#rip the interior of my mouth

[thegreatzeldini]

ate so many salt and vinegar chips that I accidentally gave my mouth a chemical peel (my entire mouth is peeling) (my tongue is peeling) (my partner said it's gross) (then he called me a brat for whining about him calling my tongue gross) (can a bitch do nothing around here)

[elodieunderglass]

Laura’s thoughts ranged over a wide field, even now. Sometimes she said rather amusing things, and displayed unexpected stores (General Stores) of knowledge. But her remarks were as a rule so disconnected from the conversation that no one paid much attention to them. Mr. Arbuthnot certainly was not prepared for her response to his statement that February was a dangerous month. ‘It is,’ answered Laura with almost violent agreement. ‘If you are a were-wolf, and very likely you may be, for lots of people are without knowing, February, of all months, is the month when you are most likely to go out on a dark windy night and worry sheep.’

Henry and Caroline glanced at each other in horror. Mr. Arbuthnot said: ‘How very interesting! But I really don’t think I am likely to do such a thing.’ Laura made no answer. She did not think so either. But she was amusing herself with a surprisingly vivid and terrible picture of Mr. Arbuthnot cloaked in a shaggy hide and going with heavy devouring swiftness upon all-fours with a lamb dangling from his mouth.

This settled it. Henry and Caroline made no more attempts to marry off Laura. Trying to do so had been a nuisance and an expense, and Laura had never shown the smallest appreciation of their trouble.

- “Lolly Willowes,” (1926) by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Early feminist/fantasy fiction.

This passage is set prior to 1905, and it is extremely fun to read about the interior life of someone 100 years ago, who “violently” introduces the werewolf element to survive a boring conversation.

RIP Laura, I’ve only read 30% of the book and I know in my heart that touching grass was not enough for you and your restless, yearning heart. You would have done numbers on the internet

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

[muntitled]

Eunseok's Restraint

Bodyguard!Eunseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seducing the man hired to protect and serve

Warnings: Language, Violence, Organized Crime, Smut +18 (Minors DNI)

A/N: Do not read this it's not good. I just needed him out of my head

A door slamming shut in the distant driveway underneath your window rouses you from a disturbing dream. A dream you're all too happy waking up from. This had been odd because you had never stayed up past the tenth hour and as a result, have never had a sleepover with any of your past adolescent friends.

You fell asleep when your father conducted his shady goings on like a good little girl because that is what was expected of you. And if there was but one thing that you knew, it is how to be good.

As of recently, however, your usual, robotic if not, blind obedience was thawing slowly and it only takes one single solitary evening for that clean pure streak to become poisoned with an inky blackness.

But something in you was screaming with molten excitement because he was back…

"Just one peek," You're not entirely sure who you're trying to reassure. You certainly had no friends and you couldn't have been talking to any of your stuffed animals, you had put them to bed long ago.

You ought to be in bed yourself- but your mindless feet drag you out of bed. You're aware enough to slot them into the pink, fuzzy slippers but that is where your sensibility stops. You trot across the carpet, as silent as a lamb, stepping into the sliver of moonlight shining in through the window.

The window.

It was an ancient, ghastly thing, much like the rest of your home. Your room was the only architectural exception with its pastel interiors and soft finishes. The rest of the ostentatious manor belonged solely to your father. Ivy clung to the building like a sickness, crawling up the foundations of your window. It is against those windows where you now sit perched like a bird, watching the beasts that prowled down below. You watch with bated breath as those neatly arranged cars snake down the gravel pathway, circling around the fountain and stopping at the myriad steps. You're not too hidden and perhaps you should be, but every sliver of rationality left, disappears as soon as he uncovers himself from within the jet black luxury car.

It all happens in slow motion, really. Your breathing stammers with unfamiliar lust, steaming up the pane as you watch Eunseok, one of your father's fiercely loyal workers, readjust the lapels of his dark blue suit. He looks impeccably dressed, actually, along with that stone cold visage that only adds to his ‘brooding, emotionless bodyguard, exterior. He's so finely dressed, in fact, that you suspect it had been terrifyingly easy to blend in with the normal working class in his outfit. Absolutely nothing about his countenance alluded to all the blood he'd voluntarily spilled for your father and that's the problem.

At least Sungchan beside him had the decency of appearing like the common criminal he was. Something in his pitch-black suit and that garish display of jewellery pieces just screams 'illegal activity.’

Not Eunseok though.

As if feeling somehow that he was being watched, Eunseok’s eyes flit to the highest level of the piss-rich manor as if compelled by some other worldly force. You suppose this is why your dad had hired him. His senses had to have been immaculate to catch you watching him from up high.

His eyes however, do not react as he watches you watching him from up there, your night gown clinging to your shoulder by a single silk thread and sheer fucking will. A low whistle rips through Sungchan’s mouth and just like that, the spell is broken.

"Quit it," Eunseok says, breaking eye contact to stare straight ahead at the manor instead. "Quit thinking about fucking his daughter."

Eunseok could feel Sungchan's eye roll as he whined "Since when did you become so fucking boring?"

"Since our entire lives depended on completing a job without our dicks getting in the way." Eunseok locks the car door with the tinted windows before continuing towards the manor, Sungchan walks in stride.

It is only when the men disappear inside the building when you realise you were straining your neck immeasurably, just to catch one fleeting glance.

You're never usually so easily coaxed out of the confines of your quarters but this is an exception. The corridor is dark and deserted when you creep out, your fuzzy slippers muted along the floor. The end of the corridor opens to a mezzanine flooded with a rectangle of golden artificial light and you quicken your steps. Your stomach already set alight with the inevitability of seeing him again. And him seeing you.

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," the voices in the downstairs living room travel towards you while you're still clinging to the darkness of the corridor like the ivy outside. You’re smart enough to cling to the mahogany bars of the mezzanine, overlooking the scene below like a hopeless voyeur.

Even now you could tell you'd probably get eaten alive if you were to get caught. Such talk of unsavoury business is no place for any dignified lady. All machismo and grit rising from the stems of celebratory whiskey glasses. You creep closer.

"No trouble at all," Eunseok speaks up but Sungchan is quick to interrupt, "-Although there was just a disgustingly wayward spray of blood that I rather not have had to deal with. I've got blood on my cufflinks and It's just not-"

"He's joking, Sir... of course" Eunseok adds with a quickness, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from laughing involuntarily. It is that one movement that illuminates your frame right in Eunseok's line of vision. He watches you from above your father's head as you skulk, quite effectively in the shadows. His eye sparkles in the knowledge that he had made you laugh and your presence alone, albeit unseen, charges the room with something new.

Your father remains quiet for one suspicious moment before murmuring a low yet audible, "Of course," before veering off on his very own tangent.

From atop the mezzanine, you could see every part of the man in your father had hired to protect you. And he was damn good at his job if he was able to spot you so embarrassingly quickly.

None of the other men in the room had any inclination of your presence and that only fuelled your hunger and your confidence. A dangerous combination for a woman indeed. Your hand is already dipping between your legs the second conversation resumes. The shadows are a thin and inconsolable veil but a veil nonetheless. No one that wasn't looking for you would ever see you. Sungchan was engaged in a mind-numbing conversation with your father and as luck would have it, Eunseok seemed to have been the only soul keeping an eye out. So you decide to put on a show.

His breath quite literally hitches in the back of his throat when you lift the hem of your nightgown, up. Ever so slowly lending a patch of skin to the chandelier's warm glow. He watches your hands disappear under your pink cotton shorts with wretched anticipation. His swallows thickly, attempting to nod along to what your father was saying especially because a part of him knew the risk that came with entertaining your disobedience.

The threat of getting shot in the head for ogling his boss's kid, whom he swore to protect, doesn't seem all that daunting as Eunseok let's his gaze drift once again to the balcony above.

Eunseok only catches what the light allows and that's significantly less than what he wants, what he deserves. Your cotton panties are a fleeting, quick sight and he fights the groan off honourably, that wishes to slither through.

"I hope his exit was not too cruel, the old dog." Eunseok does not initially register your father's words, his eyes are piercing into your visage, watching every flit of emotion as you rub yourself through the fabric of your panties. He's bursting with the need to help you, to pull you against him and show you how it should be done. He needs you so bad.

"He did not suffer in his final moments?” Your father asks, stealing Eunseok's gaze from you once again. “I'm sure his wife will be glad to hear this."

Eunseok veers his eye from off of your frame, blinking as if reminding himself of the other people present. "We used the silencer.” Eunseok replies robotically.

Sungchan laughs knowingly from beside him. "-like a virgin in church-OOMPH!" Sungchan could not save his ribs from Eunseok's elbow in time.

As quick as the lighting, your back is once again plastered to the corridor away from the light and any prying eyes. You didn't need to use your eyes to know Eunseok had socked Sungchan in the ribs and you nearly laughed once again. "Jesus Christ, it was only a little metaphor!" Sungchan grumbles.

Your father is quick to excuse their antics for the blatant waste of his precious time that it was. He waves a hand dismissively as he says, "Your work is highly revered and will not go unrewarded, gentlemen. For now, you may retire to the west wing for the evening. We are expecting a storm, driving through the countryside is far more treacherous under these conditions." Your heart accelerates with your father's announcement and you feebly peek from around the concrete corner. Eunseok is already looking at you, and what you find in his eyes strips you of your confidence. His eyes are locked within a promise, drowning in the surety that something, beyond the tempest, was definitely a foot. "We appreciate the hospitality sir," Tan mutters under his breath as he watches you sink into the shadows once more.

When you make it back into your room, you leave the door ajar.

If, by some miracle invoked by an ancient power, you had gotten Sungchan to divulge even the tiniest of details about his partner, he'd tell you that, quiet as he may appear, Eunseok was a fucking whore and that it is of paramount importance that you not pursue him in the slightest. Still, it sets your heart aflame when your bedroom door creaks wider only an hour later and your arms grip the stuffy impossibly tighter.

You're tucked away in bed when you hear a voice speak up behind you, "You should be asleep," His words seem to pierce and excite you. A torrid combination as you peer aimlessly ahead. Your mattress feels weightless beneath you, and every particle in the air only seems to be so completely electrified.

It was interesting that he had maintained such a respectable distance. Everything you knew about the man your father had hired was limited but one thing that remained undeniable was Eunseok's restraint. He was restraining himself quite well.

You sit up to face him, your head haloed by your pillows and stuffed animals like a princess. Eunseok's cock all but twitches at the sight of you. Eunseok hates to admit that he had been nursing a boner ever since your little show on the mezzanine and it made his blood boil. He hated to feel 13 again, with no restraint on his hormonal adolescent hormones.

Even now, under the darkness of your room, shrouded in nothing but moonlight, Eunseok sees everything.

Your nightgown has shifted over the course of your tossing and turning and a nipple peeks out from the gown. His voice is gruff as he whispers, "Spread your legs for me. Spread them like you did before." His cock rages against his pyjama bottoms, begging to see the action he had commanded of you.

"All I could do is scream,” you say instead, always preferring to piss him off even in your most fire moments, “and my father would have a bullet through your skull the very second anyone laid their eyes on you,"

"I'm well aware of that, yes," His voice is laced with monotony and he looks completely inviting as he slams his head back against the wall adjacent to your bed. His lips quirks up ever so slightly as his hand lazily rubs over his hard and aching bulge. "Do you know what else I'm aware of, Dove?"

"What?"

"If you truly wanted me dead, I'd be a heap of blood on guts on this pretty little floor already.” He whispers once again, “Pull the sheets down and open your fucking legs."

His command triggers the obedience lodged in the confines of your brain like a switch. You shift and glide over the soft covers as you watch him across from you. Despite the warmth in your cheeks, you humph and open your legs tentatively for him, the cold air crawling up your heated thighs.

"Good,” he says, “Very good," delirium was fueling his every breath and it only causes the throbbing in between your legs to intensify. You whimper unintentionally but the sound causes his eye to snap up to you.

"Do you need instructions, Dove?”

The most you can manage is a broken, pathetic whimper once more as your hand slides over the swell of your breast to tweak your exposed nipple. A rush slams through your body causing you to clamp your legs shut, much to Eunseok's chagrin. He's so desperate to watch you fuck yourself, so undeniably desperate to just fucking cum and you're still making it completely difficult.

Eunseok's cold eyes snap away from your breast up to your face and you freeze in the snow storm of his glare, “You're not stupid, are you? Listening shouldn't be this fucking difficult-" Eunseok is quick to restrain his frustrations once more, when he notices the slight tension in your shoulders and your wide sad eyes in the wake of his degradation.

"I'm…” Eunseok sighs loudly “Sorry," he says so painfully, monotonously it almost makes you smile. Abandoning his post against the wall, Eunseok trudges to the foot of the bed. A war wages within his emotions and you see it in his face, but the right side (or wrong side) wins as he lowers himself at your feet.

A rough calloused hand finds your soft, supple skin, electing a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It's almost magnetic, the way his large hand travels up and down your leg. "I just need you to do something for me. Can you manage that, Dove?" You nod meekly, and the sight of it only makes Eunseok's cock ache even more.

He hadn't thought it possible to want something this bad, to want to feel anyone this bad. Whenever his need arose, he fucked whomever he wanted to at that very moment, but you had introduced a new set of rules. It seemed sacrilegious to pounce on you like he had done with so many other girls. You seemed so incredibly fragile. So breakable.

"Open these legs for me,” he wiggles your toe causing you to let out a quiet giggle, “Just a little? It'd make me so, so fucking happy. " He presses a soft kiss to your steepled knee and the brush of his soft lips on your skin causes a small moan out of you. The bed dips and the covers shift as you move your feet to accommodate your opening legs. "So good, you're doing so good for me, Sweetheart,"

He shifts in unprecedented anticipation and soon, both his hands find your knees to help coax you open. He breathes in deeply at the sight of your drenched cotton panties. "I'm going to help you just a little. Is that alright?"

"I'd really like that." Your voice is high pitched and small, drenched with the thickness of being caught in the height of subspace and all Eunseok can do is marvel at it all.

"Of course, baby," He delivers soft, ticklish kisses along your thigh as his hands hook into the sides of your underwear and he drags them slowly down, against his animalistic and torrid will. "You're so fucking gorgeous." He melts against your legs and his reaction elicits a wave of butterflies.

"You're so fucking perfect, 'know that?" He asks, still spraying kisses over your leg as he discards your panties into the pockets of his pyjama pants. "But you need to do something else for me alright? I need you to-" Eunseok inhales sharply instead of finishing his sentence.

Your hands had operated with a mind of their own, one hand parting your swollen lips while the other rubs lightly over along your clit. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming rush of ecstasy that flows through your body and you're only spurred by his heated gaze.

"You're not such an innocent little girl, are you?" His thick vibrato sets your skin alight with need and you moan rather loudly into the night air. "Say it," Eunseok taunts. "Say 'yes daddy, I've always been a little slut for you,'” he was testing you.

Your legs cramp with grating tension and your other hand finds your nipple once more. Your gaze is firmly locked on Eunseok who watches you while seated at the foot of your bed with absolute focus.

"Say it!" He barks and the words slowly mesh out of you like a spewing waterfall.

"I've always been…” you squeeze your eyes shut, letting an unprecedented wave of shame intermix with your arousal, “I've always been a slut."

“For who?” Eunseok's voice is sharp.

“For you.” Your voice is quivering.

“For me who?”

“You, Daddy-”

Eunseok’s restraint drains so completely he wonders of it had even really been there as he grips your ankle and violently pulls you underneath him.

"My good little slut,” he whispers as he makes quick work to replace your flimsy hand on your breast with his strong one. Your backarches as Eunseok hovers above you, as if unconsciously giving your entire body to him. “My little fucking whore. Does that feel good baby?”

All you're able to do is nod with your eyes squeezed shut as Eunseok's hands, which are much more experienced and much more reassuring, tweak your nipples in a way that actually has you gasping into the air.

Through the haze of your delirium, you stop his movements. You guide his hand downwards, to wear he’s needed most.

Once Eunseok's cold calloused fingers make contact with your weeping cunt you immediately detach your hand from his, urging him to make magic out of you.

Your hands could never accomplish what he can and you're immediately shot into hyperspace once Eunseok gets the message and begins to rub your cunt at snail's pace.

,”You're so good you know that?” He flies his gaze from his hand in between your legs to your blissed out face and he plants a kiss to the side of your head as if trying to distract you from his fingers sliding into your cunt.

“Fuck, you know you're making Daddy need you, right? He needs you really badly,” His praise is god and it's all that guides you to your inevitable orgasm. Eunseok's lips against your ear while his index and middle finger fuck you open has you fighting the urge to scream into the night air.

“Your fingers couldn't make you feel good like Daddy's can-” it wasn't a question, you don't think. Thinking proves to be exceedingly difficult as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts while his thumb plays with your clit. All this control from one hand is so fucking impressive to you. Watching him strum you like an instrument as if he were in charge of your entire body has you nearing your edge quicker and quicker.

Eunseok begins to rub furiously at your pussy and you fight to keep your eyes on him. In his billowy shirt and sporting an impressive bulge-his eyes wide and showering you with all the attention, it proves to be far too much."C-Can I-"

"Cum for me, Dove. Cum all over my fingers, baby." And your orgasm is quite literally ripped out of the skies. Your legs quake and your voice quivers as you are flung over the edge. His reassuring murmurs and soft affirmations guide you through it all.You slump against your pillows, basking in the afterglow as you watch the millions of thoughts swim through Eunseok's head.

[daisiesinvienna]

Hi! I live for your writing and i just saw that you write for daryl dixon too??

Could you write a oneshot where daryl and reader were separated after the prison, and when joe and his gang get revenge on rick she’s there instead of michonne?

Reckoning and Restitution

Title: Reckoning and Restitution

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: After you and Daryl were separated during the fall of the prison, Daryl finds himself in a gang he doesn’t want to be in while looking for you. But when Joe and his gang seek revenge on Rick for strangling one of their friends in a bathroom, you get caught in the crossfire.

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, gore, swearing, sexual assault.

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus

Author’s Note: I had something planned for Billy but I saw this request and couldn’t resist. This is a little dark, but if you watched the scene in the show you should be alright reading this. Also I saw this big ass spider run across my floor while I was writing this and now I can’t find it so i’m gonna go sleep on the couch

The sun had begun to disappear into the horizon, casting long shadows across the cement. 

You allow yourself to admire how the sky briefly turns into a vast, endless, ever-changing canvas of color, then starts to fade. Sunsets like these always make you feel hopeful, reminding you that even though the world had ended, you still have a chance at a happy ending. The sun would always rise and set, always paint the sky those brilliant colors, despite the horrors occurring down on earth. At least for another few billion years. 

The sun slowly sinks down into the horizon, taking with it the last few golden rays of light. Now, as the three of you trudge down the desolate and winding road, the sky slowly fades to black. 

You glance over at Rick, who has his eyes fixated on something up ahead. You follow his gaze, making out the silhouette of an abandoned vehicle not too far down the road, under the branches of a particularly large tree. 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Rick says as the three of you reach the car. He pries open the car door to inspect the interior for anything of use as you check the perimeter for walkers.

It had certainly been a long day. You and Rick had decided to take your chances and head towards Terminus, thinking you could at least see if anyone from your group had gotten the same idea. But it was far away, and a difficult trip with a kid in tow. Especially when the kid was going through the difficult pre-teen phase.

It was lucky that you had found Rick and Carl after the prison fell. Or they found you, more like. Rick had quite literally drug you from the carnage, because you were so intent on finding Daryl. It took some convincing before you finally followed Rick and Carl away from the prison. You knew that with Daryl’s inhuman tracking skills, he would have no issue finding you. But it had been at least a few weeks, and there was no sign of him. It was an understatement to say you were worried. 

You plop down on the side of the road with a sigh, calculating in your head the days until you would reach Terminus. You had been keeping relaxed and calm by telling yourself firmly that Daryl would be waiting at the gates with that pissed-off look he always seemed to have no matter his mood.

Rick sits down beside you, having set up Carl in the backseat of the old car. He rummages around his pack before pulling out the last two granola bars, holding one out to you. You wave him off, knowing it would be wasted on you and should be saved for Carl.

He doesn’t falter, giving you his signature stern look.

“Take it,” He tells you, and you slowly accept the granola bar. “You’ve barely eaten today.”

You gratefully rip open the plastic packaging and take a bite, knowing he was right. 

“Thanks,” You mumble through a mouthful of food. Rick nods, opening one for himself as he glances towards the car where Carl slept. You know all too well the look of concern etched on his face, though he tries to mask it.

“He’ll be alright,” You state, taking another bite of your granola bar. Rick sighs, averting his gaze from the broken-down car. “He’s a tough kid.”

“I just wish he didn’t have to be,” Rick mutters, staring off into the woods. You nod slowly in agreement, opening your mouth to speak when you hear a stick break under someone’s boot behind the two of you.

Your hand immediately flies to your hip, hungry for the knife you knew was tucked into your belt. But just as you had wrapped your fingers around the hilt, the cool barrel of a gun was pressed against your temple. 

About ten rough-looking men emerge from the woods, all carrying guns and looking eager, like they were excited to see what Santa had brought them for Christmas. They slowly but strategically space themselves out, surrounding you and Rick so you had no escape route. You glance at Rick, to see that he has a gun to his head too, held by a man that had a sick grin on his face.

“Oh dearie me. You fucked up, assholes,” He announces, his voice sending chills down your spine. Your knife is yanked from your belt and flung onto the concrete, and you slowly raise both of your hands into the air, knowing there was no way out. 

“You hear me? You fucked up,” The man holding a gun to Rick’s head says, laughing. He was the clear leader of the gang. “Today’s the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution! A balancing of the whole damn universe! Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year’s Eve. Now who’s gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?” 

You knew that even if you and Rick retaliate at the same time, it would be pointless. Every man in the surrounding area was pointing a gun at the two of you. This wasn’t going to be good.

“10 Mississippi!”

What would happen when he finished counting, you didn’t know. You lock eyes with Rick, and he gave you a look that makes it plain you weren’t to try anything. Not yet, at least.

“9 Mississippi!”

You glance at the car parked a few yards away. One of the men was looking in the window at Carl, waving and grinning maliciously. Carl had woken up, and he looked from the man outside his window to his Dad, who was on his knees with a gun to his head.

“8 Mississippi!”

“Joe!” You hear someone shout. From behind the car, a man cautiously walks out. It was dark, so you can’t quite make out their face, but you could never forget that southern drawl. Your heart skips a beat.

“Hol’ up,” Daryl murmurs, stepping into a patch of moonlight. You stare at him in disbelief. Your eyes meet, and he gives you a look that makes it clear he doesn’t want any of this. His eyes dart from you to the guy behind you, who was still pressing a gun to your temple. You feel a surge of hopefulness. Daryl wouldn’t let this happen.

“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” Joe retorts, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him.

“Just hold up,” Daryl mutters again, clearly looking for a way to stop this without pissing Joe off.

“This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about!” Shouts a gruff looking man with a shotgun.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl,” Joe says, gesturing at him with the air of giving him the spotlight.

“These people, you’re gonna let ‘em go. These are good people,” Daryl says softly to Joe, almost pleading. There was a hint of panic in his voice, though his facial expression was determinedly calm. You had never heard him speak this way before.

“Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I’ll of course have to speak for him and all because your friend here, strangled him in a bathroom!” Joe yells.

“You want blood. I get it. Take it from me, man,” Daryl says, throwing his crossbow aside and raising his hands in surrender.

“No!” You shout immediately, scrambling to your feet. “Daryl, No!”

The man behind you roughly yanks you back to the ground. You try to pull yourself from his grasp, but you stop struggling against him when you hear the click of the safety on his gun. The man covers your mouth with his hand.

“Hush up now, bitch. I don’t want to have to shoot you yet,” He says, pressing the barrel to your temple. You instantly feel sick to your stomach.

“You keep your hands off her!” Daryl says firmly, taking a furious step towards the two of you with murder in his eyes, before two guys grab onto his arms and yank him back. 

“This man killed our friend!” Joe laughs, smiling broadly. “You say he’s good people. See, that right there… is a lie.”

“It’s a lie!” Joe repeats triumphantly. This seems to be some sort of code, because to your horror, a good number of the men surrounding you advance on Daryl. 

Daryl swings at the one who reaches him first, knocking him to the ground with one powerful blow. Before he can even turn around, the other men are on him. 

“No!” You shout desperately, watching Daryl try and fend off at least six guys. Daryl was strong, but he was significantly overpowered. “He didn’t do anything! Leave him alone!”

Daryl manages to land a few blows on his attackers, but they soon manage to get him on the ground. 

“Teach ‘em fellas, teach ‘em all the way!” Joe laughs. He then gave the other men a nod, which you soon realize was the ‘go ahead.’

The man holding onto you shove you forward onto the ground, and you hit your head painfully on the concrete. Before you realize what was happening, you are roughly flipped onto your back and the man had crawled on top of you. You hear the sound of the car door opening, and Carl’s yelp as someone drug him out of the car and flung him on the ground.

“You leave him be!” Rick shouts angrily. You could hear the sounds of grunts and fists colliding with flesh somewhere behind you, and knew that Daryl was putting up a hell of a fight.

The man on top of you pins your hands above your head with one of his, and you thrash and shout as you struggle to escape his grip. 

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s so much more fun when you fight it,” The man purrs, smirking down at you as he roughly tore your shirt off, buttons scattering onto the road.

“No! No, stop it! Get- off- me!” You shout, starting to panic as he roughly grabs at your chest.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ touch her!” Daryl yells furiously from behind you, but his shouts are silenced as the men continue to land blow after blow.

“Listen it was me, it was just me!” Rick shouts desperately as Carl’s yelps become louder from next to the car. Tears are streaming down your face as you struggle against the man above you. What did they want with Carl?

“See now that’s right! That’s not some damn lie. We can settle this, we’re reasonable men,” Joe says, sounding genuinely entertained by the sight before him, as if he was watching the ending of a suspenseful movie.

“First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death,” Joe says. It sounds like Daryl’s resisting was starting to slow, but the impact of fists didn’t falter. If anything, they sped up.

“Daryl!” You yell as a last resort, the man starting to fiddle with the button on your cargo pants. You desperately try to free yourself, knowing what was going to happen to you if you didn’t escape. “Daryl!”

The man grabs you roughly by your hair, lifts your head, and hits it hard against the concrete below you. You groan, impossible pain flooding your head. You were too dizzy to struggle, and as your vision faded in an out you fought with all your might to stay conscious. Going unconscious in this situation would be deadly.

“Then we’ll all have the girl,” Joe says as quiet sobs escape you. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

“Then the boy,” Joe laughs. You could faintly hear the sound of Carl’s cries for help, and someone laughing loudly.

“Then I’m gonna shoot you, and then we’ll be square!” Joe laughs manically, foolishly bending down behind Rick. But his laughter was silenced by the slight inconvenience of Rick breaking his nose with the back of his head. Rick lunged for his gun, and the two started scuffling. The man on top of you didn’t care too much.

“What’s the matter, girl? No more fight left in ya?” He laughs, starting to attempt to pull your cargo pants down, ignoring your quiet begging.

Everyone suddenly turns around in shock to look at Rick and Joe when a horrible scream pierces the air. Then, somebody spat.

You seize the opportunity, and in the moment of silence, you use your remaining strength to knee your distracted attacker in the balls as hard as you possibly could. He shouts in pain, bringing his hand down to hit you across the face, making you see stars. The gunshots ringing through the air drowns out whatever vulgar word he calls you. Rick had gotten his hands on a gun, and you hear multiple bodies drop behind you. Before you know what’s happening, Daryl lunges out of nowhere and tackles your attacker, knocking him off of you.

Daryl got on top of the man, landing blow after blow on his face. He had a look of pure rage his eyes that you’d never seen before. Rick was violently stabbing the man who grabbed Carl. You scramble to your feet, ignoring the dizziness, looking around frantically. Bodies littered the ground. All of the men were dead, except for Joe, who was still choking on his own blood on the pavement.

Daryl finally stops hitting the man, before pulling his knife from his hip and stabbing him through the heart. Rick had long but killed Carl’s attacker, and you hear the body drop. Then there was almost complete silence, only broken by Joe gurgling and spluttering blood onto the pavement and the ringing in your ears.

Daryl turns to look at you, scanning you for injuries. His face is horribly bruised and bloody. When he stands up, Daryl stumbles up to you and immediately pulls you into his arms. You sink into them gratefully, before the tears started.

He holds you close, apologizing over and over again for hundreds of different things as you cry into his chest.

You’ll never admit it, but you were losing hope that you’d ever see him again. He very well could’ve died at the prison and you never would have known. But now as you clung to him, you realize that that was a stupid thing to think. Nothing could kill Daryl Dixon, except Daryl Dixon.

“I never stopped lookin’ for ya,” Daryl murmurs, his voice cracking. You look up at him to see tears streaming down his face. You’d never seen him cry before. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Sweet Tooth

Homelander x GN! Reader

Summary: Homelander is a regular customer at your little coffeeshop, visiting anytime he craves something sweet - you, in particular. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cussing, HL is horny and also a douche Words: 1,575

"Seriously, Y/N? Who the fuck drinks a milkshake at 8am?"

Ah, there he is. You almost got worried because he ran late today.

"What are you, five? Grow the fuck up." That said, the gruff man in front of you pulled out a few loose dollar bills, cheekily slamming them on the counter. "One for me too, please."

You smirk, putting the cup down after slurping it in one go. Ouch, brainfreeze. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

That's what he likes most about you: Finally someone that can take a fucking joke. People he usually surrounds himself with are either afraid of him, or got a damn stick up their asses.

Communication wasn't really his forte without someone dictating the lines he'd have to say. But with you it came refreshingly easy, that back and forth was so enjoyable that he almost felt human.

"Coming right away" you chant, already busying yourself with the ingredients. "With how often you're ordering this drink, I should name it after you."

Homelander snorts at the well-deserved mockery, unable to keep his mouth shut since you look so adorable when irritated. "As you should, considering I basically fund this place."

"Hey!" you put a warning finger in the air, lighthearted voice earnest now. "I can tolerate a lot, but that's no joking matter."

Okay, the location you were able to afford was neither central nor in a remotely good part of the town. It was so small that there was only space for two tables, and the interior honestly decaying.

But at least it was honest work, and you did the best you could.

"With the new Starbucks across the street I'm basically bancrupt." Oh godfuckingdamnit, he fucked up. Homelander here to unwind, and certainly not to listen to you whining about your insignificant little life.

Maybe Vought should send you a check, though - losing this spot would be annoying.

Initially Homelander came to your café out of sheer coincidence, wanting to calm his nerves after his first encounter with Sister Sage. He took a longer stroll through some shady alleyways, hoping to run into some lowlife to rip apart...

...instead, he found you. A pathetic excuse of business and surely not even remotely close to achieving the American Dream, but whatever.

John had found himself entranced with the cheesy decoration, a desperate attempt to make a place like this feel cozy. He secretly admired people with the ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Well, the menu looked good enough that he decided to treat himself with something sweet as matter of exception - and now it had become part of his daily routine.

Things had just settled like this, with you offering him your sincere company while he'd cryptically vent about anything on his mind.

"Here: For my favourite customer!" you cheered proudly as you presented him the shake. "Made with extra love."

"Secret ingredient, huh? You're just nice to get an extra tip" he tries to hide the insecurity behind a sassy remark, but you instantly parry his claim. "What, why, because you're so generous? Nonsense. You're just lucky you're so cute."

It was no lie, really. John had a rough shell and wore his heart on his tongue, but you appreciated his honesty and the good conversations you shared.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but notice how you turn down the radio despite continuing to hum the song it was playing. He once told you about having misophonia, and how much he hates modern pop music. You actually listen to him, consider his feelings unlike the imbeciles he's used to.

"Woah, maybe tune it down with the sugar, darling" he thought aloud as you poured yourself a coffe. Damn, he needs to save himself after this one - but the only thing he comes up with sounded more like a backhanded compliment at max. "You're already sweet enough, don't ya think?"

"Charming as always, I see." Your face contorts into a mixture of confusion and amusement at his words, and feeling bold you turn around, giving a provocating slap to your own ass. "As long as the fat goes into the right places."

John bites his bottom lip at the sight of your tight leggings framing your curves too well. Yeah, that'd be a great place to dig his fingers into. Some cushion wouldn't bruise or make you whine if he'd become a little rougher. Shit, his pants feel awfully tight right now.

"You're staring." Seeing him being the flustered one for a change sure was a great feeling, considering that he was very aware of his own good looks. So you decide to get him off the high horse, playfully poking his soft belly. "Also, you're one to talk."

Homelander shifts on the barstool, closing his legs so you wouldn't notice his cock twitching in anticipation at the sudden proximity. God knows how often he had daydreamed about slamming you onto the next best surface and fucking you stupid.

"You really shouldn't be mean to someone that could spit in your drink." He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forwards until his unfairly handsome face was just inches from yours. "Joke's on you - I'd savour every last drop."

The audacity. You physically fight rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. "Sometimes I think you're the most obnoxious person in the world, John."

Liar, he thinks to himself.

Nothing is hidden from his abilities, neither your raised bloodpressure nor the scent of the wet spot forming between your legs. He prided himself on that fact. And yet you stand there all taken aback, trying to play coy. Cute.

Well, it wasn't as if you had no interest in him. He's been coming here for weeks and you're still working up the courage to at least give him your number - but he was so incredibly out of your fucking league that you never considered actually going through with it.

Homelander on the other hand decided he had let the opportunity slip for way too long already. Except for both of you the shop was empty as always, and even if it wasn't he wouldn't care. Hell, he'd already imagined what it would be like pounding you naked against the display window to show every passenger who you'd belong to from now on.

"John, I-"

"Shh" he hushed you, his silencing finger lingering on your lips. You pulled away, just to be caught by a firm hand on the back of your neck. "Tell me if I should stop - but we both know what you want me to do to you."

Oh, he's insufferable.

Honestly, you should just slap him and tell him to go fuck himself - but a primal need had already shut down the rational part of your brain. "Damnit John, will you kiss me now or do I need to fuck that shiteating grin out of your face?"

Shit, what's not to love about you?

"Hands up in the air you two shitheads, this is a robbery!"

Un-fucking-believable.

While you immediately went into panic mode, seeing a weapon up close for the first time in your whole life, John nonchalantly leaned against the counter, an aggravated groan escaping his throat. "Dude, worst fucking timing."

"John, don't provoke him-" He threw a hand up in the air, signalizing you to be quiet. "Stay behind and let me handle this, sweetheart."

You nod quietly, John shielding you with his body as you shakily paced behind the counter. A shot was fired and you shrieked at the sound, apparently the criminal wasn't exactly patient or he just didn't like your customer's tone.

"John! God John, are you alri-" Your words got caught in your throat as you saw the shell fall to the ground. Must be the adrenaline clouding your view, but there seemed to be not a scratch on his body. He winks cockily at you before turning around, using the lasers in his eyes to make a quick end to this before you'd involuntarily get caught into the crossfire.

"So, is the drink on the house or what?" The hero jokes unfazed after just having spread literal brain matter on your tiles.

You were still trembling when he squatted in front of your cowering self, reassuringly patting your back. This shit is like second nature to him, and sadly the little empathy he possessed had dulled over time. "I told you to stay down, silly."

As soon as you've calmed down to a certain extend, you pulled your savior's baseball cap from his head, revealing disheveled blonde hair.

"Are you the fucking Homelander?!"

"Can't deny that after what you've just witnessed" he answers truthfully, offering you a hand to get up. "Took you long enough to figure out, though."

Your strained pants turned into hysterical laughter, probably due to the shock. "I-I honestly have no words."

That means he wins today's banter, he jubilates internally. You could've been a little more thrilled about the reveal of his identity, though - but hey, you can show him your gratitude later on.

"Thank you, I guess." You finally release the breath you were holding, tension leaving your body as you collapsed into his arms. Police sirens could already be heard fast approaching. "I- could you please bring me home after the investigation is over?"

"Sure" he tries to hide his excitement, cradling your exhausted self against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll take you to go."

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆 💫 Nick sturniolo (m! reader)

"i-i made a mistake, please, please just..."

✘ angst, i can't lie i had trouble writing this so I'm sorry that it isn't that good😭 i promise i will do nick justice next time, angst isn't my strongest genre.

It's dark in the bedroom, the only light being the moonbeams cascading down and illuminating a figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

He couldn't sleep, his mind toying with him and replaying his happiest moments that he took for granted and ruined - He felt guilty.

A soft shuffling is heard, his whole body tensing and his throat constricting. He slowly turns his head, his eyes landing on his sleeping wife.

She was a beautiful girl, she had a good heart and tended to forgive people too easily....and yet he found himself hating her

He knew it was wrong, the girl never did anything to harm him or make his life a living hell - He did that all on his own.

He was the reason he hates his life, not the woman he calls his wife.

He clenches his fists and faces forward, his eyes beginning to burn from the salty tears forming. He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, his hands coming to his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"God, what is wrong with me..." He questions himself softly, the tears now running down his face.

He knew if anyone saw him they would think he was pathetic.

What kind of man sits on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, head in hands as he cries next to his wife, all because he wishes he was with a boy?

A silent sob escapes his mouth as he recalls all the memories with him.

The day they met, the first time they hung out, the first time they got drunk, their first kiss, the endless nights of fooling around - He missed it, he craved it.

He couldn't believe he gave that all up to be nothing more than a husband in a picture-perfect American family.

He could hear Nick's voice as he replayed that day in his head.

"You can go and kiss 100 fucking girls Y/n, you can drink all you want and try to forget the feelings you have for me, but that doesn't erase the fact that you're gay!"

"I'm not gay Nick! I don't have feelings for you! This was a mistake o-A mistake? A mistake is spilling your coffee on your shirt when you're in a rush, not telling me you only want me to call you baby as your dick is shoved down my throat!"

The two males stare at each other, their breathing harsh as they try to come to terms with the end of their beginning.

Y/n sighs and allows his body to relax, "Nick...I'm sorry, ok? I-I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah well when you wake up regretting this choice, just know I told you so."

I told you so...

He was right.

He regrets everything.

His gold band glimmers softly in the moonlight, a reminder that he’s bound to a marriage that he doesn't even want.

He couldn't take it anymore

Without a second thought, he rips the band off, setting it on the nightstand and jumping up. He’s quick to change out of his pajamas, stumbling out of the house as he makes his way to the car.

His heart thumps loudly in his ears, his breathing erratic as he swings out of the driveway, heading towards his destination.

It wasn't long before he arrived at the infamous bar "Pink Cadillac." It was mainly known for being an LGBT+ bar, a place where people of different genders and sexualities could be with their own, and feel safe.

He hadn't stepped foot in this bar since that night, attempting to erase all the memories and a part of himself.

he sits in the car with sweaty palms, staring up at the neon sign as he debates going in.

he knew it was too late to back out, he already left her and his ring at home - He didn't have a choice anymore.

He climbs out of the car and slowly makes his way inside, the interior of the bar starting to look and feel familiar. He finds himself smiling as he sees pictures plastered on the wall from 7 years ago, recognizing the faces of his old acquaintances. He stops when he comes across a picture of him and Nick, the two of them smiling as they were crowned the kings of the "Pink Cadillac Prom".

He remembers that night as if it was yesterday, but he doesn't have enough time to dive into his memories due to someone approaching him.

"Look at what the cat dragged in! Long time no see Y/n"

He turns around and smiles softly seeing the familiar face of Damon. he was dressed up, makeup covering his face and his neon green wig laid to perfection.

"Damon...hey," Damon gives him a quick up and down before crossing his arms. "Didn't think I would see your face here ever again after that night..."

The smile on Y/n's face falters, his eyes now cast downward as he feels an ache in his chest. Damon sighs and drops his arms, pulling Y/n towards the bar.

"Whiskey coke?"

Y/n chuckles dryly, nodding his head as he sits at the bar. Damon whips up the drink before sliding it over to the male, Y/n taking a long sip before sighing. The two sit and talk, catching up on the years of missed events and laughing with each other over old memories.

It wasn't long before Damon finally questioned him, "What are you doing here Y/n?"

"I...I need to see Nick..."

Damon sighs and places his hands on the bar, "Y/n I don't think that's a good idea.... It was 7 years ago, you need to forget it, you're married!" Y/n shakes his head, refusing to give up.

"I-I'm not married anymore."

A lie.

A big fat lie.

He was still married to her, but he planned to get a divorce after tonight.

"I-Is Nick here?"

Damon stares at him for a moment before nodding, "he is, but Y/n I don't think you sh-Where is he?" Y/n cuts him off, eager to see his long-lost lover. He notices the tense look on Damon's face and finds himself begging.

"Damon, please... I messed up, I-I need to apologize and tell him I'm sorry.”

“He’s on the patio…”

Y/n has never moved so fast in his life, maneuvering through the bodies of dancing couples and heading straight towards the patio exit.

He makes it outside, his eyes darting around before they land on him,

Nick.

It was like a scene out of a movie, the fluorescent lights shining on Nick's face as he laughed loudly with his friends, unaware of the person walking up to him and prepared to spill their heart out.

"so I told hi-Nick?"

The shorter boy whips around at the familiar voice, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

he goes to answer but stops seeing Nick's friends looking at him, "Can we talk...In privet?"

Nick scoffs and sets his drink down, "No, I don't want to talk to yo-Nick please...?" Nick stares at him for a moment before sighing and standing up from the table. He walks off, motioning for Y/n to follow.

The two boys stand off to the side of the patio, hidden from the curious eyes and in their own world.

"Speak, what did you want to talk about?"

Nick's dismissive tone was expected, Y/n had hurt him. However, Y/n couldn't help but be hurt himself.

"I... I miss you."

Nick chuckles and shakes his head, " Nick please! Just hear me out! I'm sorry ok? I fucked up, I fucked up big time, I know that. I-I hurt you and I'm so so sorry."

Nick can see how distraught the man is, the bags under his eyes evident and the tone of his voice proving such, but Nick doesn't feel bad at all.

He felt smug.

He knew Y/n would come crawling back, claiming he was sorry and crying because he knew he was lying to everyone and himself when he claimed he was straight and getting married to a girl.

"I hate to say it, but I told you so," Nick states, his arms crossed right across his chest. Y/n couldn't even be mad at the words thrown in his face, he knew Nick was right.

"I-I know. You were right, you are right. I-I was struggling Nick, I-I'm-" He struggles to find the right words to express his feelings and thoughts.

"I'm sorry...What we had wasn't a mistake. I did - No I do, have feelings for you. I was just scared Nick, it was one thing to be gay in private with our friends here, but it was another for me to be gay in public, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being a coward and lying to you and myself-" Y/n moves closer toward Nick, slowly trapping him between his chest and the pink-painted bricks of the club.

"-B-but I can handle it now, I-I want to try again...I want to try us again." Nick begins to look uncomfortable, the words and closeness of Y/n being too much. Nick gently pushes him away, his mouth dry as he tries to speak.

"Y/n...."

The taller male could already feel the tears forming in his eyes, he knew by the way Nick pushed him back and said his name that he was being turned down. He shakes his head, pleading softly with Nick as he holds his arms tightly.

"Nick please"

"Y/n let go..."

"Please just give me a chance!"

"Let go!"

"I-I made a mistake, I just-"

"I'M ENGAGED !"

Silence stands between the two, Nick looking away awkwardly as Y/n feels the bile rise in his throat. He's lying, he has to be lying. There's no way he was engaged...Right?

"W-what?"

Nick holds up his hand, "I'm engaged Y/n.... "

he looks at the shiny diamond ring, the ring reminding him of the one currently on his nightstand.

"D-don't say that...D-don't marry him, please!"

Now Nick was angry.

How dare Y/n show up and expect him to forgive him right away and live happily ever after. How dare he demand that he not go through with the marriage.

"That's rich coming from you! You're a fucking hypocrite Y/n, you left me to get married to a girl! A girl! Now you're telling me not to get married to the person who helped put me back together after you broke me?! Fuck you!"

"I'm not married to he- I don't fucking care Y/n!" Nick shouts. He sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing over his face in annoyance.

"Look... I'm happy now Y/n, I actually love myself now to not keep up with your bullshit. You coming here was a mistake....Go home."

Y/n swallows harshly as Nick's words hit him harshly.

He was right once again, this was a mistake.

"I-I...should go...Sorry for bothering you...'' He whispers softly, slowly backing up before turning around and starting to walk away. Nick's voice calling out for him makes him stop, hope filling in his chest.

"I'm glad you finally stopped lying to yourself...I hope you find the love you deserve...Good luck, babe."

Y/n smiles faintly despite feeling like shit. With a heavy heart, he leaves the bar, his whole body feeling numb as he drives back home.

He silently walks through the door and throws his keys back in the bowl, dragging his feet against the carpet as he enters the bedroom.

She's still sleeping.

He strips himself of his clothes and slides the gold band back on his finger. As he climbs into the bed, she awakens, her eyes fluttering open softly.

"Babe? Where did you go?" She questions.

"Needed some water...Sorry for waking you." He lies effortlessly. She hums and curls into his body, missing the grimace on his face due to the darkness of the bedroom.

"I love you," she mutters as she begins to go back to sleep.

"Yeah...Love you too...."

Another lie.

[starminzoo]

Ateez

╰┈➤ when they see you in summer dress (hyung line)

warning: slightly suggestive, no smut tho, slight mention of foods

* ˚ ✦ Hongjoong

the promotions for their new album was finally put to a stop, giving the members relief of some days to enjoy themselves after all the energy and time they have poured out. and this was the perfect opportunity for a vacation with your loved one, you and hongjoong arrived 2 days ago in Maldives for a peaceful vacation, today was a very sunny day but not too hot just perfect for stroll in the city in the afternoon as you got ready in your room while joong was near the small pool you had in your resort his legs dipped in the cool water his face adorning a pair of sunglasses along with a pair of white shorts and a white t-shirt. he looked ethereal.

you checked the time and went outside by the pool to leave for your planned activity. you tapped on his back to announce your presence. just as he laid his eyes on you his eyes widened with delight as he takes in the sight of you looking radiant in a summer dress. He couldn't help but smile, feeling his heart skip a beat. "damn darling you challenging the sun now" he smiled at you as you blushed at his words "i will buy you more of these dresses so you can keep blessing me with such a view" you pecked his lips in response "only if you promise to rip it of my body later" he smirked at you in agreement as he pulled your into him by grabbing your ass "oh baby I promise to do worse then that" he snapped back as slammed his lips into your neck kissing and nibbling on it slightly hands roaming all over you body to feel you, take you in.

* ˚ ✦ Seonghwa

finals week was finally over and you couldn't wait to sleep and just laze around in your apartment watching Netflix but your boyfriend had other plans. just after the final exam day he had messaged you for a date at the new cafe just two blocks away from your apartment building. you were beaming with happiness to finally meet him as the exams kept you both busy and at the bay of your sanities. you checked yourself in the mirror for the last time your pink summer dress flowing around you as you twirled in it giggling at yourself (self love first bestie). as you opened the door of the said cafe there he sat eyes roaming around to take in the beautiful interior of the cafe.

When you elegantly walked in the cafe hwa couldn't move his eyes from your figure. The sunlight catches your hair, and the flowy dress accentuates your graceful movements. As you approached him, a soft smile spreads across his face, and he rises from his seat, his long legs unfolding like a gentleman from a bygone era. He takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with you, and pulls you close, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. "My goodness, you're a ray of sunshine," he whispers, his voice low and husky, his breath caressing your ear. "This dress was made for you, and you alone. You're a work of art, my love." he guided you both to the table he was previously sitting on you expected to sit in front of him but he surprised you by guiding you to the seat next to the seat he was occupying. Seonghwa couldn't help but steal glances at you, his eyes shining with adoration, his heart beating faster with every passing moment. "do you got any plans for tonight love" a soft 'no' leaving your mouth as you were too busy with the blueberry muffins "good because I got plans for us ahead" he whispered near your ears sending shivers down your spine as his hand rested a bit to close to your clothed core but as you started at him in shock but he just ignored your stare pretending to be more focused on his beverage.

* ˚ ✦ Yunho

finally the day has arrived and you couldn't wait to have some fun time with your besties. you guys have been forming a plan for a lunch together for a long time but it was always postponed as everyone is as busy with their lives but finally the time has arrived for the postponed planned to be accomplished. currently it was 1:00 am and were just putting some touches to your appearance while glancing outside your room to your boyfriend as he was sprawled out on on the couch of your shared apartment playing games on the playstation you had already informed him about your lunch out so just needed to remind him so didn't got worried. you grabbed your purse and other necessary things and headed towards the couch to announce your departure to your "babe I will be going now ok love ya" you kissed his forehead and pat his hair just as you were about to leave he grabbed you by your thigh and twirled you backwards.

you were stunned by the sudden action but as your eyes landed on his face which had light blush on the cheeks and jaw hanging open "gorgeous what are you wearing" you confusingly replied "uh... a dress I guess" his hand was still on your thigh "what i know that what wow you look breath taking baby" he replied eyes roaming on your figure. he looked fucking hot checking you out "do a twirl for me" and that you did a bit confused and astonished, but as you again looked him in eye there was a glint of mischief "i can see your panties gorgeous" you gasped "what no the dress isn't even sh-" "baby blue with lace around them right gorgeous, my favorite" he claimed as he pulled you in his lap, he chuckled seeing your tomato red face "ok I am going to change and then head out" "no gorgeous don't, stay with me and if you want I can take the dress of" he whispered while kissing your jaw. well the outing plan was postponed more for awhile.

* ˚ ✦ Yeosang

you and yeosang had been talking about having a picnic for awhile but you both waited till he got some days off for awhile from his office. just as he announced about the short break he was taking you guys were planning about the picnic you were going to have the next day. as the picnic day arrived all the essentials were ready and in the car and you both were just ready to head out, as you came out the walk-in-closet and checked yourself in the mirror for the last time but didn't notice someone checking you out too "pretty you look so gorgeous in this dress, I don't know what more shinny you or the sun" you blushed at his comment " you look gorgeous too babe" you complimented him back with a light peck to his lips which turned into a passionate kiss soon but you if you wanted to have the picnic you had too leave now. you pulled away slightly lips still hovering his " we need to go sangie" much to his dismay.

you both headed out and left for your destination which was about 15 minutes away from your house it was a gorgeous park filled with tall green trees, huge land of fresh grass, a beautiful lake with white as pearl swans. you laid out the picnic mat and placed a basket filled with food and cold beverages. you both talked, laughed, ate, clicked a few pictures and enjoyed the view together. you didn't realized how fast the time passed and now it was time to departure. but there was something odd about yeosang's behavior he seemed hurried well as soon as you guys reached home you were pinned against the door yeosang kissing your neck away littering it with small love bites here and there "fuck I wanted to be inside you so bad baby, fuck you need to wear these dresses more pretty". well you sure were gonna wear more if you can achieve such a reaction from him.

heyy hope you enjoyed it let me please know your thoughts as it's my first time writing and english is not my first language so for any mistakes I am sorry

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWO: SPIDEY LUCK (GOOD OR BAD? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW)

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SUMMARY ↳ You're adjusting well, comfortable with your new life. Too bad your spidey luck came with you to this universe. He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him. He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?” “Not that cute!” You remind him. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: cursing, mentions of discrimination based on financial situation, a vague-ish sex joke wc: 2.7k

Setting up an identity for yourself is remarkably easy. Natasha taught you just about everything you need to know. To the world, you are now [Name] Stark. Tony Stark is an eccentric recluse from Queens, with a mysterious inheritance allowing for travel around the world. And you, his curious child are now old enough to find her own way in the world, starting in Gotham. It’s messy, but hopefully it can keep people off your ass for a while.

Hacking into the wealth of Gotham’s elite is easy enough, stealing little by little every day so that they don’t notice (they probably wouldn’t, anyway). You steer clear of anything and everything Wayne related. For now, at least, it wouldn’t hurt to get ahold of some of his tech down the line.

Walking down the streets of Gotham is something your sense may never get used to. It’s easy to hide feeling threatened by everything, but it’s not easy to stop feeling threatened by everything. While you are certain you can handle a few common thugs or muggers, you are not excited to face your first round of fear gas. If it comes down to it, you’ll rely on your suit to protect you from it… hopefully it can.

Getting to East End is easy enough despite all the leers you get. Selina Kyle’s territory is riddled with crime and misdemeanor as much as the rest of the city, but it’s one of the cheaper areas. You’re legally old enough to get your own place, and with the money you take and a job you can hopefully find, you’ll be able to get by alright. As a hero, you should probably feel bad about stealing, but it’s not like millionaire’s and billionaire’s need a couple hundred dollars.

You walk into the rundown building, surveying the interior. It’s certainly seen better days, if the ripped up wallpaper and stains in the carpet are anything to go by. There’s no one at the front desk, so you ring the little bell and wait. Tapping your foot, your thoughts wonder.

You’ve been thinking about enrolling into Gotham Academy. It’s risky, since Robin goes there (you looked it up earlier, he’s around the same age as you), but you know that school has damn good funding, and good funding means a good lab. A lab or workshop is essential to you as a Spider.

A hobbling old lady stumbles out towards the front desk, her smile is sweet. “How can I help you, dear?”

You put on your best unassuming smile. “I’d like to sign a lease to rent out an apartment here.”

“Sure, hun. Just give me the deposit and it’s yours.”

You’re taken aback. “Surely it’s not that easy, miss…?” You prompt.

“May. Listen kid,” she leans in. “We don’t ask too many questions ‘round here. I can spot a troubled kid from a mile away.”

Of course her name is May. You smile, awkward. “I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen is nothing on my years, girl.”

You inhale and grasp your hands together. “Well, I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. When can I move in?”

May grabs your arm and leads you up the stairs. “First door on the right, third floor.”

The apartment is in one piece, only some cracks in the walls. There’s a distinct smell in the air, but you’ll make yourself used to it. There’s some furniture left behind by the previous owner (a bed too, but you’re definitely replacing the mattress). It’s quaint, for Gotham.

“I should warn you, a lot of stray cats come and go. Don’t be afraid to feed ‘em, they’re already coming back anyway,” May huffs.

You smile discreetly. “I got it.

“I would’ve thought you’d lose interest in those things by now.”

Growing up you dabbled in one thing to the next. Gymnastics, volleyball, cheerleading. At one point you wanted to go to space camp, but didn’t want to be away from your aunt and uncle. Your interests come and go, never staying long, but your love for comics has always been constant.

“I’ve been fighting for my freedom since day one,” you jest.

Aunt May sits down next to you. “You know how rich I’d probably be if I got all the money back from buying you those things over the years?” She leans in, whispering, “richer than Tony Stark.”

You snort. “No one’s richer than him.” You pause, thinking. “Actually, Bruce Wayne might be.”

“Is that the Manbat guy you’re reading about?”

“ Batman , May.”

She kisses your head, grabbing the comic out of your hands. “Well, you know what they say. Bad kids who don’t go to sleep at bedtime get snatched up by Batman and his bird sidekick.”

You lean back against your pillows, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. “No one says that.”

“I do. Goodnight, tiger.”

The past week you’ve been making moves. You land a job as a waitress in a nice little cafe around the corner, and you’ve settled in nicely into your apartment. You find out May likes her coffee 2 cream no sugar and she religiously watches telenovelas. On top of that, you’ve made friends with a black cat you’ve affectionately named Nari.

“Alright K, show me past entrance exams for Gotham Academy.”

Uploading Karen into the laptop you bought allowed for you to multitask much more efficiently. You’re trying to emulate an environment you’re familiar with, like FRIDAY back at the Tower, but you have nowhere near the same budget as Tony does. You sigh. The entrance exams for GA are in a week, but you’re not too stressed. You started taking online classes when you moved into the Tower, and breezed past them like it was nothing. You graduated high school 2 years earlier than normal (you could’ve done it in one, but Tony insisted on human interaction (even if you only got it at dances and other school events)).

Looking over the options pulled up, you scoff. “This is shockingly easy for such a prestigious school,” you murmur.

“Perhaps you are just more gifted than them, [Name].”

You coo, “always my biggest fan, K.” You close the laptop, not before transferring Karen into an earbud formed from your suits nanites. “I think I got this in the bag.”

The bells on the cafe’s door ring as you enter. “Hey, cutie,” you flirt at your manager, a woman with 3 kids and a husband (but damn if she isn’t fine).

[Name],” they greet dryly. They put the spoon they’re cleaning down. “Sam’s gonna be late, some lunatic died on the tracks and their ride’s been delayed.”

You hum, having gotten used to Gothamites and their disregard for the weird shit that happens in their city. “What an asshole.”

The morning passes slowly. You spot some stressed folks hunched over their laptops and an old red-head guy reading through the morning paper. The door chimes, signaling somebody’s entrance.

“Welcome to Carrie’s, what can I get you?” You drone, not looking up from the game of Crossy Road you’re definitely not supposed to be playing while on shift.

“Just a small vanilla latte, please.”

You hum, typing it up. “And a name for that?” you question, grabbing the small cup. The young man has wind-swept black hair. He’s got big ole blue eyes, the type that remind you of childhood innocence. His stature is casual and unassuming, but you can see the strength he hides under that big sweater he wears. He almost reminds you of–

“Jon,” he smiles kindly.

Jonathan motherfucking Kent goddammit.

You muster every ounce of will you have to prevent your heart from speeding up, lest he hear it. You scribble his name with tactically careful hands. “It’ll be right out, sir.”

Jon huffs goodnaturedly, waving his hand. “Please, you don’t gotta call me sir. Jon is fine, if you’re comfortable.”

You smile, “sure thing, Jon,” and let your eyes widen when you turn around to pass the order to Sam. They look at you odd when you hand them the cup, but make it without a fuss. They’re weirdly good at seeing through people. “Is he real cute or something?” They ask.

You’re not sure if Jon always uses his super hearing. You imagine he doesn’t out of respect and not wanting to intrude, but you know he’s probably always got an ear out for trouble. Even so, you’ll be caught dead before he has the chance to hear you geek over him.

“Mid,” you scoff, like a liar.

Stupid spidey luck, you swear. Maybe this universe is sentient and is out to get you for real. Jon Kent is, by all means, a cute nerd, but he’s also Superboy . With super strength and laser eyes. Maybe you should, like, break into LexCorp or something. Having kryptonite on hand doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

But maybe you’re just getting ahead of yourself. You take a deep breath, relax , you. You’ve got training from the goddamn Avengers . You got this in the bag! No need to jump the gun. 

Sam takes the order to the front and calls out, “Small vanilla latte for Jon?” Said Jon walks up to the counter, taking the cup and his eyebrows slightly quirk up. Your super hearing picks up his mutter of, “spelled it right…” as he walks off.

“Nervous for the exam?” Sam hums, messing with your earlobe.

“Nah,” you scoff. “It looks like real easy stuff.” You’re more worried about the kind of kids that go there. You’re not foolish enough to think that everybody will be welcoming to a scholarship kid. You’re just thankful you can afford to not look like you’re living on the streets, ‘cause you’re sure at that point you’ll get bullied relentlessly. Nevertheless, your feelings aren’t so easily hurt.

Sam points a finger at you. “Don’t let nobody bully you, those good-for-nothing rich kids wouldn’t last a day out there in the real world. They probably wouldn’t have gotten in without their parents' money anyway.” They grab your shoulders, looking you in the eye. You raise your brows. “I’ll never forget that you did my college level algebra work for me. Seriously, I’ll start paying you to do my work.”

You take their hands. “It’s not a good idea to cheat through college when you’re trying to be a Vet. Probably.”

“I’m saying that you’re way smarter than those losers. They got nothing on you, babes.”

You smile, winking. “I know.” Their smile is sharp. “What’s your beef with the rich anyway? Besides the fact that they’re cheating at life.” You ignore the fact that you technically were rich, in this life and the last.

“Until Bruce Wayne pays my tuition, rich people are useless. All of ‘em.”

Carrie lets you off early to take your exam, and you’re sent off with encouragement all around. Karen guides you along the way, speaking into your ear. Humming a song under your breath, you almost miss the hand reaching out to grab you. You grip the offender’s wrist and whirl around to face them.

It’s Jon. He’s looking at you with wide-eyes.

You furrow your brows. “The fuck, man? Don’t go grabbing people in Gotham.”

His eyes widen even further, hastily removing his grip around your arm. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I just heard you talking about the entrance exams. For GA right? I know the way, I can show you.”

You look him up and down. “You were listening to my conversation? How? You were, like, across the cafe.”

He sputters. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I just thought I could…” he hesitates, now realizing how weird this is, “...help. And I have really good hearing. Normally good, anyway.”

You stare at him. How is this absolute loser (loving) Superboy? You chuckle. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, are you?”

He relaxes at your smile. “No, is it obvious?”

“Very.” You hook your arm around his. “Lead the way, hero.”

His face flushes, but ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t shove you off. He actually seems to lean into your touch. “So,” you tut as the two of you begin walking, “where are you from, then?”

“Metropolis. I grew up in Smallville for a while though, know it?”

“Kansas, right?” He nods.

“So, was it my dashing good looks that called your name or a biological need to mate?”

He chokes on nothing. “I mean, normal people don’t approach like you did. I know you’ve never seen a beauty like me, but seriously, this whole thing is kinda creepy,” you hum.

He kind of just stares at you. You stare back, and he breaks and chuckles breathily. “I mean, you are pretty cute,” he flirts. Your brows raise in surprise, smiling pleasantly in surprise. “I don’t know, I just like helping people. I’ve always felt the need to do so.” He trails off in thought. “It’s just… who I am.”

It’s fascinating to see the very essence of Superboy in the flesh. You cough and turn your head away. “Pretty corny, if you ask me. But…” you turn back and look at him. “I get it. I like helping the little guys myself.”

“Little guys?”

“Little guys.”

You stop upon the gates of the school, looming above you dauntingly. You turn to face Jon. “How do I look?” He gives you a scrutinizing look before motioning for you to do a spin. You’re wearing a simple hoodie and sweats with slightly beat-up sneakers. Your clothes don’t have to impress anyone, just your score. He thinks seriously, before nodding.

“Looks good to me.”

You chuckle, walking towards the entrance. “See you around, hero.”

“Your heart is racing, [Name].”

“How about we stop talking for a while.”

He watches you walk off. His eyes watch the sway of your hips before he shakes himself out of it. Then, he groans.

“I forgot to get their name.”

The room is cold and only filled with a few students. Their faces are nervous, and if they aren’t, their demeanor is. They’re obviously middle or lower-class kids. You root for them in your head. They’re also in nicer clothes than you are, whoops.

Like you thought, the test is super easy. You finish it far before anyone else, and sit in silence as the clock ticks. You flick the pencil in your hand around, twirling it. Sooner or later, you’ll have to start finding a way back home. You regret not paying attention when Miguel explained things to you. There’s also that whole particle accelerator thing. You sincerely doubt you’ll be able to build something like that yourself. You don’t have access to that kind of money or material, so you’ll find a way to build a watch. Hobie did it, why can’t you?

“Time’s up.”

You blink. The test proctor makes her way around the room, picking up tests as she goes. She gives you a subtle stink-eye when she makes her way to you, and you look her head on. She huffs and makes her way to the front of the room when she’s done.

“You’ll receive a letter of acceptance or denial in a week’s time.” She emphasizes denial and looks straight at you when she does. What a hater.

You walk out the school feeling light. The sky is still cloudy, as it always is. Then, you’re eyes spot a figure waving at you from outside the gate. It’s Jon. What the fu–

You pause in your tracks as he walks up to you.

“So? How’d it go?”

He meets your incredulous stare. “...what?”

“Were you waiting here the whole time?” The test was 2 hours long!

His eyes widened. “No! I went and did some errands. I just came back like five minutes ago.”

You huff in disbelief. “How’d you know when it would be over?”

“My friend has taken it before.” He probably means Damian.

He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him.

He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?”

“Not that cute!” You remind him.

He chuckles in disbelief. He’ll find it out.

notes: i didn't plan for jon to kinda be whipped with reader but i couldnt stop my hands. apologies if he's ooc bc i have not read a single dc comic and all my characterization of him comes through fanfics ive read LOL. i imagine he'd be a little flirty once he get's comfortable with his Superboy mantle.

also he's not like immediately in love with reader or anything, he's just being a teenage boy. he'll get a grip eventually. probably.

karen: why does superboy call you babygirl

reader: how about we stop talking for a little while - jon: how did you know who to spell my name without the h? most people spell it 'john'.

reader: *nervous sweating*

[biteofcherry]

Sweet and stained

Sweet and stained

soft dark Nick Fowler x female reader

a Hades/Persephone inspired AU set in modern times, with an implied mafia background

summary: You live in the sun and blooms, under your mother's protective wing (or is it cage?). When Nick Fowler strolls into your life, he brings a wave of thrilling fresh with the darkness that follows him.

warnings: soft!dark Nick Fowler; sort of dub-con; kidnapping; manipulation; light corruption kink; mentioned breeding kink; a bit of smutty scenes included;

Author's Note: This is a trope that won the poll for my birthday celebration story. Honestly, the way I imagined this fic at first is completely different from how it turned out. Less sharp than my usual style and more of a gloomy, start-of-the-autumn poetics. Still, I hope you'll enjoy!

You never knew black could shimmer so brilliantly, even though you saw its various shades in petals of unique flowers. The night sky’s ink was dotted with sparkling dust, too, after all. Yet it was only now that you noticed the luminosity of dark, as your head tilted back on the softest pillows and your gaze roamed the supple garlands of the black canopy.

Dark interior, which scared you the first time you took a step inside, now engulfed you in heady warmth. Like a sip of spicy hot chocolate, so rich and thick it coats your tongue and fills your belly with a bitter bite to its general sweetness.

There’s more spice than sweetness to your captor, but you began realizing he remained the only one to treat you with softness. As if he truly cared.

Perhaps he did? 

Maybe the charm and patience he showed you at the beginning were as true as the ruthless possessiveness with which he bound you to him. 

You had years to find that out. Decades at his side, to unravel the scary mystery that was Nick Fowler.

Your husband.

His face above you, as he sat beside your sweaty, spent body, shone a serene glow. His eyes a shade of clear lake, with monsters luring in the depths. 

You still feared him, but Nick gave you enough proof that he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Even if his plan for you was weaved out of nefarious intentions. 

He set aside the glass of water which he brought to your lips a moment ago, soothing your throat that dried out from how much you screamed for him. 

It’s for the best that you couldn’t speak at the moment, your breath still ragged; since you didn’t know what you’d say to him after all the debauched things he did to you. Post sex pillow talk was never your forte, but it was even more awkward after willingly spreading your legs for a man who ripped you from your life as one plucked a flower from the ground.  

Silently, you watched Nick once again pick a crystal bowl from the nightstand, a shiny barrow of pomegranate seeds peeking above the rim. 

He devoured some moments before he indulged in your dripping pussy.  

Seeds glistened ruby richness on Nick’s fingers as he brought them to your lips; his own mouth stained with the juice. He left traces of the red sweetness on your thighs and mound, mixing pomegranate flavor with your combined spend. 

Your lips wrapped around his digits as he spilled fruity grains on your tongue. One of your hands rested on your belly, just below your navel. 

Nick has repeatedly filled you with seeds that night, not only those of a pomegranate. 

It made you tremble. His intent was clear; not only shown in relentless, deep thrusts, but dark and dirty words whispered into your ear. 

Your body shouldn’t react so eagerly to his plans, arching and spasming in whorish acceptance as he ordered you to take it; as he fucked you through one climax into another, telling you of his heir swelling in your womb. 

Disgust should have filled you, instead of arousal. Because as much as you believed Nick was going to dote on you, his owning of your body in every sense was driven by revenge. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

With the wide rim of the sunhat on your head limiting your view and your focus on the pots dancing away from you (the wind that day was wickedly playful, knocking over the smaller pots every time you righted them), you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings. 

People walked past, some gleefully talking about plants, others arguing on what was or wasn’t needed in their garden. On a sunny day like that, Demeter Gardens had as many customers as a fun fair on weekends. 

The staff was really busy on days like this, doubling their efforts, because it was usually when your mother chose to grace the place with her radiant presence - radiant to the customers, an absolute harpy to her workers. 

There were many traits you admired about your mother. The most inspiring was the fact she was a barely out of teens single mother who managed to raise you and start a business that flourished into a state known brand. 

She had her faults, too. Like the high expectations and harsh tongue when someone didn’t meet her standards.

It went both for her employees and her daughter. 

Working with plants soothed you, so at least your future as the heiress to the empire your mother wanted you to take over didn’t look as grim. Even if some evenings you cried into a pillow, because it wasn’t what you dreamt of at all.

Growing under her wing, you didn’t get much of a chance to explore what exactly you could dream of, what called out to you, but you simply knew that running a gardening business wasn’t it. 

You never dared to tell your mother that. Enough times have you suffered her cruel words, snide remarks regarding anything that strayed even a step away from her grand plans. Demeter had ambition rivaling many moguls and she poured it onto you as well. The only praise you got was when you won any sort of competition, or mentioned business plans. 

Your mother may have only spiteful words to say about your absent father, but she possessed the same self-centered core as him. Rotten and unkind. 

How plants flourished under her hands, you had no idea. 

Though she didn’t spend much time with them anymore, leaving it to people who really liked working with plants. You liked the peace and quiet it offered, which is why you spent almost every day at the gardening center. 

“Excuse me?” A smooth male voice startled you.

Not only with how sudden and close it was, but also because it was so unusual in a place mostly filled with cheery, loudly speaking families or couples. 

You turned your head, pulling the rim of your sunhat up with your dirty fingers, so you could see the person better. 

Your gaze met a pair of blue eyes, with a silvery gray swirl in them, that chilled you like an autumn rain pattering on your skin. A shadow of stubble along a chiseled jaw, which would feel under your fingertips like frosty needles of the first hoarse coating November leaves. Subtle, pink lips curved in a smile, but its charm didn’t fully cover the sharp threat of teeth that could sink in ‘till blood spilled like in spooky nightmares of autumnal season.

This man looked like the stillness of dying nature, engulfed in fog and chilling to the bones. A dark spirit amongst the lush greenery and blooming life that stretched all around. 

And yet he was more beautiful than any man you ever laid eyes on. 

“Yes?” You swallowed nervously, mostly to wet your suddenly dry throat. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sure you can,” he said softly, his voice a brush of cool silk. 

“See, I usually hire garden designers to take care of any greenery around my business buildings, but the one at my actual home? I wanted to work on it myself.”

“Understandable.” You smiled at him. “Having your own garden is a personal thing. Working on it helps you connect with the place that will be your oasis.”

“The problem is, I quickly realized I have zero idea what I’m doing. But I’m a stubborn bastard, who’s still adamant on chasing what he set his eyes on.” He sighed dramatically, making you laugh.

“Anyway-” he shook his head- “I’m Nick. Please, help me out?” 

You gave him your name, taking his hand when he outstretched it. His fingers were calloused, though it’s the cool brush of metal of his rings that sent tiny spikes of sensation through you. 

“What exactly do you need my help with, Nick?” You took off your sunhat and squinted slightly as the sunlight soaked your vision. 

“My tastes are… unique.” You knew he spoke about aesthetic preferences, but couldn’t help hearing the double meaning behind it. Especially with the sensual flick of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I’m mostly out the whole day,” Nick continued explaining, “coming home only in the evening. Which is when I wish to spend most time in the garden. To relax and enjoy its secret beauty.”

“You want night bloomers.” You guessed, grinning ear to ear.

Flowers blooming in the evening and through the night were one of your favorites. There was something about them that called out to you. Perhaps the fact they were overlooked under the radiant sun, hiding their secret beauty to flourish in shadows, when no one could judge them. 

There was also the aura of mystery about them, pairing so well with your fondness for gloomy and gothic stories. 

“See? I knew I was asking the right person for help.” Nick mirrored your smile; his made you a little weak in the knees. 

“You have to get the Moonflower, of course.” You moved and gestured for Nick to follow you, as you led him to the far end of the center. 

“I have to?” Nick chuckled, matching your step to walk beside you rather than behind you. 

Shoulder to shoulder with him, you suddenly realized he was taller than at first sight. Much warmer than what his dark aura suggested, too. And his scent was a toe-curling reminder of spicy mulled wine sipped by the fireplace.

“Yes!” You nodded, brushing your fingertips along the plants you passed on your way. “Moonflower is my favorite. It’s similar to the morning glory. You won’t see its full beauty now, but I assure you it never disappoints.”

When you finally reached the corner with potted plants - from smallest to those quite grown already - Nick bent over to examine it closely. He gently trailed the heart-shaped leaves, then plucked the yellow card attached to one of the thin stems. 

“Moonflower, or moon vine,” he read aloud, “is a night-blooming morning glory that opens in the evening and stays full until morning.”

Nick straightened and turned to you, gaze slowly dragging up your body. When his eyes met yours, there was a glint of something cold and dangerous in them. As if for a split of a second you saw a flash of instrumental triumph.

“Opens in the evening and stays full until morning,” he repeated the words, his voice dropping an octave and filling your belly with unexpected heat. “I like it already.” 

“Uh, well-” you squeezed the rim of the sunhat in your grasp- “Yes, see, I told you. You’ll like it even more when it blooms in your garden.”

“I know I will.” Nick affirmed solemnly. 

Something about his gaze, or perhaps it was the set of his jaw, quickened your pulse with a warning that his intent was more than just a harmless flirting. There was this tinge of danger about him, fizzing on the tip of your tongue with a spicy aftertaste. 

If you licked his skin, the cold darkness may swallow you, but everything inside you would set aflame. 

Apprehension tingled inside your chest, like wind chimes’ pearly tune that lured with their woeful longing. Reason whispered to take a step back, but feet moved forward on their own, drawn to the inner flame that may as well be straight from hell. 

It was hard to break eye contact with Nick, but you feared if you didn’t look away he’d mesmerize you into selling your soul. And your body. Body which awoke with yearning to have his fingertips trail along your skin the same way he touched the plants.

Somehow you managed to turn away. The sun’s warmth returned to your cheeks, caressing your face with soothing lightness the second you stepped away from Nick’s gloomy aura.

“You should also get night blooming Jasmine. It smells so sweet.” You rambled about plants, clutching onto the topic like it was a lifebuoy keeping you afloat from sinking into fascinating, but scary depths that were Nick’s eyes. 

“And Angel’s Trumpets!” With your presentation, excitement returned. 

You were helping create something personal, something so very unique. However Nick chose to use your advice, you had a blissful sense of creating something yourself. A garden that may as well be yours, since it catered to your aesthetic and needs as well. 

Nick ordered so many of the plants you listed that not only did you run out of stock, but had to set up a delivery from another center. You weren’t sure how big Nick’s garden was, but considering the amount of plants it had to be a king-sized land. 

The thought of roaming it in the late evening, with dusk hiding hues of purple and gold in a shroud of ink black, and moonlit petals opening up for the life of creatures of the night; it made your heart yearn.

You’d love to wander through that garden. 

For someone who ran a gardening empire, your mother kept you both locked in a metal and glass skyscraper, in a two-floor penthouse with (amazing, but contained) view of the city. 

It was a cage. 

As you watched Nick walk away after he paid in advance for the order, though he took with him some chilling sense of danger, you envied his freedom to simply walk away from the sun and the blooms. 

Many would be jealous of you, you were aware of that. Living among lush greenery and constant sun seemed wonderful. It was to an extent. But this pristine, spring and summer only land, didn’t allow difference. There was no real room for unusual, dark undertones of wicked hearts that would love to have wild mushrooms spread over their lawn instead of snobby hydrangeas. 

When a cooling cloud shielded you from the scorching sun, coming along with Nick as he returned the next week, you felt like breathing freely for the first time since he walked away. 

This time he asked for fruit trees which he wanted to scatter among other types. The idea immediately struck you as unique, making your heart jump. 

Most of the time people divided their gardens - strict lines and areas for vegetables, separating them from decorative flowers. Mixing them up seemed chaotic, but so wonderful. What a surprise to walk through gemstone garlands of wisteria to find juicy peaches at arm’s reach. Or to tread through ferns and moonflowers to discover gooseberry bushes hidden amongst them. 

When Nick came on a third week, your excitement at his presence and news of his garden overpowered any sense of reason that kept you at a certain distance with him. 

And when he mentioned that keeping a routine and being at the center on the same day, same hour every week could be dangerous. 

“Someone could watch you, learn your schedule and plan how to steal you, Moonflower.” 

Having Nick call you Moonflower - the word rolling out on his tongue in a hum of wind, chilling to the bone, but igniting that deep-soul yearning - stirred feelings that overpowered the warning. 

Or maybe you started living for that rush of thrill Nick’s shadow elicited. The only spot of darkness allowed in your life. Enriching it thus. 

Still, fear resurfaced with tentacles of cold wrapping around you and plucking you from the sunny spot in broad daylight as you trotted to work the week after. On the same day as usual, with a bounce to your step as thirst for Nick’s brand of addictive flavor parched your throat. 

The car was black; a polished, obsidian arrowhead spearing the sheet of morning light. The engine’s sound more the growl of a prowling beast than the roar of an unhinged monster. 

Despite the speed, it stopped gracefully at the curb, cutting off your route. Nick’s silhouette stunned you as he exited the car; the blue-green depth of his eyes darker than when he walked along with you through blooming alleys. 

A smile didn’t have a chance to spread on your lips when his hand covered your mouth, the other arm wrapping around you. 

You screamed when he dragged you inside the car, but calloused fingers stifled the sound effectively. Wet tinkle of your cries reverberated against the metal of the rings adorning Nick’s fingers. 

Pleading eyes, so full of unanswered questions and fear, didn’t cut through the veil of composure. One had no chance begging their life out of death’s grip and Nick’s hold on you was a finality set in stone, as if the grim reaper came to harvest your soul to lead it to undying gardens for the rest of eternity. 

“No need for tears, Moonflower.” Nick took his hand from your mouth as the car sped away.

His touch traveled down your shaking arm, harsh fingers delivering surprisingly comforting caress. He took your hand in his and brough your palm to his mouth, kissing softly each knuckle. 

“I’ll make you a queen and treat you as such. No harm will ever be done to you.” 

“You kidnapped me,” you pointed out, voice quiet and quivering, though you bravely held his gaze. “That’s quite harmful.” 

“It’s only a means to avoid meddling of forces that would otherwise keep you away from me.” Nick rested his head back against the seat. “From what I found out about you, they’ve quashed you enough.”

“You know nothing about me, or my life!” You huffed, squirming back into the corner, your back against the side door.

You were never a physical fighter and Nick made no move to grip or hurt you other than pulling you into the car, so you didn’t attack him. You also doubted you had much of a chance of earning anything beside exhaustion and bruises. 

It was pitiful to admit, but you never fought anything or anyone beside the dragons in your head. The rebellion and storm were caged within your chest, mind full of words you wanted to scream at your mother, your father, the whole world. But you never did it. Never felt secure enough in your strength to cut those ties. 

“I know you’re dedicated and smart, finished on top of your class, gaining a degree that you never wanted to have in the first place.” Nick replied calmly.

His unperturbed composure was as much soothing as resonating with your usual behavior. Though you sensed that his limits weren’t pushable. If it came to it, his retaliation to being crossed would be severe. Lethal even. 

You envied that power. 

You wanted that power.

“You have passion for creativity and you are a fucking brilliant survivor.” Those words were spoken with admiration; a brilliant foam lighting up the sea storm of Nick’s irises. 

“You don’t love gardening as a business. I doubt you’re even interested in actual gardening work. But you see and love plants, their uniqueness, the details of them. You like their beauty, even the unusual ones. You’re an artist, Moonflower.”

Your heart burst with an intermixture of colorful emotion - a hail of fireworks against the black depth that is your caged life. 

“Artists should never be shackled into expectations.” 

“Yet you took me, because you expect something from it,” you retorted bitterly. 

“I expect nothing beyond you being by my side.” Nick’s fingers circled one of your wrists, thumb pressing against your pulse. “And strengthening the power of my empire.” 

“And how am I supposed to do that?” There was nothing of value that you could give him. Did he hope for a dowry and connections from your father? 

“Just by being with me.” He shifted, crowding you against your little safety corner. “Coming home to you would sweeten every hard day, knowing that I ripped something most precious from the one who took everything from my family.”

Comforting spices of his scent conflicted with the shadows he shrouded you in, painting a picture of a fairy tale that’s twisted enough that it shouldn’t be enjoyable. Yet struggling against the thorny veins of Nick’s plan seemed to have the opposite effect, pushing you further into forests of unknown thrills. 

“So I’m a vengeance plan?” You’d prefer it if your voice didn’t betray the disappointment, but it was too late to take back that undertone now. 

“Vengeance doesn’t mean burning the world down. That’s too simple and holds no ongoing effect.” Nick’s mouth curved in a scythe of dangerously alluring smirk, his eyes darkening. “Phoenixes rise from the ashes of burnt kingdoms. I rose from it.”

“My type of vengeance is to flourish on the fertile fields of my enemy’s broken ambitions.”

You believed Nick’s every word - that he had the resilience and endurance to build himself from whatever ruin his opponents left him with. It honed him, like hell fire does an indestructible blade. 

Many would use that lethal edge to cut the throats of all enemies. But Nick’s revenge wasn’t to bring short term pain and wipe out the others, he wanted them to drown in their suffering, to stretch it out plucking petal after petal of their lush empires. 

“You, Moonflower-” he skimmed his fingers along your arm and up the column of your throat- “are my prosperity. My core to thrive.”

“Binding you to me and allowing you to bloom into a woman you always wished to be, whatever form that may take,” Nick loosely curled his fingers around your neck, “will make me happy for I know you’re a brilliant gem. But I won’t hide that it will also crush the rotten heart of my enemy.”

“Seeing you at my side, growing along me and with me-” something about that particular choice of words unfurled heat in your core, like the time he mentioned flowers staying full-

“-will keep the flame of anger and pain consuming her daily.”

“Her?” you suddenly blinked, moving your legs slightly to alleviate the pressure that uncomfortably grazed your folds. 

“My mother?” You stared at Nick in bewilderment. “She’s your enemy?” 

Nick chuckled, though you weren’t sure if it was at your astonishment or the squirmy movement of your body which he noticed. He leaned closer still, knees brushing against yours. Where the fabric of your summer dress rolled up on your thighs, the fine fabric of his suit pants grazed your skin. 

“Your mother may present herself as the survivor against all odds and she is very determined, I’ll give her that. She also became heartless in her need to improve her life and show the world she doesn’t need help, ripping the fortune of others to build herself.” 

“She stole from you?” There wasn’t much shock in your response. After all, you knew the backstage face of the gardening queen; the truth behind the sunny smile of the nature-loving new age goddess. 

“From my family.” Nick gritted his teeth at the mention. “They took her pregnant under their roof, taught her family secrets of maintaining lush flowers. I was barely four when you were growing in her belly, but I remember her always slapping my hand away when I wanted to touch it, to feel a tiny baby miracle kicking.”

He didn’t say it, but you began to understand the part of possessiveness. The touch he didn’t withdraw an inch once he was able to reach for you freely. Something he was denied, now he ripped it away for himself. 

“First she stole the knowledge, then farms and fields.” Nick continued, his voice heavy with ice cold anger. “Came with fancy lawyers and bulldozers, chasing my family away from the scrap of land and the mounds of soil that my grandparents brought from Romania.”

You remembered one time your mother mentioned something about the secret being in the soil, a harpy reflection to her smile when she did. 

“My mother’s heart couldn’t take it. My father fled to Romania, finding the only solace in a small square of land where he grew a new hybrid of flowers. Named it after my mother.” 

Nick paused for a moment, his eyes boring into yours. A few breaths and the rage surpassed, leaving the lull of oceanic waves in his eyes. They rocked you as you held his gaze; your body attuning to the pulse of crackling fireplace on a dead cold autumn night that was Nick’s aura. 

“I’m not a gardener myself,” Nick shrugged, easing his free hand up your leg. “But I know how to plow through hard and high grounds. I’ve made myself a different kind of empire, though I always remained respectful of nature and plants, as my parents did.” 

You didn’t even feel him grip you any harder, yet somehow Nick managed to switch your positions in a blink of an eye - pulling you onto his lap. 

One of his hands remained at your throat, thumb gently stroking up and down along your pulsing vein. 

“You’ll be my queen. You’ll give me heirs.” It wasn’t a proposition, but a declaration of decision set in stone. “I’ll give you the freedom and power you so desperately crave.”

“What do you know of my cravings?” You hoped to challenge his confidence, to fight against the tendrils of magnetic pull that weaved around your limbs. 

“I know you turned my way like a plant does seeking the sun,” Nick’s hand slid beneath your dress. “Keeping so close, coming even closer each time, like an addict hopes to lick a single fleck of whatever gets him high.” 

Cool rings pressed into your skin, spiking your heart rate into a paradoxical pasodoble between desire and trepidation. Just like the nights you used your own fingers to the image of Nick fucking you in the night garden. 

“I know each time you thought I was coming to visit, you wore a shorter dress.” His fingers on your thigh inched further up. “This one today? If I met you inside the gardening center and you’d bend over to show me moss arrangements, I’d get a peek of your ass.” 

He did get that peek. 

When he bent you over his bed that night. After having you sign your name on all the legally (illegally too, undoubtedly) binding documents as a paid, stoic-faced registrar officiated your wedding. The ink was deep red, as blood that one spills for the devil. 

Red was also the wine Nick brought to your lips in a crystal glass. The rich, thick taste of it was a bland mist compared to the burning magma of Nick’s lips against yours, molting away the taste of your previous life as he sealed your contract. 

One hand on the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he fed you his sinful tongue, the other buried beneath your sundress. Firm, relentless fingers eliciting tangy, warm rain from between your thighs; watering the soil of the garden filled with plants that you picked. That you loved and Nick provided for you. 

He made you mark the land as yours, as he marked you as his. Your voice an enchanted cry of spell that was Nick’s name. 

Then he took you to the bedroom - the heart of the underworld kingdom. 

Though the dark interior sent a ripple of unease down your spine at first; it was like stepping into a cold, mountain stream after days of hiking in blinding sun. Then the jewel undertones of onyx and cuprite engulfed you. Shimmering black curtains of the canopy parted its wings for you, as Nick led you to the bed. 

You never strayed from dirt, but it only stained your hands and clothes as you worked with soil. The dirt spilling from Nick’s mouth as he took you seemed to twist your body into inhuman arches of pleasure, reshaping your mind so it became greedy for the sizzling impulses his filthy words elicited.

Tightest cunt.

Delicious hole. 

Breedable pussy.

Mine.

Tears trickled down your cheeks - a salty passage from a girly life of obedient silence into empowered if dark womanhood. Briny dew altered into shy sweetness as your moans stretched, tears turning into those of overwhelming pleasure. 

Nick showered you with it. With his tongue and fingers; with his cock that filled you with girth and the precious spent he cursed to take root in your womb. 

He led you like a queen, just like he promised, once you were able to stand on your trembling legs after hours of being both worshiped and owned. A silk robe in a color of a red so dark it might as well be woven from arterial blood floated around your frame as Nick took you into the garden. 

His fingers intertwined with yours. His pace adjusted to yours, not once rushing or slowing you down. 

Focused on admiring the beauty of silvery moonflowers and creamy bells of Angel’s Trumpets, you didn’t notice Nick’s eyes were only on you. 

[artistic-boi-cakko]

On Call - Miguel O'Hara X Artist Male reader

Reader have a girlfriend, smut, Miguel is an idiot, reader is cheating (ofc) while being on a call with his girlfriend

You don’t know how this all happened, trying to take Miguel's large cock. You felt weird, your brain was hazy, you needed some relief while your girlfriend was out of State but you felt angry at yourself as you were cheating on your girlfriend. 

Miguel smirked at your teary face, filled with guilt and pleasure. He knew you were regretting the moment but needed relief at the same time. He held your face tightly and started to thrust his hips, pushing his dick deeper inside your mouth. You closed your eyes shut tight trying to take Miguel. A broken voice erupted from your throat. Miguel grunted with irritation and pulled away.

You started coughing "It's… too much…". Miguel's right eyebrow twitched as he was staring down at you, at your knees on the floor, gripping on his thighs balancing yourself. 

"Ugh… then let's do something else. You're the worst blowjob I ever had. No idea how to suck or lick. Just bobbing your head that too not properly" Miguel spat out a little irritated. He grabbed your shoulders and practically threw you on the bed. He climbed on top of you and kissed your lips hard, he was trying to calm himself to make the kiss more passionate. 

You groaned and in the kiss, feeling pressured. Still kissing Miguel, a more passionate kiss. You broke away as your stomach dropped… f/s (favorite song) on your phone was playing which was laying on Miguel's side cabin. You weren't able to see who called you but Miguel was, he glanced at the phone and smirked. He leaned towards the phone and picked it up, giving the phone to you. He was smiling wide. 

You wondered the reason for his wide smile. You looked at the name of the person calling, your eyes wide, heart rate increasing and you could feel your body going hot, not because of your desires for your Friend, Miguel… but from fear… Your girlfriend called you.

"Receive the call, talk to GF/N (Girlfriend Name). Let her hear you and realize who you belong to" Miguel whispered as he ripped away your shorts and boxers. You panicked and accidentally swiped to receive the call. 

"Y/N? You okay, Dear? It took you long to pick up the call? I assume you were working on yet another art piece and were on the verge to complete a part of it?" Your girlfriend asked giggling, she was so kind to you and always supported you for your passion for art. 

You took a big gulp and sighed "Yeah, it was a long project. H-HOW are you?" You asked. Your breath hitched as Miguel kissed your inner thigh and was massaging and caressing your legs. You placed a hand in his head trying to push him away but in return he held your hand and kissed and licked your dick. 

"I'm great! The client is a bit nosey about his house's interior but good thing his request will not be too hard to implement" she said sounding proud at her work. "How's Miguel?" She asked. 

You let out a sigh looking down at Miguel, lightly touching your dick and giving it occasional strokes. You bit back a moan and spoke up "Yeah, he is good" as you said that Miguel took you in his mouth and grunted, he started sucking and licking you. "UGHehh!" You squealed out.

You were now scared, as your girlfriend heard you… "Y/N? Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, no problem. Mhphm! Just stub my little toe" You said, pushing off Miguel's head, you cheered happily as you managed to push his head away. 

Miguel smirked and pushed a finger inside your asshole. You clenched your teeth and sucked your stomach in, holding in your breath. "Oh dear, don't be clumsy. I'm currently reading a book. Will you take a break or not?" She asked.

"Uh, no, I won't take a break right now." You said hoping she will hang up.

Miguel heard and decided to mess with you "AH SHIT! THE LIGHTS ARE OUT! I WILL GO CHECK!" He said it loud enough for your girlfriend to hear.

In anger you slapped Miguel's head and he responded with a smirked and pushing in another finger inside you and started to finger fuck you. You gripped his hair.

"Oh my. You saved your work, right?" She asked concerned "Good thing Miguel is out to check the lights." She said, "Uh yeah yeah! I saved my work… don't worry. It will be back soon" You said.

"I hope it won't, we can talk for a longer time" she said seductively. A blush started to appear on your face. Miguel took notice of it and sped up his fingers inside you.  You panicked and bit your lip for dear life, you did NOT want your girlfriend to know about your little session with Miguel. He started smirking and started kissing your stomach and chest. 

"Mhm, you're missing me, baby boy? Missing how Mommy touches you?" Your girlfriend said seductively on the call. You were getting overwhelmed at the feeling of Miguel pleasuring you and your girlfriend filling your brain with lust even more. 

A soft moan escaped your lips. Miguel started to lick and suck on your left nipple. You held your breath. 

"Baby? You're missing Mommy so much that you're touching yourself? Aww, don't worry my train is in a few days" she giggled on call. You wanted to moan but you wouldn't as that would only fill up satisfaction for the two which you didn't want. You held back a breath, sucking in your stomach. You held Miguel's head, pushing him away from your now sore nipple. 

Miguel let out a low breathy chuckle and wrapped his arms around you tightly. You choked on a breath as air basically left your body from the tight hug. He started to rub his dick on yours moving his hips forward and backward, letting you feel everything. "Nhmh!" You let out a small noise, feeling the man's weight on your body and how your body moved.

He pushed his fingers into your asshole again, a little faster now. Loosening you up again.

Your girlfriend on call, speaking dirty words to you, making you imagine how she would touch you. And here you have Miguel doing the deed of pleasuring you which basically added fuel to the fire, meaning making your brain hazy and making you climax. Your body shivered and you moaned "uhmmhnmmm~". "My my baby body, you really climaxed? Good, I will be there soon with you and you will be climaxing on my hand" your girlfriend spoke on call. 

You stared at Miguel who was holding back a laugh. Your face was flushed red, you shifted your hips wanting to get away from him but received a painful tug on your dick in return. You groaned at it and raised your leg, threatening to kick Miguel. He held your leg and pushed it back towards your leg, making you groan from the stretch. He repeated it for your other leg and positioned his dick on your entrance. He was playfully wriggling his brows, gesturing to get you into some trouble. You stared angrily at him and mouthed words 'don't you dare' and with that he pushed his dick inside you.

You grunted and rolled your head back, Adam's apple poking out and it moved as you gulped and panted as you were stretched out. "Y/N, are you okay?" Your girlfriend asked on call. You panted and tried to calm yourself, tears pricking from your eyes as you looked at Miguel, begging him to pull out. "Y-yeah, just stubbed my toe, that shit hurts!" You panted out. "Right right, be careful now…" your girlfriend said.

Miguel pulled out and picked up the bottle of lube from the cabinet and applied it on his dick and some of it inside you. He then pushed in again. You sighed as it went easily now, it wasn't burning your ass now. Your walls were relaxing around Miguel after some time as your girlfriend talked about some gossip about her friends and family. "Her boyfriend really just did those cheesy dares for $500 bucks” she said laughing on call. 

You were not in the mood to laugh concerning your current situation as Miguel dead on thrusted his dick inside you, rubbing your prostate. Your mouth hung open and voice stuck in your throat as you did everything to not moan. Miguel was panting a little, the skin slaps became a little louder and you gave Miguel a death glare. With a silly smile he slowed down again. 

"Shoot! Y/N my phone's battery is dying. I will call you later now. Okay?" She said in panic.

"Hmmm" you responded, she hung up and you let your arm fall to your side and your phone bounced on the bed before laying still. 

"Ah ah ah!! Miguel mhm.." you panted and moaned. He finally moaned and gripped your waist, increasing his pace. He was dead on hitting the deepest inside you. You screwed your eyes shut and moaned. He gripped your swollen dick and started jerking it off, you screamed from overstimulation, body shivering, throat aching and heart racing. 

With just a few more strokes from Miguel’s hand you came hard. Miguel's thrusts were getting sloppy now, his precum and lube making his thrusts easier. He increased his speed to an impossible fast. You had your head pressed hard on the pillow, back arched, stomach sucked in, throat constantly letting out a loud moan. With a few more slow but hard thrusts Miguel came inside you. 

He let out dry and heavy pants and let himself come off his high before pulling out of you. 

You were a panting and moaning mess… Your stomach had cum on it. And you both were sweaty. 

Miguel weakly picked up a tissue from the cabinet and wiped off your stomach and your hole a little bit. "Rest for bit. Then we'll shower" he said as he crashed on bed beside you. 

"How was it?" He asked, smirking. 

You just nodded. Not giving him a proper reply. Your brain was still hazy, panic was flooding your brain that your girlfriend, some day or another your girlfriend will come to know about the little fun you had with you Homie. 

"Homies kiss goodnight" You whispered and closed your eyes. 

Miguel blushed at your words and let out a hearty laugh. 

Thank you guys for reading this if you read it this far, I'm glad and grateful! 

Please comment if you guys want more of Artist male reader fanfics. 

Have a good day and take care!

[prettybrownelf]

Hey could you do a genderfluid! Loki x ftm! Reader smut with reader being dysphoric and Loki or Bucky being soft and supportive and telling him how much of a handsome good boy he is to them just really fluffy

My Pretty Boy

Non MLM/NBLM DNI

Pairings- Loki x FTM! Reader

Summary- Your feeling a bit dysphoric during your servant duties, luckily Loki is here to help you feel better

Words- 787

Content Warnings- Smut, Dysphoria, Slight Description of AFAB Genitalia, Praise, Pet Names, Hair Pulling

Your skin felt awful. 

Every movement reminded you that you were inside of yourself and it made you sick. The other servants had clearly noticed your uncomfortable feelings, but decided to say nothing. 

That was until you had a hand hastily wrapped around your wrist. 

Instead of a servant, your eyes meet green as Loki stares down at you. 

“I need you in my chambers, now.” Their voice is soft and catches you off guard as you walk with them into their chambers. The gold, black and green interior is all you can focus on as you attempt to keep your eyes away from the royal standing in front of you. Loki decides to interrupt the silence. 

“Are you alright?” The question catches you off guard as your eyes finally meet theirs. You could tell them everything about your feelings. The constant feeling of being in the wrong body, always wanting to rip your own skin off so you can stop feeling it. But would they even understand? They can shapeshift, when they feel uneasy in their body they can just switch it, you aren't that lucky. 

“I'm fine, your majesty.” Your words fall of deaf ears as Loki walks closer to you. It was no secret the small romance you and Loki had nursed together, but this situation was different. “I know you're not, tell me what's wrong.” Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as you try to blink them away. Loki's soft hand caresses your cheek, forcing you to look up at them. “Tell me darling.” 

A single tear breaks its way out of your hold as you take a deep breath. “My body just feels so wrong.” Loki gives an understanding sigh as they bring you closer to them, holding you in a tight hug as you finally relax against their form. 

“How about you take a break here?” Loki says, holding you so that you will look at them. You nod with a small smile as Loki takes you to their bed, laying you down lovingly as they sit next to you. 

“My darling, would you like me to remind you how lovely you are?” Their hand returns to your cheek as you cock an eyebrow at them. “And how would you do that?” Loki chuckles as they crawl between your legs. Your heartbeat gets faster as they place a hand on your lower thigh. “If you don't want to, I completely understand, I just thought you should be reminded just how handsome this body of yours is.” Your face gets hot as you tangle your hands in their black hair. “Yeah, you can do that.” 

Loki gives a mischievous smile as they unbuckle your pants, slowly dragging them down your legs as they massage your thighs. “You have no idea how handsome you truly are, do you?” Words get caught in your throat as you attempt to keep your mind in tact. 

Loki's fingers slowly drag your boxers down as they discard your clothing on the floor. Their hands take hold of your thighs as they drag you closer to their mouth, a wolfish grin crawling onto their face. “God, you're stunning.” Their words ignite a fire inside your stomach as they finally give a slow long lick to you, their eyes never leaving yours. “Such a handsome puppy.” A whine is all you can get out as you grip their hair tighter. 

Loki takes that as a sign to go faster as their grip on your thighs gets tighter,making sure their face stays flush with you no matter how much you try to buck your hips. Their tongue suddenly finds its way to your clit, making your hips buck away from them. They immediately move your hips back down, continuing to circle your clit with the tip of their tongue. “Don't move baby boy.” You attempt to follow their command, forcing your body to go limp against their mouth as they massage small circles into your flesh. 

Heat pours into your lower stomach as you hold them closer to you. “I'm gonna cum.” Is all you manage to choke out as you feel Loki grin against your flesh. “Cum for me puppy.” He mutters out. 

It doesn't take much longer for the heat in your stomach to reach its peak. Your legs shake as your eyes roll back, feeling Loki lick you through your orgasm as you slowly calm down. 

Once your eyes meet theirs again, they smile. Leaning over you to leave a sweet kiss on your lips. “Let's take a bath now, shall we, darling?” You nod mindlessly as you feel Loki pick you up, carrying you over to their bathing room as you relax against them.

[continuous-spec]

Since Ao3 down, here is the full chapter 4 of the Messages In Between. :)

November 7th, 2186, Day 38 of the Reaper War.

A bomb. 

A fucking bomb on Tuchanka—with Cerberus hours from crawling all over it. 

The weight of both ripped down Shepard’s spine. The metal console creaked under her grip as Victus broke the news. 

His words echoed around her. His men, his son, actually. His own son, of all people, was somehow entrusted to run a secret mission on Tuchanka to disarm a planet-destroying bomb. 

The pain ripped further down Shepard’s arm. Saliva pooled in her mouth, ready to vomit at any notice. The room pulsated in a hazy gaze of black spots whirling in her peripheral. 

She was having a heart attack. 

She clenched her hands to the bottom of her uniform to keep herself upright. She gave Victus one last nod in acknowledgment before attempting to escape the war room. 

Flop sweat pooled around the thick collar of her Alliance blues. She needed to strip out of it fast. 

Shepard kept a firm stance while the bulkhead engaged for her exit. More weight collapsed on her spine as Wrex glared on. If he knew about the bomb—about Cerberus, he would flip. Start huffing and head-butting at any turian in sight.

She could not have that on her ship. 

As she crossed through security, the guards' words passed meaninglessly through her ears. Traynor's taming voice only rang out loud as she exited.

“Commander, there’s a new message at your private terminal.”

A new message 

A new message 

A new message 

Always a new fucking message. 

Shepard rushed past Traynor, trying to ignore her words. A wheezing breath jumped from her mouth. A heavy, panicking cry escaped her lips as the elevator doors hissed behind her.

Pressure built behind her eyes, and the pain throbbed further into her skull. Signs she often ignored when she needed to sleep. But there was still too much to do.  She’d sleep when she’s dead. 

Her heart pulsed fast into her throat, and the Alliance collar, covered in sweat, grew tighter. Shepard clawed at the brass buttons and threw her jacket into the corner, leaving her with a soaked black N7 undershirt. 

Stale air hit her back, cooling it as she panickedly paced through the tight corridor. She smacked the emergency lock and slid back into the freezing metal interior of the elevator. The crew could climb through the vents if they needed to, but right now, she just needed to sit and plan within these narrow walls. 

She brought up her omni-tool, mind racing as she tried to pull up Garrus’ contact info. 

His last messages left unanswered piled up in her inbox. 

[Vakarian]: So we're telling Wrex about this bomb? 

[Vakarian]: Nevermind, I’d like to avoid getting head-butted. 

[Vakarian]: You really have to admire the Hierarchy's resolve, though. If guns, asteroids, or a plague don’t kill you, the bomb sure will. 

[Vakarian]: Again, do NOT show Wrex this. I like my plates on my skull. 

Shepard didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She wanted to respond with something nice and witty, but the building dread that continued to rip down her spine knocked the banter out of her. 

[Shepard - draft date- November, 7th 2156]: I can’t fucking do this

Her fingers shook over the omni-tool, leaving the message unsent. In frustration, she slammed the back of her head into the elevator. Warmth eased down her skull at the impact, distracting her from her shallow breathing. 

They were so fucked. 

“Shepard, is something wrong with the elevator?” 

EDI’s ethereal voice echoed around her, jumping from one ear to another. She attempted to shoo away the voice, crouching into a ball, her back pressing further into the wall.

“EDI, I just need some time. Please, just have the elevator locked out for now.” 

“I understand, Commander. I am logging you out.” 

“Thanks,” Shepard said to the now empty room filled only with the sounds of her ragged, hitched breath. 

She concentrated on her respiration rate, trying to reduce it to a nonexistent number. Cool metal seeped around her fingers as her grip on the bar above her tightened. She pushed her head into the wall again, this time lightly, with her eyes shut tight. Her arms strained in the bent and awkward position. 

“Okay,” Shepard breathed aloud to herself, steadying her mind. 

Three hours until they needed to touch down on the bomb's location. Victus' troop waited below in the cargo bay. They would need at least two hours of logistics planning and gearing up away from Wrex’s men. That left her forty minutes to panic and maybe twenty to rest. 

An urgent sharp ping brought Shepard’s eyes fluttering open and out of her scheduled panic attack. Garrus’ name in bright red text yelled at her.

Shit, she forgot to reply to his jokes. It's not like they had the time for it.

[Vakarian]: Don’t get jealous, but I think Mordin is marrying me off to Eve. 

[Vakarian]: He came into the main battery, muttering something about scars, looked me over and just said…

[Vakarian]: Acceptable 

[Vakarian]: Then sent me a brochure on interspecies krogan mating rituals

Shepard let out a ringing laugh that reverberated within the tight walls.  A single tear edged out from her lashes. 

His jesting was not part of the growing plan that she had in mind, but Shepard still waited while he sent more texts.

[Vakarian]: That last part I made up

[Vakarian]: Mostly

The shake in her hand stopped, allowing her to reply back. 

[Shepard]: I needed that, thanks.

[Vakarian]: The brewing jealousy?

[Shepard]: The laugh

[Vakarian]: At me or with me?

[Shepard]: You know it’s more fun at you. 

[Vakarian]: How is she holding up?

[Vakarian]: Eve I mean

[Shepard]: Trying to get info on your new bride?

[Vakarian]: You see right through me.

[Shepard]: She’s trying to stay strong, from what I can tell. I think the stress of being her people's last hope is a lot on her.

[Vakarian]: We talking about Eve or you? 

[Shepard]: I’m handling this well, I’m fine.

[Shepard]: I’ve locked myself in the Normandy’s elevator in a fetal position.

[Shepard]: Whatcha up to?

[Vakarian]: Getting ready to crawl through the Normandy’s vents to get to my girlfriend.

[Shepard]: Girlfriend? 

Shepard let the question hang without following up. Her stomach flipped at the single word. A stream of joy and vibration coursed through her body. The muscles of her shoulder blades released and eased into position. The ripping pain finally stopped. She rested her head back with a light and airy sigh, and her heart relaxed to a steady beat. She felt like a teenager at the word "girlfriend." 

Her small smile spread out into a grin as notifications of Garrus typing and then stopping flashed on her screen. She laughed to herself, imagining as he panicked and erased each message. 

She brought her fingers up on the omni-tool to give him a break before he had an aneurysm. 

[Shepard]: So, who are we talking about now? Me or Eve? I would prefer the girlfriend title.

[Vakarian]: One moment, got to get this armor off for the vent. Boyfriend duties, you know? 

[Shepard]: Well, how about I unlock the elevator and help you get out of the armor instead? 

[Vakarian]: I’d like that, you know I always have trouble getting the clasps on my carapace. 

[Shepard]: Dork 

[Vakarian]: You like it 

Shepard slicked up the elevator wall and disengaged the emergency stop. The elevator chugged down to the crew level, where Garrus waited. 

The thick metal doors slide open to Garrus, still in armor, with brow plates pinched in concern.  Garrus dashed in, trying to block the view from any wandering crew, and punched in the passkey for her cabin—a number he must have memorized by now. 

The door shut tight, and Garrus dashed to Shepard’s side. His gloved hands moved to her waist, pulling her in. He wrapped himself further around her, placing one hand on her lower back where the sweat pooled. His free hand traveled up her form and cupped her cheek with a feathered touch. 

Shepard leaned in his grasp, letting all the weight off her feet as she fell into him. He held her there in silence, pulling her deeper into his grasp. Hot breath fell past her neck with his mouth plates at the top of her head. She just wanted to stay in that moment and not account for the literal seconds needed for this mission to go as planned. 

The elevator rocked them from side to side as it ascended the Normandy.

“So what’s happening? Are you okay, Shepard?” His hand slid back down her waist, letting her settle on the steel floor. Her feet buckled at the weight, but his hold steadied her. 

Shepard eased herself back, creating a small width of distance. She tried to steady her voice so she could joke along and make it seem like everything was fine. 

“I could be worrying about, you know, my brewing jealousy over my boyfriend being married off for a krogan alliance. So tragic.” 

Garrus flicked out his good mandible in response with a half smile. 

“I might just have to take Chakwas' offer to fix my scars. Maybe that’ll call off the wedding?”

While slow and had the usual drawl of humor, his words somehow broke with uncertainty. His steel blue eyes darted around her like they were looking for answers outside their conversation. His eyes focused on the corner where her uniform lay crumbled, and his brow plates somehow pinched even further. 

He was panicking too.

Her heart leaped into speed once again as his panicked actions reminded her she wasn’t just some love-struck teenager with a new boyfriend—She had a bomb to disarm. 

The elevator chimed, pulling her back to her cabin. Her smile sank as the mental to-do list played on in her head. 

“Probably the ocean-sized crater from the bomb would cancel the wedding once Cerberus gets their hands on it.”

“Crap.”

“You’re really underselling it, Vakarian.” 

“I could say I admire the ingeniousness of the Hierarchy again," Garrus joked. 

“That’s not helping,” Shepard’s tone rang harsh. Her hand snatched away from his. She regretted every movement and word as the air hit her from his absent grasp. But still, she rushed off the elevator and made a beeline to her desk scattered with datapads.

Shepard tried organizing the disarray, seeking information for the best approach to the location. All the while, more messages and words piled in with updates. The pain pulsated down her back again, and the sweat grew. 

Steel on steel clanging entered her cabin after a few moments. Garrus attempted to enter with a light step. 

Shepard turned to him slowly to avoid his gaze at her outburst. She couldn’t stand to see him hurt or stressed anymore just because she couldn't handle the roles of leadership. 

But no darting eyes or pinched brows waited for her. Instead, his relaxed form leaned on the aquarium, backlit by the light blue hue. Blue cloth decorated in a golden brass of the Alliance jacket occupied his hands. His eyes focused on her uniform, smoothing and straightening the fabric's wrinkles. 

With Shepard’s watch, Garrus approached her, gently placing the uniform over her chair—eyes lightened without judgment, waiting for her response.

“Sorry, I just can’t handle this. I can’t fuc-“ Shepard stopped herself from sobbing and collapsed onto the front of his armor. He brought them down on the adjacent couch in a swift motion. Her trembling hands worked over the tricky clasps on his carapace. Good lord, she needed to feel him against her now. 

Garrus pawed off the rest quickly. First, the chest piece fell, then his back piece clattered to the ground. They worked together, dissembling the rest. Once again, his armor lay scattered across her floor.

 Shepard rested her head into the crook of his arm. She stopped herself from pulling off the black undersuit that guarded her from his rough skin. They were wasting more time than they had already. 

“We can do this together—just another obstacle in the way. Knowing Cerberus, an incompetent obstacle, easy enough,” Garrus said, running a free hand through her hair. 

“Incompetent enough to resurrect me. What makes you think they can’t ignite a bomb up our asses?” 

“That was Lawson. She told The Illusive Man to “fuck off” last I remembered,” Garrus’ voice trilled as he imitated Miranda. “Without her, they're witless.”  

Shepard laughed, burying herself further into the narrow space between him and the couch. His tight hold helped relax her in their few spare moments. Without him, she may well still have been stuck in the elevator, trying to find a similar comfort.

“How did you know to urgent message me?”

“You weren’t responding, I had to get your attention somehow.“

“Drama queen.” 

“Thank EDI too. She may or may not have helped.”   

“Tattletale,” Shepard said up into the intercoms above them. 

“It was not my intention to offend,” EDI's voice once again floated around Shepard, cracking over the intercom. 

“Don’t listen to her. You did a great job EDI. Keep warning me when my girlfriend is having a panic attack.” 

“Noted, logging you both off.”

“So, girlfriend?” Shepard asked, pulling herself up on his carapace. Her eyes half-lidded, waiting for an answer. Again, his eyes darted around her, not focusing on her. This time, her heart raced with joy.   

“That’s the word humans use, right? I guess, um, I di-didn’t want to presu-” Garrus panicked words cut off with Shepard’s lips crushing against his mouth plates. 

After several minutes, ticking by in her free hour, Shepard finally broke the kiss to relax into his arms. 

“Although if you’re being married off, the mistress title sounds fun too.”

“Oh, so the wedding is still on?” 

“Maybe I should set this bomb off myself if I want to keep my boyfriend.” 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Shepard,” Garrus said, pressing his mouth plates against her hair again. Shepard lightly sighed with a laugh into it, enjoying the pressure and hum of his voice. 

“Yeah, well, apparently stress doesn’t either. You’re just gonna have to deal with that.” 

“We’ll deal with it together,” Garrus whispered, pulling her closer. The pressure under her eyes dissipated. The pain in her face and back slipped away as she let her eyes close. Her breath fell in sync with his. The beat of his heart fluttered against her ear. Soft music played in the distance from their bed. She could finally rest. 

In that moment, Shepard was exactly where she wanted to be. 

At least for the next hour. 

[beansprean]

Queening the Pawn Act 3 Part 3

Guillermo you're meeeaaannn 🥰

Acts 1-2

Act 3: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Low exterior shot of a tall office building at night, labeled in the bottom third as 'Vampiric Council Headquarters'. A speech bubble bursts out from below, reading "Heeeere they are!" 1b. Interior of the building, still styled as Nadja's nightclub. Guillermo, wearing red chinos, suspenders, and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, is sitting at the bar with a glass of water in his hand, the small tank containing the mummified penis of Abraham van Helsing sitting nearby. Guillermo looks up as the Guide, wearing a long black skirt, boots, gloves, and a black and white striped blazer, appears and drops a tall stack of books, scrolls, paper, and one VHS at his elbow. She grins and announces, "The Vampiric Council's entire history on the Van Helsings!" 1b. Repeat. Guillermo turns toward her in his seat and reaches for the scroll on top of the stack, saying, "Huh. I don't know if I expected more or less." The Guide frowns, one hand on her hip and the other gesturing at the stack. She replies, "Hey, I went through a lot of trouble to pull all this out of storage! Vampires don't exactly love talking about this guy." A wraith hand reaches up from behind the bar to snatch Guillermo's water.

2a. Guillermo turns back toward the bar and begins to unroll the first scroll across the bartop, revealing what looks like a family tree. He says, "Yeah well. Thanks for your help." The Guide stands behind him with her arms crossed. 2b. Repeat. The Guide rolls her eyes up innocently and walks around Guillermo, sliding her hand across his back as she passes, saying, "Soooo..." Guillermo startles at the contact, his scroll springing back into a roll as he loses his grip on it. 2c. The Guide hops up to sit on the bar on Guillermo's other side and continues, "Why the sudden interest?" 2d. Close up of Guillermo in profile as he turns his attention back to the scroll, replying, "Oh, you know. Family." The Guide stares blankly from the background. 2e. Wide shot from behind Guillermo, showing the backdrop of the bar with the neon "nadja's" sign and shelves of blood. The Guide leans back and crosses her legs, asking, "Hmmm... looking for relations?" Guillermo replies, "No, just. Trying to figure out some...biological stuff."

3a. Close up on the Guide as she grins salaciously, raising an eyebrow and proudly pressing her fingers to her collarbone. She says, "Oh, I know all about Van Helsing biology, if you know what I mean." 3b. Zoom out to same angle as 2e. The Guide pauses and frowns, looking down as she presses her fist to her chin in thought. She continues, "Or at least I did, before hundreds of years of my life were ripped from my memory..." Guillermo swivels in his seat to face her with an irritated sigh, eyes closed. 3c. Close up of Guillermo's stern expression as he chops the air with one hand, saying, "Yeah, that's really, uh... tough, The Guide? But unless you remember anything useful, I'd rather do this on my own." 3d. Reverse shot of the Guide as she purses her mouth and looks away, a little hurt. She replies, "Oh. Okay, then."

4a. Close up of Guillermo from the front as he turns back toward the bar, rolling the scroll out in one hand and leaning his head on the fist of the other. In the background, the Guide turns back as she walks away, clutching the excess of her skirt in one hand. She offers a thin smile and says, "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?" Guillermo just grunts in response. 4b. Wide shot of the large double doors into the chamber as the Guide leaves through them, skirts clutched in her fists and frowning deeply. She thinks to herself, "Useful, huh? I can be useful..." /end ID

[mrsackermannx]

— HOW DO I KNOW IF A YOUNGER WOMAN IS TRYING TO SEDUCE ME? | GETO SUGURU

MDNI | smut, slight age gap late 20s/late 30s, single father geto suguru/neighbour f!reader, use of sir, pet names, soft dom condescending geto, no curses au, not beta read. | 1k |

author’s note: omg jazz my brain just brained and i am passing you a note in class like a giggling schoolgirl @p00pdev1l <3

Thinking about shamelessly teasing single dad Suguru whilst his daughters are away at summer camp. He’s always so respectful, never letting his gaze avert from your face whenever you stop by. Even when your tits are close to spilling out of your shirt, or your shorts are extra short. 

But after an entire week of your antics he was reaching his limit and fast. In fact it was escalating so quickly he wasn’t sure whether he could slam the breaks on this. You’d suddenly taken up gardening in the backyard and he was cursing the short little fence and your even shorter shorts. 

“Hey Mr Geto!” you called over, for the fourth afternoon in a row. He waved back with a friendly smile but muttered a sharp “vixen” to himself as he placed down his book and decided to text an expert—his best friend.

You were only ten years younger, in your late 20’s, your head on your shoulders, but here you were seducing your neighbour so brazenly like this. 

How do I know if a younger woman is trying to seduce me? 

Satoru: You’re a hot single dad, do the math!

Suguru wasn’t quite sure how to breach this, he debated texting Satoru again for some advice but he wasn’t even sure on where to start. That was until you were smiling and standing in front of the pathetic fence that separated your backyards. “How’s the book?”

He resisted the urge to swallow the lump in his throat, “It’s great! How’s the gardening going?”

You were wearing one of your skimpy little tops, it was tied around the base of your nape and exposing your back. He wanted to rip it off with his fucking teeth.

“Not too bad! I just wanted to check on you and make sure you weren’t getting too lonely without your girls.”

“I’m not lonely, I’ve had you to keep me company all week, haven’t I?” he asked. Your heart thudded so loudly you wondered if he could hear it. 

Nevertheless you went with the flow, ignoring his obvious call out.

“You give me too much credit! But I’m glad I could lend a hand anyway, I don’t seem to be making too much progress with my flowers so!”

He chuckled, “Oh? I find that hard to believe, you look like you’re good with your hands.”

Suguru mentally cheered himself on with every remark, growing bolder and bolder. 

You mentally rejoiced, finally he was taking your bait. “I’ve always been one to take a hands-on approach.”

He unexpectedly stood up from his chair, meeting you at the fence with an amused smile, “I hope your skill sets don’t end there, you can only do so much with your hands, you know.”

“What about you? Are you a hands-on kind of person, Mr Geto?”

“Hm? I like a combination, I’m rather good with other things too.”

“Like?”

“Like…” he leaned forward, his black hair glinting in the sun, “I’m good at using my head.”

“Please, do tell.”

“I’d have to show you, you can always come in. Because now I’m curious to see what you can do.”

Your eyes widened, but you grinned, finally ready to accept the challenge from your mysterious, seductive eyed neighbour. “Oh? Have you bitten off more than you can chew, pretty thing?” 

“No sir.” 

He offered you his hand as you stepped over the fence and he led you into his home. As soon as you were inside of it your back was pressed against the wall, and he was tilting your chin upward. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you answered without missing a beat. Your lips collided in a needy clash and he kissed with so much passion that you were mewling into his mouth. You jumped up and he rucked you up onto his hips, walking you through his kitchen and up the stairs.

“You’re a bad fucking girl,” he groaned, “Sweet, but bad nonetheless.”

When you reached the slick, dark interiors of his bedroom, the masculine scent of him sweet in the air, he was turning you and untying the strings of your halter top.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he purred, kissing along your shoulder blades as your top fell to your waist. “Answer me, darling.”

“Yes, I will-“ your voice fell into a pathetic whimper when his large hands engulfed your breasts and he squeezed. But he quickly released one, roughly turning your face to see your debauched expression.

“Good, because this has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

You nodded, his thumb brushing your lip before he was pushing you gently until your knees sank into the soft sheets of his bed, his long hair loose and tickling your back.

“Hm? I didn’t hear you,” he cooed, running his hands down your sides until they reached your waistband. 

“Yes, Mr Geto,” you mumbled shyly. “It has.”

“Yes sir,” he corrected, fully tugging down your shorts. When they reached your knees he scoffed, like he’d been proven right. “What do we have here? No panties?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do that often?”

“No sir.” 

He smirked as he removed your shorts, leaving you naked he pushed your body into a neat arch.

“So I did almost see your cunt in these when you were bent over earlier.”

“Oh? I had no idea.” Your voice was small because he could surely look and see the beads of your arousal dripping onto his expensive charcoal grey sheets. But he wasn’t looking there yet.

Instead you could feel the way your cunt was oozing as his mouth stayed close to your ear, and he trailed up and down your spine with his fingertips. 

“Oh? You didn’t realise? But you can show me now, can’t you?” 

His seductive voice dripped with condescension.

“Yes sir, I can,” you murmured, feeling his hair slide down your spine as he pulled back, standing on his knees, waiting, staring…

“Then spread yourself so I can finally see, darling. I know you’re a good girl really, you just wanted to show me, didn’t you?” he cooed. “So, show me.”

You did as he said and solemnly stuck your ass in the air, taking the fat of your ass in each hand and spreading your pussy for him to finally see every desperately soaked inch of you.

He cursed under his breath at the sight, a little “hum” leaving his lips like new information had come to light and he was a doctor about to give his prognosis. “Yeah, I knew it, I’m gonna have to ruin you, sweetheart.”

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

[destinygoldenstar]

I noticed this detail awhile back, but I LOVE HOW SUBTLY THEY ESTABLISHED THAT POMNI IS A RUBBER ELASTIC TOY.

As you can see in the... interior... the inside of her is completely hollow. There are no gums in that mouth. Which makes sense. She's, IN UNIVERSE, A CARTOON CHARACTER.

When I first watched this episode, I didn't even process it. I thought this was just some edgy visual gag and that's all there was to it.

BUT NO. IT SERVES A PURPOSE.

In Episode 2, Pomni does THIS ^

When I first watched Episode 2, this was one of the weird moments that got stuck in my head because I didn't get it.

"When was it established that this was something Pomni could do?"

IT WAS AT THE VERY BEGINNING THEY ESTABLISHED IT.

WHEN SHE TRIED TO RIP OUT HER EYEBALL.

I LOVE how they establish this and now that I GET IT, I gush over this detail.

They NEVER TELL you that Pomni is an elastic toy and therefore has this ability. THEY DON'T NEED TO.

THEY SHOW IT.

It's one of those small details thrown in there that can easily be missed on a first viewing (Like I did), but when it comes up again, your brain wraps around how it was established before and you go "AH, THAT MAKES SENSE".

So yeah, Pomni can Elastagirl her eyeballs. SURE. I BELIEVE IT.

From the looks of all these instances, it LOOKS like Pomni has a complete LACK OF CONTROL of her body. She can't control the elasticity in any of these moments.

I wonder is this is another subtle detail of Pomni being touch adverse and/or uncomfortable with her own digital body.

I wonder if she could EVER learn any sense of control with this. Probably not. That's probably not how that works.