#it still a bit larger than my current one
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
the-100-days-of-junkan · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Day 82
Another one that I love!~ Gonna be a lot of those from here on if you couldn’t tell!
Junko’s the Ultimate Fashionista (in the english release at least but hey Ultimate Gyaru has to have a little crossover right??), so of course she handles Mikan’s wardrobe the moment she’s allowed to. So . . . Extremely cute scene of her having Mikan try out clothes to see what she does and doesn’t like. 
An opportunity for Junko to pamper Mikan, AND i get to draw Mikan in a sweater???? Heaven. Also like are we all in agreement that sweaters just look fuckin amazing on Mikan?? Like I admit, I think I just like drawing Sweaters on Mikan but they just make her look so much cuter because of how god damn cozy she looks in em. 
Unfortunately that’s all I have to talk about for that topic? I think? So instead let’s shift over to a recent development involving Junkan!
I’m in the midst of working on the Junkan Christmas Eve comic, which hopefully will be getting posted on time a few days after this, and during the process of making there’s been something new with my current abilities.
I have officially hit the point of proper freehanding on these two.
Y’see this probably won’t make too much sense but i’ll do my best to explain. 
So normally when it comes to sketches I’ve done things a bit less proper compared to more professional artists. I usually get a little start on the anatomy, and then just start sketching all the character details and moving out from there. It isn’t often that I do a full sketch for the basic anatomy of a character, I only do it when I really wanna not fuck up a pose. And as you also know up till now only one piece in this event was drawn normally. Everything else is a sketch that i cleaned up and colored, or just a sketch. 
This is because generally speaking I can’t do art using my normal pen tool without a sketch to work off of, it requires a lot more finesse to use the G-Pen both because of the larger shifts that can occur in line width, and the slightly looser feel it has compared to my Pencil Tool. 
That’s all to say that I have drawn Junko and Mikan so many fucking times that I can just, draw them without proper sketches now. I’m at a point where I just need to draw the head, torso, and legs for an anatomy sketch, and then with the G-Pen I can just, draw from there. That’s big for me personally, and also fucked up because god how even??? There hasn’t been a drop in quality either so far, i’m still able to refine the expressions and i haven’t fucked up with the arms too much yet, I’d even say it’s resulted in some of my favorite Junkos and Mikans period.
Now, the catch is that again, this is only Junko and Mikan. I could prooooobably get to this point with Mukuro eventually just because her design is much simpler compared to other DR Characters? I struggle with getting her colors right rather than linework, but that’s about it and still not really useful in my main line of work unless I memorize every character that’s ever existed, and it took like 150 fucking times for Junkan I can’t do that for an obscure RPG character that I might get commissioned once and then never again. 
It’s also not something that I think i’ll apply to my normal Junkan works, because I am a perfectionist to a fault when it comes to pieces I care about and I want to make sure every detail these is exact. I need to be meticulous for ship art like this, every detail is important. And I can maximize that with sketching.
This new skill is basically useful for one thing. Speed. 
I pride myself on my efficiency, even if I have waned over the years due to burnout and overwork, when I get into it I can fuckin move with my art. And so if I need to say, make a 28 page comic in under a month? Being able to mostly skip an entire phase of the art process is very, VERY useful, ESPECIALLY because it’s a comic. Something which generally takes more time than my normal art by nature of it’s format and what it involves. When making the Comic for Day 60 it was all sketches, which was equally fast but could leave small imperfections at the time that either went under my radar or I just let slide because i was trying to be efficient. 
This is basically perfect for having to speedrun a Junkan comic, it’s all the speed with the usual amount of visual quality.
So in short . . . I’m turning into a nightmarish hell machine but specifically for drawing Junkan. I am genuinely curious how much farther I can go up from here, like, what the hell else could I be capable of with this???? Am I just gonna learn how to fuckin beam the art onto the canvas with my brain???
Moral of the story is just get mind numbingly obsessed with a ship and I guess you’ll get better at stuff??? I have no idea, i’m still kind of processing the comedic value of what this year has been because I was desperate for these two to make out. 
As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~
19 notes · View notes
reitziluz · 8 months ago
Text
so. the apartment truly did have a superfluous sink right in the middle of the shower. and there was no place for a bed other than right in front of a large window facing a busy street. and the balcony was nice, but you could have roasted a whole pig in it and it's only a moderately warm spring day.
in a surprise twist the real estate agent also had arranged to show an apartment in the neighboring building right after. (the person who had arranged it and the other person who meant to come see the first place didn't show up.) and it was a smaller but much, much cheaper, with a sensible layout. sixth floor. windows in the kitchen and the bathroom too. wonderfully cool, because the windows face northeast and southeast (corner apartment).
also. for some reason. rent includes four times faster internet than what you usually get to pay for if a building has made its own collective deal. gamer apartment????
4 notes · View notes
arolesbianism · 3 days ago
Text
I am thinking very very hard abt the toy world guys and oh baby I love dropping in disturbing lore bits that are just sorta dripped into the actual plot and otherwise are not explained <3
#rat rambles#oc posting#I rly want to build this world in a way where the worldbuilding does exist and it does effect things but you still dont get to know abt it#and I especially rly want to hit this balance with the new choice lore Im cooking rn because its that sort of thing I think is more fucked#up the more that is left to be implied or completely untold#Im still figuring out what I want that balance to be though especially since I ultimately don't Need to tell basically anything#so its more so a matter of how much Im willing to risk putting on display for the sake of implying less relevant stuff#because its fun for me to know that the ripple of this event was far larger than any of the cast will ever know but idk if I want the#hypothetical reader to have that experience too or not and if so to what extent#because ofc I dont want to make it too obvious what this ripple looks like and what it may have impacted#and there is smth fucked up in its own right if I Did just fully keep all that to myself#and this does matter because I am toying around with the idea of committing a bit harder to this story and making it a thing one day#nothing is guaranteed but I do really Really like the story Ive been building here and I think it'd be fun to make it real someday#not anytime soon but one day maybe#maybe I could use it as my next step after spiraling upwards? we'll see.#speaking of spiraling upwards I'm planning on rescripting some stuff and continuing to work on the script soon#I am starting to have a clearer vision of what I want to do for the first chunk of the story#Im also deciding wether I keep the original prologue or not but Ill keep procrastinating on that one for a bit I think#the current prologue is intentionally kind of irrelevant to the rest of the plot but Im starting to doubt myself on if it's a good choice#Ill probably end up reworking it at least a little bit though if only to better establish the main plot by a bit#because its Technically kind of relevant the pov just isnt paying attention to the relevant parts#so maybe I can have her pay a smidge more attention for like a page or two and then call it good#anyways this does mean I will have to give the toy story a real name unfortunately :/#sighhhh. I hate naming stories soooo much.#maybe I can just pop open a random word generator and see what calls out to me
0 notes
thecoochiefairy · 1 month ago
Text
mouthy. onyankapon.
𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble, onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon,dominant!onyankapon, angry sex, drunk sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!
━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ link. link. link. link.
sorry y’all, i been celibate and just want the testosterone of a black man. i beg.
Tumblr media
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: you come back from the club, mouthy, tipsy and blabbering to your boyfriend. all that talking has onyakanpon give you just what you’re asking for.
Tumblr media
STRAWBERRY FLAVORED MARGARITAS ALWAYS MADE YOU HORNY. You made the terrible decision of making that your choice of drink when agreeing to a girls night out, knowing where you really wanted to be— in bed, cuddled up to your man. But you missed your friends, and Onyankapon missed you even more. 
Although you were always together, his weekend routine felt incomplete without you. He had already gone to the gym, got something to eat, and took Cupcake—your American Bully—out for a run. The minute he left you to walk out the house in that fuschia dress, he knew you’d be trouble. The gold jewelry accents as your dark hair fell in crimped waves, the scent of Miss Dior along your throat that he couldn’t pull away from, skimpy heels combating the entire look together—he would have broken someone’s neck behind you. 
As you stumbled into the women’s bathroom, the dark red lights added onto the energy you felt of the song playing within the club—PHAT by Dababy—buzzing your entire body as you wanted to shake ass with your girls. But first, you had to have a little fun. 
You leaned yourself into the full body mirror of the bathroom, bending down as you arched your back into the camera, taking salacious pictures of yourself. They were faceless, only showing the curves of your body in the dress. You sent them to Onyankapon, a small, tipsy grin along your face. 
mama <3 : 
don’t i look pretty?
He was now within the mirror, clippers in his hand as he faded the sides of his head, beard trimmed down as well. You weren’t there to protest the cut, loving when his facial hair was more full, whether it was in between your fingers or deep in your— 
Back to the point, LARGER THAN LIFE by Brent Faiyaz was his current choice of album. He glances down at his phone as he sees the message, eyebrows furrowing. The sight of you under red lighting, filthily posing for the picture. It made him more irritated than anything. 
my ony <3 :
my pretty ass baby. drink some water.
The message back makes you feel a bit deflated. You wanted more. Your mischievous eyes glance around, seeing you were still alone in the bathroom. With that, you latch your fingers onto the top of your dress, pulling down the fabric to have your breasts spill out, nipples hardening from the air. You snap the picture, holding one of your tits in your palm, your brown lined Cupid’s bow lips also within the photo. You press send, sitting along the countertop of the bathroom, awaiting for a response.
Your phone buzzes after five minutes. You look down, seeing only a couple of words. 
my ony <3: 
yeah, aight. 
You can’t help the grin that spreads along your face. With that, you notice that your phone battery is lower than expected, and you know your friends aren’t ready to go home. You sigh, shutting off your phone in risk of it dying, heading back to the section to try to shake off some of this inebriety. 
Onyankapon goes to text you again, but this time it doesn’t seem to go through. It was in your habit for your phone to die, but tonight wasn’t the time. He even went as far as calling you. Straight to voicemail. Of course, your friends weren’t answering either. His eye could’ve twitched.
Getting your key into the door was your current mission hours later. Your phone was buzzing from the amount of missed phone calls as you turned it back on, a giggle stifling from your lips as you continuously shuffled your keys around, desperately trying to find the oversized Hello Kitty one. Your feet ached, heels high and tall as your ankles trembled, wanting nothing more than to be barefoot. 
When your eyes finally register the pink key—assuming you’d touched it a thousand times—you lean against the door as you swing it open, holding yourself up by the bottom of your feet. They felt extremely heavy. You step inside, slowly pushing the door to close, locking it behind you. The LED lights in your condo were a dark purple, blaring to the low beat of the music playing around the walls, PARTYNEXTDOOR accompanying your ears. He’d probably fallen asleep. 
Despite all the noise you’d been making, you try to tip-toe with your heels, realizing that your mission was successful. That’s until you turn your head towards the kitchen, anyways.
You freeze momentarily in your steps, eyes widening. You knew he’d be angry, but you wanted to make a sneaky escape into bed next to him— Alas, your plan had failed miserably and you turned to face him with an innocent smile.
“Ony, baby—Why are you awake?” 
The room seemed to shrink in size because of his imposing figure. It didn't matter how many tattoos covered his muscular body—you would always remember his face card. Strident jawline, dark eyes that gave him the expression of annoyance or solemnity, but the tattoos that decorated his cheek made him stand out amongst men. His brown complexion shimmered under the light, as if he had oil on his skin. 
He just blinks at you, brows furrowing with obvious irritation. You were supposed to be home at ten. It was now two in the morning. He crosses his arms as you could see a vein straining on his neck, also glancing over the lipstick printed ink of your mouth tatted along his throat.  He was pissed.
“And where the fuck has your ass been?”
His silky black durag has a knot tied within the back of his head, shirtless, upper body exposed as his black sweatpants hang on his hips. He’d just woken up after dozing off.
You pout slightly, not liking his attitude. “The girls wanted to be outside longer. I wasn’t driving, so I couldn't tell them no.”
“The girls know you got a crazy ass nigga at home. You could’ve at least picked up my fuckin’ calls.”
“My phone was in my purse,” you try to defend, now walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Did I wake you?” 
Despite his annoyed demeanor, his arms make their way to your waist. He’s gentle, but you could pick up the way his fingers dug into your skin. 
 “You know I can’t sleep without you.”
“Cupcake likes to cuddle,” you refer to the large dog, “Don’t be mean to her. She loves you just as much as I do,” you rub his beard, scratching it affectionately. 
He grunts lowly, “Gimme’ your mouth,” you standing on your heels as you give him a peck on the lips. 
You then groan, leaning down as you rub your ankle, “My foot hurts,” you pout, “Ugly bitch at the club stepped on my toes!”
He couldn’t help but soften up at your comments, a gentle hand rubbing at the back of your neck soothingly.
“She stepped on your shit on purpose?” He asked, brows furrowing.
“She gon’ say ‘bitch, move’ when she was all in my way. I didn’t move, so she stepped on my heel. Should’ve busted her fuckin’ head open,” you talk shit about the random girl in the club, “Baby, my feet hurt…” you repeat more softly.
“You gonna go back and fight her?” He poked fun, now lifting you up by your thighs to release the tension off your feet. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, yelping, ‘wee!’ as He carries you to the living room, setting you down on the couch.
“Lemme’ see. I’ll ice your little ass foot.”
“Can you rub it? With the ice? Think they’re red,” you request, carelessly throwing the shoes in opposite directions, feeling the bottom of your feet throbbing even more. 
He hums, “Hollon’, baby,” disappearing into the kitchen as you wait on the couch. Cupcake comes running into the living room, jumping on you immediately. You giggle, hugging her head as she snuggles up against you, having the zoomies as she takes back off into her kennel. 
Ony returned with a bag of ice, leaning down in front of you, placing the ball of your hurting foot in his lap.
“You really couldn’t leave early?” 
You shake your head, “They wanted to hit up the after hours. I said nooo, my man wants me home. They said your man lame, you’ grown! I said, I am! But I miss my man! But ooh, baby, they had lemon drop shots for two dollars! Maybe that’s why I’m so drunk…” you ramble.
He listened attentively to your rambling, tilting his head to the side. He had a small smile on his face, his expression gentle at your drunken blabbering. He loved listening to you talk, even if you were saying nonsense.
“And you bought ‘em? You know you’ a light weight. You can’t handle your liquor, baby.”
“I had water too!” You protest, “But it was too late. I’m not like—super drunk, but because I’m home now, I can just…float,” you say with a hum, tilting your head, “….You’ happy to see me now?”
“Happy as fuck. I was about to go down to that club and shoot that shit up about you. Tryna’ get fucked up in that pretty ass dress, too. I got your pictures.” 
Your slender eyes blink at him, glimmering under the light, “I’m pretty?” You knew the answer, but your floaty mind wanted to hear it anyway. 
“Don’t be playin’ stupid with me.” 
You lean forward, poking your lips out as you sigh, “You’re so sweet. Gimme’ a kiss.” 
He leans forward, placing another soft, slow, kiss on your lips. He pulled back to look at your face, his large hands cupping your jaw, his brown eyes scanning your expression.
“‘Love your non-listening ass. Even when you come home later then I tell you to.”
Your demeanor changes, not liking how he worded that sentence. A reminder, your system was sugar-rushed off of several lemon drops.
“Tell me?” 
You raise an eyebrow, “Tell? Don’t be funny, lil’ boy. You ain’t my damn daddy.”
"Lil’ boy?" 
He raises an eyebrow at you, “You’ talking shit?"
“Big shit, actually,” you roll your eyes, pushing away the ice he holds, “I don’t wanna talk to you no more.”
"Yeah? You don't wanna talk to me? Let your fuckin’ feet hurt then.” 
“That’s fine!” 
He becomes slightly agitated from your childish responses, gripping your ankle in his hold to keep you down, “Chill out. You’re still tipsy.” 
“And? I don’t give a fuck about my feet, you, or my mouth. Come shut me the fuck up then, bitch-ass-nigga.”
It’s like you won’t stop talking. Your mouth fires off curses as you attempt to stand from the sofa, wanting to just get out of your clothes. He hears that trigger word, bitch, a word he asked that you never called him. It was the ultimate disrespect. 
He stares you down for a moment. His gaze was intense, intimidating. But there's now a glint of amusement in his eyes, and a humorless chuckle follows.
You go to walk away, but he’s faster. 
He clutches you by the back of your neck as he twists you around, gripping you up as he kisses you, opening up your mouth as he sloppily puts his tongue in. You’re stunned for a moment, hands gripping for his skin, but it’s the alcohol that has the kiss throb in between your legs—You’re spent. 
He pulls back, his hand still on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss under your jaw, before grunting against your ear, “Big ass fuckin’ mouth,” he sharply gruffs, “Come suck some dick. Finna’ shut you the fuck up.” 
His voice is assertive, deep in your ear. You can’t help but be a little excited—Maybe you’d wanted this type of reaction from him the entire time. You’re kneeling yourself down without having to be guided, tugging for his black sweats, watching as his dick springs from beneath the material. His tip is a dark pink, veins prominent as it slaps along his belly button. Your mouth waters at the sight.
You wrap your fingers around the base, staring up with your dark lashes, cheeks warm and red as you dig your teeth into your lip, “Want my mouth on you, baby?”
Your inner thighs throb again as he lightly smacks your cheek, gripping your jaw open to separate your lips, “You fuckin’ heard me. Don’t play right now.” 
He watches as you take him fully into your mouth, throat humming as you swirl your tongue around his tip, eyes closing as you nod your head back and forth. He reaches back, tangling his fingers through your hair as he guides your movements, dark eyes watching each time you take him deeper.
“Make that shit sloppy as fuck,” he grunts. 
You open your mouth wider at that, eyes dropping low as you nod your head back and forth, tip dragging along the roof of your mouth, sliding deeper in your throat. Your saliva begins to increase, jaw aching each time his balls slap along your bruising lips, yet you moan in pleasure, wanting more—needing more. 
Your eyes are practically stars to him. They glimmer under the lights of the living room, music strumming in his ears as you hollow your cheeks, back arching, ass poking out of your dress as you lean forward to be as close to him as possible. You watch him like a movie, his equally dark baby pink lips halfway open, head falling back as he groans, tightening his fist along your hair. 
“Oh shit,” his low voice moans, “Suck my fuckin’ dick just like that, baby. Need my shit messy.”
He knows how much you like him praising you on, your lips firmly wrapping around his tip, molding your mouth around it as you slovenly suck, the sound echoing along the room. Your jaw burns even more. But the sight of his large hands encapsulating your curls, inked abdomen tightening as he watches your every move, your saliva warm from how hard he’s thrusting in your mouth, it’s like a drug. An addiction. He slows down, holding your hair with both fists, pulling himself out of your mouth as you stick your tongue out, awaiting to catch him again. His tip slaps along your jaw, the giggle leaving your lips captured by your intoxication.
He feels your hot breath on his tip as he looks down at you, seeing your tongue hang out of your mouth, wet and glistening in the dim light. The sight alone sends a jolt straight to his already throbbing dick. 
"You’ finna’ swallow every last drop I got for you." 
His words were firm, almost demanding as he watched you take him back into your mouth. This time, he held onto your head aggressively, fucking your eager mouth at a slow pace, allowing you to savor the taste of him.
You drag saliva along the veins of his dick, pulling your mouth back as you hum, “Feel good, baby?“ 
“Feel good as fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You’ tryna’ get fucked like a princess,” he grunts back to you, watching as your thumb runs over his tip, rolling your hand in a motion all the way down to the base of his length. 
You circle your tongue back around his tip, sliding your lips around before pulling his length all the way to the back of your throat, the walls of your breath swelling as you gag, melting in his pleasure.
“Gonna nut, baby? Talk to me.” 
"Finna’ nut all in that pretty ass mouth, baby,” he promises to you, and he does, his voice dropping to a low growl as he pushes you further, forcing you to take his entire length between your lips, the inside of your mouth becoming warm. 
When he pulls back, his dick slides out slowly for you to lap up any leftover drops of cum that dribble out. He then tugs on your hair, bringing your face up to meet his. 
You instantly stick your tongue out to show that you swallowed, giggling as you run your tongue against your lips, “Cleaned you up so good.”
You know he’s sensitive. You flick your eyes up as you kiss his tip, the giggles faltering off your lips like nothing as you tipsily moan, “Pretty ass dick, baby.”
“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy.”
He grunts as he pulls you up by your hair, smashing your lips against his in a kiss. You’re encapsulated by his mouth, tongue thrusting in between your lips, the feeling making your eyes roll back, moaning as you open your mouth wider. You loved kissing him. His lips were full, nearly overlapping yours as you made out with him. 
He pulls you back, fingers around your throat as he commands, “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs.” 
Ony’s already on his knees as you bend over the black velvet furniture. You spread your legs as you arch slightly, face hiding within your shoulder, eyes turning back to meet his. He’s trailing kisses along your thighs—it’s torturous at this point. Your pussy throbs as he’s blowing his breath against your core.
 He spanks the skin of your ass as he growls, “Nasty ass.”
He’s already down there, his lips wrapping around your clit, bottom lip dropping lower to rub against the entirety of you, tongue swirling to spread you open. You reach your palms behind, spreading yourself for him, forehead kneeling against the furniture as you breathily whine, “Yeah, baby. Always love when you eat my pussy.”
“Watch that fuckin’ mouth,” he warns in between your flesh.
He’s eating you like desert—Licking you from bottom to top. His hands find their way to your hips, pinning you down to the couch as he shakes his head from side to side, deepening his tongue against your folds. He halts as he comes up, pulling your face towards his as he grips your chin, commanding, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth,” the moment he says it, your tongue sticking out as you drop saliva in between his lips. He accepts it, going back down as he coats it along your pussy, the feeling making your thighs tremble. He’s rough. And sloppy. Just how you liked it.
Latching back against the sticky walls of your pussy, you become more wet as he French kisses the throb of your clit, head swaying up and down as he flattens his tongue against the overall of you.
He’s lapping you up like a thirsty man. His tongue is thick and heavy against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue continues its assault on your pussy, licking you in circles until you start squirming underneath him, desperately trying to hold your mouth.
His hands leave your hips, moving to grip your ass to expose more of your dripping entrance to him. Without warning, he buries his tongue deep inside of you, his lips sealed tight against your wetness as he starts fucking you with his mouth.
“Pussy tight as fuck, baby. Even on my tongue,” he grunts.
“Come fuck me, Ony,” you pout, “I’m so fuckin’ horny,” you almost cry at the pressure between your legs.
He doesn’t talk shit like you expect him to. Instead, he pulls his mouth away from you, your body lightly jumping as you feel his tip sloshing around your opening, patting against it, kissing the outside of your walls. 
“This’ what you want, huh?” 
He brings his hand around the front of you, palm clutching around your throat to pull you up closer to him. You try to nod your head, pushing your hips back to relieve the friction. You thought you were going to faint. 
Your mind is still buzzing. Every inch slowly sinks into you, an ache itching in the depths of your walls, making your hips tremble as you gasp lightly. You push your body forward to escape, which only makes Ony grip you back, rolling his hips forward as he tsks, “Nuh-Uh, don’t do that,” making your eyes flutter shut as you whine, “Ooh, fuck. Daddy.” 
Your whining makes him grunt, spanking you in response to your mouth, sensitivity spiked as you whimper. He smacks his lips, “Cut that shit out. You’ crying for my dick, take all of it.” 
The heaviness of your ass drops against his abdomen, air spurring in between your hips, the suction making you quiver in response.
You turn your head, jaw dropping lightly as you suck in a breath, moving your body to adjust. You lift your hips as you watch yourself, eyes flicking up to meet him as you slide back down, listening to the skin connect, stomach cramping as you shudder out another whine. 
“Gonna take all of it,” you desperately gasp, digging your fingers into the material of the couch, beginning to swirl your hips around as you fuck yourself, walls gushing at your eagerness. Each time you come up, his tip coats with more of your cream, moans progressively losing sense behind them each time your ass claps against his hips.
"Needy ass fuckin’ girl," he grumbles, gripping onto your waist tightly. "I be’ spoiling you too much.” 
His right hand reaches onto the left side of your waist to get a good grip on you, dropping you up and down to watch your bodies move in sync, matching your rhythm as he starts fucking you harder. With every thrust, he slams into you, filling you completely, making you gasp out loud. He leans down, whispering in your ear, "Pussy wet as fuck. You hear my pussy? She’ talking. Just as loud as your fuckin’ mouth.”
You do listen, skin slapping against each others, your pussy squelching and sloshing as he now has a hold along the back of your dress, using that to tug you down, the air secretion igniting loud sounds with it. Your cheeks are red, something that usually happened when you became shy, turning your head back towards the wall as you moaned.
"Don’t be all shy now. Look at me. Need to see your face while you creamin’ on my shit like that.” 
The command is sharp, leaving no room for refusal. He feels you tense under him, your inner walls trembling around his dick. He keeps pounding into you, your juices flowing down his shaft and onto his balls.
When you don't obey immediately, he spanks your ass to make you shriek, hard enough to leave a bruises before demanding again, "Look at me."
You instead kneel your head against the sofa. It’s not long before he becomes impatient, and he pulls you to stand flat on your feet. He keeps your back perfectly arched, rubbing his tip along your folds as he’s already sinking back in, making you lightly groan. He then takes your arms, palms tight around your wrists as he pulls them back and raises them slightly above your body, thrusting his hips forward, skin loudly echoing together as he gives you mean—almost enough to bully you—thrusts. 
The moans you give are shocking, standing on your toes to escape from him, pussy tightening as the back of your thighs sting, friction against his hips, arousal dripping against his balls and abdomen. 
“Agh—fuck—baby, ooohshit. Oohshit, Ony,” you’re rambling to him, unable to move as you’re trapped in this position.
"Shut the fuck up. I ain't wanna hear none of that noise." 
He goes back to pounding you, ignoring your high pitched squeals, the arch of your back deepening as you want to jump out of your skin. 
"Quit fuckin’ running. Take this fuckin’ dick. You’ wanna be grown, be fuckin’ grown, big girl,” he talks, skin harshly meeting with his, his dick painted with your arousal, ignoring the way you messily sob, a darkness in your vision as your eyes are staring into the back of your head. 
“Ooohh, daddy. Ony—baby. Fuckin’ me so good, baby. Fuckin’ love you. Oh my god, love you, babyy.”
“You’ need more? You’ still talking?”
You feel defeated, senseless as he continues to fuck you, uncaring if he’s mean about it.
Yet turn your head, erotically giggling in between your manic episode, unable to stop your mouth from talking.
“This your pussy, Ony. You’ hear her? She missed you so much,” you whimper, wanting him to forgive you from your insults earlier in the night.
“I don’t wanna hear all that."
He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You sing to him, gasping and whining pathetically. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, drowning out everything else. He feels you tighten around him, your walls clenching down on his length.
"You' gonna cum? Or you' just gonna keep talking?"
“Baby…” you softly cry, “Ony, keep talking to me, baby…be nice…” you whimper, missing that side of him. 
You’re sorry for coming home late. You’re sorry for talking shit. You’re just sorry. But this punishment feels all too good.
"You' sorry now?" 
His tone is mocking—he knows he's got you right where he wants you. 
"Keep talking. Mean it.” 
He continues to fuck you mercilessly, his words cutting through the pleasure like a knife.
“Sosorry, baby. Sosorry, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Wanna cum all over your dick. Fuckkk, cum in me. Don’t stop,” your eyes well with tears, digging your teeth into your lip.
He releases your hands, his fingers stretching around your throat as he pulls your back to meet his chest, mouth along your ear as you stand back on your tip-toes, taking everything he gives you.
You messily moan as you lean back against his shoulder, using the strength you have in your hips as you circle your ass around, wanting to match his rhythm, jumping as you feel him spank you again. You were in a lustful haze.
“Look at you’ taking my dick, baby. You love it?”
“I love it,” you whine back, face warm as you take his other hand to put it in front of you, putting it in between your legs as you want him to rub your clit. Sometimes you were bold. Sometimes you weren’t.
You can hear the arrogance in his chuckle along your ear, his fingers rubbing in circles against your clit as he grunts, “Cute ass,” which makes you whimper, putting your head down to hide your warm face.
Your mind falls back into the fuzziness of before, the intimacy of it all making you feel drunk again, your legs feeling numb as he fucks your brains away. You feel yourself wanting to go limp, hooking an arm around yourself to hold his head from behind, his lips latching along your throat. 
You’re whining, “Babby,” gasping in between, warning him, “I’m—I’m gonna cum…”
“You’ think I don’t know when my pussy about to cum? Look how tight you’ getting,” he grunts, spanking you again, your ass probably red by now. 
You can’t stop the orgasm that comes, pathetic moans leaving your lips, your hand shaking as your brokenly whine into his mouth, body wanting to collapse as he grabs for your free hand, trapping it under his that clutches your throat you keep you in place.
You’re stuck in place again, creaming heavily on his dick, gushing and cumming in intense waves, pushing out the arousal as your eyes clutched shut, body trembling to ride out the wave. 
“Ooh, that’s good as fuck, baby,” he grunts, “Cum just like that.”
You seem to sober up the minute your orgasm begins to subside, and your eyes are terribly heavy, just wanting to sleep. You feel a kiss along your neck as your legs come off the ground, being carried as your wrap your arms around his neck. 
“You’ ready to cuddle?” Is all he asks. 
Your eyes peek up despite how tired you are. You ask, “That’s it? Am I ready to cuddle? After you did all that?” 
“Do you need it again?” 
“No.”
“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he kisses your forehead, “Let’s go to sleep.” 
2K notes · View notes
coffeedragonart · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
🍁🍂🍁
On Leaf Drakes, from the journal of Elena Hewett, research assistant at the Stagwick Institute (drake studies):
Leaf Drake observational study, day 1 (Summer’s End)
What a strange day! The weather has been quite windy, and today some leaf drakes were blown into the Institute gardens! There are already some floral drake species living in the gardens, but this is the first time we’ve seen leaf drakes. Like most garden drakes, they aren’t built for long distance flight, so they rely on catching wind currents to migrate and take up in a new area.
This species hasn’t been widely studied yet, so I’ve got some of the other assistants on board to observe them and hopefully expand our knowledge about these creatures.
Day 2
They seem to be planning to stay, and have claimed the big tree in the west side of the gardens. I’ve managed to book the use of one of the empty offices on that side, as it has a large window with a good view of the big tree.
From initial observations, there are five individuals in the group. They are quite social, and I have yet to see one go about by itself.
Week 1 (Autumn)
It has only been a few days, but they have really settled in. While still, they can be quite hard to spot as they really blend into the leaves, but they spend a lot of the day quite active.
They share a similar diet to the floral drakes in the garden, mostly insects and fruits, as well as absorbing magic from the environment and the aether-nectar in the garden feeders. But they are far more active hunters than the floral drakes.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
From the window, I’ve been able to watch them hunting insects and even using cooperative tactics to hunt birds. They are quite small, and I would have thought that even the sparrows might have been a bit much for them as they are close in size.
The gardens are a popular spot for both students and institute staff to take their lunch, or just relax a few minutes in their downtime. The floral drake residents are quite shy, and generally either hide or watch from a safe distance, but the leaf drakes are far bolder.
They have no hesitation about coming to get a closer look at folk, even trying to beg food from them. However, they are a little territorial about their tree.
Week 3
Students and staff have been advised against eating near the big tree in the west gardens. No one has been seriously harmed, but after a few instances of people being harassed for their food, it was deemed necessary to cordon off that section of the garden. Their teeth and claws are quite effective, despite their small size.
There seems to be one drake in particular who instigates these ‘attacks’, and the others follow its lead. It is a little bit larger than the others, and has a rather striking dark band across the eyes.
Due to the interest in this field, we have been able to gain the support of the Institute to make this an offical study into the habits of leafdrakes. With that, we will have access to some extra resources to put towards their care, as well as make it harder for the gardeners to remove them for being a nuisance.
Week 4
Even as Autumn sets in, we are still having a few last warm days.
Our little office was quite stuffy today, so we opened a window to try and get some cool air or a breeze in.
I was soon interrupted in my work, by a pair of drakes alighting on the windowsill. We’ve seen them resting on the sill before, but have never been quite sure if they were looking in or just admiring their reflections. Up close, they are curiously birdlike in their movements, adjusting their wings and tilting their heads this way and that.
Tumblr media
They were almost identical, with only slight differences in colouring and wing shape, like the leaves on the tree. One was the ringleader, quite a bit larger than the other, with the dark face band. The smaller one had the same facial marking, but far less stark. They sat and watched for only a few minutes, but leapt away when a door was slammed elsewhere in the building.
It was enough for me to correct and add a few more details to the sketch I’d been working on.
Week 6
After a few weeks of observation, it seems like only the one drake is growing, the rest of the flock have maintained their same size. After a meeting with the other assistants, we think that the study would benefit from being able to more closely track the ringleader.
We know that many of the Greater Drake species can continue growing throughout their lives, reaching immense sizes, but this trait has never been seen in any Garden Drake species, who remain small.
Week 6.2
It took some planning but we were able to capture the ringleader for a closer look.
A container trap was baited with aether-nectar and laced with a light sleep spell, and it didn’t take long for the drake’s greed to get the better of it. There was always the chance of trapping the wrong one, but like in a lot of pack dynamics, the ‘leader’ usually gets at the food first.
With testing, we found the drake is female. She is a healthy weight, and measures about 30cm from nose to tail-tip, we’ve estimated the others to be around 15-20cm. A small band has been attached to her leg to more easily identify her, enchanted so it will grow with her as needed. She woke up while we were attaching it, and my thumb bears the bloody mark of her displeasure, though she didn’t seem too put out once she was able to sit for a spell without being handled. She watched from the top corner of a cabinet while we finished the paperwork, and then we were able to let her back out into the garden.
I’ve nicknamed her Gertie.
Week 9
As the weather grows cooler, they are showing no signs of slowing down, but as the insects retreat, they have been more actively chasing the birds. Gertie appeared at the window, clutching a feather in her teeth, even as I was reading a note left regarding messenger birds going missing.
I would have thought them too large for the drakes, but Gertie has grown again, almost twice as long as the others.
I’m sure she can understand at least a little of what I say, and seems to be following our conversations. She doesn’t like being handled, but has learned ‘hold still’ and will pause and stretch out to let me measure her (as long as a treat is provided and the measuring doesn’t take too long).
Week 10
It seems like Gertie has some level of influence over the mood of the rest of the colony, almost like a hive. While she’s calm, the rest are calm and happy to sit near and watch. But when she startles..
Today, poor Rolf had the misfortune of tripping over one of the garden benches while I was working with Gertie. I think he was trying to see into one of the tree hollows. The bench rocked back and thumped down with a loud THUNK, and the colony took to the air in an angry cloud of claws and teeth.
We fled the gardens in haste, and were able to retreat into a toolshed until they settled. I got out with only a few scratches, but Rolf needed taking to the medic building. I’m sure he’ll look quite fetching in an eyepatch.
It took several days before the gardens were safe to re-enter.
Later that day, I received word that Rolf has quit. Understandably, no-one expects to lose an eye from a research job.
Week 12
An official complaint has been made regarding the missing birds. There isn’t a lot to be done, but I’ve reached out to enchanting to see if they can write a ward to divert the birds away from the air above the gardens.
One of the other assistants donned the protective gear to climb into the tree to inspect the hollows the drakes nest in. He returned, with a number of drakes clinging to his headgear, and three slightly chewed scroll cases. He noted that there are several more drakes in residence than we thought, though no evidence of eggs or breeding has been found.
The messages were quietly delivered (with apologies) and the matter dropped.
Week 13 (Autumn’s End)
The west gardens are severely overgrown. The gardeners have refused to go in at all since Gertie’s last grown spurt. She is now the size of a large cat, several times larger than the others.
Gertie still blends quite well into the trees, but has also started using the brambles and long grass to ambush rabbits and squirrels. As well as any passing ankles. I suspect it was one such ambush that drove the gardeners away.
Week 14 (Winter)
The floral drakes in the gardens have hidden themselves away to wait out the cold weather. The leaf drakes are a little hardier, but we’ve seen signs that they may be preparing to do the same, and have increased efforts to gather nesting materials. They have been spotted flying back and forth with all sorts of things in their claws, including feathers and shed fur, to small pebbles, coins, beads, even a few small aether-crystals. I didn’t get a good look, but I thought I saw one fly by with a pair of spectacles that I’m sure weren’t willingly donated.
Tumblr media
Gertie still emerges when we go out, though a little more reluctantly. The area is too overgrown with brambles to get a good look, but I think they have dug out a space at the base of the tree to cozy up in. I doubt Gertie would fit into the tree hollow the colony were using previously, she is quite large now.
Week 15
At last measure, Gertie was just over four feet long. Her wings are a bit smaller in proportion and we don’t see her fly quite as much. However her hide is quite a bit tougher, starting to resemble pinecone scales in some spots. She still has her distinctive facial markings, though without the tag, I wouldn’t have recognised her.
Tumblr media
There are concerns of what she will eat as she continues to grow, the gardens can only support so much, even with the feeders stocked. It has been a few days since we’ve seen her, or any of them, so I think they must be hibernating. If they sleep away the winter, that will give us time to sort out something with one of the local farms to get meat delivered.
Week 20
Our efforts have stalled over Winter, as barely a scale has been seen since the snows arrived. On one warmer day, some of the little ones were spotted, clinging to the bare branches to take in a few rays of sun, if only for a short while. There was no sign of Gertie.
If one good thing is come from a slow winter, we have been able to get a better look at the tree itself. Since the drakes have moved in, the big tree has also grown faster than it would otherwise. Its branches are thicker and healthier, and other trees nearby are showing similar flourishing. This is not unheard of, similar effects have been seen in plants occupied by floral drakes, so it tracks that trees could be similarly affected.
The ground around the base of the tree bulges, the roots that can be seen above the snow are dense and knotted. It forms quite the hill when the snows come down. I look forward to seeing the drakes emerge again come spring.
Week 24 (Winter’s End)
Not long to go, surely. No fresh snow for a week or two, so what’s there is starting to melt away. There are more sunny days, if still chilly. The tree is starting to show signs of reviving, there are hints of new growth and fresh leaves starting to bud, earlier than usual.
Week 28 (Spring)
The drakes returned with the leaves! The little ones at least, we still haven’t seen any signs of Gertie. There are quite a few of them, at least a full dozen now, but they move so fast they are hard to count. We still haven’t found any evidence of eggs, but it is possible they came from outside before the freeze.
As the trees fill out with leaves again, the west gardens are far wilder now. The branches reach overhead, almost touching in some places. The drakes flit in and out of the sunlight coming through the leaves. We have been able to clear most of the path, but the spaces between the trees are still full of brambles and shrubs.
Week 32
Something large has been spotted moving through the trees, though it is hard to get a good look. I suspect Gertie has continued to grow through her hibernation.
Through the deal made with one of the farms, we’ve been able to start leaving out chunks of meat, and they seem to be well received.
From the toothmarks in the bones left behind, we estimate that Gertie must be at least the size of a pony.
Week 33
Today, on the first properly warm day we’ve had in a while, I’ve finally been able to get a good look at Gertie since her hibernation. I was taking a break, to be out in the fresh air and away from the office for a bit. I’d stopped at one of the newly reclaimed benches, and only closed my eyes for a moment to rest. It only felt like a minute before I was woken by a huff of air on my face.
She is indeed the size of a pony, plus her tail. Tall enough to look me in the face.
Her body is thicker now, hide resembling thick tree bark. Her wings are much smaller in proportion, just ornamental now.
The little ones follow her, stopping to cling to her back and head, but she doesn’t seem bothered by them. They peered around her to chirp at me as I regained my composure.
Lately I’ve taken to keeping aether-candies in my pockets to offer the drakes on my walks, I’m glad I still had some on me as I was inspected. Gertie accepted the treat happily, rumbling deep in her chest. She rumbled and chirped back to me when I spoke to her.
It was a pleasant moment, she sat with me for a while, long enough to get a sketch of her lounging in the sun.
Tumblr media
Week 40
Recently, we have been receiving reports of leaf drake sightings from outside the Institute, from other locations around the city. I can only speculate that something about Gertie’s growth is drawing them to the city.
Long have we pondered the origins of the Greater Forest Drakes, as they seem to just appear out of nowhere, with no documented nests or hatchlings, or even sightings of more than one in an area. But I have little doubt that this is what Gertie has grown up into. I still have questions about how the change occured, or why it was just her out of the group as at the start, there was little to differentiate her from the others.
This is still quite the discovery, and I look forward to publishing an official work with our findings. It could well be the start of further studies into the links between drake species, the garden and greater drakes, and maybe even how they relate to true dragons.
After updating the Institute heads on the progression of the study, they are overall happy with the discovery, but were asking some pointed questions on what we plan to now do with the Greater Drake that has taken up residence. She could well continue growing. I pointed out that we may have gotten off lightly, if Gertie had grown into a Greater Rock Drake or a Hooded Drake, things could have turned out very differently. They did not see the humour in that.
Gertie seems to be quite comfortable in the gardens, the other drake species do not seem bothered by her at all, and she shows no inclination to leave. She could well continue growing, but for now she seems to have slowed down at least.
She continues to develop her understanding of language and appears to follow along with a conversation, even if she lacks the ability to respond yet. A lot of the literature on Greater Drakes suggests that this may well come with time, but it might be something for my children or grandchildren to look forward to.
635 notes · View notes
yanderedrabbles · 15 days ago
Note
✨Kicking my feet and twirling my hair thinking about what cozy basement set up boyfriend would have for me!✨
What are your OCs homes like anyway? Do they like certain decor? Does it smell a particular way? Trinkets lying around?
Yandere boys and their homes
Yandere! Cowboy keeps his boots by the door and his old ropes stacked in the entryway. Definitely a whitewashed farmhouse with an old wraparound porch. There's an old deer skull above the fireplace and a couple of hunting rifles on the wall. He likes the view and most mornings he'll drink his coffee with his elbows resting on the porch railing. He likes it when you pick wild flowers and leave them in vases around the house, but he'll never actually tell you that.
Yandere! Soldier's current apartment is pretty old, probably built back in the Soviet era. He doesn't really keep stuff around - he's always moving and being deployed so he doesn't see the point in keeping trinkets. If it wasn't for you, he'd be perfectly fine sleeping in the barracks. Function over everything.
Yandere! Boyfriend's place is honestly pretty cozy. He keeps plenty of throw pillows and afghan blankets. Lots of wooden furniture - most of it he made himself. It's a pretty manly place, but without being overwhelming. Usually smells like vanilla and fresh baked bread. His basement is totally remodelled, with genuine hardwood floors and fairy lights strung across the beams. It's the perfect place to curl up and watch a horror movie, if you ignore the heavy duty locks on the door.
Yandere! State Trooper is pretty young so his apartment is a bit of a mess. He has police gear dumped all over the place. Mostly Ikea style furniture, modern if a bit bland. The only thing he really added was a hook on his headboard to loop your handcuffs through - he can't have you struggling too much and disturbing the neighbours, now can he?
Yandere! Cop for sure has a bachelor apartment with just a bedroom and kitchen. Very neat and clean but pretty boring. It's one of those newly built places with lots of marble and millennial grey. Besides, he's way more interested in buying you whatever you want for your place. His single piece of decor is a scented candle you gave him. He sometimes lights it after a really long day.
Yandere! Gangster has a shitty New York apartment for sure, exposed brick and one of those noisy old fashioned radiators. It's clean but cluttered and there's basically only two rooms. And the worst part? Rent is still ridiculously high.
Yandere! Incubus has a cell in the abbey. It's almost too neat. Almost like it's not lived in. There's a crucifix above his bed and an uncracked bible on the nightstand. His one concession is his collection of dried flowers. Don't touch - they're all poisonous.
Yandere! Desert Bandit is nomadic and needs to move quickly from one hideout to another. He usually stays in a bayt-al-shar with woven rugs on the floor and oil lanterns burning in the corners. It's much larger than you'd expect and surprisingly warm, even through the icy desert nights. It smells of wood smoke and oud.
Yandere! Academic Rival is a thrift hoe and he knows it. Lots of antiques. He especially loves furniture with plenty of engraving or detailing. He either stays in an uptown penthouse or townhouse that his parents own. Spoiled litte brat.
Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor doesn't stay in one place for too long. And he usually picks places with very few entrances. So be prepared for lots of concrete rooms with boarded up windows.
Yandere! Greek Champion is always fighting, so expect everything from confiscated manor houses to canvas military tents. If he ever returns home, you'll find a villa stuffed with treasure from his conquests. Rare furs and rich tapestries and gleaming bronze urns, built with lots of marble columns and open balconies. He has his own bathhouse and he'll spend hours soaking in the steam, his muscles finally relaxing after months of battle.
393 notes · View notes
klemen-tine · 9 months ago
Text
Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3
Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader
Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse
Part 1
Part 2
@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol
+++++++++++++
Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them. 
They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career. 
Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air. 
Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully. 
“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed. 
“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent. 
Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden. 
A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast. 
The unfairness of it all. 
“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans. 
“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions. 
When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food. 
“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.” 
“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.” 
Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about. 
“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’” 
“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor. 
Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason. 
When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was. 
When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of. 
They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness. 
It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne. 
Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.” 
“Just get in the car, Y/N!” 
“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!” 
“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!” 
“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.” 
“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.” 
Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in. 
“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened. 
They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family. 
“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.” 
“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile. 
“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?” 
“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands. 
“How many does this make?” 
“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.” 
“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips. 
Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy. 
Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother. 
Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears- 
“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other. 
Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners? 
“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now. 
Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.” 
“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip. 
“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.” 
++++
“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal. 
Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers. 
“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?” 
“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.” 
‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. 
“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.” 
“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.”  Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?” 
Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her. 
True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–
“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?” 
Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side. 
“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?” 
“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat. 
“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.” 
“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly. 
Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises. 
Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest. 
However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something? 
‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that. 
Would he? 
“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?” 
Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.” 
Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there. 
Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them. 
Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves. 
It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis. 
“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question. 
“How–” 
“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.
“Now Y/N-” 
“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions. 
“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.” 
“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker. 
“What parent doesn’t know-” 
“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.” 
Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing. 
“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras. 
“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out. 
“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?” 
“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person. 
“Y/N! Look over here!” 
“Look!”
“Over here!”  
A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.
The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present. 
“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection. 
“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.” 
“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face. 
“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.” 
“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.” 
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.” 
“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.” 
Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.” 
“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look. 
“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.” 
“Others won’t believe that.” 
“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.” 
“And your’s do?” 
“We are family!” 
“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly. 
Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.” 
“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew? 
“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is! 
I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.” 
Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care. 
“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!
“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel. 
They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t. 
“Bruce finally sees it too.” 
Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry– 
“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 
– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.” 
Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?” 
“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.” 
“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.” 
Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–” 
“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!
How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away. 
“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face. 
Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.” 
“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep. 
Because why not. 
“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.” 
“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail. 
“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.” 
Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral. 
“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction. 
A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be. 
If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.
Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids? 
Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image. 
It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in. 
Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here. 
“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open. 
“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.” 
“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore. 
They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.” 
“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner. 
E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room. 
Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint. 
“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?” 
‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.” 
Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.” 
“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…” 
“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.” 
When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions. 
Hovering or distancing. 
Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it. 
“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands. 
“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show. 
However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too. 
“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’ 
“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you. 
However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting. 
“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father. 
“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.” 
“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.” 
“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article. 
Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.
“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–” 
“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen. 
Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage
Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.
“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.
“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees. 
“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist. 
“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along. 
“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.”  Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?” 
Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?
“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.” 
+++++
“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers. 
“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!” 
“Good job Y/N!” 
“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch. 
“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises. 
“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on. 
Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought. 
The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple. 
“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further. 
Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face. 
In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’ 
Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.  
Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow. 
“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more. 
“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.” 
“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist. 
He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” 
______________________________________________________________
Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.
1K notes · View notes
fawnpires · 2 years ago
Text
TORN ON YOUR HEART — KÖNIG.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)
꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.
Tumblr media
"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.
With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.
"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."
"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"
Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.
"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.
His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.
By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.
"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.
Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.
König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.
Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.
As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.
"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.
"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.
You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."
Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.
His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.
"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."
"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."
Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.
His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.
You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.
"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.
"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.
His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.
König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.
“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.
“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”
It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.
Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.
“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
nightmareweaverz · 1 month ago
Text
What is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader) Part 2
Read Part 1 Here
CW: Mild gore/injury, a bit of violence but nothing extreme
Word count: 2536
Since people enjoyed it and I had some ideas, I decided to continue this! We meet someone new in this chapter. Keep in mind it's not gonna turn into a love triangle, tho. The new character serves a different purpose. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!
Another book falls shut with a loud thump next to the armchair that's held you for the past two days. A large stack rests beside it. You've been leafing through many of them lately, especially romance books. Not all of them fit your taste, some you would even call boring. Reading wasn't a hobby of yours when you were in the human world, but here, you've found this more enjoyable than walking around with no real purpose. Even the boring ones become less boring eventually. It’s nice to pretend you are a character in a story, with a different life, one that has purpose. Unlike your current reality.
Until you run out of books. Then you have to go out searching for more. This is one of those times. You've read everything from your last find. It was mostly magazines and newspapers, save for one or two novels, some of them half shredded. But their job is done now.
Crowbar in hand and hood drawn over your head, you detach yourself from the armchair and set out on your little mission. Your previous haul is left behind. There is no point in trying to keep any of the things you've finished reading. They'd only slow you down in this ever shifting maze.
The hallways are as creepy and hard to navigate as usual. A locked door here, imminent danger there, some horrific friendly residents and other equally horrific non friendly residents. The usual.
While you're peering inside a vent in an attempt to see if you can use it to get past a wall, Mr. Gap pays you a visit.
“Hello,” he greets you.
“Hello. Can take other room?” You point at the wall.
“Can take.”
“Danger there?”
“No danger. Lots of object.”
That's exactly what you were hoping to hear.
“You take me?”
“Take, take.”
He grabs your arm. Your vision goes black for a moment, as it always does when Mr. Gap moves you from one place to another. Everything goes quiet and you briefly feel a chill envelop you. Then you're in a new place, the room he promised to take you to.
“Thank you.”
Lately, he's been doing a mix of asking for body parts and doing things without wanting anything in return. Whether he’s trying to be nicer or he plans on asking for something later, is unknown to you. The occasionally friendly company is still appreciated.
You turn to the piles of random objects fallen from the human world. A far larger pile than usual. With a little bit of luck, it won’t all be full of worthless junk. You get to sorting through them before an earthquake can do it all in.
“What you search?” Mr. Gap's face peeks out from beneath a toppled over armchair.
“Lots of paper.”
Old dirty clothes, a couple abandoned toys, a lamp, a bike wheel, they all get thrown around in your search. You let out a triumphant “Yes!” when you stumble upon a copy of Frankenstein. It's not romance, but it'll keep you busy nonetheless. You shove it beneath your underarm before resuming the search.
“You like paper? Me like paper,” Mr. Gap comments as he reappears in another nook between two wooden planks.
“Okay,” you say dismissively. Normally, you'd humor him, but this world is unpredictable and you want fuel for your newly acquired pastime before it decide to bury everything beneath a pile of rubble.
You turn over a seat pillow and his face suddenly pops up in the space beneath. He holds out a magazine.
“Oh, thank-”
“Me want your finger.”
This slimy gremlin. You flash him your middle finger, only for a moment, before he can misunderstand and rip it off. The gesture confuses him, but the following grumbles must mean it didn't fly over his head entirely.
“Stop take my paper. Me not give,” you warn that you won't exchange any body parts for magazines he finds before you do.
But he knows this by now. It must simply delight him to see the furrow in your brow and hear you huff in irritation. You return to your task, refusing to grant him anymore satisfaction.
One pile of random objects later, he pops up again, this time with another book. This one is small, made of thick cardboard. The brightly colored cover suggests that it's for children.
“Me give, you teach me,” he says this time.
“Teach what?” He better not be about to ask you to sing itsy bitsy spider.
Mr. Gap opens up the book on a page where a cartoon little boy is offering a flower to a little girl. “What this?”
Where did he find that? Has he been trying to learn more about love? Is that why he's curious about such a gesture? The idea makes you find him kind of cute if it's true. Have you both just been reading romance related material, fumbling like idiots to figure out how it works?
As for explaining it, first, you point at the flower and say the word for it in English, since you're not sure there's a term for it here.
“This flower. Human give flower to person they like. Flower nice, pretty.”
Mr. Gap attempts to speak the new word. “Flower?” He stares at the illustration for another moment, then smiles creepily, the way he always does. “Thank you.”
In exchange, he gives you the magazine he'd tempted you with earlier. It’s a paranormal one. Knowing him, he’s already read through it. Read… Can Mr. Gap read? He doesn’t understand your language when you speak it, but he seems particularly fond of magazines. Is it all for the pictures? Maybe you’ll ask him next time.
You tuck the magazine next to the book and continue through the pile.
Once your left arm is satisfyingly full, you leave the room, now in search of a safe place to sit and read.
The sound of footsteps suddenly approaching nails you to the spot for a moment. Your hand instinctively grips the crowbar tighter, preparing for the worst. Whatever is coming, it better not force you to drop your books and flee. Because then you will be pissed. And you tend to lose control when you are pissed.
Fortunately, what walks in does not prove to be threatening. In fact, it's not even a resident. A young man with messy red hair cautiously steps in, then immediately freezes when he spots you. The sight of him nearly knocks all the air out of you. There is another human in the Other World. A living, breathing human, something you thought you'd never see again.
You are aware of how frightening you look. The bloodied raincoat, the silver hair, the bandages on your face and your blotchy, dark reddish skin. You often turn away quickly when faced with smooth metal, glass and, god forbid, mirrors. It's hard to believe the image you see is you. So his fear of you comes as no surprise. It serves as a grim reminder of what you've become.
“Hello.” When you speak, you use your native language.
“You speak English?!” the young man sounds startled and relieved at the same time.
“Yes… What are you doing here?”
Speaking complex sentences feels far better than you expected. It brings you a type of joy and nostalgia that startles you. Had you been missing it that much?
“I… I don't remember how I got here. Or what I was doing before. I'm just looking for the exit. Can you help me?”
This sounds painfully familiar. You remember when that used to be you. When you still had hope. And that memory tugs at something in your chest and urges you to make sure this man finds that exit. Before it's too late.
“I can help. What's your name?”
Such a human question to ask. The idea of using someone's proper name also makes you happy. When exactly have you become the type of person excited about complex sentences and names?
“I'm Robin. And you?”
You give him your name and he nods uneasily. Perhaps he hasn't been here long enough to be unphased by residents. That's good. It means there's still time.
“Mr. Gap?” you call out as you turn to the nearest crevice you can find. He appears as he always does. “Can take person exit?”
He glances at the human behind you, who is now observing warily. Then he shoots you that annoying grin of his. “Me want your heart.”
“Uh! Not give heart! Lead exit!”
“Not give? Goodbye.” And then he disappears.
You feel a strong urge to smack that grin right off his face. But he's gone and it seems like it's up to you to help this man find his way out.
“What did you talk about?” the man in question asks.
“I thought he'd help, but I overestimated his kindness… Come on, we need to find an elevator. It will take you out of here.”
“Alright… Um, thank you!”
His thanks is met with a dismissive little wave from you. Begrudgingly, the books have to be left here. The chances of finding them again are very slim, but you'll be less efficient with one arm entirely full.
The two of you set out to search for the exit.
The first rooms you pass through are an empty blessing. Robin isn't very talkative. Despite his wide shoulders and tall build, he appears quite timid and frightened. Every time you enter a new room, he first pokes his head in cautiously, then he dares to advance once he knows the coast is clear.
Is this how you used to be? Frightfully wandering the Other World, aided by Mr. Crawling, scared of your own shadow? It's a stark contrast to the apathetic stride you've developed since your return.
“How long have you been down here?” Robin asks after a prolonged silence.
“A while. It's hard to keep track of time here.”
“Is there… no way to turn you back?”
“I had a friend who was searching for a cure. But we got separated…”
You don't want to think about Mr. Silvair or the rest right now. You'd rather just focus on the task of finding the elevator.
“Is your friend like the guy in the hole?”
“Uh, no! That guy is an annoying little jerk who only does as he pleases.” Your face twists in annoyance just thinking about Mr. Gap. He could've effortlessly helped out, but he chose to be a pain instead.
“Oh, sorry.”
The hallway ends with two identical doors. Doors. They're so annoying in this world. Immediate death, sudden threat or a boring room could be waiting behind one and usually there's no way to tell them apart unless you open it.
“Stay back,” you instruct the human as you cautiously turn the doorknob.
Through the crack you've opened, you see a large, mostly empty room apart from a shelf with various toys on it. There are no signs of enemies for now.
“Okay, we can go.”
You step inside, you first and Robin cowering behind you. Everything seems fine as you head towards the doorless exit on the other side of the room. Until the door suddenly shuts and locks behind you.
“Who did that?!” Robin exclaims, startled.
You clutch your crowbar tighter, eyes darting around the room. One of the stuffed animals on the shelf suddenly lunges at you. However, you've spent long enough down here to parry such an attack easily. Swiftly, you swing your crowbar and knock it against the wall. Something shatters inside it. It stops moving.
But you have no time to relax. Robin lets out a startled scream. When you turn his way, several other toys are trying to climb him. One of them has sharp teeth and is biting into his arm.
“Get off him, you pests!” you yell out as you knock them off one by one, always followed by that shattering sound.
When he's freed, Robin quickly backs into a corner, cradling his bleeding arm. He's hurt. That's not good. He hasn't begun to transform at all. So his healing is that of a normal person.
“How deep is it? Let me see.”
“What were those things?! They- they bit me!” He’s panicking.
“Robin, you have to calm down and let me see your injury. It's gonna be okay. I'll get you out. But I need to see your arm first.” You try to be gentle. At least that's not something you've forgotten how to do yet.
He stares with wide eyes full of terror at first. But with each new reassurance, his breathing slowly relaxes and his trembling seizes. He offers you the arm. Gently, you roll up the torn sleeve of his shirt. Nine deep little cuts in a semicircle ooze blood on his forearm. It's not fatal, but leaving it untreated would be unwise.
You quickly glance around the room until you spot the dark void beneath the bottom of the shelf. You hurry to it at once.
“Mr. Gap! We need medicine! Person hurt. Blood,” you announce in the other language.
Mr. Gap does appear. He throws one look Robin's way, then grins at you. “Medicine? Can bring. Me want their finger.”
“Oh, for the love of- Give you my finger!” you try to bargain, not in the mood to explain that giving him a human's finger would defeat the purpose of asking for medicine.
Mr. Gap looks almost offended. Perhaps because you usually never say yes to his demands when he asks for your body parts. “Why?”
“Need medicine! Hurt! If outsider give finger, lots of hurt!” you explain, exasperated.
His face twists in displeasure. When he looks at Robin again, his eyes narrow, like he suddenly can't stand him. “Me not want your finger. Me want their finger.”
“Uh! You slimy little sewer rat!” you insult him, fully aware he hasn't a clue what you're saying, but probably able to tell from your tone it isn't nice. Then you turn away indignantly.
“Did your friend not want to help?” Robin asks timidly when you return to him.
“He thinks everything needs to be a transaction. It's fine, we'll manage without him.”
You lift up a part of your raincoat and rip off a piece of the white garment beneath it. Robin holds out his arm once again and allows you to bandage it.
“Why are you going to such lengths to help me?” he murmurs.
Why? You ask yourself that in turn. Perhaps because you didn't make it out. Perhaps you don't want another person to step outside and feel like a shark in the middle of a city, scary yet powerless and out of place.
“I just want somebody else to make it home after I couldn't.”
“I'm sorry…”
“It's fine. I don't need you to pity me. Just try to stay alive. Come on, let's go.”
You tilt your head towards the doorless opening. Begrudgingly, Robin pushes himself away from the corner and follows you out.
You both fail to notice the small roll of bandages that rolls out from beneath the shelf just as you pass it.
229 notes · View notes
lialacleaf · 1 year ago
Text
A Touch Too Personal
Chapter 1
Simon Riley x Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: You had a crush on Ghost since you started working for Price in communications, but the gruff, reserved Lieutenant only acknowledged your existence on the job. That starts to change with a simple, thoughtful gift.
Warnings: Fluff, Simon is bad at processing emotions, past trauma
Chapter 2
You cared deeply about every single one of your teammates. It didn’t matter that you were sitting in an office talking to them over the radio, you were still providing them with intel and directions that kept them alive.
They were like a second family, and so Task Force 141 slowly began to feel like having a lot of older brothers.
Johnny was your go to partner in crime when it came to making mischief, and you knew he was always down for a good prank.
Kyle on the other hand was good for having deep conversations and was the one you always went to for advice.
Ghost…well ghost was a bit different. Your feelings towards him weren’t exactly that of a sibling. Maybe it was because he was more reserved than the others, a mystery or puzzle that you couldn’t quite figure out, but you couldn’t help but feel warm inside on the rare occasion that his intense gaze did linger on you.
Which lead to your current dilemma.
Every time you went home, you made sure to bring one of the boys a gift when you returned to base.
Being that Price was like a father figure, you brought him a handcrafted mug from your hometown’s local pottery festival. Soap had gotten a pocket knife with his call sign engraved on it, and Gaz had received a baseball cap with a hand stitched 141 on the side in his favorite color.
However, now it was Ghost’s turn, and you were at a loss. What would he even like to have? You knew he had an array of tactical gear, you’d seen him knit pick through it on occasion, but you didn’t know enough about working in the field to know kind of tools he’d like. He had so many knives already, that it felt redundant to get him another.
What on earth were you supposed to give this man?
“Maybe you could make this Ghost fella something yourself?” Your mother suggested as you sat in your parents living room to ponder the issue.
Your mother liked Ghost’s nickname, and laughed whenever you brought it up. You could only assume she was picturing a little boy in a Scream costume, and you had to admit that was a little funny. Ghost was the only one to not have shared his real name with you, and thus always ended up being teased by your family, not that he was aware of that.
“Like what?” You asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m stopping by the craft store, how about you come with me instead of sulking in the living room?”
~
You watched your mother peruse through the holiday decorations and shook your head. That woman was amassing quite the Christmas village collection.
You wandered through the store with dwindling hope until you saw it. It was in the fabric section that you found the most perfect pattern for your Lieutenant.
The fabric had a black background, with white Ghosts all over it. You picked up the roll with a brilliant smile on your face, and ran over to one of the fabric department employees.
“I need some of this,” you said, giddy and bouncing on the balls of your feet.
“How much do you want?” The woman asked, preparing her scissors.
Ghost was a pretty large man, and you took a moment to think about just how much fabric you were going to need.
“Uhhh, a lot.”
~
“Lass! How was the family?” Johnny asked, pulling you in for a tight hug as you pulled your luggage into your room on base.
“It was good, ate a lot, took my cousins shooting, family stuff,” you said with a grin. “I gotta show you something,” you insisted, pulling him inside your room.
“Oh? What’s that?” He asked curiously.
“You know how I always bring back a surprise?” You began, a grin on your face.
“Who’s the lucky winner?” He chucked.
“You tell me.” You beamed at him as you pulled out the larger than life knot-tie blanket you’d made, and Johnny’s jaw dropped.
“You did not!” He gasped, chuckling at he inspected it. One side was the Ghost fabric you’d found, and the other was made from the softest army green material you could find. In the top corner. You’d stitched in a small British Flag patch, and each corner has a sandbag sewn in.“You made him a bloody weighted blanket? What gave you that idea?” He asked.
“We’ll I couldn’t find anything I thought he’d like at first, but then I saw the fabric and it just fell together so perfectly!”
“Oh man, I would kill to see his reaction to this,” Johnny said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.
“You say that like we ever get to see his reaction to anything,” you stated. You’d never actually seen him without some sort of face covering.
Johnny tisked softly and shrugged. “Alright, you got me there,” he admitted. “He’s in his room now, probably as good a time as any.”
You couldn’t help but grin broadly. “Perfect.”
~
You felt a lump form in your throat as you approached Ghost’s door. You knew it was just the nerves that came along with your little crush on the Lieutenant, but it still made the task at hand a little daunting.
You took a deep breath, knocking softly on the door. Maybe you should have wrapped it for him. What if he didn’t like it? How were you supposed to react if he just brushed you off.
The door opened before you could rethink your decision. It always came as a shock how large Ghost was, no matter how many times you stood mask to face.
“You’re back.”
You felt your heart rate spike. He had noticed you were gone? Had noticed you? Of course he had noticed, it was his job to notice, it didn’t mean anything.
“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to ask how your trip was, or if you were glad to be back. He didn’t.
“I got you something!” You said suddenly, holding the folded blanket out to him, and his entire body seemed to freeze. He stared at it for a moment or two, as if he were slowly processing the object.
“What is it?”
Your smile faltered. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he inspected it as if it were some kind of trick. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he took it carefully from your hands.
“Where’d you get it?”
Shit, he hates it.
“I- Uhm. I made it,” you admitted, your cheeks blazing. This was stupid. You were stupid.
He looked between you and the blanket in his hands, and nodded. “Thanks,” he said before stepping back into his room and closing the door.
You pressed your lips together firmly in an attempt to not start bawling. You walked off on shaky legs, taking deep breaths. At least he hadn’t told you he didn’t want it.
~
Simon sat on his bed, his thumb brushed over the small flag patched into the corner of the blanket. The fact that you had made him a gift by hand had his stomach in knots. He knew about your little gift tradition with the rest of 141, but he hadn’t expected to be included, nor did he expected you’d go to such trouble. The two of you weren’t even very close.
He swallowed thickly as tears pricked his eyes. This was the nicest thing any teammate had ever given him.
He brought the fabric to his face and gave it a deep whiff. It smelled fresh, like laundry detergent. You must have washed it before you gave it to him.
Simon spread the blanket carefully over his cot, admiring how the fabric felt against his hands. It didn’t catch on his calloused fingers, and wasn’t too fluffy.
It was large too, as if you’d taken his massive size into account. He was certain he could easily caving himself in it. His bottom lip wobbled slightly, and it was an effort to hold his tears at bay.
That night, Simon slept soundly, wrapped in your carefully crafted gift, and you were the only thing on his mind.
AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!
2K notes · View notes
porceline · 1 month ago
Note
So, I'm thinking of your fic, and in it we see how the reader reacts when Optimus is turned human. My request is headcanons or a little ficlet/drabble on how OP would react if you (his human S/O) were to interact with a relic that turned them into a Cybertronian.
Turn of events
Pairing:
Optimus Prime × cybertronian!reader
Summary:
After a decommissioned disguise relic ended up in the hands of the Autobots, everyone's favorite reader (you), ended up being transformed into a giant cybertronian.
Word count: 1k+
A/N: HIII GUYSSS I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out, gosh I got sick AGAIN! and some personal stuff went down, but I'm back and badder than ever!! Enjoy loves!
(Ps. This isn't as detailed as I would've liked but I rushed to get it out cuz I was taking too much time, but might even make it a full fic when I finish my current one!!)
It was an accident, completely an accident. You hadn't meant to. You just wanted to see.
Sliding thin, fleshy fingers between large gaps in buttons and pressure plates while no one was paying attention, with no idea the relic would be so sensitive. Not your proudest moment.
You always knew your curiosity would be your downfall. You're just lucky Bulkhead moved the kids out of the way.
It was the most pain you've ever experienced, it felt like your limbs were getting stretched beyond their limit, your skin pulled hard and slowly, then it felt like it was turned to stone.
No one had any time to react before you became ten times bigger than you were born, your new form falling onto the elevated platform designated for humans.
The concrete was thick enough to hold your weight, but the iron safety bars bent under you.
Everything was tinted blue, and somehow brighter than before. You had to squint your eyes.
Your vision kept blurring, sometimes focusing on one single spot, zooming onto it as if you were wearing Binoculars.
There was a panic around you, commotion and yelling. Everything sounded so far away though. You couldn't focus.
A hand, much larger than yours grasps your shoulder. Another cups your cheek and turns your head.
It's Optimus. He's speaking. His mouth is moving but you hear nothing. You're scared.
"Have you shrunk?" You blurt out, you can feel the rumble of your own voice like never before, it sounded so clear despite not being able to hear.
He raises an eyebrow, his mouth begins to move again, but you still can't hear anything.
Thick brows furrow as blue optics scan over your worried face. Optimus puzzles together what might be wrong, his face softens as he reaches to the side of your head.
You hear three loud clicks, then the sound of the base booms into your ears, making your head throb.
"What happened!?"
"Primus, what did you do!?"
"Why did you touch that?!"
"Are you alright?"
You snap your head towards Optimus, his gentle optics stare deep into your own.
You shake your head.
He hums, sliding a thick arm under your back, helping you sit up. His free hand slides over your legs, turning them to hang over the large concrete block you're sitting on.
By now, Ratchet has made his way over to you, an angry look on his face as both he and Optimus help you stand up.
The rest of the team are watching in silence, mouths agape in awe at the sudden transformation they had just witnessed. Seeing you go from such a tiny being, to being slightly larger than arcee was incredible.
Your feet, well, pedes, finally hit the floor, they felt so much heavier than what you were used to. Like someone glued concrete blocks onto your feet.
The two of them loosen their grip on you, the lack of support nearly makes you topple over, making you blurt out an embarrassing yelp.
Ratchet scoffs in annoyance, while Optimus shakes his head, leaning you back to scoop you into his arms.
"Let's keep you off your pedes for a bit."
You don't argue.
Ratchet leads the way to the medical bay, walking a bit faster than Optimus. You can practically hear the anger in his steps.
"I'm so sorry." You whisper, burying your face in your hands. How could you have been so stupid?
"None of that," Optimus pulls your hands away from your face, tilting your chin up.
"It's not your fault, it was an accident. Ratchet might seem angry, but he really is just worried."
Everyone else has since gone their separate ways, still on edge from, the event earlier.
What a horrible way to start the day.
Optimus settles you down on one of the large metal cots, leaning you back against the wall.
He sits down next to you while Ratchet occupies himself with running tests on you. The scanner in his forearm drowns you in a green light, covering you head-to-toe.
Completing the scan, Ratchet turns back around. His digits tap against the keyboard as he types.
You look up to the monitor above his head, the text scrolls down the vibrant green screen.
But you can read it.
It's incredible, you understand it but you also.. don't? You can read it, but the text is still so foreign to you.
The information on the screen appears to be vitals, and though you can read it, you can't quite understand it.
Optimus holds onto your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. It was a comforting touch.
Ratchet returns to your side, taking an object that looks like a human-ish pistol from the table beside you.
Before you can even breathe, he turns your hand over and shoots your palm. It hurt, but not as much as you had anticipated. It was like getting a flu-shot.
The vial attached to it starts filling with a blue liquid, energon, you presume.
Ratchet doesn't say a word when he pulls the gun away, slotting it into a machine next to your cot.
The awkward silence eats away at your mind, you grip the grey armor plating on your thighs.
"Ratchet.. I didn't mean-"
"Ehp yehp yehp! I don't want to hear any of it."
You sulk your shoulders, hunching your head down as his thick metal digets tap away at the keyboard.
Optimus sighs. "Ratchet..-"
The prime is interrupted by his medic.
"Not you too! I can barely deal with one whining bot, by Primus don't make me deal with two."
Your eyes widen, your hands open in a defensive position.
"I'm not whining!"
He points his thick digit at you. "That, right there, is whining!  Can you please try to be quiet while I figure out how to fix this?!" Ratchet huffs, turning away back to his monitor. Mumbling something about humans being loud.
You glare at the back of his head, sighing in frustration.
This week is going to be hell.
170 notes · View notes
cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago
Text
Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 1
Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.
A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You'd basically been an intern during your placement year at McLaren as an engineering university student. They then kept you on as an employee to work with them while you completed your final year of university.
That was in 2023, it was now 2025 and you were 23 years old and had worked for McLaren for the last few years.
In recent years PR for the teams was all getting the same. They made the funny and treading tiktoks, they did the 0.5 pics, and they made the memes which never got old. But all the teams were looking for something new... something refreshing. So when the team came forward with the idea for someone to go on Love Island, Zac Brown hated the idea.
He thought it was ridiculous.
It was ridiculous.
But after some thought of how Lando and Oscar, the stellar boys of his team... young and energetic brought like likeability and youth too McLaren that everyone loved. He then realized that this would give someone in McLaren a larger platform to open up too and show the ins and outs of McLaren and it would gain way more viewers from a different group of people.
So once the car for 2025 had been created he went through a long list of all the potential candidates he'd ask to apply. Maybe he could even see if he could sway ITV in anyway.
Obviously he looked at the social media girls and then any of the mechanics that they could let loose for the potential of 10 weeks. But the one that struck him the most was you. Y/N Y/L/N.
You were the perfect candidate, you were an engineer and travelled with McLaren from race to race working on the car's performance and helping the strategists when it came to optimizing car performance with driver ability.
So that's why you were currently sat in the ITV studio doing your little interview for your introduction.
You were a little gutted they told you they wanted you in on this project as you had a massive crush on driver number 81 Oscar Piastri and you knew both him and Lando would be watching you.
The Love Island Intro:
"My love life is non-apparent I think I've had a closer relationship with my car than a man!" you joked halfway through the interview when they'd asked you about your love-life.
"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm 23 years old from London! I work for a Formula 1 Team, McLaren Racing as an Engineer" you smile looking at the camera shuffling on your seat a little bit adjusting you dress.
"The lights a really bright in this studio I think my makeup's running!" you say as a makeup technician comes out fixing your under eye a little.
"I think my last relationship was my first year of University and it lasted for about a year" you answer with a thoughtful look up.
"I think he got fed up with me! At that point i was very career focused and I still am." you answer the prompted 'and why was that' question asked to you.
"I'm not fussy when it comes to looks, but I tend to go for sporty guys that are taller than me and treat me well! My dad always told me, find yourself a man that will treat you how they treat their Vintage Pontaic and I've lived by that ever since!" you admit with a little laugh.
"Where I work in such a fast paced and big industry I'm very much a socialite and people person so i can imagine I'll make friends quickly in the villa" you answer again the question they asked you.
Walking into the Villa:
You step into the Villa, you of course were wearing a Papaya Bikini with a matching coverup in the form of a cardigan but sheer.
You walk through thanking the driver before walking into the villa looking around in awe.
Maybe it wasn't the worst thing spending your entire summer here. The only thing was you were gutted you wouldn't be updated on how your team was doing at any point! This year the villa was in Greece, it had been completely reformed with the pool being more like the one from season 1 where it had the beach sort of style to it.
You round the corner seeing two gorgeous girls sipping on champagne.
"Oh, look its another girl!!! OMG HEY!!!!" the first girl shouts beckoning you over.
"Hey!" you exclaim walking over as quickly as you could in the heels you were wearing.
The first girl pulls you into a hug kissing either one of your cheeks while gripping both your arms, she was pretty tall as well around 5'11, whereas you were around 5'7 in the heels you were sporting.
The next girl hands you a drink before kissing your cheek.
"So girl! What's your name, how old are you?" the first girl asks.
"Y/N! And I'm 23! What's your names?" you ask politely before taking a sip of your champagne.
"I'm Millie, and this is Auriela!" she smiles pointing to the other girl.
Seconds later another female enters the Villa with a shrilly sort of shriek, looking around at the place.
"Omggggggg! Heyy girls whats going on!" she says in a strong Scottish Accent.
Your then introduced to Zavi before you all get chatting about what you like in boys.
Oscar and Lando's Reaction:
"Damn, who knew she looked like that under team gear!" Lando compliments shamelessly checking her out as they slow-mowed her walk out on screen before showing her intro video.
"Yeah, she's pretty" Oscar says quietly while respectfully looking her over.
Oscar had a crush on you from when he was a reserve driver for Alpine and he saw you on work experience in McLaren from the end of the 2022 season and before he joined all the way through till the September of 2023. You then were in the MTC a lot between Uni, so he saw you a lot during the winter break before you were off for your finals.
You rejoined McLaren in May of 2024 for the Monaco GP where you cam with revolutionary upgrades for Zac Brown to oversee.
And you'd been with them ever since, always in Oscar's mind as the pretty engineer who not only made his cars race fast but made his heart race just as fast too.
He watched as she said she liked sporty guys, maybe he had a chance if she didn't fall in love while in there.
"That other girls pretty fit! Mille is that her name?" Lando comments but it goes straight over Oscar's head where he's so honed in on you.
Meeting the Boys:
The presenter had you all stood in the pool, and she explained how she was about to bring the boys out one by one.
"Okay first boy. Please come out and introduce yourself!"
"Hey ladies, all looking beautiful today, my name is Jai I'm 25 and I'm a training Surgeon!" he smiles holding both hands together as he looks at all of you.
"Okay ladies, step forward if you like the look of Jai!" she says and both Millie and Zavi step forward. You don't step forward as you can imagine he's pretty busy as a doctor and your schedules would clash too much.
"Oh woah, you've got too girls that have stepped forward for you Jai, what are your first thought, we feeling good?" she asks and he nods.
"Yeah, I mean they are both gorgeous ladies!"
"Okay lets find out more. Zavi, why did you step forward?" the presenter asks and she smiles.
"We're both doctors, so i think we'd make a pretty good match, we'd have lots to talk about. Yeah and your very handsome!" she says shyly and the presenter nods.
"Awesome and Y/N you didn't step forward, just keeping you options open?" she asks and you shake your head.
"You of course are very attractive and seem like a really funny and kind guy, but I travel a lot for work and I think with you being a doctor our schedules would result in a major clash unfortunately!" you explain, with a guilty look.
He nods in understanding before he goes and stands next to Zavi in her white bathing suit.
"Our first couple, Jai and Zavi!" she says and you all clap as Jai walks next to her placing a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Okay, our second boy everyone say hello to Chris!" she introduces and another man comes walking through the double glass doors.
"Hey, I'm Chris I'm 22 and I'm a Celebrity Hairdresser" he smiles waving shyly before tucking his arms behind his back.
"Okay girls you know what to do!"
This time only Auriela steps forward. You stay in your position along with Millie.
"Okay, so Auriela has stepped forward for you Chris! Aurelia why did you step forward!" she asks and Auriela laughs.
"Holy hell have you seen him? Hi I'm Aurelia" she smiles playfully at him, he looks down a small blush on his cheeks.
"Millie, you didn't step forward this time. Any reason?" she asks.
"Little disheartened after Jai, but I'm sure my times coming. Just not with Chris, sorry my ex is a hairdresser!" she laughs off her reasoning before he ends up choosing Aurelia.
"Our second couple Chris and Aurelia!"
"Okay, Boy 3 please make yourself known!" she exclaims and another very handsome man comes strolling out. He immediately sends a wink your guys' way and pulls the presenter in to kiss her cheek in a friendly manner.
"Hi, my names Daniel, I'm 25 and I'm a footballer" he smiles crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Okay, ladies please step forward if you like the look of Daniel" the presenter smiles. You, Millie and Aurelia all step forward.
"Sorry" Aureila says turning round to look at Chris.
"Woah, that's the most we've had step forward! And this is in fact that first time we've had Y/N step forward" the presenter says and he looks between you and Millie trying to determine who it was.
"The one in Orange!" she exclaims and he looks at you, small smirk on his face.
"Hello beautiful" he compliments and you smile at him.
Eventually after she asks Millie who pleads her case heavily, he goes with her. You step back a little sadly and he looks over to you in apology but you just nod with a smile understanding his choice.
"Okay our next couple Millie and Daniel!" she says and you all clap happily.
"Okay boy number 4 please step out and make yourself known" the presenter asks again.
"Hiya, all looking really beautiful ladies. I'm Aaron I'm 26 and I'm a freelance photographer" he introduces before making a little side joke.
You, and Zavi step forward.
"So you've got Y/N who only stepped forward for one other boy stepping forward for you in Orange and isn't currently coupled up. Then you've got Zavi's who currently with Jai" she explains and he nods.
"But of course you can choose any girl even if she's not coupled up! Y/N why did you step forward?" she asks looking at you.
"You are very handsome obviously, has that sky book guy vibe about him. But I think your photography career would go wild if you came travelling with me for my job!" you smile looking at him.
She asks Zavi why she changed her mind from Jai giving a generic answer about keeping her options open before she questions Millie and why she didn't step forward.
"Aaron, please go stand next to the girl you'd like to couple up with" the presenter says and he walks standing next to you. He places a kiss on your cheek.
"You look stunning by the way" he smiles looking down at you making you blush and elbow him to shut up. So you could see what the presenter was about to say.
"Now, all of you are happily coupled up, we have Y/N and Aaron, we have Millie and Daniel, Aureila and Chris and Zavi and Jai. However, please say hello to our final male contestant Charlie" she says and a blonde guy walks out full of confidence.
"£10 that he's out by week 2" you whisper to Aaron making him snicker a little before covering it up with a cough.
"Hi ladies, I'm Charlie I'm 28 and I'm a Physician" he smiles.
"Okay, so obviously all these ladies are currently coupled up, however you are able to choose any of them and break the couple they are currently in!" the presenter exclaims.
"Oooooof the whole lot!" he says flicking his hand looking over all of you.
"I'm going to make it easier for you and ask if the girls like the look of you for them to step forward. Please do so ladies on the count of three" she says and counts to 3.
When no-one steps forward he awkwardly shuffles.
"Come on ladies lets not be shy" he laughs, until the presenter deems no-one to step forward.
"Okay, I'll go with her in the Orange Bikini" he says pointing at you. You look away from Aaron in shock.
"Okay, Aaron please come stand here with me and Charlie please go stand next to Y/N" she says and you keep your eyes on Aaron as he walks away. He gives a nod to you and you nod back.
An understanding.
"Okay, these are our current couples, no more couplings will happen today!" she exclaims before she explains that you have time to explore the villa and get to know each other.
Tumblr media
Oscar and Lando Reaction:
"Okay, no I understand that, good for her" Lando says shoving some plain popcorn into his mouth as he watched Y/N not step forward for Jai.
"I bet Y/N would step forward for me" Lando says as she rejects the second guy to come out Chris.
"Do you recon she'd step out for me?" Oscar asks looking over to his friend.
"Yeah mate. Your a catch. I even heard her say to Emma, the girl in marketing once that her fav accent is aussie!" Lando admits eyes glued to the screen as she steps forward for Daniel.
"She does!" Oscar exclaims looking at Lando making his pause the TV.
"Yeah, mate. Now lets watch coz this may be the future Mr Y/N in the paddock!" Lando says gesturing to the TV.
"Nah, that's foul. How you out there rejecting my girl Y/N Y/LN!" Lando screams at the TV in horror that Daniel had just gone with Millie.
They watch as the next guy walks out and Lando and Oscar raise eyebrows. It was a brown haired, brown eyed guy that did the beluga smile as he came out.
"She's so stepping forward for him!" Lando says pointing at Aaron.
"I'm already putting my money on them as winners" he comments again. And she does in fact step forward. He of course chooses her, no seconds thoughts needed. They watch as he compliments her and kisses her cheek.
"Dude, she defo had school girl crushes on us!" Lando admits seeing the similar attributes and mannerisms the mail had to the McLaren driver duo.
They wait until they see Charlie walking in.
“Nah man, he keeps eyeing her up! He’s gonna take her away from Aaron!” Lando explains, but Oscar is just unhappy that she’s coupled up with anyone in general.
He should have admitted to her ages ago that he was madly in love with her.
They then watched on as the girls all parted ways walking into the bedroom and makeup area where all their clothes were in the wardrobes with their names on!
The boys all sat around the campfire talking to each other. Not fully getting to know each other wanting to save that for dinner later on.
But Oscar didn’t know how much longer he could watch this if you were going to be flirting with people the whole time.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
572 notes · View notes
yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 10 months ago
Text
It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over. (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 2
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Wake up babe, new cowboy Miguel fic just dropped! This part was heavily inspired by the notebook. Period pieces are not my strong suit so apologizes if it’s not good. Not proofread, enjoy!
(Y/N)-Your name.
Cursing, mentions/usage of alcohol, attempted robbery/theft, mentions of guns, Miguel jokes about manhandling you but nothing actually happens, mentions of sexual acts, but nothing happens.
Word Count: 2.3k
Part 1
Masterlist
Five years.
Five years since you had last seen the cowboy who had stolen your heart.
You had graduated college and moved out of your parents home, moving a few towns over, nowhere near a big city like you lived in during your youth in the East but a lot larger than the one you had lived during the whole Miguel incident. You lived in a nice home, gotten a job as a teacher for the younger kids in town and… you were recently engaged.
Your fiancé was a nice man, sweet, understanding, kind, easy on the eyes, you liked him a lot, the only problem is, you didn’t love him. You should feel bad about getting married to a wealthy man who you didn’t even see as more than of a friend, but at the same time, your mother thought it would be best to marry you off to her friend’s son that just so happened to be inheriting his father’s liquor business when he settled down. It was a marriage of convenience if anything, at least he was polite with you despite neither you or him having any romantic feelings, if anything it made the whole thing a bit easier for you. Growing content with the fact that this would turn into your future children’s definition of love.
Five years to grow from a silly lovestruck teenager into a young woman with responsibilities and a bright future ahead of her, and you still thought about him. You can't help but frantically Miguel’s name under the obituary section of the town’s paper, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when his name wouldn’t appear. Although it was foolish, and despite no longer living in the same small town as your parents, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter at the fact he hasn’t found you yet. Was he even attempting to look for you? With a reputation like his, you’re certain you weren’t the first girl he’s charmed to get under his sheets… or in your case, jail cell. So, eventually, you stopped hoping, if he hadn’t found you during the last five years, he surely wasn’t looking. Why should you?
“Darling.” Your fiancé, Austin, called out for you before rounding the corner that connected the living room into the kitchen. You hummed in response as you kept your eyes on the stack of papers you were currently grading for your students, a pen in your dominant hand as your free one tapped a mindless tone to help keep you concentrated. “Put the papers down and take a break will you? You’ve got all week to grade those tests.” You let out a huff and a whine as you put the pen down, he was right. Your eyes keep unfocusing and your wrist was being to grow sore, making your fiancé tsk. “I don’t understand why you don’t just quit, I make enough to support us both.”
“I should,shouldn't I…” You contimplacted with a weary chuckle, and although your tone was joking, you were seriously considering it. You adored your students with all your heart, you really did. But the school was putting so much pressure on you because they refused to hire another teacher to help lessen your workload. So you and two other teachers were juggling a handful of 300 seven year olds, it was a lot… to say the least. You picked yourself up from your seat to stretch your body out, before turning to Austin. “Now was that all you came to tell me?” You asked in a playful tone.
“No, actually… I came to ask for a favor.” He admitted, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Ya know I’ve got that… liquor convention event out of town this weekend, right?” You nodded in confirmation, “well, I was wondering if you could do me the favor of just checking in on my office while I’m gone. I’ve heard a lot about break ins and whatnot during these times, just drop by for a few minutes for the 4 days that I’ll be gone.”
You tapped the nonsensical rhythm again as you thought about it, it wasn’t too much of an ask, you’d just drop by for a few minutes a day, you shrugged. “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Saturday afternoon, your first day off and your third alone. Grateful for the ability to sleep in and being about to eat a well rounded breakfast. After doing your usual morning routine, and having changed into one of your simpler dresses to go out and run some errands for the day.
Gone out to get groceries, send out a letter to your parents, went to the tailors to drop off some Austin’s shirts to be hemmed since you didn’t feel like sitting down all to do it yourself, even finished grading the last of the test all before noon ended. After tidying up your work from its usual spot from the kitchen table, you made yourself a quick lunch and went to read a few chapters of your book on the couch. Only to end up falling asleep, and once you woke up, you glanced at the clock-shit.
“It’s half past five?! I was supposed to go to his office an hour ago!” You yelled to no one but yourself as you quickly got up from your spot on the couch, fixing your hair quickly as you threw on your coat, and made your way back out the door.
“I told ya boys this heist would be easy… if we leave by dusk we could hit up that train that passes by el dorado tomorrow evening…” Miguel chuckled as he tossed his now full bag of valuables to his brother, who then passed it over Peter would load it to one of their horses that they had waiting for them around the back of the building.
After that night he had escaped, it took him about a month to find his partners in crime, following their trail through stolen newspapers from random porches and the knowledge of how their usual trail was, luckily they had kept his horse safe and well taken care of too.
“One more bag then we’re as good as gone.” Miguel said with a smirk, making Gabriel Let out a laugh and a clap. Right when Miguel was going to prep the last bag, the faint noise of rushing made all three men stop in their tracks. Before he sent his younger brother a glare and he hissed in a low tone through his teeth. “Pinche cabrón- I thought you said this place would be empty all weekend.” (Fucking dumbass)
“I thought it would!” He whispered-shouted back, before they heard the door creak open.
“Fuck-okay… um, go check if it’s the sheriff.” He quietly ordered Gabriel, before turning to Peter, “Get the horses ready incase we needa’ book It.” With a nob both males did as told, as Miguel quickly went to pack the last bag.
When his younger brother entered the front room, he swore he heard him mutter the words “hello pretty lady” before the muffle sound of rustling and some high-pitched yelping, but never was a shot fired, so clearly it couldn’t have been someone to play an immediate threat. Just as he was finishing tying up the bag, Gabriel came back into the room, but not alone.
“Look at what I found, it must be his little wife.” He said almost mockingly as he hazardly pulled you into the room and pushed you into the room in front of Miguel’s feet, but with your face being tilted down as you caught yourself from falling face first onto the wooden floor.
“Careful!” You yelled as you try to collect yourself, once you get yourself to look up at the bandit you were dropped in front of, your scowl immediately turned into once of disbelief, and it seems his expression matched yours.
You both seem to have froze up in time as you both did nothing but stare at each other, Gabriel just crossed his arms and raised a brow, Peter came jogging in to inform his friends the horses are ready when he saw the odd scene, opting to keep his mouth shut.
Finally, you came back to life as you blinked, as if expecting his to disappear right before your very eyes again, and when he didn’t, you finally whispered a faint. “…Miguel?”
“…(Y/N)…” You nodded your head, despite it not being a question, and he cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with you as he spoke his next orders to Peter and Gabriel. “Unload all that shit and put it back.”
He had told Gabriel and Peter to go on to do the train heist without him, and that he'd meet up with them afterwards. Saying he had “unattended business to take care of”. So now here he was, in your kitchen, only being lightened up by a few candles as darkness overtook the sky. Both of you sharing drunken giggles over dinner. Miguel’s black cowboy hat that was certainly too big for you sitting on top of your head as you sip on your beer.
“That hat looks adorable on you.” Miguel chuckled, making you shake your head with a giggle, your free hand going to rest on top of the hat to help keep it stabilized.
“It’s so big!” You countered as you take the hat off and went to hand it back to Miguel, who grabs it and sets it back on his head.
“You know you shouldn’t be wearing just anyone’s hat. Ya know what they say about wearing a man’s cowboy hat.” He joked as he put down his now empty bottle, chuckling when he saw your face contour in confusion.
“What do they say?” You asked curiously, making Miguel’s smirk widen.
“Wear the hat…” he tapped the brim on the hat for emphasis, “Ride the cowboy.” He finished, making you gasp dramatically.
“Miguel! That’s inappropriate!” You pretended to be offended, but you couldn’t help but crack a smile near the end of you reprimanding him.
“Oh please, you act like you haven’t before, why not again? Unless you want me to come over then and manhandle you.” He was only joking of course, he may have been a thief and a murderer but he’d never hurt a woman, especially not you. You let out a faux gasp, playing along as your right hand goes to your chest for emphasis.
“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a married woman.” You said in a softer tone, going to sip your bottle to finish it off. You haven’t really told him you were going to be getting married soon, even though he knew you were in a relationship, he didn’t quite know how serious it was.
“Not yet.” He replied almost immediately, shaking his head as his playful tone dropped to a more serious yet still gentle tone. The soft smile stays on his lips but it didn’t meet his eyes anymore when you raised your hand to show off the silver band that decorates your ring finger, the diamond shining even only in the candlelight. It took you a moment too long to realize this.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, the start of a giggle comes out with your words but they quickly die down in your throat as the once playful atmosphere starts to turn more serious.Miguel just shakes his head as a hand goes to rub at his chin.
“Nothing nothing… just didn’t think you’d ever get married… thought what we had was something real.” He admitted, eyes casted downwards as he goes to fidget with a bent half beer bottle cap. You let out a scoff, offended by his words.
“Don’t try and think I just forgot about you the moment my father dragged me out of that door,” your brows furrowed and your arms crossed on the wooden table as you started to chastise him, “I was stuck on you for five years Miguel. Five. Years.” You emphasized the two words with taps on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, Austin is a great guy, but it was my parents' idea for me to marry him. They thought it was a good way to get me to stop thinking about you-“ You shouldn’t be admitting that outloud but the buzz made your mind hazy.
“Do you love him?” He interrupted you, eyes burning into yours, those same intense eyes you had dreamed about as you slept, you had to look away.
“It’s not that simple Miguel-“
“But it is.” He insisted, standing up from his seat, the chair screeching as it tried not to topple over. “You either love him or you don’t.”
“I’m not doing this with you Miguel.” You shook your head as you stood as well, going to clean up the mess you two had made, trying to erase any evidence you two were there.
“Too bad, I’m not just gonna drop this and let you disappear from my life, I’m not losing you again.” He declared, you weren’t going to justify his admission with a response, but as you go to pick up a few empty bottles, they slip from your hands, cracking into hundreds of small shreds as Miguel’s hands turn you around to face him. A shocked gasp begins to leave your lips before it is quickly swallowed up by his. You know you should push him off, but you couldn’t help but melt underneath his touch.
Miguel O’Hara was a criminal, a thief of many things and no matter how much you try to stop him, he’ll always find a way to steal your heart all over again.
Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @xevita @marshhbs @inlovewithpandora @vera4luv @mcmiracles @eddieslooneymoonie @to-the-endoftheline
537 notes · View notes
exhaslo · 1 year ago
Text
Puzzle Pieces Ch12
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11
Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Fascinating. Your family runs that supermarket chain." Miguel's smile was mischievous, "And you can't leave why again?" He asked you sweetly.
"Um, they...they want me to t-take over the business, b-but I really don't...like working there..." You admitted.
Music to Miguel's ears. You slowly placed your fork in your mouth, slowly chewing on your vegetables. You had a hesitated expression. What else was there?
"I'm sure...you've noticed, b-but I'm an only child...My um, parents didn't really...pay much attention t-to me. A-All I know and was t-told that I will t-take over the family business..." You whispered. Miguel reached for you hand, giving it a gentle squeeze,
"You can tell them no." His tone got lower as you started to shake, "You can do whatever you want."
"N-No one...w-wanted to hire me...b-because of my s-stuttering-" You whimpered softly.
"I'm hiring you. I can talk to your parents."
Miguel leaned forward to wipe your tears away, not wanting other people to see you cry. Those tears were for him to protect. Now Miguel knew that it wasn't just your ex he had to teach a lesson, but your parents as well.
Wanting to cheer you up, Miguel decided to order you some dessert. Tapping his finger against the table, Miguel couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Your smile had returned for the moment, but what else was going to threaten it?
"Now then, cariño (sweetheart). Will you take my offer and not go to work at that shitty place and be my personal assistant?" Miguel asked you once more.
"I-I'll have to let me pa-"
"You're an adult. Telling them might not be in your best interest." Miguel saw your body tense up, "I would love to tell them for you, baby, but this is your decision."
No, it wasn't. Miguel was lying through his teeth. He was going to find a way to get you to quit your job.
"I-I won't tell them...If I do then...t-they will j-just bring up-" You paused and took another bite of your dessert, "T-They always did treat my ex like a son." You whispered harshly.
Miguel's smile twitched for a moment. Things just kept getting better, didn't they? Not wanting to sour your mood anymore, Miguel paid for the meal and offered to take you out to more entertaining places now. You agreed and followed him back to the car.
-----------
You were flustered as Miguel let you stay at his place again. No matter how many times you slept over, it still felt so strange. It was as if you were at home. You knew better to assume since you were still very early in your relationship with him, but it felt so right.
The moment all of your things arrived, you wanted to sort them out, but Miguel had them taken to an empty walk in closet. Your eyes sparkled at the size since it was larger than your current bedroom. You gasped in awe before noticing that Miguel had started to place your bags in certain areas.
"This closet is yours. Organize as you want, I'm going to shower." Miguel said as he kissed your hand. Your jaw nearly dropped,
"B-But-"
"Eventually, I would like to share this place with you, when you're ready of course," Miguel chuckled lowly.
You bit you lower lip, feeling your heart race a mile a minute as Miguel stepped out of the closet. That was an invitation basically to move in with him. The question was, were you ready? You still haven't recovered from your last relationship.
You were still healing.
Glancing around the closet once more, you slowly started to put your new clothes in their places. Miguel was different. He treated you kindly and with respect. Miguel always spoke softly to you and never once threaten to hit you.
Even so, you were still healing and weren't ready to move in.
And that's okay.
Miguel understood perfectly, which was why he only offered the idea to your leisure. Humming quietly, you finished putting away all of your new clothes and shoes. Your eyes sparkled once you found the bags with your plushes and puzzles.
"Miggy, is it okay...if...if I scatter the stuffed animals around?" You asked, poking your head into the bathroom.
"Of course, baby."
"Yai~ T-Thank you~" You chirped.
You smiled wide as you held your flustered cheeks. All of these cute nicknames Miguel kept calling you made your heart flutter. Stocking the empty bookshelf from before with more puzzles, you jumped in joy at the sight. Maybe soon you'll be ready to move in with Miguel.
Next was your new mountain of plushes. You wanted to be subtle with your placement. Some went on the couch, some in the guest room, some in some other rooms you didn't know existed, and finally-the bedroom.
You looked at your remaining plushes and placed them on Miguel's bed, wanting to make sure they didn't take up too much room.
"You promise to still cuddle with me and not those, right, ¿Mi pequeño conejito? (my little bunny)" Miguel whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"O-Of course!" You squeaked, melting under his touch, "I-I'm g-going to shower..."
"What's mine is yours," Miguel pecked your neck, his lustful gaze staring into your soul, "I'll be waiting,"
---------
Once you were sound asleep, Miguel decided to make his move. He got off the bed and put his clothes back on. Before leaving for the night, he approached the bed and kissed the top of your head. Everything he was about to do was for you.
And would benefit him as well.
Heading down stairs to his driver, Miguel loaded up the supermarket security footage from earlier. A low growl escaping his lips as he watched Eddie demand your presence. If only there were sound. Miguel just wanted to hear the fucker call himself your boyfriend.
"Keep that up and you might scare even the machines," Lyla teased as you stepped outside the elevator, "You won't believe what else we found on this Eddie guy."
"I'm already going to personally kill him slowly, what else can there be?" Miguel spat as they approached his car.
"Well Peter with the green hair-"
"Que? (What?)"
"Sorry, we had waaaaay too many Peters so I told some of them to do something different. So Peter P. Parker dyed his hair green, Peter J. Parker got an ear piercing-"
"I get it." Miguel rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I'm sure none of the other families have this many people with the same name."
"Hey, we're working with it. Anyway, enough about the Peters, back to this Eddie guy." Lyla huffed as they sat in the car, "Peter with the green hair was watching the footage to some of the others and one of the Venom druggies we caught was reacting to the footage."
"Oh?"
"He was calling Eddie their king." Lyla said with a wide grin. Miguel scoffed,
"So, we're killing two birds with one stone? Perfect. Just fucking perfect," Miguel chuckled darkly as he leaned back in his seat, "How's the hunt for the drug source?"
"We're tackling every warehouse, port and abandoned or for lease buildings. Eventually we're going to find out where their distributing the new drug."
"Good. We need to get it off the streets. The normies are getting their hands on it." Miguel hissed lowly. Lyla looked at her phone,
"Not even the other mafia families want to get involved. Plus, it took forever for our men to recover from the drug that they took by accident." She explained before glancing at Miguel's angry visage, "Anyway, seems to be going great with (Y/N)."
"Thanks for reminding me, you're finally going to get that girl day you've been wanting. Tomorrow take (Y/N) shopping for whatever she wants."
"As excited as I am, didn't you just take her shopping today?" Lyla said, not even trying to hide her glee. Miguel glanced out the window, spotting his base,
"She's on the hunt for something else. She'll tell you."
"Ohhhh, this is going to be great!!! I'll gladly take the day off!" Lyla chirped and started to text some others.
"It's not a day off." Miguel sighed as he stepped out of the car, "But there is no point convincing you further."
"Oh, it's going to be great. Anyway, basement."
Miguel rolled his eyes slightly as he made his way into the basement. The sound of his footsteps echoing across the building. Lyla followed behind only until they reached a large metal door. She gave a slight wave and stayed behind with the guards.
Miguel glared into the room, spotting several of Eddie's goonies tied up on the floor. Miguel had his men stand against the wall as he loosen his tie. His smirk widening as he held a small bag of drugs in front of the goodies-who went crazy.
"Awe, do you cerdos (pigs) want this?" Miguel's tone was dark and cruel, "I can give this to you, if you help me out."
"No! We will not listen to you!" One of the men yelled. Miguel chuckled lowly as he walked over and grabbed the man by the hair,
"We just need one of you." His smile never fading as he tossed the man into a separate room, "Take care of him."
"Yes, sir," Peter and Ben said in unison, entering the other room.
"Now, do we have a deal?" Miguel asked, shaking the bag of drugs in front of the druggies, "I just want some information...and a location."
---------
Hearing your phone buzz, you let out a small whimper as you reached for it. Wincing slightly, you wanted to complain about Miguel being rough again. You grabbed your phone and saw that it was still very early in the morning.
You laid back into the bed and noticed that Miguel was gone too. There was small note on your phone, stating that he had some urgent business at Alchemax. Believing him, your attention returned to your phone which started to buzz again.
"M-Mom?" You whispered in shock, surprised to see a call from her.
"Don't act so surprised, child. I'm allowed to call my child, aren't I?" She huffed over the line.
"S-Sorry, t-this was the f-first time y-"
"Stop stuttering. Your father and I have some news for you." You mom stated. You slowly sat up, feeling your nerves kick in,
"W-What i-is...is i-it?"
"We've decided to approve of your engagement with Eddie. We'll start the plans for the wedding immediately, so get your act together and do not lose him."
Your heart sank. You had ran away from that hell only for your parents to sink you back into it. Unable to stop shaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, you just ended up hanging up on your mother. You stared down at the blanket, taking notice of Miguel's love bites all over your scars.
"I-I have to t-tell M-Miguel!"
Ready or not, you had to escape from your past.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
next chapter
@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy
738 notes · View notes
ghostlychief · 2 years ago
Text
mirror, mirror
ghost x fem!reader
warnings: NSFW; smut; MINORS DNI (i am watching u); reverse cowgirl
a/n: part four of my positions series. i promise the next thing i post will be fluff but if you're here, ENJOY
*going to post this then run and hide*
---
you could probably count on your fingers the number of times you were this fucked out. although, you were quickly running out of fingers.
you have your boyfriend to thank for that.
currently, you find yourself straddled on Ghost’s large thighs on the corner of the bed. your back is to him, but you can still see him clear as day thanks to the mirror propped up on your wall.
well, clear in a relative way; the bottom half of his face was covered in one of his signature skull balaclavas. a request made by you, of course.
ghost usually was against wearing those black masks in the bedroom, but you asked him so nicely earlier, with your eyes wide and lashes batting annoyingly. How could he say no to you?
so here you are a couple hours later, and you both are still going.
it must be the mask, you think (the mirror might be an added bonus as well).
seeing Ghost’s rock hard abs flex every time you slide down on him definitely did things to you. but you really did try your best to keep yourself composed, which didn’t sit well with Ghost.
he liked to see you squirm, and enjoyed every little bit of you losing composure because of him. so he tried his best to completely ruin you. and he was doing a pretty good job so far, seeing that this was your fourth round at it.
your legs feel like jelly but you soldier on, continuing to raise and lower yourself on Ghost’s thick cock, the imagine that reflects back to you spurring you on even more.
“fuck.” Ghost’s voice is deep, and there’s a trace of a whine as he drags out the word. he could be helping you, but he’s decided to let you take the reins. It only makes sense with what position you’re in.
“that's it baby, just like that.”
he brings one of his hands to snake around you, his hand now splayed across your tummy. he presses down gently, and the added pressure on your lower stomach has you letting out a moan.
you bring your hand up to cover his, although it really doesn’t cover much, since his hands are so much larger than yours. you slightly grasp his hand as you continue to move, but you need to go back to balancing yourself, so it falls down to his thigh where it previously was, your fingernails leaving faint crescent indents in his skin.
your room is in a state of disarray, your sheets are sloppily thrown around your bed, and your comforter rests at the bottom, on the floor. typically, you would care about the state of your room, but you can't find it in you to worry about that right now.
his hand travels down further until two of his fingers toy with your center. they quickly become slick, which allows him to touch you just right.
your legs tremble as he coaxes you over the edge, and you fall back against his chest. his fingers are still moving in circles around your sensitive bud, but before you can protest at the over sensitivity, you feel him come inside you.
you look back at your reflections in the mirror and see the mess between your legs, now exacerbated by Ghost's come that's seeping out of you.
he brings his other hand to lightly grasp your waist, steadying you, even though you're still leaning back on him.
he places a kiss on your shoulder through his mask, and before you know it, he lifts you off of him and swiftly places you down on your back, his face in between your legs.
you know what's coming next; it's his favorite way to clean you up, after all.
---
2K notes · View notes
blaithnne · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Local big sister experiences emotions, more at 6
Been wanting to do one of these with Lauren for AGES, but I never got round to it. Then I saw the Lydia and Phinium expression sheets on @littledigits’ website and I felt inspiration like never before.
The funniest struggle I have with Lauren’s design right now is that she nose too big for she got damn face. Literally, Hilda characters noses take up a fairly small portion of their faces, and her’s took up WAY too much, leaving little room for her to make facial expressions. But I struggled to find a fix because when I made the nose smaller it just didn’t look like Lauren anymore, so I took this as an opportunity to work on that!
Tumblr media
She still has a larger nose than most characters, starting higher up (like her grandad!) and ending lower down (but not quite as low as before). I also made her eyes a little smaller and with a shape similar to Lydia’s (though you can see in some of these I hadn’t quite landed on that yet and her eyes are a bit too big), which works both as a nod to her parentage and because I think it makes the nose look bigger. This still doesn’t leave as much room for the mouth as most other characters, but that’s okay — Lauren is a very private person who keeps her feelings close to her chest, I think it works for her to have subtler expressions, adds to how guarded she is! Oh and I also updated the shape of her hair slightly, just to make it a bit more style accurate.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
These changes are pretty small on their own, but I think combined they work well to make Lauren feel a lot more…alive? Far less stiff, anyway. I think she also has a more unique facial structure now, instead of just “what if Johanna was 90% nose”. She’s still got a big old nose and I love it but now she can emote, yay!
This is really all just concept stuff, I’m hoping to get a new fullbody style-ref for Lauren out soon! Now that I’ve improved the main issues I had with her face in the last ref, now it’s onto the silhouette! I want her to read as more of a strong character (though it comes across decently in her current ref, I wanna push it more without being as exaggerated as Ahlberg, which is. A challenge for me lol), streamline her silhouette, and finally make her taller than Johanna like she’s always meant to have been <3 I made her shorter for so long because I thought it would help her read better as her daughter but you know what? That’s dumb actually, she’s tall.
ANYWAYS, thank you for listening in on the annual Lauren redesign, and to the artists behind the show for posting so much amazing inspiring show stopping concept work for free because it makes my autism worse /pos
267 notes · View notes