You sit on his cock in one fluid motion and sigh. He feels so good– the sweet slide against your walls as you’re filled making your head spin. You rock forward, leaning back against your arms for leverage while you rock back, savoring his thick cock pressed against you. You raise your hips and drop back down, moaning at the feel of his cock teasing your needy cunt.

You circle your hips while you bounce in his lap, slamming your hips down harder with every motion. Your head tilts back as you ride him, so satisfied yet so greedy for more, hips beginning to roll faster. Hyunjae tightens his hold on you before matching your thrusts, sending his cock as deep as possible causing you to cry out in abandon. You bounce faster, breathing ragged as you start to work up a sweat, a sheen covering your stomach and thighs. Your skin slaps against Hyunjae’s as you move in sync, connected as one as your bodies heat up.

His fingertips press into your skin, as he takes control, lifting you up and down with only the strength in his arms. Hyunjae fucks you nice and slow, dropping you down on his cock and sliding you off so you feel every inch of him leave your insides.

“Fuck Jae,” you moan, core aching for release just when he’s decided to slow things down.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You look so good like this. I don’t wanna rush,” he whispers, licking his bottom lip as he looks up at you– still dragging you up and down his cock like you weighed practically nothing.

He doesn’t forget the camera, reaching for it with one hand while you take over once more. You slide down nice and slow before raising your hips, pausing at the top when he tells you to.

“You look fucking incredible, baby.” He says as he takes the last shot.

The shutter clicks and you carefully push the camera out of Hyunjae’s hands, feverishly crashing your lips into his a second later. He immediately falls in line, kissing you and giving you exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His arms circle your back as he holds you close and pounds into you.

You gasp and writhe, taking all that Hyunjae gives you as your thighs give out.

Pleasure and fatigue build, and build within you, threatening to overflow as he continues his onslaught on your pussy. He snaps his hips into you with unprecedented strength, and thrusts rough and careless, eliciting nothing but filthy sounds out of you.

His pace picks up, strokes falling out of rhythm as he chases his climax.

The steady push and pull of his cock filling you up crowds your senses. Your mind goes hazy as you focus on how good Hyunjae makes you feel every time. Pushing your body to places that you didn’t think it could go. You clench around him as another huge orgasm shuts down your body.

When you finally come to your senses, you notice that you're sore and covered in sweat. You feel kind of gross, but there's nothing that could make you abandon your place on Hyunjae’s chest right now.

You’re so tired that when you try to speak, your words come out as syllables abstractly strung together. The last thing you’re aware of is Hyunjae’s cool lips pressed against your forehead as you drift off to sleep.

In the morning, you wake up sore. The marks that litter your neck and shoulders are a little tender and you feel like you did 200 sit-ups and 300 squats right before bed.

Hyunjae wasn't around, but you weren’t surprised by that– he never missed catching the sunrise at dawn.

As you sit up in bed, the stack of polaroids from last night catches your eye and you leap out of bed to sift through them all. The first photo is so innocent that you chuckle, knowing where the night led you. You glance through the rest, cheeks heating up at how bold you are in front of the camera.

You flip to the last picture in the stack and can’t help but swoon. You set the stack down, covering the unfiltered pictures with the one of Hyunjae kissing you on your forehead while you were fast asleep.

#kvanity #lee hyunjae imagines #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz smut #lee hyunjae fic #lee hyunjae smut #the boyz imagines #tbz smut #tbz x reader #tbz drabbles #tbz imagines #tbz hyunjae #hyunjae smut

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ktsumu · 1 year ago

Text

“it’s rotten work,” “not to me. not if it’s you.”

The lights are out in the house, and you’re settled down into bed beside him when Gojo asks you why you’re there.

“What?” you return, your words coming out more as a laugh than a question.

He shrugs — the sheets crinkle when he does so you know. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s not a dumb question.”

You sigh, rolling over and resting a hand on his chest, shutting your eyes and nestling down into the comfort you were in before he started his session of sharing the obvious late night thoughts that one normally keeps to themselves.

“Go to sleep, ‘Toru.”

“Are you seriously ignoring me?”

“Mm, no,”

“You’re not answering my question,” he challenges.

“I don’t answer stupid questions, Satoru, go to bed.”

He grunts to himself, looking up at the ceiling as the hand that still rests on his chest burns through the cotton of his t-shirt. The room is quiet, but never quiet enough to make him forget where you are, where your breaths lie.

This time, he turns his head to look at you straight, his hand taking yours and playing with your fingers in the air idly like you're not trying to go to sleep.

You give up.

Opening your eyes, you tilt your head up with a sigh, looking him so dead in the eye that it almost stings.

“Hi, Satoru,” you say, voice a lot more passive than it is tired. “If you ask me that question again—“

“I won’t if you just answer,” he taunts, but you can tell there’s more behind whatever joking tone he puts on.

You scoff; your smile gives you away. “What do you mean ‘why are you here’?”

“Simple question, really.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you groan, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. “Maybe it’s because of this?” you answer, holding out your left hand, wiggling your fingers so he can watch how your ring glimmers in the moonlight that sneaks past the curtains.

Satoru cracks a smile. “Ooh, so you love me for my money?”

“Why else?”

You both snicker; you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you asking me this, Satoru?” you say in something just above a whisper, taking his hand and placing it in yours, smoothing a thumb over his pulse. Still loud, still strong — he and his heart are very much alike. It’s why you wonder how he’s so quiet, now.

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head like he knows he sounds funny. “I dunno. Just seems wild, doesn’t it?”

“Define ‘wild.’ Because wild in terms of Satoru Gojo likely outdoes my definition by a mile.”

He doesn’t hide his grin, because he knows that you don’t deserve people hiding their happiness from you.

“I’m a little fucked for someone like you, aren’t I? Messy."

“I have your lastname now, isn’t it a bit late to think about that?

“Technically, you can always give it back.”

“Over my dead body, weirdo.”

Gojo cracks a small smile as you press a kiss to his cheek, the warmth of your lips lingering on his cheek even after you’ve left. It sears the inside of his mouth in the best way.

He tilts his head, running a hand through your hair, catching his finger in a twirl of it. “I’m hard to deal with, no?”

You hum, looking around your bedroom. “Sometimes. Not always.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Not completely.”

Gojo snorts a laugh. “Hard to live with?”

“Also sometimes, never always.”

“Hard to love?”

“Always never,” you answer without hesitation, yawning as you lay against his chest. "Never sometimes."

Gojo closes his eyes, smiles to himself — even though he knows you can’t see. His head leans back against the wooden headboard of your bed.

“Okay.”

“So we’ve agreed that you’re being dumb?”

“I—well, I never agreed to that,”

“Good!” you say anyway, tugging his shirt until he laughs and sinks back down into bed. “Now stop acting like it’s a task to love you, okay? It’s not.”

Gojo stares. He watches you sink closer to him, your hand still wrapped in his, the pad of his thumb swiping over the diamond on your finger.

Yes, it was dumb to question this.

“Yes, commander.”

“Ugh, go to bed.”

#ignore ooc gojo i don't write him enough #someone teach me #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #jjk drabbles #kit writes

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demonmarker · 9 months ago

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Beautiful with you Ch.2

Ch.01

Driving to your destination, not much conversation occurred on the way apart from when you first started Regina’s jeep up and her music what it was playing the last time the car was driven which ironically was Cardi B’s WAP. You look over to Regina with a questioning raised eyebrow, “A little on the nose don’t you think?”

Regina just scoffed at you “Oh please Loser, you. Fucking. Wish.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the road as you retorted “Eh sometimes if I’m horny enough” you mentally slap yourself for letting that slip, the plan of going into this friendship and not coming off as a complete simp for the blond just got thrown out the window. Well done.

Regina folded her arms, turning to you with the smug smile you know well, “Oh really? I’m starting to see where that compliment of telling me I’m beautiful came from. Which I totally agree with.” Stopping at a red light gave you the opportunity to give her a look that read oh please, “Hang on, I’m not the simp here! You started talking to me first, you were the one who came on to me and you were the one who kissed me! Might I add I didn’t say you were beautiful, I said the girls at the Plastics table were beautiful. PLURAL!” you defended.

Glancing at the traffic light, making sure it was still red, Regina leaned over to your side of the vehicle getting close to your face “And you enjoyed every second of it didn’t you Baby?” swiping her tongue over your lips to prove her point, making the smallest whimper escape your throat. Caught in a haze of the taste from Regina’s tongue to the smell of her perfume you were only brought back to reality when you hear the car behind you blare their horn, speeding off you give a ‘my bad’ wave which made Regina let out an evil chuckle which made your cheeks go red.

“Do you do that to all your friends?” she let out a throaty laugh that ran straight down to your now wet centre.

“Only the cute ones.” All you could do was shake your head.

Arriving at your destination Regina’s eyes zeroed in on the brightly coloured sign outside the facility “A Daycare? Don’t tell me you’re into that adult baby shit cause I’m so not down for that,” you get out of the car and walk to her side, opening her door for her offering your hand to her.

She takes your hand as you chuckle “God no. I’m kinky but not that kinky! Jesus!” she goes to say something but you cut her off before she can get a word out “Just, follow me.” You get an agitated huff for a response “oh stop complaining,” leading the way into the daycare, hearing Regina’s heels clop behind you.

Dodging your way through the running, screaming children, you look back when you reach the door to the small building only to see Regina a far way behind clutching her bag to her chest as if the little kids were notorious for mugging people, moving and avoiding them like they were rats or some kind of vermin “God let this nightmare end!”

“Hurry it up slow poke!” you mainly just said it to annoy her and on top of all the kids it worked to your delight.

“Listen you! It’s not easy to dodge running germ carriers in heels!”

You smile down to her when she finally reaches you “You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” “You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” she mimicked “Shut up!” you couldn’t help but laugh as

you open the door for her, “It’s not funny!”

“Eh it kinda is babe!” the nickname that slipped out made you both blush. It wasn’t till the

familiar face of Mrs. Bailey approaching you could you think of anything else.

“Miss Y/LN, so good to see you as always. How are you?” You smile back at the kind hearted woman,

“Hi Mrs. Bailey, I’m not bad thanks, always busy as usual.” The Daycare worker nodded along then turned to Regina.

“Oh this is a new face, Hi, I’m Mrs. Bailey, one of the care workers here,” she offered her hand to the blond.

"Regina George,” shaking the woman’s hand politely “I’m a...” she looked to you not exactly knowing how to finish her sentence.

“Friend! She’s a friend” first bullet dodged you think to yourself. You clear your throat “How was she today” you switch subjects quickly.

Mrs. Bailey glances behind her and lowers her voice “Well for most of it she was good, playing with the kids as usual with Alexander always with her.” You nod along as she informs you “It wasn’t till after lunch when we got the kids to do an activity of card making for Mother’s day next week did her mood really drop.”

You lift your hand to your forehead as you realise your grave error, “Oh damn, I completely forgot! I’ve been so busy with school exams and work, it completely slipped my mind!” your riddled with guilt as the shorter brunette gives you a look of sympathy.

“No one could blame, you’ve both been through a lot, she’s not angry but she’s definitely sad, she went over to the silent reading area with Alexander and has just been lying against him since. I had a go at talking with her but she didn’t take to it, so I thought it best to give her the space she needed till you got here.”

You place a thankful hand on the side of her arm “Thank you for telling me. Can I see her?” Mrs. Bailey started leading the way ��Of course”

Regina shifts her head up to you as you follow behind the brunette, “She really need a new

wardrobe!” she whispered to you,

“She’s just wearing jeans and a polo! It’s the uniform” you justify.

“Whatever it is it’s ugly,” Regina then looks you up and down “Actually you could probably

use a trip to the mall yourself.”

“Not all of us have rich parents to scab off Regina.” Just as she was about to retort you see

the familiar golden retriever laying down near some bean bags, head perking up and his tail starting to wag as he notices you, and the precious little brunette girl who you would gladly give your life for, cuddled up to him slowly patting his fur hiding her sad little face, not knowing of your presence you slowly walk up to her and crouch to her level, giving her pale pink dress a tug “Hey Princess,” your voice soft and warm.

The little girls head snaps up, turning to you “Sissy!” the little girl immediately wraps her little arms around your neck and you lift her up in your arms as you stand back to your full height, giving her kisses on the side of her head while slowly caressing her hair. “Mrs. Bailey told me you got a little sad after lunch today.” The little girl nodded and hugged your neck, “Aw Princess,” with her head laying on your shoulder she notices the new face standing beside you, her face lighting up.

“Sissy, it’s the Queen from your drawing!” pointing at Regina who held out her hands as if to say I didn’t do anything at first then placed them on her hips with a smug look.

“Well look who knows royalty when she sees it, little cutie.” The little brunette in your arms giggles, Regina getting a little closer to her and whispers “What’s your name Sweetheart?” being shy as she ever was though she just hid her little face into your shoulder but made sure she could still see Regina.

“This is Nina. My little sister.” You almost cried at how good Regina was with Nina, she was like a whole other person with her and it made your heart race.

“Nina. That’s such a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” Regina gently grabbed Nina’s little foot softly shaking it, “I’m Regina.”

Nina lifted her head up out of hiding and laid it on your shoulder looking still at the blond “Hi Wegina.” The moment Nina giggled made your questioning if it really was a good idea bringing Regina here to meet Nina was such a good idea disappear instantly. “Wegena?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Why do wou wike bees so much?” your face drops, uh oh.

Regina waved her hand around Nina “Okay one I am obsessed with her” Nina giggled

happily which made you smile, “two, what was that about bees?” making sure she kept a smile on her face even in her confusion.

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh “She’s asking why you like Bees so much, Queen BEE” you emphasised the last word hoping she’d catch on, no way were you going to explain to a four year old that Queen B meant Queen Bitch.

“Oh, um, you know what? Every bee hive has a Queen Bee and she gets to boss all the others bees around.” Regina lied but in a way she really wasn’t.

Little Nina’s jaw dropped in amazement “Even the boy bees?” she asks softly in her little voice that you adore.

Regina nodded. “Especially the boy bees” Nina squealed with delight at that decibel that made your ears ring making you scrunch your face up.

A loud bark voiced from Alexander grabbed your attention “Oh right, sorry bud. Regina this is Alexander.” The dog looked at her panting, Regina’s face fell to one of disgust “Um. Hello. Alexander.” She gave a little wave not wanting to get close.

You roll your eyes “Please don’t tell me you have a fear of dogs” Regina held up a hold on finger,

“No, no it’s any animal that carries god know what kind of germs on them and it’s not a fear it’s health self-awareness thank you very much.

You bop Nina gently soothing her... and yourself as you roll your eyes for the hundredth time that day, “argh okay, Alexander. Shake.” The Golden Retriever hearing your command held out his large paw for Regina to shake.

Regina crumbled like you knew she would, you could read her just as much as she could read you.

“Aww” Regina bent down to shake the dogs paw, letting him sniff her but not expecting the long lick he gave her cheek, “Oh ew, ew, ew!” and that was the end of that.

Nina cackled as Regina raced through her purse for antiseptic wipes, “So gross!” she complains wiping her cheek vigorously. Both you and Nina were laughing at the blond soon enough.

“Alexander is Nina’s emotional support animal.” Regina looked at the dog and pointed at him as she put two and two together “Oh!” drawing out the word “That makes sense.”

Nina couldn’t stop laughing “He’s my best friend” she announced proudly.”

Outside the daycare Nina held both your and Regina’s hand as you all walked to her car, “Okay so two options.” You announce “First, you join us for dinner in which case, can Alexander sit in your car with us? Or option two is we split ways here and Nina and I get an Uber home.” You wondered if inviting her for dinner was pushing things too far for your first day, but you couldn’t help but hope she says that she would, you’d understand if she didn’t of course but you couldn’t deny you’d be disappointed.

Regina put on an exaggerated thinking face obviously for Nina as the little girl looked up at her with big eyes, “What does Nina want me to do?” the question caught you off guard, Regina was amazing with Nina and you couldn’t deny that it was making you fall harder for her.

Nina didn’t even need to think about it “Come over! Come over!” bouncing on the spot excitedly.

Regina bent down and picked Nina up, “The Princess has spoken. I’ll just get the jeep detailed so it’s not a problem for Alexander to come in the car.” She says to you. You just looked at Regina with adoration. She put Nina down and started to walk to her car.

“Stop looking at me like that Dork” you grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks, her head whips to look at you, and before you over think it you kiss her on the cheek.

“Thank you Regina” her face went bright red and she just cleared her throat and continued on her way to her jeep.

This Regina George you’d happily let into your life.

Ch.03

@dandelions4us

#regina george x reader #lesbian #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #mean girls #masc lesbian

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minksstinks1 · 13 days ago

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(This is from my Ao3, 2,786 words)

Plot: Oneshot where you showed Bill how much you appreciate his work around the house with a little kiss, and he wants more, but doesn't know how to ask.

It had been a few months now since Bill was sentenced to work at the Mystery Shack for the rest of the house's days, or until the Pines family believed he had finally paid his debt, which you all had known wouldn't be anytime soon. You had been working at the Mystery Shack, and as a babysitter for the twins for a good 2 years now, luckily, not by force. That babysitter relationship soon turned into more of a friendly one, and now the Pines family had seen you as one of their own.

Bill, though, had been making progress. This progress was slow, but if you spent enough time around him, you would realize he was certainly improving every day.

He even stopped shouting less at the poor costumers who dared to ask him for assistance at work. It was a low bar, but it was still progress.

Soon, Bill started being allowed in the house. "Allowed" as in, he started letting himself in and they couldn't get him to leave. You eventually gave up and just let him sleep on the couch at night. Like a stray cat that came in, was fed once, and now refused to leave.

He even slept like a cat, too. Legs splayed out, on his side or stomach, stuff like that. Sometimes, you'd even watch him aleeping with his face on the pillow and his ass in the air, as if he was a cartoon character beat up and left for dead. It was ridiculous, but you all lived with it. It was very clear he still wasn't very used to this human body.

Though, being less evil didn't always include being less of an minor asshole. When Bill realized he could cause chaos without any magic, he was constantly pulling pranks as if he were some highschool bully. Shaken up sodas, banana peels on the floor, and also just straight up jumping put and scaring people. He would fall to the ground and laugh so hard it'd take atleast 15 minutes before he was able to calm down completely.

Though, at first, Bill found pain hilarious, that soon changed when he realized that humans actually need to HEAL from pain and he can't magically just wish himself better. He seemed to always be covered in bruises and scrapes; he was just completely uncoordinated in general. Though, it was pretty funny the first time he tried to run outside and slammed right into the glass storm door. You remembered being the one to fix up his bloody nose when that happened. He kept swiping you away and scratching at you to let him go while blood ran down his face, soaking into his shirt. Once you had finished cleaning his face off with a damp washcloth, he practically hissed and scattered off. Once again, cat.

Bill sat atop the fridge and watched you carefully and you started putting away the groceries you had just bought. Bill'a human for was relatively short, and since he had no magic to fix it, he was stuck at an unfortunate 5'5, making him shorter than all the adults. He liked getting on top of higher places to seem intimidating and watch his surroundings, but it didn't quite work, it was overall just kinda unusual.

Completely ignoring Bill's presence, you started mumbling under your breath and seperating items.

"Cake mix for Mabel, Raisin Bran for Stan, chips for Dipper, cake mix for Mabel, Pie slice for Ford, cake mix for Mabel- Jesus Christ,"

Though seeming excessive at first glance, that girl went through alot of cake mix.

Bill continued observing, not saying a word. He carefully watched your movements, memorizing them.

"Bill, you're being weird, go somewhere else," you began to shoo him away as you made you way over to the fridge. He simply stayed put and narrowed his eyes. You sighed and put the carton of milk away that you held in your hands.

"Well, did you get it?" He peered down at you.

You sighed and rumaged through the bag, putting out a small bag of flaming hot doritos. He jumped down from the top of the fridge, grabbed then from you and ran off. You sighed. "A 'Thank you' would be nice!"

Silence. Whatever, you weren't even sure he was eating them, just licking the flavor off and then touching everything with his grimy hands afterwards. Sometimes you'd catch him just staring at them like he was lost. "Did we forget how to eat again?" You'd tease, and he would growl and go somewhere else.

After putting away the rest of the groceries, you went to go relax finally, sitting down to watch a ducktective reruns. You began to doze off, and before you realized, you were fast asleep.

A few hours later, you woke up to Bill poking at your face. He was staring right down at you. You sat up, startled.

"Haha! Thought you really kicked the bucket there for a second, fleshie!" Bill spoke, straightening up.

You groaned and sat up. You rubbed your eyes and exhaustedly looked up at the yellow bastard. He always wore this sweater Mabel made him. It was a yellow with a traingle in the middle, which was colored slightly darker. He tended to forget to throw it in the wash, which made him very avoidable due to his gross appearance. His hair was black with a yellow fade to it, and the normally whites of his eyes beared a bright yellow. He was skinnier, almost sickly (atleast more than normal), when he first turned into a human-thing, but he eventually started to gain more weight and was now a bit bigger than average,

You liked him that way,

You couldn't deny Bill was slightly endearing. You liked taking care of him and seeing his progress. You're lucky he couldn't read minds anymore, or else you wouldn't hear the end of it. You liked to tease him because he got all red and angry, it was pretty cute.

Bill wasn't very used to nice touches. Yeah, he'd wrap his arm around someone or push them over as a triangle, but he couldn't exactly feel them. It was different now that he had a physical form and skin. Sometimes you'd lightly touch his arm to get his attention or pit yoir uand on his shoulder. He wasn't apposed, but it definitely started and confused him. He wouldn't really but sure of what to do so he'd stand their awkwardly. The only time he'd return these gestures was in the form of mild violence. "Mild" as in swatting.

Though Bill used to have all the knowledge in the world, it was different now and stuff he didn't know confused him. As a being of pure energy, the way his brain worked was like a file cabinet. All the information of the world was right at his finger tips, but he'd have to actually look at the "files" to retain the information. As a human, he only remembers what he, one, lived through, and two, already looked into and learned about. He had no interest in human behavior and affection, so he never really looked into it and learned the behaviors. When Bill was hugged for the first time, he held his breath and was practically shaking after. He didn't hate them, but didn't really get it or know what was going on.

Today, Bill was incredibly bored. Nothing good was on and there was nobody home. It was rare to leave Bill at home by himself, but he's been better about not breaking stuff recently.

As he laid upside down in Stan's chair, he huffed and sunk to the floor, messing up his shoulder length hair. He got up and just went to the kitchen to go eat someone else's food. He realized how filthy it had been and squinted, feeling mild disgust. Ironic. He took the nearby broom and started sweeping the floors. When he started being forced to work at the Mystery Shack, he picked up the cleaning thing pretty quickly. Though he always complained he had to do it, he was actually pretty good at it. He often picked up things quickly.

He wiped down the counters, put extra food away, and even did the dishes in the sink. The bleach smells of the cleaning products made him wince, but he powered through. After an hour and a half, the kitchen had looked much better than originally, and he was relatively proud of himself. He stood back with his hands on his hips, and suddenly, the door swung open. He jumped and looked back to see you standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." You said, making your way into the kitchen. The bleach smell hit your nose immediately and you stopped. "Why does it smell like bleach in here?" Your brain went to the worst case scenario, thinking Bill might've decided to drink it for some reason other than just oure curiosity.

"I was bored and cleaned, haha, pretty good job if I do say so myself! Better than any of you could've done!" He sneered.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on your face. "You DID do a pretty good job here, Bill."

Suddenly, you had an idea and smirked harder. You walked over to Bill, held the side of his face, and planted a kiss right on his forehead, "Thank you for doing all this."

Bill stumbled back, shocked, and stammered, "W-w-w-" his face grew red and he was mildly annoyed at that fact. He had a mildly pissed off look on his face as he avoided eye contact with you. He turned around and placed his hands on the counter, visibly trembling a bit.

"Y-Yeah, it was a simple and mindless task. Even an idiot could do it!" He spoke through labored breaths, "Not sure w-why people are always complaining about cleaning, you can leave now!"

You laughed to yourself and sauntered out of the kitchen.

That night, Bill laid on the couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling for hours. He couldn't deny he liked that intense form of affection towards him, but he had never felt or experienced something like that before. His stomach felt fluttery and it pissed him off. He buried his face into a pillow. He never wanted to see your stupid face again.

He'd hope you'd kiss him a second time soon.

That morning, after not sleeping for even a minute, Bill got up early and jumped to sweeping the halls, dusting the artifacts, and cleaning the paintings. He worked quickly, and not so quietly. He finished right as you'd gotten up. Walking out of your bedroom, you were greeted by Bill gathering his cleaning supplies.

"What're you doing, Bill?" You spoke, groggily.

"You know, just making this hellhole of a house look a little bit more presentable. I wouldn't be surprised if no one had dusted in here since the 80s, aha!" He laughed in that stupid mocking tone he always uses.

He stood infront of you, grinning, and placed his hands behind his back.

"Hm, well that's nice. Thank you, Bill." You muttered tiredly before walking to the kitchen.

He frowned and slumped down, defeatedly. He angrily threw the rag down he had used for cleaning onto the ground and stormed off. He'd have to try harder.

Later on, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on your phone when you were suddenly startled by Bill plugging in the vacuum and hastily moving it across the rug. He was acting like a mother who feels like she has to clean the whole house before the housekeeper comes over so she doesn't embarrass herself.

"Bill can you do that later!?" You shouted. He turned off the vacuum and looked over, "Well SOMEONE has to do it!" He proclaimed before going right back to cleaning. You covered your ears from the sound and left to the outside. He growled to himself and threw the vacuum down.

About 20 minutes later, he came back and bitterly finished vacuming.

Bill continued doing more chores around the house that nobody asked him to do across the week, but he simply did just to get your attention. Raking the leaves, though Mabel jumped into the large pile right after, doing the laundry, cleaning out the fridge, wiping the windows, he was pretty burnt out afterwards.

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but you did a good job, Cipher." Stan sat at the tabel and sipped his coffee. Bill didn't care, he didn't care what Stan or anyone else thought, just you. Stand soon left after to go tend to the shop. Bill eagerly waited for you to come back home.

"Did you clean the windows, Bill?" You smiled.

"Of course I did, I seem to be the only one that ever does anything around here!" He nonchalantly leaned against the countertop, holding back a smirk.

"You've been so helpful lately Bill, thank you again." You lightly laughed and qalked past him. He clenched his fists at your reaction- which was barely one at that.

You grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and turned around, just to be greeted by Bill.

"Jesus!- sorry Bill, you scared me." You stepped around him and closed the fridge door.

"Is there something you're missing?" He slyly spoke.

"I don't think so?" You cocked your head to the side, confused. "You've been acting differently lately, is there something up?"

"Haha! Maybe you're going crazy, I'm the same old Bill as always!" He held his own hands together and grinned.

Now you were kinda freaked out. Was he planning something? Did he plant a trap that would dump or cover you in something?

"Alright then..." You hesitatanly walked around him and looked over your shoulder as you retreated to your room.

Bill felt his eye twitch his pure frustration. Why. Wasn't. It. WORKING. Who did you think you were?? Ignoring him like that and acting like he hadn't practically just been a housewife for the past week just for you!

Before you could reach for your doorknob, Bill tugged at your shirt. You jumped a bit and turned back at him. He looked at you like you had just told him the worst thing you could think of.

"Alright, that's it! I've been nothing but nice and THIS is what I get in return!?" He shouted.

"I don't understand... what's got you acting so weird lately?" You gently spoke.

"Ohhhh NOW you care. Hah! Well it doesn't matter anyways, I'll leave all the chores to you bozos from now on!" He crossed his arms and turned away. "Yep! Don't go crying to Bill when you can't get your countertop to shine like I made it!"

You were confused and a bit scared at all his yelling. You didn't know what had got him so heated.

"Bill... I'm sorry if I made you feel unappreciated, I really am happy with all you've done around here..." you looked down at him, sadly.

"Yeah!? Well prove it, meatsack!" He threw his arms up in there, letting them drop at his sides moments later.

Then, it clicked in your head. You knew what he was looking for, what he wanted.

"Ohh, Bill..." you bent down and gently grabbed the sides of his face and gave him a kiss right on his forehead, just like before. But you didn't stop there, you began to firmly plant kisses all over his tan face with exaggerated "mwa!" Sounds.

face flushed a deep color. He didn't know what to do or where to put his hands so he stayed as still as a statue as you kept kissing him all over his face. He was completely embarrassed, but never protested once, he would never even think of it. You planted one last long kiss on his lips and straightened back up.

"You're so adorable, y'know?" You giggled and then opened the door to your room. "Goodnight, Bill" you softly concluded before closing your door behind you, but not before giving him one last pleased look over your shoulder.

He stood there completely baffled, lip gloss marks peppering his entire face. He relaxed his muscle and slightly slouched, still staring wide-eyed at your bedroom door. He brought his hands up to his face, they were a cold contrast to his heated skin.

Still shocked, he walked off into the living room and laid down onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He held his fluttering-feeling stomach. He might have to find something else to clean tomorrow.

#bill x reader #bill cipher x reader #bill cipher #gravity falls #slightly ooc #fluff #oneshot #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls oneshot

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 8 months ago

Text

supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping.

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle.

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning.

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list.

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together.

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more.

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.”

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?”

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him.

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet.

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

#nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine

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frannyzooey · 1 year ago

Text

The Dinner

Marcus Moreno x f!college reader

The Secret Universe

Rating: Explicit, Daddy Kink™ (seriously, like a lot)

A/N: I have many people to thank for this one: @imaswellkid @the-ginger-hedge-witch @whatsnewalycat @obiknights and the amazing @the-scandalorian - every single one of them gave me the most amazing advice, but also gave me endless reassurance when I needed it, and I could never thank them enough. Sometimes it really takes a village ❤

“How is stats this semester? Need any help?”

You take a slow sip of your ice water, listening.

“It’s okay,” Missy replies. “Better, now that I signed up for tutoring during my free period, which — “ she points her fork at her father, who currently has a slightly smug expression on his face, “— totally sucks. I know you said it would help, and it did, but at what cost, dad?”

His shoulders move as he huffs a laugh and he pokes around his dinner plate, spearing some roasted broccoli. Shrugging, he glances at you. “Is a couple of hours a week impacting your guys' social life that bad?”

“No, sir,” you answer with a polite smile.

The title slips off your tongue with ease, and his playful expression falters for a moment.

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair. “That’s what I thought.”

He takes a swallow of his water — a small sip, then a larger one — and the three of you continue to eat.

The dining room where you sit is seldom used, but cozy. The lighting dim but inviting, the sparse surface of the table lends it a more formal appearance and you think about how much you would have preferred to eat at the table in the kitchen. The one you passed earlier, cluttered with mail, magazines, keys, and other things that never really have any other home than a flat surface in the kitchen.

Eating there would have made you feel more at ease. Eating here makes you feel more like a guest. And with Marcus at the head of the table, the formality of the seating arrangement pulls at you: a constant reminder of who he is.

Forks slide against plates, glasses being set down with a muted thud on the wooden surface of the table and when Missy reaches for another bread roll, a glance over at him has you noticing his body language.

He’s looking everywhere but you – at a painting on the wall, at his half eaten plate, at the condensation gathering on his glass. He lets his hand rest around the glass, his thumb swiping through the water and a thrumming, heady pulse that Missy seems oblivious to grows until it fills the space between your chairs.

Swallowing, you place your elbow on the table near his own. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and his attention turns back to Missy.

“What else is new?” he asks. “I never hear from you anymore. The room still okay? The bed still make that funny noise?”

Missy frowns, holding a bite of chicken aloft in front of her mouth. “How did you know about that?”

Marcus sits up straight, shifting again in his chair and opening his mouth as if getting ready to speak, but Missy interrupts him.

“Oh yea, it was there on move in day,” she remembers. “Whatever. No, we got that tool kit out that you gave me at the beginning of the year and fixed it yesterday. A real girl boss moment.”

She looks over at you and grins, and you return it despite the rapid beat of your heart.

“Yea,” you add, not allowing your eyes to stray from her face. “You killed it.”

You can feel his eyes on you, aware out of the corner of your eye how they slide down your frame and back up again. Whether he’s conscious of it or not, he’s been doing it all night and you want nothing more than to return the look, but you don’t.

“You ladies have any plans for the weekend?” Marcus asks.

Missy nods, excitement filling her eyes. “Yea, I think so? I got laundry and stuff to catch up on, but there is this party tomorrow night I wanna go to. I got a text about it earlier, I think it’s around 8ish?”

A small frown appears between Marcus’s brows. “Where’s it at? Around here?”

“Yea, I think so? I’m not really sure. I’ll have to look up the address or something.”

He doesn’t like that answer, you can tell by the way his frown doesn’t go away and you chance a peek at his face while he’s distracted. A pulsing beat gathers between your thighs, at both the sternness of his expression but also the care behind it.

“Well,” he continues, taking another bite of dinner. “Let me know, okay? I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

“Dad,” Missy playfully whines. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out under the table and when one of his knees knocks into yours, you still.

His eyes glance down, a short, apologetic smile showing briefly in your direction but he doesn’t move it. It stays there, his leg shifting just enough to press against yours with intent and as the dinner goes on, you resist the urge to smile.

–

You met them both for the first time on move-in day.

Cars lined along the driveway to the dorms with their trunks crammed full of new bedding and boxes and the bare essentials for kitchens and showers, you noticed them right away.

Missy, true to the picture she emailed you weeks ago when introducing herself as your new roommate, and Marcus, when he stepped around the side of the car to open the trunk. Close-cropped dark hair shone browner in the sun, the strands neatly combed into place, yet slightly curled with the humidity. His shirt stretched tight across his wide shoulders, tucked neatly into dress pants that fit him perfectly. The fabric pulled across his back when he leaned forward to reach in for the first boxes and when Missy shouted your name, he turned around.

You had to pull your eyes away from his face to greet her with a shy smile.

He stuck around the entire morning – making sure the lofts were set up correctly, helping move furniture, his kind, good humored eyes on his daughter as he took in her first day at college. He offered to take the two of you out to lunch in celebration, but before you could reply, Missy shooed him away.

“We’re gonna go grab a coffee or something. Get to know each other. You can get outta here, dad. Thanks for the help.”

You could tell she genuinely meant it, but the paltry thanks wasn’t enough in your opinion. He had already done more than your parents had ever done for you, and you wondered what it was like to grow up in a house where it happened so often you took it for granted. Your parents hadn’t even bothered to give you a ride on your first day, you had taken the bus with your meager boxes.

He humored her, giving her a soft smile and when he turned to say goodbye to you, you made sure to hold his gaze when you thanked him.

“Not a problem,” he replied sincerely. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

–

The two of them clear the plates while you grab what you can from the table, and it’s apparent that they have their own shorthand method of communication with each other. She clears, he starts the dishwater. She empties scraps into the trash to stack plates neatly by the sink, and when you help her, his eyes linger on your mouth when he turns to say thank you.

A routine that had never taken place in your own home, you revel in the roles everyone plays. The comfort of them, the domesticity. You imagine the two of them doing this every night before Missy left for college, and the mental image of Marcus standing at the sink with his t-shirt stretched over the strong muscles of his back warms you from the inside out. Even more when you think about him reminding Missy to clear her place, or asking her what she wants in her lunch tomorrow.

The qualities of a dad: one who does because he cares, but also guides.

Done clearing, Missy leaves the room, the telltale sound of the washer door opening down the hall, and Marcus stills at the sink, listening.

“Listen, don’t jam it all in there like last time, okay?” he warns, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “You can do more than one load. No rush, Missy, okay?”

“Yea, yea, I got it,” she yells back, and he sighs, shaking his head. You meet his eye in a knowing look, and the corner of his lips pulls up in a rueful smile.

“She almost broke it last time, trying to fit about a month of clothes in all at once.”

You laugh, and nod. “She does that at the dorm too.”

He shakes his head, pushing his hands into the water.

“You don’t need to use those machines — either of you. You’re always welcome to come over and do it here,” he offers, searching in the sudsy water for a plate. Finding it, he begins scrubbing it with a rag. “Either of you. Even if she can’t come, you can.”

A pause.

“Anytime you want.”

The invitation hangs between the two of you in the silence, and you keep your eyes on his forearms as they flex above the suds. A sudden, unbidden image of them flexing between your thighs flashes through your mind, the weight of his fingers felt inside you.

His voice lowers. “We could even plan it that way, so we don’t have to keep…“

He gives you a knowing look, and guilt gnaws at you as you listen to Missy hum in the next room.

“It’s not that I don’t want that,” you explain, your voice keeping quiet. “I just don’t want…” Uncertainty flashes across your features and when you look up, you find that he’s already looking at you.

“Don’t want what?” he asks.

Unsure how to put your fear into words, you hesitate. Moving your meetings to his house somehow makes them more of an offense in your mind. In the space he shares with his daughter; their family home.

The duality of the man standing next to you has been messing with you all night: the Marcus that stands beside you now versus the Marcus that you know. The unassuming, kind face of a good father masking the hooded lust you know his eyes contain. The strength held in his arms when he takes the trash out; the flex of them under your bare knees when he spreads you wide. His plush bottom lip in a soft smile for his daughter; the same pressing against your skin, your mouth, between your legs.

A secret shadow follows him around constantly, fleeting slices of the man you know appearing if you watch him long enough. His throaty laugh, the spread of his thighs on the couch, the flex of his jaw.

Seeing him here in his kitchen or at the head of the dining room table has the men merging in your mind despite your ability, until now, to keep them separate. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, thinking.

“Don’t want what?” he repeats, softer this time, tenderness curling around the words and you’re about to answer when Missy walks back into the kitchen.

“Hey, you don’t have to help him with that. I got it.”

He stands taller, shifting away from you and you back up from the sink, making room for her. She immediately scoops a delicate mound of bubbles and flicks them at Marcus, laughing when he grimaces with a chuckle. The teasing makes you smile.

He’s so good with her — so patient, and kind, and attentive. So genuinely invested in her answers in a way you’d never experienced, and though you are happy for your best friend in that she has such a doting parent, you’d be lying if you said a little jealousy never crept into your heart when you watched them.

Not because you wanted either of them to choose you, but because they so clearly had each other. Someone to depend on; a traditional parental/child relationship full of trust and respect and love.

You watch them for a moment as they work in tandem, their mannerisms similar from behind.

“I’m gonna take a shower before bed,” you announce, and excusing yourself from the room, you leave them to finish the dishes.

—

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Down the hall from his room and across from Missy’s, the guest bedroom door clicks shut quietly in the dark. The shuffle of sheets whispering as you shift to make room for him in the bed, the mattress dips when he joins you, the heat of his body felt close. His hands reach for you, pulling you closer and there are no other words spoken as his mouth meets yours, deepening the kiss immediately.

His tongue slides against your own, your taste familiar and maddeningly addictive, and he groans deeply into it, rolling you onto your back.

Beneath the solid weight of his body is your favorite place – secure, safe, desired, wanted. Trapped between the soft bed and the scent of his warm skin, his mouth takes and takes and takes from yours until you’re drunk with arousal beneath him, wanting to stay there forever.

“I wanted you so bad at dinner,” he breathes in a low confession. “So fucking bad, even when you walked through the door.”

Every one of his words is matched with a weighted grind of his hips into the cradle of your thighs, and you roll right back against him, a soft sound catching in your throat at the delicious pressure. There is something that makes you weak about his voice in general, but when he swears – especially in his desperation to express how much he’s wanted you – it lights a path straight from your ears to your center; need blooming fierce and bright.

You would tell him how much you thought about him just as much if his mouth didn’t immediately cover yours again, and pushing your fingers through his close-cropped dark hair, you match his urgency. Your knees hitch higher around his broad torso, your thighs tightening with every flex of your hips up and the stiff length of his cock underneath his sleep pants fits perfectly along the damp seam darkening your underwear.

You can feel the thick ridge of it, aching for the filling heft as he grinds his hips against you again and again, and whimpering for more underneath him, the words slip out.

“Please, daddy.”

He stills for a split second, breaking the kiss as a shudder slips through him and a wash of embarrassed heat floods your face, but it’s quickly replaced with arousal when he groans as if in pain, his furrowed brow pressed into the plane of your chest.

His hand splays against your side to keep you in place with a pained press of his fingers. “Jesus Christ, baby, you can’t — you can’t say things like that. Please. Please.”

“But I want it,” you whisper.

You do. You’ve wanted it ever since you met him, just knowing by looking at him that he would give you what you need. So thoughtful, so considerate and kind, so attentive and warm but also very much a man – a handsome, understated man with needs that showed clear on his face every time you met him after that first time.

The second, third, fourth time you met him, the flicker of interest in his dark brown eyes.

The magnetic, heady pulse of attraction that filled the small room when he showed up once while Missy was at class.

The lunch that he invited you to instead of her, and the undivided attention he gave you from across the table. The way he reminded you to buckle your seatbelt, and the way you leaned over and kissed him when he waited a beat too long reluctantly saying goodbye outside your dorm, on the street.

That first, tentative kiss after he followed you back to your room at the reassurance Missy had classes that afternoon, and the frown furrowed between his brows, both at how wrong it was to want this and relief at finally giving in.

The soft cotton of your sheets sliding against your bare back, the way his body seemed too big for the narrow twin.

His giving mouth, soothing guidance rumbled in his deep voice.

Something that’s taken root in your mind with every time he brings you to bed, you don’t know how else to describe how you want to be tucked into his side to be made felt safe and secure, while also fucked deep into the mattress until you’re sobbing with fullness.

Being here with him has made the need for it unbearable, and what you do know is that no matter what you want, he’ll give it to you.

Your confession is a quiet one that lingers in the air and he looks up, his doleful, brown eyes finding yours. They stay there, searching for the truth and when he finds it in your slightly ashamed expression, he pulls himself up until you are face to face.

“Yea?” he asks, soothing stray hairs at your temple. “You want a daddy?”

The word gives him pause, but his cock hardens painfully against the cool sheets and when you nod, the vulnerability shown on your face is so open that he finds himself mirroring it, wanting to soothe.

He not only understands but wants, so very badly.

“Okay, okay,” he agrees. The tension in your body drains as you soften underneath him; pliant and moldable for his needs. “Say it again, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whisper in a relieved rush, your plush lips parting only just.

His hooded eyes watch the word slip from your mouth, and his thumb skates along the plump cushion of your bottom lip, before pushing just inside. He slides his thumb over the wet muscle of your tongue, letting you suck on it.

Bright need swells and aches between his thighs, your soft, lush skin slipping against his as you squirm in need underneath him and he slips his thumb from your mouth before pressing his lips to yours with a rough kiss.

Desperate to feel the clutch of your tight, wet cunt, he reaches down to open you up for him, his hand slipping beneath your panties and his fingers sliding with a familiar swipe through your soaked curls. He finds the dip where you need him most, your arousal soaking the pads of his competent touch and his breathing quickens, his eyes flitting between your face and his cotton covered hand.

The same fingers that made dinner, that queued up the movie, that clasped under his chin when he listened to Missy talk. The same ones that held the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove you to the store.

They’ve slid into your mouth before, and then your cunt. Brushed against the puckered rim of your asshole, swirled with divine pressure over your clit, and filled you to the brim until you cried out, your cunt a snug slip around them.

Two fill you now with an urgent slide, the action making him swallow the soft catch of your whine and the ease in which he slips them in and out is aided by how wet and ready you are for him.

Always so wet; his perfect girl.

“When you called me ‘sir’ at the dinner table,” he pants, nuzzling the bridge of his nose along your jaw as he looks down at his hand. Your thighs open wider for him, and you softly moan, chasing the thick fill of his fingers. “I almost fucking lost it. So sweet. So sweet, baby.”

“Just – just for you.” Your brow furrowed in pleasure, you chase what he’s building inside you, your small hand slipping down to cover his larger one. Your fingers push over his, guiding him as if he needs it, and the both of you get lost in the slick, consuming motion; his eyes glued on your parted mouth. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to say it. The daddy thing, I –”

“Don’t be sorry. No, fuck. Don’t be sorry, baby. I wanna hear it. I want it.”

His soothing words wash over you, your cunt accepting him deeper as he adds a third finger and before he gives you time to adjust, he’s slipping them from your wet heat, sliding them into his mouth with a suck. He groans with a frown, his lashes dark against his face as his eyes flutter shut and he shifts abruptly down the bed.

His fingers grip the band of your underwear and tug them roughly down your legs before the width of his shoulders forces your knees apart. The heat of his mouth felt in a humid gust against your spread, bared seam, he tugs you tight to his face, and the emptiness left by the sudden absence of his fingers is immediately replaced with his thick, eager tongue.

“Marcus!”

His whiskered cheeks brushing roughly against the tender skin on the inside of your thighs, he devours your cunt, his back flexing as he nearly pushes you up the bed in his hunger if not for the way his hands curl around the top of your thighs to hold you in place.

“Shhh, baby. Shhh,” he reminds you, and you let out a quiet sob, clasping your hand over your mouth.

He’s so much, a sensory overload being amplified by the darkness around you: the needy grip of his large hands, the slick slide of his tongue, the muffled groans he’s letting out between your legs.

“You taste so good, baby,” he breathes, his mouth dragging damply over the inside of your thigh with a thick kiss before he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. He slides it from side to side with pressure, a motion that makes you bow off the bed.

Mindless with pleasure, you’re overcome with the need to anchor yourself to something — the direct attention is so much, too much — and your hands fist the sheets, your back arching.

“I washed it just for you, daddy.”

You should be embarrassed but all traces of shame are turned to cinder the second he groans deep and loud, the sound muffled by the way he immediately buries his face with an open mouthed kiss. It’s messy and decadent, his tongue pushing inside you and then it swipes lower.

Your hips jolt up to meet it; his low, satisfied groan sounding between your cheeks.

“Fuck,” you whine, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tight ring of muscle before he flattens it to lick a wide, wet stripe from the seam of your ass all the way to your clit. Another one, before he gives your soaked entrance a hungry kiss and the pressure of his face being buried so deep makes you grind against him, your hips moving in time with his, as he seeks his own relief against the sheets.

“I’m gonna — I’m gonna fucking come. Daddy, you’re gonna make me come.”

It’s a plea if he’s ever heard one, and he zeroes his focus in on your clit — circling it with his tongue before giving it a light suck. He keeps going as you thread your fingers into his hair with a tug, keeps going as you press your lips together to try to stifle your moans, and keeps going when your thighs tense around his cheeks and you come with a breathless whimper; his tongue swiping hungrily through the salt of your release.

All tension in your body gone, he kisses a path slowly up your body while you lay and catch your breath – up over the top of your thigh, the rounded curve of your hip, the soft, plush underside of your breast.

He cradles you to his chest, tugging you onto your side as his mouth drags along the line of your neck. He kisses a path over the skin and your hips shift, seeking his out. He can feel you squirming, looking for relief and bellies together, he rolls you onto your back, your hands working together to push his pajama bottoms down and off.

Your touch is back to frantic as he pulls from your mouth, his hands cradling the sides of your head to keep you in place as he gets his fill and you wind your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push inside.

He does – a motion that makes your moan get lost underneath his deeper one – and the snap of his hips is immediate and hard, the filling weight of his cock pushing the air from your lungs.

His lips kiss your closed eyelids, his tongue sweeping over the salt rimmed lashes where a tear lingers and his mouth finds the fragrant, soft skin below your ear. His lips press against it, his mustache tickling you, the roll of his hips never ceasing.

“You’re being so good for daddy. So good.”

Your eyes open and find his, and he throbs with how sincerely vulnerable you look underneath him right now, desperate to know you’re being good.

“You’re such a good girl. Always letting me fuck you the way I want. Always letting me take care of you, like you take care of me.” His lips find the corner of your mouth, the delicacy of the kiss in contrast with the way you have to dig your nails into his broad back to hang on as he fucks you harder and he pulls back just enough to look at your face.

“You’re so good, aren’t you, baby. Aren’t you.”

It’s not a question for you to answer, but rather a statement he needs you to confirm and you nod, a tiny frown of pleasure appearing between your brows as you shift rhythmically underneath him.

“My baby,” he murmurs, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. “My baby.”

Your hand trails down the line of his spine and splays over his tailbone, sweat beading along the skin as he fills, fills, fills and you widen your thighs, digging your fingers into the swell of his ass to force him deeper.

“Please, daddy. Please.”

His hips shift into a slow, weighted grind when you beg using those words. He never pulls all the way out, rather forcing himself so deep into the heart of you that you tremble with the need to come underneath him.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So pretty when you’re gonna come.”

His praise fills you with light from the inside out, pouring out through your sweat damp skin where it’s flush with his own and another tear slips free; your release both a bright, shining edge that he’s guiding you towards and a strong, powerful current that threatens to pull you under.

“Give it to me.”

His voice is husky and strained, a quiet plea for you to let go and when you do with a silent cry, the deep dimpled smile on his face is a proud one, equal parts awe and lust.

He follows shortly after, the tight, wet clutch of your cunt too much for him – but it’s your relieved face that makes him spend every ounce inside you with slow, smooth strokes until there is nothing left. You look so light underneath him, so content and drowsy and drunk with relief.

He can’t help himself when he bends to kiss the tear track that runs over your temple, giving you another kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“So good. You were so good.”

You’re so spent you can’t even kiss him back, rather letting him gently nudge you to meet his mouth and even then you let him take what he needs from your kiss swollen lips, opening up for him when his mouth demands it.

Eventually he shifts, just enough to settle beside you rather than on top, but you automatically follow the heat of his body, curling into his chest.

“There’s, uh —” he starts, closing his eyes. You watch the thud of his pulse under the tanned skin of his neck. He licks his plush lips, trying to catch his breath. “There’s milk and cereal — or eggs, if you want those in the morning. I didn’t know what you guys would want, so I —“

Your quiet laugh stops him and he looks down at you, smiling when he sees your expression.

“Are you really telling me about my breakfast options, like some kinda guest?”

“Yea, I guess I am,” he grins. “But you are a special guest in this house,” he replies, tugging you closer. His mouth finds the curve of your collarbone, his smile felt against the skin there. “Especially for me.”

“Guests really get the full treatment here, huh,” you tease. “Dinner, laundry, breakfast, their ass eate—“

You can almost feel his blush in the dark, his fingers immediately digging into your side to stop your sentence, and your stifled giggles fill the dark room but he doesn’t let up until you’re squirming underneath him, breathlessly begging him to stop.

“What?” you laugh, trying to keep quiet. “I liked that part of the turn down service.”

He grins, the knowing smile of a pleased man who is well aware he did good. He leans in, putting his mouth by your ear.

“Good to know. Maybe tomorrow the service will include it again.” He pulls back and winks, leaning back in to give you a quick, full kiss.

“I wish I could stay, but I better get back to my room.”

“I know.”

“See you in the morning?” he asks, so soft and mussed and hopeful yet grown; his voice low and husky. His eyes are soft with affection, his unwavering gaze showing that he genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay before he leaves.

His hand cradles the curve of your cheek, his thumb swiping along the line of your cheekbone and you tilt to press a kiss against the heel of it. Relief like you haven’t ever known floods through you, but more than that is what you feel underneath that earnest gaze.

Safe, secure. In both yourself, and what you mean to him.

“Yea. See you in the morning.”

He smiles, bending to place a delicate, warm kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

You sigh with contentment.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno/you #marcus moreno/reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x reader

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moralesluvr · 1 year ago

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Helloooo can you please do a hobie x reader where the reader is really shy and gets embarrassed easily so hobie loves to take advantage of that? Maybe like that bit where she’s like “sorry I’m late I was doing stuff.” Then the guy is like “I’m stuff” and just cute stuff like that lol

don't be shy ft. hobie brown

♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x shy!black!fem!reader ♡ summary: your boyfriend loves to make fun of you being shy, but you know that he always has your back. ♡ warnings: mentions/implied sex, uhhh suggestive comments, think thats it? ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! this was super cutesy ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

“OH MY GOSH, ARE WE LATE?” You question your boyfriend, looking at the clock that’s resting on your dresser. You perked up, flipping onto your side to tap Hobie on the shoulder, “Wake up!”

You feel the covers shift underneath you as he groans, “Mm, love— what time is it?”

“It’s nearly nine.” You said, disbelief and regret lacing your voice. Hobie’s arms outstretch wide, reaching for your nude waist, “Why don’t we just stay in bed, hm?”

You gave him a playful slap as you sprung out of bed, quickly grabbing a big t-shirt off of Hobie’s off the floor and sliding it over your head, “We hardly have any time to get ready, we gotta go.”

Hobie grunts of annoyance fill your ears, but you just ignore them as you quickly rush to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face. You frantically look at your phone to see what time it was, and you were practically late. You had about five minutes to leave the house and get over to HQ, or Miguel and Jessica would be more than upset. You sighed, webbing your suit over to you and quickly putting it on. You grabbed a jacket and a pair of your converse and slipped them on, slicking your curls back into a bun quickly. “Hobie, baby, we have to go!”

You swipe your keys in your pocket, even though you’re not driving— and wait for Hobie by the open front door. He strides over to you slowly, rubbing the sleep out his eyes, “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You hun through flatlined lips. Hobie grabs you by your waist as you both shut the door behind you. You hold onto him as you swing over to HQ, the wind blowing through your dark curls as you smile. Sometimes, if it was early or if people weren’t around, you loved to swinging without your mask— it made you feel alive. Free.

You finally arrived at the doors of HQ, a terrified heartache resting in your chest. You were extremely nervous to meet eyes with the rest of your team…especially walking in with Hobie. Everyone knew a little something was going on, but no one knew that you were and have been official.

Hobie’s hand slides into yours as he squeezes, the doors opening, “You’re okay.”

You hum in response as you step through, the entire team’s eyes landing on you and your boyfriend. You look up at him with worried eyes, then back at them, “H-Hi. I’m sorry I’m—well, we’re late, I…um…I was doing stuff.”

“I’m stuff.” Hobie almost snorts, but you feel your cheeks quickly warm at the amount of embarrassment that you’re going through. You give him stern eyes, then you look down as you hear chuckles from Jessica and Peter, while Miles and Gwen just exchange funny looks. The others are covering their faces in attempt not to laugh.

“He’s kidding..” You say, squeezing his hand, “Just jokes. I have to…use the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

You let go of Hobie’s hand and walk into the hallway, hearing his footsteps full of bass as they follow behind you. You learn against a wall, and he walks in front of you with an apologetic look on his face. “Love, ‘m sorry, alright? I was just chattin’…all jokes, promise.” He assures you, hand cupping your cheek as he leaves a blossom of affection on your lips. You sigh against him, “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. They know It’s always all jokes.” He reminds you with a smile, “And I didn’t technically lie— I am stuff.”

“Okay, Hobie.” You blush and slap his chest playfully, “You’re lucky I won’t embarrass you instead.”

He hums, “And how would you do that?”

“Y’know, I’m stuff too.” You giggle, giving him a kiss to his lips as you leave, walking back into the room.

“You better not!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🎸: @lipstickstainedshells // @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @leycondones // @allex560 // @mhadnirb // @pixqlsin // @maya-custodios-dionach // @smolmoonbabey // @Iris-theflower // @kala2022 // @spiderpunkss // @milesmolasses // @flatbread-or-smth

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createdbytragedy · 6 months ago

Text

LITTLE ACTS OF LOVE

Pairing: TXT OT8 x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Established relationship, angst (if you squint)

Synopsis: Just how each of them show their love towards you even when you're not around

CHOI SOOBIN "Everything reminds me of you" When he has to go away for tours and he knows he won't be able to be with you for a long while, Soobin is hesitant to let go. Every single time. He was so used to your presence that your absence felt as clear as ice on skin. The first thing he felt in the mornings were the absence of your warmth against his body. The empty side of the bed would make him frown as soon as he was out of slumber. His morning starts with craving your morning kisses, the way you sleepily roll over to wake him up with that sexy ,groggy, morning voice of yours. He wanted you here so bad right now. He sat up after sending you a good morning text and a long paragraph on how much he misses you. Taking his coffee reminded of you. He remembers the way you liked your coffee. He wanted to be with you, make you breakfast as you got over your morning routine together. But, oh well, just a few more months to go. Being apart always makes Soobin more observant. Every where he looked, there was always something holding a resemblance to you. Whether it was the smell of coffee, roses, dogs and cats or at times, random women on the streets who had hair similar to yours. In conclusion, Soobin starts to hallucinate when you're away. All the people surrounding him can see the longing in his eyes just waiting for the day he could swipe you off your feet and hear your laughter echoing in the house. CHOI YEONJUN "I bring a piece of you wherever I go" It was always the small item that he could carry around with him wherever he go. Like your hair tie or claw clip. Sometimes its your shirt and on rare occasions, it was even your perfume. But Yeonjun needed something of you wherever he go. A piece of you as a reminder to himself that he was not alone anymore and a sign to everyone else that he was taken. But in tours like this, he usually just have your hair tie wrapped around his wrist. It was small but it was a significant reminder that there was someone he could go home to. All he needed to do was give it a glance and his eyes light up as your image flash through his mind. Its funny how such a mundane object affect him so much. But, it always felt somewhat pleasurable and secure to have a small piece of something that was yours. It gives him a sense of assurance that you are still with him even when schedule gets too tight and he has to go on end without seeing your face. CHOI BEOMGYU "My mouth hasn't shut up about you since the last time you kissed it" Kisses right before his flight was always so expressive. Both of you not wanting to let go of each other when you know its gonna be long time before you get to see each other again. His kisses were gentle, long, calming and passionate, it reminded you of a flowing river. There was just something about the way your lips aligned with his tha had him addicted. The way your lips brushed against his while you cupped his cheeks, rubbing soothing circles as you let him hold you, pull you closer to feel more of you. It was hard to walk out the door when all he wanted to do was run back to your arms and capture your lips with his. Beomgyu was a talker. He talks a lot. But when you were apart, he just couldn't shut up. About you. Since the minute he's in the car heading to the airport to the time they reached the hotel. Blabbering on and on about much he missed you to the point that his members had to give you a call you to quiet him down a notch. It was clear to everyone in his surrounding that he was a man in love. Craving your lips. It didn't matter who it was. Beomgyu talked about you to everyone around. The new makeup artist that didn't speak Korean? Oh, you see him talking to him with broken languages that you could barely decipher. He talks about you to the point that his throat his dry and the other person has to offer him some water. Your kiss had him captivated in a spell even you didn't know the cure of.

KANG TAEHYUN

"And everywhere I go I keep a picture in my wallet like this"

Taehyun enjoyed capturing moments of his life that he knew he won't be able to re- live in even if he got another chance in life. And he knew the time spent with you are timeless. Priceless and too precious to let go. It was such a devastating fact that no moment ever comes twice. Sometimes he wished he could travel back in time, not to change anything but just to feel some things again. The camera he carries around everywhere he go has some precious memories in them. It was filled with pictures and places, all means more than they look.

His favorite was the one where you were at the beach, sitting under the moonlight with the ocean waves ringing in the background, summer breeze blowing your hair as you stared at the stars while he stared at you. It was so quiet and intimate and he felt himself at peace like he had never before. It was the moment he knew he wanted to marry this girl and make her so happy for the rest of her life. That's why he took that picture, up close where he could capture all the details of your beauty because he knows he will be thinking about this moment forever, thinking of ways to make the moment last a little longer. And he kept it in his wallet wherever he go. (Though that meant taking a little bit too much time admiring your picture whenever he had to pay something. )

Its no different when he's away. A smile curving up everytime he was on a shop. Even leaving kisses before he puts the wallet back. The picture was a reminder that he had a reason to live and he had yet to make you the happiest woman on earth.

HUENINGKAI

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever"

The long fields of flower Huening visited in his trips remind him of you. How it was so breathtakingly gorgeous. He wished you were there with him so he could pick a flower and tuck it behind your ear while telling you you looked more beautiful than all the flowers in the world could compare. But you were not with him. That didn't stop him from buying flowers because they were almost as pretty as you. He would snap you a picture after he bought them and keep it in a vase in his hotel room. He really wanted to send you those bouquet but it would eventually rot on the way before it even gets to you. So he kept them to himself, taking care of them until they eventually dry up. The mesmerizing petals and soothing aura of those flowers reminded him of you. And it somehow eased his mind. At times, the shop keeper would ask who the flowers were for and he would tell them about you with love blazing in his eyes so bright that even strangers could tell the boy was hopelessly in love. Really, though, you could feel his love from miles away.

#txt fluff #txt x reader #txt drabble #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu #hueningkai #x reader #Choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x raeder #kang taehyun x raeader #hueningkai x reader #angst

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bucknastysbabe · 2 years ago

Note

For the kink bingo image aegon with an innocent wife!reader just teaching her the pleasures of life and loving how innocent she is compared to the whores

So for some reason I forgot to make them married. So I pulled ye old make this even spicier by betrothing her to Aemond and Aegon is already married. Lmk how you feel, xoxoxoxoxo

Kink Bingo - Innocence

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dry humping, first orgasm, incest, infidelity, innocence kink, alcohol consumption, possessive Aegon, subby behaviors/implied subspace

They lounged in the Godswood. You had dragged your sullen elder brother out to get some sun. He was a creature of the night now and you missed your favorite sibling. Aegon was flopped on his belly, head tucked beneath his arms. You plucked a grape and threw it at his pale bed head.

“Stop it, m’head hurts,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes and replied, “Your head is always going to hurt going out to the pillowhouses every night.”

Sunken violet eyes glared at you, his lips set in a pout. He scoffed, “I don’t go to the Street of Silk every night!” You laughed, “So, Flea Bottom pit fights then? Flying to Essos on Sunfyre for a night cap?”

He rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Very funny. I happen to enjoy a good time, what’s wrong with that?”

He rolled over to expose a sliver of pale belly, continuing, “Might do you some good to get out sometimes. Life has much more to offer than lectures with your betrothed and needlepoint with our strange sister.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, popping a grape into your mouth. While chewing Aegon snorted, “I’m talking about drinking, carousing, letting loose! None of the stuffy shite Cole and Mother forces on us.” He waved his hands around wildly, “Aemond will have you wearing white before long!”

Suddenly you felt stupid. No wonder he went out. Your older brother had better things to do than sit with his silly sister who still reads about the Others and Children of the Woods. A sister who was betrothed to the spare. A warm hand clasped over your arm. Aegon had leaned closer, a worried tilt to his brow.

“What? Why do you look like a sad kitten?”

You muttered, “You don’t have to spend time with me if I’m boring. I get it.” Embarrassed tears welled in your purple eyes, blinking them away harshly. Aegon cooed and pulled you into his arms. The prince laughed, “You might be more oblivious than me. If I thought you boring then why would I be out here?”

You sniffled, “I don’t know- I just miss you.”

He grinned down at you, thumbing away a crystalline tear. He kept the thumb there, swiping against soft skin. A gleam came to his eyes, Aegon cheering, “Why don’t I teach you a lesson or two on how to live a little. Does that sound good?” You nodded eagerly, wide eyes searching his own.

“Where do we start?”

Aegon clapped his hands together and chirped, “Wine of course. Loosens the body and mind.” He yelled at a nearby servant to bring a couple of flagons. They scurried away with a bow. You giggled, “Criston says wine makes people stupid.”

“That’s exactly the point, Princess.”

Aegon had played around the Godswood with you for hours, feeling like a child again. Not an heir with an expecting wife. He laid with you on the blanket set out earlier, intertwined with your body. Aegon beamed at you, all flushed and giggly from the wine.

He noticed you had took to it easily. Only a pinched look at the first swig but drank with him. Aegon stopped you after the fourth— lest you’d be sick. He hummed, “I changed my mind. I don’t want you to see Flea Bottom.”

His violet eyes gauged the thought bubbling through your hazy mind, achingly wide doe eyes spearing his wicked heart. You hiccuped and laughed, “Why not? Wanna have fun w’ my big brother.” Aegon groaned at the innocent response. You had precisely exhibited why he would not do that.

The prince carded fingers through your pale locks and replied, “It’s too dirty for you. You’re too pure. I’ll throw all the parties here at the keep.”

Aegon knew he was in deep when you whined, “Okayyy- but not even a tour? Daylight atleast! I want to know what has you so enraptured besides the drink.” The elder wasn’t sure if you were playing dumb or the drink had muddled your mind.

You leaned closer into his face, wine stained lips tantalizingly, torturously, close. “Is it the pretty painted girls?” Aegon gulped in fear. He hoped Aemond was somewhere on Vhagar far, far away because he was about to do something bad.

“It is the painted whores is it not? That’s what Aemond says.”

Aegon snapped, “I don’t care about them or what the prick has to say.” Then he cradled your face to smash his lips against your own. Your eyes widened in shock before returning the kiss, pressing the line of your body closer. The rational part of your brain was screaming, but this was exhilarating. Your big brother always knew best.

His tongue flicked along the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You obliged and gasped in excitement when Aegon’s tongue entered your mouth. All you had gotten was a peck on the cheek from Aemond.

He rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists up above the halo of silvery blonde hair. Aegon didn’t relent, lips sensually sliding against your own. You felt hot and itchy, a need to crawl ever closer into Aegon arising. Your…core was aching and becoming wet. A confused whine ensued.

Aegon panted, cheeks cherry red, “What, baby?” He looked frenzied, eyes wild and hair mussed. You couldn’t figure the words so you pulled Aegon back to your mouth with a moan. The elder giggled and suckled on your tongue, making you clench in need. Everything was so heightened, you aware of every sensation on your flesh.

Eyes lolling around you whimpered, “A-Aegon, I want- I need, oh Aegon!”

Aegon looked like he was going to eat you alive. You weren’t aware of his thoughts, but the prince was delighted with how lovely your innocence was. Sweating and smelling sweet with wine and desire. Simply confused with all the feelings screeching.

You whined into his mouth again, begging for anything. Aegon shushed, “Hold on baby, dear sister, I know what you need.” He dragged a stiff length, oh gods his prick, across your own heated slit. It sent a bolt of pleasure so strong up your spine you clamped your legs around Aegon.

“Smith’s steel balls!”

Aegon guffawed then crooned, “This is why I won’t take you anywhere. I want this all to myself. You’re so cute and pure. You’d faint hearing their swears down there.”

He rutted against you more, talking like he wasn’t sending you into a tizzy. Aegon rasped against your ear, nipping the flesh, “Have you even touched your sweet cunt, sister?” You writhed and babbled, “N-no!” Your hips jerked against Aegon’s need in a sloppy rhythm, seeking out more pleasure greedily.

Aegon grunted and angled himself to strike that more sensitive part of you— getting a pretty cry as a reward. You trembled and begged for his lips. Aegon nipped at your swollen bottom lip and shared a couple of messy, overexcited smacks. The prince groaned, “I’ll show you how on lesson two, fuck you’re soft baby!”

You blubbered, “Oh- oh- Aegon, I think, I’m, what?!”

Darkness enveloped your vision— trembling and twitching all over. Your ass was wet with something now. Aegon rutted a few more times before groaning and falling to his side. You laid like a dead starfish, unable to comprehend anything.

Aegon’s grin appeared from above. He snarked, “Baby sis’s first orgasm. How beautiful. Couldn’t pay the finest whore in Lys to recreate that.” You mewled nonsensically, reaching for his frame. Aegon bundled you into his arms, cooing, “Nope. Not going anywhere. They can’t have my pure pretty angel. Even Aemond.”

“When- is- lesson two,” you croaked.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #hotd smut #answered asks #kink bingo #innocence kink

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seungmoo0 · 5 months ago

Text

HE’S SO NICE

PART TWO

———————————

(Read part one for warnings and more)

(Didn’t proofread…so)

(Continuation on part 1)

Seungmins eyes felt hazy, his body felt a bit numb, Minho plopped onto the bed next to seungmin. Seungmin slowly turned his head to Minho, he could see Minhos chest slowly rising and falling, Minhos eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna take a shower.” Minho said rather emotionlessly. Minho got up and headed to the bathroom, seungmin felt his eyes closed and his lips let out a sigh. It always happened, seungmin knew better than to know Minho would give him any sort of after care. After all Minho told him he’d care less, or how Minho always told him to do it himself, how he didn’t have the time, or how sometimes right after sex he’d immediately tell seungmin to hop on out of his house, or how Minho would only call him over if he needed a quickie or just wanted to fuck around. Or maybe when Minho felt stressed and wanted to take it out on seungmin, seungmin knew how pathetic and weak it made himself look. Some people would most likely tell him to start respecting himself, but seungmin wouldn’t care less, even though he knows how toxic it is. Seungmin didn’t know why he started, he didn’t know why he couldn’t just accept the obvious flashing red flags and leave.

…. (Part two)

Minho walked into the cafe, specifically the cafe seungmins now ex girlfriend works at. His smile never leaving his face once he walks through those glass doors. Minho heads up to the counter where seungmins ex is. Her eye bags so disgustingly big and her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her face was anything but happy, it was pale. Minho felt his ego boosted. It boosted knowing he’s taken away something she loved most, seungmin.

It boosted know that just yesterday night, right after their breakup up he had fucked seungmin dumb. It made him happy knowing he’s broken such a perfect relationship. “Welcome, how may I take-“ the girl says as she looks up, her voice low and sad. Her eyes immediately widen when she sees Minho. “Ah-Minho oppa!” She says, almost like she’s trying to sound happy. “How—what would you like to order?” She says standing straight, taking the notepad in hand and pen in the other, ready to write down Minhos order. “Just two lattes and a coffee cake.” Minho says his smile never leaving his lips. “Ah-okay..two? You getting coffee for someone?” She says letting out a soft chuckle as she writes down his order.

“Yeah…you know I have to treat a friend, he isn’t feeling too well..” Minho says with a sigh, it wasn’t a honest one though. “Oh, hope your friend is feeling okay.” She says as he finishes writing the order down. “Yeah he just got broken up with..it’s sad” Minho says mockingly sad, he shakes his head and sighs. He looks at the girl with a pity, it was funny to Minho. “Oh…what a shame..” she says as he looks down and rips the order out of the notepad. “How are you and seungmin?” Minho says his ‘sad’ face turning back into a ‘happy’ one. The girl freezes up and does make eye contact with Minho. “Ah—well—we aren’t…” the girl says as she puts the note pad down and pen. “Oh! Im so sorry..” Minho says as he frowns. “So you’re gonna move out? It must be a hassle, huh?” Minho says as he watches the girl calculate his order sum. “Well—we just broke up yesterday..so I’m going to start packing today..” she says, she looks like she’s gonna cry, like she wants to drop down and sob.

“Ah—well I hope it goes well for you..” Minho says tilting his head as he frowns. She nods. “$6.02 please..” she says as she rings up the cash register. Minho gladly takes his wallet out of his pocket and hands the girl his card. She swipes it and gives the card back. “Well..I’ll call your order in a bit..” she says as she weakly smiles. Minho nods and walks to a empty table, his smile widening. Minho takes his phone out, his finger hovering over seungmins contact. It was fun, he chuckled to himself before deciding to just scroll through Instagram, going onto seungmins exs insta and noticing how she took off anything to do with seungmin. Minho smiled and chuckled to himself, it was amusing how fast she’s trying to forget about him. It made it easier for Minho, but Minho still liked to push buttons. “Minho!” He hears his name being called, Minho stands up and heads to the pick up counter where she’s standing there the drink carrier holding the lattes in one hand and coffee cake on the other.

“Thank you..” Minho says smiling as he takes the drink carrier and boxed up cake. She nods and smiles. “Please don’t tell anyone about me and seungmins break up please.” She says as she looks up at Minho pleading. “Of course.” Minho says as he smiles. “Thank you.” She says as he sighs out a relieved expression. “I hope your friend appreciates the hard work I put into the lattes” she says as she giggling, she then fixes her apron with a small smile on her face. “Well I’m sure seungmin would appreciate it too.” Minho says, her smile dropping to a shocked yet confused look. Minho then swiftly leaves the pick up counter and heads out the door.

…

Seungmin was at Minhos apartment surprisingly. Seungmin was surprised when Minho said he could stay for a bit longer, Minho was currently out getting some coffee, it felt weird. The way Minho let him stay for longer than he ever has before; being over night stay. Seungmin always left after sex never stayed overnight. So when seungmin was woken up to light and not darkness he thought he was dreaming. Also the fact that Minho went out to get him coffee too. What was Minho planning? Seungmin sat up from the silk sheets and got out of the bed, Seungmin hissed when he felt the cold wooden floor touch his bare feet. His legs still feeling like jelly, Seungmin grabbed the footboard of the bed for support.

Seungmin looked on the ground for his things, his eye sight a bit blurry since he didn’t have his glasses. Seungmin remembered last night how Minho threw his glasses off the bed. Seungmin slowly got onto his knees to look under the bed to see if the glasses were there. There they were, the thick black glasses on the wooden floor. Seungmin quickly grabbed them and put them on. When Seungmin tried to get back up, it was no use, he fell right back down. He sighed and decided on having to crawl on the floor, Seungmin crawled around the bed to see where his shirt and shorts are, in the corner of his eyes he could see his white shirt. Seungmin quickly crawled to it, his knees hurting from the hard wooden floor. Seungmin grabbed the shirt and quickly pulled it over his head. The baggy white shirt draping over his exposed thighs. Seungmin sighed in exhaustion and sat on the wooden floor. Seungmin thought about what he’s doing with his life. He’s finally realizing that he now doesn’t have his girlfriend anymore. How he’s not able to come home to her smile. How he chose to lose her, how he chose to leave her for Minho. He didn’t know if he wanted to go back in time. Because honestly, seungmin got his head wrapped up in selfishness rather than love for each other. He chose to leave hos girlfriend because she couldn’t give what Minho gave her, the sexual activities. His hands resting flat between his thighs. Seungmin was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear when Minho opened the front door. Minhos footsteps walking towards the room. Seungmin head turns over to the door when he hears it open.

—

Minho gets to the house with a small smile on his face, he’s still thinking about seungmins ex. The shock on her face, it was funny to Minho. Minho wanted to laugh right in her face. Minho unlocked the front door. As soon as Minho walked in he noticed the quietness, Minho thought seungmin must still be asleep. He placed the coffee and cake down on the table. Minho took today off from the office, his dad owned the company anyway, didn’t really matter knowing that he could truly take any day off. Minho made his way to the room. Minho opened the door, the first thing seeing seungmin on the ground, his hair a mess, his hands between his thick thighs, his big black glasses at the tip of his nose, in his baggy white shirt that covered only a bit of his exposed thighs.

It was truly a sight, Minhos eyes looking at every aspect of seungmin in his state. “Hyung—you’re back..” seungmin said his face red and his voice soft. “What are you doing on the floor?” Minho said chuckling as he leaned on the door way, his eyes roaming seungmin’s body. “I was just trying to get my clothes..” Seungmin said, as he gazed away from Minhos eyes, Seungmin noticed the way Minhos eyes roamed. “So your legs don’t work?” Minho says as he leans off the doorway and walks up to Seungmin. Seungmins head lowered a bit as Minho towered over him. “I did that, huh” Minho said crouching down to seungmins level. Seungmin just nodded. Minhos hand reached to grab a hold of seungmins jaw, making Seungmin face him. “I got coffee and cake in the kitchen.” Minho said as he pushed seungmins chin up off his hand. Minho stood up and walked to the door way before stopping and turning around to look at seungmin. “Come on..” Minho said as he tilted his head. “I—can’t I—my legs-“ Seungmin said as he looked up at Minho, seungmin pushed his glasses up. “Then crawl.” Minho said, his eyes emotionless. “What-“ before seungmin could question Minho butted in.

“I said—then. Crawl.” Minho said, his lips curling into a smile. Seungmin was embarrassed, he didn’t want to crawl. “Come on seung, crawl.” Minho said, patting his thighs, as if Seungmin was some kind of dog. Seungmin was speechless, he sat frozen, his eyes wide. “I said crawl.” Minho said as he stoped patting his thighs, his face turning into a serious one. Seungmin fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Can I-grab my pan-“ Seungmin was cut off. “No.” Minho said his eyes never leaving seungmins. Seungmin sighed and slowly started to crawl, embarrassment and shame washing over him. “There you go! Come on seung!” Minho said smiling. Minho was smiling, Minhos hands patting his thighs as he backed out of the door. Seungmins head hung low as he crawled at the way to the kitchen, following Minhos lead as he continued to pat his thighs, treating seungmin like some dog. “There you go! That wasn’t so hard!” Minho said mockingly enthusiastic. “Get your coffee. I also got us cake.” Minho said as he pushed the coffee and cake a bit forward on the table. Seungmin tightly grabbed the end of the table and picked himself up. “Wow you really can’t use your legs..” Minho said as he looked seungmin up and down. Seungmin pulled out a chair with one hand and sat down quickly.

“Thank you..” seungmin mumbled as he reached for the coffee. “Ah-no-“ Minho said as he moved the coffee away from seungmin. “That’s not how you say thank you.” Minho said as he tilted his head a bit. “I-don’t know how you-“ seungmin was then cut off by Minhos hand grabbing seungmins, Minho placed seungmins hand over Minhos clothed cock. Seungmin then understood. “Now?” Seungmin said as he looked up at Minho. “Now..” Minho said as he grinned.

(End of he’s so nice)

(Might make part 3 idk tho)

#2min fanfic #2min #skz smut #smut #seungmin x lee know #seungmin x minho #seungmin #minho #lee know #seungmin smut #leeknow smut #lee minho smut #kim seungmin smut #gay #stray kids #manipulation #bxb smut

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partyanimal167 · 4 months ago

Text

Never a Shortage PT 2- Miguel x F!Reader

Chapter Two: Too Old to Make the Same Mistakes

The voting was SUPER close with this chapter, but I'm excited to indulge into my salt-n-pepper Miguel fantasies. Low key at work, there's an older guy who looks almost how I imagine old man Miguel to look (like 60). We're shooting for like mid 40s with this one (not that that's old), but reader is def older than 21 so

Any way! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy~

PT 1

CW: SMUT, mdni, black fem reader in mind, older!Miguel variant, mild cussing, dirty talk, jealousy trope (not crazy toxic), praise kink, age gap, almost bed breaking sex, brat taming, author knows some Spanish

Life had a funny way about making things work out even when it seems like it isn't. You had the plan , but duty still called. However, maybe by the grace of the universe and LYLA, things could work in your favor.

In the moment was the idea to prove to Miguel that you had plenty of options great? Yes! However, you were now pondering how that was going to even happen when things in the Spider Society had been so busy that you and Miguel only had time to brief missions and work.

Boo! Work! Potato!

Things had gotten like this before, but that was when canon events and universes were at stake. This just seemed like an uptick in anomalies and necessary research. Which, hey, is not as stressful, so there's that. But you had fun to plan.

Things had finally been quiet for a couple days when your gizmo (watch) went off and Lyla popped up.

"Hey girl hey~" You could never truly be mad when she sounded like that. You stayed slumped in your bed and threw up a peace sign. "Wow totally unenthusiastic."

You laughed as you sat up and gave her more of your attention. "My bad. You know I've been running around everywhere." you sighed. "Don't tell me there's an anomaly here. Please, I'll cry."

Lyla's face glitched into a laughing emoji before she waved her hand while giggling. "No, silly! Pierre on Earth-161 needs some assistance on a recon mission. It's just some fancy party, but he'll need some close support if things don't go well."

It seemed easy enough, so you nodded along. "Miguel's sending me?"

Lyla popped her gum before shaking her head. "Nuh uh, he actually went home for once, so I'm just helping with the little tasks. Hopefully, he can get some rest. He was being a bit grumpy--well more than usual." You hummed as your brain was starting to roll with ideas. "Anyway, I'll send you some information while you rest. Party's tomorrow. Bye~"

You laid back down once Lyla was gone. You hadn't gone on many missions with Pierre, but he seemed like the strong, silent type. He mainly nodded and worked without comments. It kinda reminded you of those silent films except there were no text cards to see what he says or thinks. However, you never really heard Miguel complain about him, so that was something.

Speaking of Miguel...

You were a bit stuck on how to poke back at him for his little comment. You weren't lying when you said there were definitely people willing and waiting to bed you (some even again), but for whatever reason, a piece of you wanted a bit of a chase, a thrill, something new it seemed. You briefly thought about flirting with Pierre, but while you are curious to see if it got a reaction, you didn't want to accidentally hurt the guy's feelings. Who knows how he'd react?

You groaned as you swiped through wardrobe suggestions Lyla sent over and let your mind drift off.

~~~

The night was smooth-sailing as you looked around the buzzing gala hall as people spoke amongst themselves while others danced.

The mission's setting was safe and secure. You knew that Lyla and Miguel did their best to avoid sending people to universes where they could easily run into and/or interact with that universe's variant. You knew that there were no canon events at risk on this mission, but Lyla assured you that seeing another you wouldn't occur. It did bum you out though sometimes. It was nice to see the other versions and traits of a person. How were they living elsewhere? Did they pursue a dream that another had given up for something else? It seemed that the paths of life were literally endless.

For now though, you just surveyed the area while Pierre swept the building in search for some files and data. You sat pretty in a strapless navy blue dress with white fingerless evening gloves and gold accents from your earrings and necklace and hair pinned up. You weren't really a fan of dressing up, but it was nice to play the part once in a while. You also didn't mind the fun, consequenceless flirting with people who stopped to talk to you. You easily gave a fake name and believable backstory. The night was turning out to be more fun than work, and you wouldn't complain.

You glanced at your phone and saw a message from Pierre saying that he was transferring a large amount of digital wares to his base and it would take a decent amount of time. You chuckled that he texted; even earlier, he had only quietly thanked you after you confirmed the details with Lyla.

A server walked by with a tray of champagne, so you decided to take one and head outside for some fresh air.

The moonlight was bright with clear skies above. You hummed quietly to the distant music from inside and relaxed. Your body swayed along as you listened and melted into the moment. These moments were always nice to get lost into.

Suddenly, that familiar tingly flashed too late, but you barely gasped when large hands held your hips and your back met the hard chiseled chest of the stranger behind you.

"Ah, you're usually so much easier to scare. I must have lost my touch with time." the voice rumbled through you--deep and husky, but a light playfulness that made your heart skip and brain pause for a moment.

You decided to play innocent instead of going into fight mode. After all, this was a simple mix up. You weren't from here. You didn't turn towards the man but giggled sweetly in your hand. "Uh sorry, I think you might have the wrong person sir." You turned then and were surprised by the sight seemingly as much as the man was with you.

This was definitely Miguel O'Hara, but not the stressed out, authoritative boss of Spider Society. This man was an older version--modest sections of gray hair and a charm in his eye that came with time. He was still fit and large, but there was some taut skin that highlighted full veins on his neck and hands. There was a deeper set of brown in his complexion from years in the sun, soft lines around his mouth and eyes. You blinked a couple times seeming to want to capture this appearance permanently in your mind.

The gentleman spoke first. "Mi querida, you're so young."

The softness in his eyes and tenderness in his voice caused your brain to pause. It was very...sweet. You had those moments with Miguel of course, in the after glow. But the man seemed as if he would build the world from scratch for you. Fight battles for you. Destroy and create life for you.

It was shocking.

So you quickly turned away and ran.

It wasn't your best moment, but you made it back into the crowd before the man could stop you. You were thankful that you could walk comfortably enough in these shoes to get away. This wasn't really the place to shoot off a web and fling into the air. For a moment, you thought about calling Lyla to see if you could cut your mission short, but maybe you were being dramatic. Nothing was disrupted, and you got away. If you were lucky, this Miguel was just your average citizen.

You made your way to a secluded area of the building where small groups of people chatted quietly and took a breather from the fun. You stood by a pillar that faced one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and let out a deep breath. For now, all you needed to do was keep a low profile until Pierre finished up.

That tingly feeling again appeared; your eyes flashed open when a large presence blocked out the moonlight and loomed over you. Two arms caged you in, and you squeaked in response to the seeming growl that emitted.

"Amor, you should know better than to run from a retired leader of the Spider-Force." he looked down at you amused. It was just your luck--an older, wiser Spider-Man of course. Wait! Why didn't Pierre tell you anything? You were so going to cuss that sneaky quiet man out later. You pressed a little more against the pillar and felt the stone slightly give from your unrestrained strength. The man grinned. "So what game are we playing now? Is someone trying to tempt me with delusions? A clone from the past?"

And even if those were apparently threats, you could tell that man didn't mind at all. Even from the way he eyed you in place felt full of confidence. Not quite the same as with the other "main" Miguel. This felt more like control and assurance than cockiness. If anything, you felt more captured than him.

"Uh, no, sir," your brain randomly landed on that term, "this is really all a big misunderstanding. Um, maybe Spider-Man, Pierre, can clear things up; I'm not who you think I am. I'm from-,"

"Oh jeez, please don't tell me this is related to that dimension-jumping shit. I told those young ones to focus on what's happening here." the man grunted as he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked more annoyed than anything. You stayed pressed against the pillar unsure of how to proceed. He kissed his teeth before taking a look at you. "Excuse me," he held out his hand, "Miguel O'Hara--retired Spider-Man, decrepit geezer who now just gives back to the city and fusses at the new kids." his smile made your heart flutter.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. "I'm y/n, Spider-Woman to Earth 1019. Pleasure to meet you, sir." Miguel chuckled at you calling him that. "And well, I must say you're definitely not decrepit." Wait why did I say that?

"You're a Spider-Woman and a flirt now? And I thought I had you all figured out." he grinned. Your eyes flicked down to the canine that peeked before meeting his eyes.

Crisis averted, so you could at least relax a little. "Well I'm sure you know, but I'm not exactly the same as the...me who lives here. I'm sure there are things you don't know about me."

And for some reason, that felt like a challenge. "You sure, princessa? Maybe I know things about you that you haven't realized yet."

You huffed out a laugh. "Like what, sir?" It didn't surprise you that a Miguel seemed to think they had you figured out. It'd be fun to see even this one be shocked.

You gasped as your chin was tilted up, and that gentle calloused thumb rubbed your bottom lip fondly. Miguel rocked a little to the side as if examining you. The moonlight reflected and sparkled on some of his gray locks. You bit your cheek to stop from whimpering. "Well an easy one is that language kink of yours. Sabes que te puedo a decir las palabras todas a hacer te mojada." he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "And you only call me sir when you're being a brat, so maybe it's been awhile since you've been fucked properly." the moan slipped past your lips before you could even process it. "Mmm, so that's it. La princessita necesita mi boca a sentir bueno. Have you been a good girl? Maybe I can show you what you get when you behave."

It felt weird to be told about yourself. As much as you wanted to argue and fight it, the things he said felt too sure and real to ignore. Plus, your body made it very clear that he was telling the truth too. You hummed as you stick your tongue out and lick his thumb before nibbling. "You can try your best."

~~~

It was crazy; everything was crazy.

Nearly everywhere that handsome man touched felt as if it was on fire. Whatever challenge you threw his way, he eagerly matched it. You thought it'd be polite to warn him about your superhuman strength, but all Miguel did was chuckle and wink.

He was gentle with easing off your dress and mindful of your hair--all an illusion. Because as soon as your hands were on him, it seemed to have awaken something feral that was hidden beneath. You devoured the sight of brown skin with its own scars and stories of the past. The moon's glow made a nearly ethereal image which threatened your bratty nature.

And Miguel noticed it all. He pushed his soft hair back before reaching down to removing your heels. He knelt down at the bed before kissing at your ankles and caressing your calves.

"You look good down there." you taunted before gasping into a moan after a sweet spot of yours was nibbled.

"Behave," was all that was said before Miguel continued to kiss and lick up for legs. He fawned over your thighs and mumbled to himself. "La reina de mi sueno, you look so delicious." And you couldn't hide the shiver that went down even if you wanted to. "Mmm, I know mami, thanks for my meal." And the man tore off your lace before beginning to devour you messily.

You immediately begun to thrash and shake a bit, but your body seemed to barely move with how easily this Miguel held you and kept you connected to his mouth and tongue despite your best attempts. You moans bounced off the walls and grew once Miguel so graciously gave you a thick finger to stretch you out. You bit your lip and threw an arm over your eyes feeling that rare shyness make an appearance.

That earned you a slap on your thigh. "Ah ah, no you don't. I get to see how you feel pretty girl. Keep those eyes on me." And you so obediently listened.

Miguel continued. His tongue traced over your clit and sucked at your lips. He built more of a rhythm and fucked his fingers deeper inside. You didn't care about being loud anymore. The room was far away from the festivities any way. You groaned and held on tight to the man's shoulder and nearly anywhere you could get your hands on.

Soon, your orgasm was approaching; you chocked on your whines and sobs not even being able to hold out longer as Miguel sped up. "Come on my face reina, give it to me." The order was simple, and your body listened. You gasped as you gushed and clenched on Miguel's fingers. You nearly whimpered as he continued through your high, but you didn't want to fight. Even as it felt nearly too much, you still wanted more.

Your chest heaved up and down trying to get air in your lungs. Your mind was fuzzy, and you could barely make out that that slick that decorated Miguel's handsome mug. There was that cocky expression. "Aww bebita, I haven't even fucked you dumb yet." And if it was even possible, you felt wetter. You made a half-assed attempt to turnover, but a lazy flick of the wrist kept you on your back and looking up at this handsome man. Miguel simply kissed his teeth at you. "No, no. You don't get to hide from me. I wanna see those pretty tears, reina." He brought one of your ankles up and rested in his shoulder. He gave it a light peck. "Been dreaming of wrecking you for years."

And even though, you knew he didn't really mean you, you couldn't help the shiver that shot through or the whimper from your throat. "Fuck me sir...please."

And Miguel's grin in response was nearly feral. "Good girl."

It seemed as though both Miguels' knew that you could handle a bit of teasing. This one rubbed his tip on your clit and only chuckled as you whined and shifted--though his tight grip on your hips let you know that he could handle all that power you kept control. Whether you were super strong or not, Miguel could keep up and more.

A complaint was just on the tip of your tongue before you gasped at the sudden full penetration that made you melt. His member was in deep and pushed against your soft soaked walls. You groaned aloud and immediately went to grip on the headboard. The needy, lustful gloss in your eyes made Miguel fill with pride. "Hehe, don't go breaking my things, reina." And with that, he started a full and steady pace that had you split between losing yourself and minding how you only aided in the bed's abuse. Then, he started speaking again. "Damn, you feel so fucking good." and if you paid more attention, you'd notice how the sweat had Miguel glowing and how his hair flowed a bit more into his face. He was groaning and panting with how delicious you smelled and the softness yet fire in your eyes. Miguel knew he was whipped from the moment he met your variant all those years ago, but seeing you like this just like when you two met had him nearly blushing and busting from fulfilling that secretive long-time fantasy.

Those deep strokes continued as Miguel leaned forward and hungrily captured your lips. You were gone at this point. It was too much; everything was burning, yet you still wanted to keep going. Your eyes glossed with tears once Miguel started hitting your g-spot over and over. There wasn't enough air in your lungs as you panted and moaned feeling something give a little under the weight of your hand. You were clueless as Miguel brought your hand into his while the other started playing with your clit. He growled in your ear.

"Naughty girl, you're starting to break the bed," but he didn't sound upset at all, "maybe next time I'll web you up." He kissed right below your ear. "Mmm, but you're a strong girl. I'll keep you nice and cozy and bound. You don't get to escape me." He took in your hazy expression and bit his lip. So beautiful. "Now, let me feel how this pussy cums on my dick," he huffed and panted "now reina."

And you barely let out the broken cries of his name as you came and felt such a stretched out orgasm. You were floating yet sinking at the same time. You hummed and moaned as you came down and barely heard the praises or felt the gentle rubs in your hair.

"Good girl. Now's time for round two."

~~~

You sat blushing as you peered over the unfamiliarity skyline and sipped your tea. The warmth of the cotton robe was enough to keep you comfortable, but your heart occasionally skipped a beat when you caught the broken bed that was favoring one side. (Definitely not your fault).

You also pondered what you were going to say to Pierre once you saw him. In the heat of your...side quest, the man had reached out letting you know he was done. However, he sent a message thanking you once he didn't get a reply after thirty minutes. You couldn't remember if your gizmos were connected, but you hadn't been woken up by an irritated call from boss-Miguel, so hopefully Pierre had your back in the end. I'll need to get him a little gift or something...I'll ask Lyla what he likes.

A large hand pressed into a sore spot in your shoulder, and you were reminded of the exact events that lead to your..side quest. You couldn't totally feel bad. You got a good look as this Miguel took a seat across from you with his own mug. The soft sunlight was warm against his skin; he certainly looked gentler than last night.

"Sorry if I kept you from your mission. That definitely wasn't...professional of me." He chuckled lightly and even seemed a bit shy from the night's events. It was cute.

You smiled and shook your head. "Ah no worries. I wasn't really needed any way." You leaned forward and placed a kiss on the man's black and gray stubble. "It was fun."

The man took your hand and pecked it. "It was."

You two sat in a comfortable silence for a while before your thoughts kept poking at you and you finally gave in. "Well I do wanna know, uh, well. I mean I'm not complaining. Last night was great. And I'm sure you're attracted to me, but why-"

Miguel's hearty chuckle cut you off, and you awaited eagerly. "Why am I not with this earth's version of you?" He smiled softly and you peered a little to see the soft blush poke from under the stubble. "I just get incredible shy when I look at you, her. She's seen me through all my mess and problems. I could never do anything to lose her. She's...precious." you blinked for a moment before giggling lightly. "Nena, behave."

You smiled and waved your hand. "No, I'm not laughing at you! It's just so sweet." You hummed and stood to stretch. "I mean, you certainly care for her, and if she's been single for awhile, then who knows? You'll be a lucky man."

There was a sparkle in Miguel's eyes as he looked at you fondly. "Maybe you're right. Do you think Miguels and yous are meant to be?"

Miguel was amused by the pout on your gave after that question. "Eh, I don't know. The Miguel I deal with on the regular is an asshole. He just doesn't realize what a catch I am." You then posed.

The older man laughed fully before winking. "Well shame on him. I'll be around if you ever need a reminder." And there was a flash of hunger in his eyes.

Your face warmed up and you turned off to the side. "I will need your dimensional number if you have one...to send you some money for the bed."

"Haha, nonsense. It'll get replaced soon and it'll be a good reminder. I've got some work to do." He paused and your gazes met again. "Besides, I hope you don't mind, but I put it in there already--under my name and everything." You were about to point out the obvious problem with that, but Miguel had it covered. "Trust me, you'll know it's me." You hummed in response.

After trying to tidying up and some light conversation, you two Spiders said goodbye, and you opened a portal to your room.

You flopped on your bed and sighed deeply. That was surely not how you expected your night to go, but damn if it wasn't amazing either. You decided to check in with HQ later since it was still a bit early in the day. You'd at least reach out to Pierre for sure though.

The morning went on with you swiping at your phone and reading random stories when a notification popped up on your screen.

Sexy Señor Papi Miguel: Stay in touch, reina 😉

You laughed loudly before humming and replying. He was definitely a sexy Miguel, but corny like an old man too.

~~~~

Whew! I'm actually proud of this chapter. Smut takes me forever to write bc I get in my head about it 😅🙃

I think I have an idea for the next chapter, but feel free to drop some ideas here or in my dms. I'm gonna try my best to get it out before my vacation ends 🙏🏾

Thanks for reading!!!

Taglist: @sukunash0e @jinnieminniemoon @turtlegreentia

#atsv #Spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #Miguel variant #nas fic #mine #canon au #fem reader #black fem reader #atsv fic #partyanimal167 #never a shortage fic #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel smut #atsv fanfiction

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