#this old woman was once a little girl in pigtails | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelsleepinggurl · 11 months ago

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𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?

wc . 7,625

tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : your girl by lana del rey

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

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June 21st

You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. You’d just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.

Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, you’re glued to your window and you daren’t leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.

July 1st

Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But it’s all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, you’d finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But you’ve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.

You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you can’t help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you don’t wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.

Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.

“Hi.” you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. “I’ve noticed you guys have moved in next door, I’m Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.” The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, It’s so nice to see a friendly face out here.” she chuckles, pulling her child’s head close to her and stroking her dark hair.

You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. “It’s hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didn’t want y’all to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure you’ll all love it here. Especially you.” you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.

“Gabriel saluda a la simpática dama.” her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her child—they’re kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. He’s set, devoted, maybe—but how devoted?

“She’s so precious.” you coo.

Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. He’s set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.

The game has begun, and you’re ready to see just how far you can push it.

4th July.

The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. It’s almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel it—this strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.

You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. “Thanks for introducing yourself to my wife. ” he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. “She really appreciates it and she’s glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.” he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.

“It’s nothing, don’t think anything of it.” now it’s your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. You’re unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.

“Didn’t catch you name by the way?” he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, we’d love seeing your face around.” perhaps it’s pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, you’re interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming “Daddy!”, and hugging his leg fondly.

Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. You’re simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.

And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.

10th July

You like to keep yourself busy when you aren’t drowned in school work, practising or doing your

part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, you’re left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.

“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. “ you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.

“Well I can be quick baby, in and out.” he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way he’s using your car as a crutch that he’s far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.

“I don’t like sloppy hurried work, I’d want for you to take care with me.” You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.

“I won’t be sloppy baby, promiseee.” he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why you’re drawn to older men—men who know what they want and don’t need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.

Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that he’s seen you, that he’s aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.

23rd July

Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So you’re wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose won’t turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing won’t budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but it’s no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.

You find yourself in front of your neighbours’ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesn’t take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.

Bingo.

His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?” you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.

“What hose?” he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“The hose in my backyard,” you explain, your tone light. “I need it to fill up my pool.”

“Your pool huh?” his eyes keep drifting all over, he’s clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. “I’m having a pool party with my friends, but I can’t seem to get the hose to turn on.” You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“I can help you turn it on.”

“Great!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.

“Oh no. Is the water broken?” you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.

“It probably needs a minute.” he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.

“I guess, my water system’s broke. I’ll just call the-”

“I can help you. It’ll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.”

“Really? Thank you.” you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, he’s in your territory, your domain, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying he’ll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you can’t help but notice the little things—the way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.

Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.

“There, that should do it,” he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.

You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You can’t help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.

“Well, I guess I owe you one,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.”

But there’s something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.

2nd August

The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky that’s perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.

He’s settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. He’s asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of restlessness that’s creeping in.

The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the day—the brightness, the heat, the monotonous sounds—is getting to him, and he’s on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.

His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next door—your window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. You’re standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and you’re slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.

Miguel’s grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. You’re completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if you’re savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.

He’s hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. There’s something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. It’s as if you’re performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows it’s something he’ll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting moment—but the truth is, he’s in awe. He can’t believe what he just saw, and yet he can’t let it go.

He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sun’s heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. There’s no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. It’s a secret he’ll keep, a memory he’ll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.

5th August

Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which you’d rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.

With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.

Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. You’re already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.

Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.

“I saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,” he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.

You can’t help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Why? Don’t you think I can do it on my own?”

He doesn’t seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. “No, it’s just that you’re bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down you’re crouching.”

“Ouch,” you reply with a mock wince.

“Sorry,” he says, though there’s a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate the help.”

Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You can’t help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.

“Where do you want this?” he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.

“Just on that countertop will do, thanks,” you reply, pointing to the kitchen.

Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, he’s already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind can’t help but fawn over his effortless strength. There’s something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.

With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

“Hey, would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you,” you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. “Sure, why not?”

You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.

“You old enough to be having this beer?” Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not mine,” you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “A friend left it over.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. “How old are you then?”

“Twenty,” you reply, your voice steady, though you can’t help but feel a bit exposed by the question.

“Right,” he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.

The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, there’s a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way he’s been lingering a little longer than necessary—there’s something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but it’s growing stronger with every passing moment.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and smooth, “you’re pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.”

His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but there’s a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.

10th August

It’s late when he’s in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. You’re finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.

The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. It’s like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.

“No.” you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.

“Really? A girl like you doesn’t have one? That’s new.” he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.

“A girl like me? What does that mean?” Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. It’s sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.

“You know, a pretty girl.” he’s smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.

You’re charmed, “You think I’m a pretty girl?” you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Very.” he responds, the both of you staring at each other’s lips, imaging each other’s flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, it’s deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.

“Well,” you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. “I’ve never had a older boyfriend before.”

“Oh yeah?” it is slow and reverberating when he says that.

“I bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Don’t you?” you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, he’d treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.”

You hum, “How good? Tell me.”

“He’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before, make you see things you’ve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.” his voice is low and grungy, he’s falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.

“Sounds good to me. Such a shame there isn’t a hunky older man to teach me these new things.” you’re whispering now. “Would you show me, Mr O’Hara?” The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, ‘Mr O’Hara’ a name to which you’ve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.

Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and you’re reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Finger’s nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.

The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing he’ll fall for the trap again.

“I know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesn’t it?” you’re breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.

“Fuck kid, the things you do to me.” he groans and he dives in again.

17th August

“Ngh- fuck.” you’re crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as you’re worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the other’s seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. He’s relentless.

“Being such a good girl f’ me y’know that?” he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. “You look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. “

You’re fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. “Hold on, patience,” he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“’ M gonna come Miggy.” you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. You’re dripping and drenched. It’s absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, you’ve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. He’d call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isn’t as innocent either.

“I know baby, I know, just hold out f’me, kay.”

“Fuuuckk.” tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.

“Looks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. You’re gonna have to open wide for me.” he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. You’re slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. “What a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?” his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.

“I asked you a question, you’re gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?” you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.

You can’t even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.

“Wanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.”

“Want me to make you feel good? Wanna come.”

“Yes, please,please,please,please.” you’re screaming and chanting ‘please’ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.

“Cum baby, come all over.” you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and you’re cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. You’re twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.

With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, “Did so good baby.”

23rd August

Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as you’re pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. You’ve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. That’s how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.

Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.

“Go slower, slower.” you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if he’s brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.

“Atta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?” he says lowly. You’re biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.

“Fuck you’re sexy. Think you can come for me?” Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.

24th August

“Nice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?” you’re gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. “There we go, such a pretty girl.” he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he would’ve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didn’t want to seem like a quitter, you didn’t want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasn’t right for you.

“You like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuck” You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. “Don’t worry baby I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.” He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.

“Dirty fuckin girl.” he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. “Fuck princess.” he groans. “ Want me to cum all over your face princess?” you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.

He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. “Open wide baby.” You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.

“Fuck you look good like this.”

26th August

You would say that you’re surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but you’d be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that he’s simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isn’t surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, you’re rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. “Can’t go anymore, baby.”

“Why not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.”

His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and you’re crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.

“So good.” you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. He’s passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that you’re dripping unto his chin. He loves it.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna come, ‘M gonna come, gonna come.” you tell him too late, because when you do, you’re not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.

“Well, you may you didn’t come, but you definitely squirted.”

28th August

“Rub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.” his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wife’s suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguel’s new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon.

“Fuck.” a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. “Did I tell you you could put you’re fingers in, huh?” Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times he’s been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. There’s something about you that pulls him back, you’re not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things you’re doing to him.

“Don’t care.” you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. “I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it.”

“Watch it. We’ll see what I’ll do when I get back.”

You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. “Wish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,” you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. You’re teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind can’t help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. “ Fuck Miggy, need you right now.” you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.

“Maybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.”

“Mmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.” you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now you’re really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.” With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.

“Come here and show me the mess you’ve made baby.” you don’t hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. “Put em in your mouth and suck real good.” you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. “Atta girl.”

“Look at the mess I made.” you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.

“What a good girl.”

August 31st

The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where you’d have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy you’re feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, pap’s. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.

“Gonna miss you, baby, you know that?” he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.

“Gonna miss you too,” you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.

“You naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.” you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. “We’ll see who’ll be laughing in a second.”

In a second you’re moaning louder. There’s something that he’s doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you don’t know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.

“Oh fuck. oh my fucking God.” One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because it’s too much, he carries right on. You’re high up with the way you’re being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon you’re unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.

“Yeah, who's laughing now.” he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and you’re melting into it. The two of you don’t usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time it’s different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.

This truly is the end.

SEPTEMBER 1ST

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.

#wattpad #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel 2099 #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader smut #miguel x reader smut #atsv miguel x reader

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mellowsadistic · 8 months ago

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Costume Changes - Part 2

The three girls looked utterly ridiculous once the witch had helped them into their new costumes. Lucy’s angel costume was, if anything, more revealing than her devil outfit, but somehow it didn’t make her feel sexy. The white dress ended at her mid-thighs, and her pull-ups were just about visible through the semi-transparent fabric. The outline of her breasts were obvious too, and her nipples poked tents in the silky material, leaving no doubt that the innocent little angel was actually a fully grown woman. The wings and halo were added absurdities. She was almost jealous of what Amber got to wear.

The sensible librarian outfit was no more. In its place, Amber wore a skimpy schoolgirl costume. It had a short tartan skirt and a white blouse that tied in a knot under her breasts, which, Lucy noticed for the first time, were much larger than she’d expected. The bra that had kept them contained lay discarded on the floor, along with Amber’s plain white knickers. In place of her adult underwear, the frightened young woman wore childish My Little Pony panties. The witch had also gone to the trouble of turning her practical ponytail into two adorable pigtails sticking out of either side of her head like handlebars.

Candace had it worst. Her beautiful queen’s dress, commissioned at a high price with Daddy’s money just for tonight, lay crumpled in a heap on the floor along with her crown. Her new outfit was decidedly different. It was bright pink, and much cheaper-looking. The dress had a plasticky sheen to it, sequins dotted the collar and sleeves, and the skirt sparkled with glitter. Unlike her elegant blue gown, its flouncy hem barely reached past her waist, leaving her bulky, adult-sized Pampers on full display. They bulged between her legs, pushing her thighs apart and forcing her to stand slightly bow-legged. A plastic tiara sat on her head.

“Perfect!” the witch announced, looking them over with a pleased expression. “Isn’t that better? Now you can have some sweeties!”

“We don’t want sweets!” Lucy blurted, finding her courage. “Just let us go! Look, we’re sorry about tp’ing your house, okay?” She tried to take off her halo headband and throw it to the floor, but her hands wouldn’t obey her. She stomped her foot in frustration. “It was just a joke! It’s part of Halloween!”

The witch smiled. “And so it this, little one. Just because it’s Halloween, it doesn’t mean your actions don’t have consequences. If you play a trick on a witch, it’s only fair that she plays one on you in return.”

“You’re not a witch,” said Amber firmly. She too seemed to have found her voice. She adjusted her glasses and looked at the woman with a resolute look in her eyes. “There must have been something in the garden,” she said confidently. “Pressure sensors in the grass that released some kind of chemical to make us highly susceptible. I’m sure it’s nothing the police would have difficulty finding. So how about this – you let us go, and we promise not to press charges.”

The witch chuckled. “What an imagination you have, sweetie! But I’m afraid it’s just plain old magic.”

“If it’s magic, why can’t you just snap your fingers and make all the toilet paper disappear?” Candace demanded.

“It doesn’t work like that, baby,” she cooed. “But I’ll get it tidied up somehow. Don’t you worry. I know you’re far too little to clean up your own messes.”

“I can…” Candace hesitated. “I can arrange for someone come and clean it up if you let us go,” she finished, snobbishly.

The witch sighed. “I can see just changing your costumes wasn’t enough,” she said, shaking her head. “The three of you need some help acting the part as well.” Before they could say another word, she’d walked past and tapped each of them in the middle of their foreheads.

Lucy felt a strange tingling sensation start in her head, and Amber let out a gasp.

“What are you doing to me?” Candace squealed, clutching her own head.

“Just giving you some new behaviours,” said the witch. “Helping you be your true selves.”

Candace let out a shriek. She was staring down at her diapered crotch. The front of her white nappy was darkening, turning faintly yellow. It began to sag a little between her legs. “I’m peeing!” she cried, in a mixture of shock and disgust. “I can’t control it!”

“Of course you can’t,” the witch said happily, “You’re incontinent! Sorry, that’s quite a big word for such a silly little girl, isn’t it? It means you can’t control when you do a pee-pee or a poo-poo, so you’ll go right in your nappy just like the big baby you are. And it’s totally permanent!”

“No!” Candace screamed, looking panicked. “It can’t be!”

“I can assure you it is,” said the witch. “You’re just a silly, messy little princess now.”

“Ew, ew, ewww!” Candace cried, shifting from foot to foot as if she was trying to get away from the droopy wet Pampers dangling off her hips. “They’re awful! They’re so yucky and squishy!”

The witch let out a sweet laugh, and Lucy watched on in horror.

“Don’t, like, worry, Candy,” said Amber. “It not really, like, perma… permane… for forever. It’s just, ummm, ‘cause you’ve been drugged and stuff…” She frowned, and started to panic too. “What’s, like, wrong with me? Why can’t I talk good?”

“It’s not your fault, sweetie,” said the witch gently. “You’re just not that smart anymore. I thought you’d be better off as a bit of a dumb-dumb, so I took your intelligence away. You’re more of a high-school dropout than a college smarty-pants now. That’s forever too!”

“No!” Amber squealed, her eyes wide and terrified. “I need my smarts! That’s, like, who I am!”

“Don’t worry, silly girl,” said the witch. “A pretty thing like you doesn’t need to be smart. You’ve got your body. You’ve got your big boobies.”

“No, no, no!” Amber shook her head furiously, as if she were trying to clear it. “I, like, hate my stupid boobs! I hate it when people think I’m, like, a total bimbo just ‘cause they’re big! I’m smart! I’m a smarty-pants! Lulu, help me! I don’t wanna be a stupid schoolgirl!”

Lucy clenched her fists, fighting her fear. She didn’t yet know what the witch had done to her. But even though Candace could be stuck-up, and Amber could be a know-it-all, they were still supposed to be her friends, and if anyone was in charge of their little group, she was. “You’ve got to stop this!” she shouted at the witch. “This isn’t right! I don’t care how badly we messed up your lawn, it doesn’t mean it’s fair to do this! Undo what you’ve done and let us go!”

For half a second, a smile flashed across the witch’s face, then she put her hands on her hips and looked at her so sternly that Lucy felt a tiny bit of pee dribble into her pull-ups. “Bad girl!” the witch scolded, and Lucy was filled at once with a horrible mixture of fear and guilt. “You do not shout at Mummy, little one! We use our indoor voices when we’re indoors, young lady, unless you want to go over Mummy’s knee for a red bottom!”

Lucy soaked her Huggies. She could feel the warm pee-pee streaming into her training pants, spreading around her crotch and between her legs and even up towards her bottom, and she knew her flowers must be disappearing. She burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Mummy!” she blubbered, gasping and hiccupping. What was wrong with her?! “Please don’t spank me!” she wailed. She couldn’t help it. She could see Amber and Candace looking at her, mortified. The witch must have turned her into some kind of weak-willed, pants-wetting pansy!

The witch shushed her gently, her stern expression vanishing. “There, there, darling,” she cooed, pulling her into a cuddle. She reached and pressed her hand against the seat of Lucy’s toddler pants, feeling the heavy warmth there. “It’s okay. Mummy’s not going to spank you this time. Even though you have some problems with naughtiness, you’re Mummy’s sweet angel really, aren’t you, little one? You’re a sweet, helpless, meek little angel. And you always will be.”

“Waaaaaaah!”

“Well, I think that’s quite enough excitement for one night,” said the witch, looking over the three distraught young women with satisfaction. “We’ll have to save the trick or treat candy for tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll be better behaved by then. Alright, upstairs and ready for bed, girls! The three of you ought to be in dreamland by now in any case. It’s way past your bedtimes! But don’t worry, I’ve got lots of fun planned for tomorrow.”

#mellowsadistic

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 months ago

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Violent Tendencies - Tempest

Sheriff! John Price x AFAB! Fem! Reader

~Small Town AU~

Warnings: Love at first fight?? mildly graphic descriptions of violence, blood, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of physical abuse, therapy, references to depression, medication, mentions of drugs and alcohol abuse, probably incorrect descriptions of time in a juvenile detention hall, reader definitely has anger issues and is unhinged asf

Word Count: 4.8k

Author's Note: Yeah, so I'm obsessed I guess. I didn't plan on having any other parts for this stupid fucking Captain but here we are! This dives into the reader's background, we learn quite a lot about Tempest! I'm getting attached to her ngl

Series Masterlist

Part One Here - Part Four Here

Enjoy!~

***

You remember the first fight you’d ever gotten into. Being shoved off the public park swing at six years old, skinning your knees and hands on the gravel. The kid who pushed you was maybe eight or nine, a girl with obnoxiously tight pigtails and a frilly pink dress. You remember the sting on your hands and shins, the red that leaked onto the gravel. You remember her shrill voice, the way she couldn’t quite pronounce her words fully. She taunted you from that swing, leaning back then kicking you in the stomach when you turned to stand, sending you a few feet into the gravel again. Her mother scolded her gently, a ‘we don’t do that, sweetie’ while your parents asked the woman what the fuck was wrong with her and her daughter. Something clicked in you that day, finally gaining your breath back and tackling her off the swing, tiny fists pummeling her face, grabbing her by the pigtails only to slam her head into the gravel.

She screamed bloody murder.

Your mother was the one to rip you off the girl, your father not far behind and the girl’s mom was screaming just about the same as her little demon spawn. Getting back home was a blur, and you don’t quite remember how you got cleaned up, but when the alcohol stung your scrapes you came back to yourself. Your father cleaned them gently, not a single word uttered until everything was put away.

“You know you hurt someone today, right?” You nod, a little nervous. You’ve never been scolded before, not like this, not with dad barely keeping it all together. He sounds so angry, but so quiet.

“She hurt me first.” He nods, and you wait. The fear that he’ll start yelling crawls over your skin.

“What you did was wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” You aren’t, not really. But you think that’s what he wants to hear.

“Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it. I’m not saying what you did was okay, and I’m not saying you can do it again, but…” He kneels before you, tugging your hands into his own in your lap.

“You stood up for yourself, in the only way you knew how. I’m proud of you for not letting her do whatever she wanted. But next time, you need to let me and ma handle it, okay? Just come tell us next time.”

Next time, they weren’t around. It was at school a month later, a boy in your class decided he’d yank on your hair. He pulled hard enough that you fell backward and slammed your head on the concrete. The teacher got to him first, pulling him off to the side and nearly yelling at him about personal space and keeping his hands to himself. You don’t remember what else he said to him, something about calling his parents, but it all floats away from your memory once the red crept in. You had yanked his own hair the same way he did to you, and when he hit his head on the ground you made sure to do it again. You got a kick to his arm before the teacher yanked you off, dragging the both of you to the office.

Your parents were fuming.

After the third incident, the yelling started. You never cried, never lashed out at them, but you always did stand your ground. You’d never started a fight, but you sure as hell finished them all, and you got into the habit of always wrapping your hands up to avoid a trip to the hospital with a broken hand. The first time you slept in the sheriff’s cell you’d just pummeled a girl for shoving ice cream in your face and down your shirt. You were fourteen, and her boyfriend apparently liked you. Whoever he was. She had to go to the hospital for a dislocated shoulder and a broken nose, and you got handcuffs and a bed in a cell.

Almost poetic, now that you think about it. The incident that landed you your first night in a cell being a precursor to the incident that landed you in juvie.

“You’re the little shit that beat up my sister two years ago.” He was bigger than anyone you’d faced before. Maybe eighteen, well into his growth spurt, but his voice was still transitioning, cracking all over the place. Like his hormones.

“I’ve beat up a lot of people. Your sister ain’t special.” You just wanted to go the fuck home after a long ass school day, trying your damndest to not fist fight everyone who looked at you sideways. You’ve been angrier lately. You’re trying not to let it get to you. Keyword: trying.

“Broke her nose, popped her shoulder out, stole her boyfriend? Ringing any bells?” Oh, right. You still don’t know who the boyfriend was.

“I didn’t steal shit. I don’t know who the jackass was that broke up with her for another girl, but whoever it was, I didn’t get the memo.” He shrugs, making his way toward you with a weird swagger in his step, like spacing his feet out wide would scare you.

“Don’t care. You hurt her real bad, so I’m about to hurt you.” Fucking hell. He’s bigger than you, you’re probably not coming out of this without a few bruises, but he’s slow. He’s overweight, and doesn’t look like he’s been in any real fight before. Not the way he swings without aiming at anything. Packs a punch, though, your arm is gonna have a bruise where you’d blocked him from hitting you in the jaw. He’s wide open, too, and it’s way too easy to kick him in the family jewels with the way he’s standing. Once he’s down you’re a whirlwind of fists. You couldn’t count how many punches you threw, don’t remember much outside of the crunch of his face beneath your knuckles and the way his head snapped back and forth every time you hit him. You stomped his chest in, too, after your wrists grew weak and your wraps were bloody enough your fists slipped over his skin.

You almost killed him.

A broken rib almost punctured his lung, his skull was cracked where it slammed against the concrete, broken nose and fractured facial bones, two black eyes, a fractured sternum. The trial was small. You had an attorney appointed to you, as mandated by law. They managed to lower your sentence from a year to nine months, but that’s as good as it got. The family tried to get you in for attempted murder, but it fell through. Aggravated assault was the next best option. Getting to the detention center was a long two hours. The freeways were too far out of the way, so you had to stay on the backroads. It was one of the deputies that took you up. She knew you, saw you get into quite a few of your fights.

“I know they aren’t entirely your fault, but you can’t keep going like this.” At the time, you tried to ignore her words. “There’s always gonna be assholes out there that deserve to be punched once or twice, you just gotta let it go. It’s not worth the energy. Or jail time.”

“I think it’s worth the jail time.” You can see her jump when you finally speak an hour into the drive.

“How’s that?”

“The guy I almost killed. He was willing to attack a sixteen year old girl half his size for some kind of grudge. If it wasn’t me, it woulda been a girl that couldn’t fight back.” She doesn’t comment on it, and the rest of the ride is silent.

The hall is bigger than you imagined it. You were expecting something run-down, a facility nobody really cared about. Bigger than you’d thought, but it isn’t massive by any means, only capable of holding maybe a hundred from the surrounding states or towns. It’s nowhere near max capacity. Maybe twenty girls and thirty boys, the exact number not something you care to know. Most of them are in for theft, drugs, or vandalism. The girl you share a ‘room’ with is in for excessive drinking. The next room over holds a thief and a coke addict. The druggie must be from a bigger town, to be able to get hold of that kind of substance. The worst that’s ever come to your town is weed, and even then it’s far from a hard drug. Everything else is heavily monitored in the hospital, and nothing slips through the cracks of a supply that tiny.

The community areas are co-ed, you’re told, so the boys and girls will be able to mingle in those areas only. Not that you care. That includes the cafeteria, courtyard, and classrooms if they’re open for things like meditation, group therapy, and the arts. The moment you finish your lunch, though, you hone in on the bag swinging in the corner of the courtyard, beneath a large awning to keep the exercise equipment clustered beside it all dry should the weather turn. It's about ten minutes in when you’re shoved from the side, rolling over after landing on your shoulder a little too hard for your liking. There’s a rough, sharp voice cutting through your anger.

“Get lost, newbie. Bag’s mine.” He isn’t even looking at you, already tearing into the bag with a ferocity you’ve only ever imagined you had. It pisses you off. He only stumbles sideways when you shove him back, turning to you with what you think is probably just annoyance. You don’t really care to give him time to fully react before you swing and hear a low crack, his head snapping backward as he stumbles and falls on his ass. There’s a groan, and you’re on top of him, throwing punches like your life depended on it. But he’s a lot faster than that girl’s brother, been in fights, lean and strong, maybe used to play a contact sport before ending up here. Your wrists stop moving when he catches them and then you’re tossed off to the side, rolling onto your back.

He’s heavy when he pins your thighs with his knees, throwing punches while you block with your arms. He catches your collar bone, and fuck does it hurt, but the adrenaline you’re getting from the whole thing is dulling a lot of the pain. This is the first time someone’s put up a fight like this, you realize, and suddenly you’re not angry so much as elated, a brand new feeling roaring to life like a propane fire. You go back and forth, rolling over each other until finally you’re ripped apart, and when you look at him you swear there isn’t a sight in the world that could possibly come close.

His eyes are so blue. Striking and electric, vibrant to contrast the red pouring from his nose, soaking his white shirt. His grin is almost feral, like a rabid animal, blood seeping into the spaces between his teeth and the cracks of his lips. You think you might be smiling, too, but you aren’t entirely sure. The guard has him immobile, arms hooked around his shoulders to keep his hands out to his sides and lifting him up off the ground. He could probably fight the guard, thrash until he drops him, but he doesn’t seem to care that you’re both being dragged away. You aren’t sure you care, either, the sharp pain in your collar an afterthought to the beauty you’ve witnessed.

Your right arm is in a sling. You’re back at the punching bag, staring daggers at it with a simmering anger and a strange contentment as you think back on the events from yesterday. You can’t get him out of your head. There’s an entirely foreign feeling swirling around in your chest as you think about him. Warmth, thick and heavy like honey that’s sat in the sun. Fondness you’d only ever felt for your parents sometimes. You don’t even know his name, and part of you is wondering if this is what love feels like. Some call it a spark, some an innate instinct, some say it’ll kill you if you aren’t careful.

That voice snaps you out of your head.

“It’s a damn shame you can’t hit the thing for a while.” You almost roll your eyes. Almost.

“Like you care. You’re the one who broke my collarbone, jackass.” He chuckles, and you hate the way it sends a chill down your spine. When you look at him those eyes have your breath freezing in your lungs for a moment. Then his face comes into full focus, a red bruise at his temple, nose just a little crooked, top lip split. You sure did a number on him.

“Just thought I’d give you a warm welcome is all. Didn’t know you were so volatile, normally people just fuck off once I shove ‘em away.” You actually scoff at the notion.

“I don’t fuck off to anything.”

“I think I’m realizing that now. Little thunderstorm you are. You gonna hit me again?” He sounds like he wants you to.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You haven’t pissed me off yet, and I’m one arm down.” You’re surprised to admit to yourself he isn’t anywhere near pissing you off. He huffs a little laugh, then puts a hand on the small of your back. You aren’t sure why you let him move you behind the bag, turn you so your left can hold it steady without compromising your injured side.

“Hold it for me, would you?”

“Now why the hell would I do that?” His smile is lopsided, canines sharp. It throws you mentally sideways.

“Cause then you get to work on your stance, and I get a steady bag. And when you’re all healed up, I’ll hold it for you. Sound like a deal?” He sticks his left hand out for you to take.

“John Price.” Hesitantly, you reach your own hand out, and the heat from his palm in yours crawls over your skin. You give him your name, and he says it like he’s tasting something new, rolling it around and savoring it.

“It’s wonderful to meet you.” It’s so genuine you almost forget you’d bludgeoned each other less than 24 hours ago. “We got a deal, Tempest?” Your face scrunches up at the word.

“That’s not my name.” He shrugs, holding onto your hand tight.

“Sounds pretty damn close to me. Tempest. A violent windstorm. Say what you want but it fits.” Something about it sets your soul on fire. You’ve never had a nickname, not even from your parents. Nothing tender, nothing special, nothing yours. Hearing it from anyone else, you might break their nose for it. For some reason it’s different coming from him. A boy you barely know, one you’d traded fists with. He pulls on your arm hard enough to have you squishing your hands between you, and you realize he’s taller than you thought when you have to suddenly look up.

“So? Do we have a deal, Tempest?” You huff, the cobalt in his gaze piercing through you.

“We have a deal, Price.”

Your mandated therapist sees a stark change in you, after that. She mentions finding you incredibly different from your file, not the kind of personality type she expected from an almost-murderer. Your words, not hers. She says you’ve changed between your entry session and the two days immediately after. You seem less angry, not as easily aggravated. She asks if what happened between you and John Price scared you.

“No.”

“That was a pretty quick response. You’re sure it didn’t give you a fright? You’re used to not getting a fight back, used to just taking someone down in seconds.”

“I’m sure. He didn’t scare me at all.”

“So what did he do? If it didn’t scare you, what did you feel?” You’re not sure you want to answer. Surely she’d think you were insane, just like everyone else. “Did he make you angrier than usual? Or are you maybe saddened by the thought that you’ve met an opponent you can’t win against?” You huff out a sigh, becoming agitated for the first time in days.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“What don’t I kn-”

“I think I’m in love with him.” There’s a very long, very tense silence, and for once in your life you wish you could run from it. But you can’t, not with the guard stationed outside the room to keep you in your session for the allotted time slot. You’re sweating. You don’t usually sweat from nerves, but you’re sweating.

“Well that was unexpected. I’m glad you’re feeling positive emotions. Why do you think you love him?” You aren’t very sure of that, either.

“I don’t know. He just looked so familiar, so perfect, when we were pulled apart. And when he actually hit back, I wasn’t so angry anymore. I was happy. I was so happy I thought he hit me a little too hard in the head. But then the guards tore us apart and he looked like he was staring into my soul. Like he could see me at my core and liked what he saw.” You really didn’t mean to say all of that. It all came pouring out, a stopper pulled to drain the sea.

“You feel he understands you.” There’s this look in her eyes, like she knows she’s right.

“Yeah. That.”

The day eventually came that you had to leave. Your time was up, you served your sentence. It was bittersweet. You get to leave the hall, but you’ll be leaving John behind as well. Might as well rip the bandaid off, you don’t bother giving him any information on how to find you once he’s out too. He doesn’t give anything up either. You don’t ask.

Going back home was surreal. Your parents…they had been instilled with a fear of you that you didn’t realize was there until after you’d gotten back. It was a lot like they were walking on eggshells around you. You’d told them you’d never hurt them, they’re your parents, but that didn’t ease their anxieties. There was a period of time when you did nothing. Nothing at all. Going to school like normal, doing the bare minimum for homework, then rotting in bed.

The new therapist, the one you were mandated to see for three months, says it’s depression. You don’t take the meds they prescribed. You don’t lie when they ask if you did. You tell them you don’t think they’ll work.

You think it’s not depression at all. You think it’s heartbreak.

You learn to live without him. A fight breaks out a year after you’re released, and you wind up back in the sheriff’s cell. Another year later you’re back again, and another year later the sheriff’s starting to show his age. The fights are less frequent, once the exhaustion settles in. You can’t sleep at night after a while. Part of you thinks you’re better for it. A very small part.

Laswell picks you up one day when you’re walking home after being fired. Nobody likes employing the town’s most volatile resident. She’s a couple years older than you, says her dad recently bought up the one diner in town, the previous owner tired and old. You knew her, she was decently nice to you. When you ask why she’d do that for you, she says you remind her of someone she knows. You stopped getting into fights after that.

A grand total of eight years goes by. Dad got done in by a tumor he didn’t bother to get treated. Said when he goes he goes, and he did. Mom left you soon after from a heart attack. You’re all alone in a house that’s too damn big and empty. You haven’t landed a single punch for five years. The rage you used to be so intimate with feels foreign in your body, completely lacking the energy to calm the itch beneath your skin.

There’s a meeting at the town hall arranged by the sheriff. He’s graying, well into his fifties, but the stress of the job is clearly getting to him. It’s a retirement announcement, and a replacement announcement all in one go.

Your heart beats back to life when the replacement sheriff comes up on stage, electric blue eyes glancing over the small crowd of the town. Thick facial hair decorates his face now, and he’s a lot bigger than you remember him, but that’s John Price. Your John Price. He’s in the middle of his little blurb he’d prepared when he locks eyes with you, choking on his words. The old sheriff brings him back to himself, and he breaks from your gaze, but you know he recognizes you.

You don’t talk to him after that. You aren’t sure you could. You know you’ve changed, you know you’re different than when you knew him eight years ago. Two long years go by, you don’t see him much if at all with your overnight shifts. Sleep doesn’t come easier, but you’re not as angry and sad as you used to be. Then Phil happens, and somewhere in your head you have to say thank you to him for reconnecting you with John.

Ten years ago, if you were told you’d be sharing a bed with John Price later in life, you’d have believed it. Hell, you’d have a harder time believing he’s the sheriff in the town you grew up in. Waking up on his bare chest is something you never knew you wanted so bad. The thick dark hair covering his skin, soft where he lays but the muscle beneath is nothing to laugh at. He’s still John Price, after all.

“What’s goin on in that pretty head, Tempest?” You hum, gently scratch at his chest, bury your fingers in the thicket of curls.

“Thinking about the day we met. And the day after.”

“Yeah? What about it?” You tilt your head back to look into his eyes, that same electric blue.

“Sixteen year old me was trying to figure out if she was in love with you.” He lifts an eyebrow.

“If?” You shrug.

“Didn’t know what that kind of love felt like.” He hums, digging his fingers into your scalp.

“Neither did I. But I was sure I loved you. Nothing else could feel like that. Like everything suddenly got brighter and clearer and my lungs had too much oxygen.” Silence lapses between you as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I never asked what put you there.” His hand brushes stray hair from your face.

“Aggravated assault.” You nearly jump from his hold.

“Really? I mean, I’m not surprised, but I got the same charge.”

“Well I’ll be damned. A match made in hell huh?” You giggle then, at the thought of you being matched to each other by a higher force.

“Care to tell me what you did?” He pushes a sigh from his lungs.

“My dad was a real piece of shit. I picked up too many of his bad impulses, made sure to nip ‘em in the bud after juvie once I realized I looked a little too much like him.” You press yourself closer to his side, making sure to look him in the face even if he’s glaring up at the ceiling. “He hit me and mom a lot. When I got old enough, and he got drunk enough, I started hitting him back. He ended up in a coma after I beat him half to death for breaking his beer bottle over mom’s head, and I ended up in the nearest juvenile detention hall.” He doesn’t seem all that beat up about it, but you’re not going to treat it like he doesn’t care. He put his own father in a coma, after all.

“I’m sorry that happened.”

“I’m not. In a way, I gotta thank the bastard for letting me meet you.” Well that’s definitely one way to look at it.

“Was your mother okay, after everything?” His hum is low, and he looks sad suddenly.

“She was alright physically. Mentally, she’d been gone since dad started getting violent. I buried her a few years after juvie. Dad woke from the coma just to die of a failed kidney not long after I lost her.”

“Oh, John.” He looks down at you again, petting your head when you nuzzle into his chest.

“Don’t look so down, Tempest. I’ve made my peace with everything. What were you in for, anyway?” You’re sure he could take a change of subject. You don’t try to push it.

“Some girl was upset ‘cause her boyfriend had the hots for me, smeared an ice cream cone over my face. I hurt her pretty bad, dislocated her shoulder, broke her nose. Her brother found me a couple years later to hurt me back and he ended up in the hospital. The prosecutor said if I’d kicked his chest one more time his rib would’ve punctured his lung. The family wanted to get me in on attempted murder, but it didn’t work out for them.” There’s a low laugh rumbling in his chest while he tugs you closer, squeezing you to his side.

“That’s just like you, isn’t it Tempest? You regret nearly killing the guy?” You shake your head. Only he would find an almost attempted murder charge amusing.

“Nah. I said the same to the deputy that drove me to the hall. If it wasn’t me he hunted down, it was some other girl half his size that wouldn’t put up a fight.”

“That’s my fuckin’ girl. What about your family? What did they have to say about it?”

“Not a lot. I’d been kicking and punching my way through life since I was six, and they’d had just about enough of me. After the first night I spent in the cell at the sheriff’s station, they stopped hearing my side of the story. I used to think I was made wrong, ‘cause neither of my parents had my temper. Never regretted my fights though, I never started shit, just made sure I finished it.” His hand trails up and down your hip, rough palm and fingers scraping gently across the softness there. The motion feels so right you aren’t sure how you lived so long without him beside you.

“Sounds a lot like how I used to be. Whatever was started, whoever started it, I finished it there and then.” You’re a lot alike, the two of you. You think if you’d have met outside of juvie, the outcome would have been the same. Like how a tornado is always made the same way. Hot and cold air swirling together and charging the atmosphere until the funnel touches the ground. No matter how you met, when you met, you’d always end up right here in his arms. You’re sure of it.

“John?” He hums, looking down at you. “Was it your idea to share the bag?”

“Yup. The guards wanted us to stay apart, my assigned shrink got too damn close to a restraining order. Begged him not to do it.” Your jaw drops to the floor.

“You begged a psychologist not to mandate a distance between us?”

“On my fucking knees, darlin’. I think the shock of seeing the rampaging teen beg for once in his life convinced him to drop it if I could somehow guarantee we never fought again.” You’re shocked, truly. Never in a hundred lifetimes would you imagine John Price was even capable of begging for anything.

“Well, it’s good to know I wasn’t the only one to admit to my therapist I’d fallen in love with the boy I fist-fought the first day there.” His laugh is sharp and loud, surprise making his belly jump with the noise.

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Oh yeah. She thought I was scared of you. Pushed until I spit it the fuck out.” He laughs again. It’s probably your favorite sound.

“If she saw you the way I saw you, she’d know you weren’t scared of jack shit. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you looked like you wanted to get me in bed.” With a low chuckle, you spread your fingers over his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath his skin.

“I could say the same about you, mister. Looked like you wanted to eat me alive.” The arm beneath you flexes, and you’re tugged over him, straddling his hips while he looks up at you with blown pupils.

“I did. If we were left to our own devices I might have tried to fuck you right there in the courtyard, broken nose and all.”

“I might have let you.” The hands on your hips squeeze tight, then drag up your sides to feel you beneath his palms.

“You’re fucking perfect, Tempest. And all mine. Been mine forever.”

“Damn right, John Price.”

Then he’s kissing you silly.

#john price #john price x reader #captain john price #price cod #captain price

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 months ago

Note

Soft dark John Price

He commands his own criminal enterprise, similar to Simon

Instead of Gaz being a hitman, I raise you: he’s Price’s second in command

Price’s reader has a little sister. Their parents died and she assumed full custody.

The little sister drops one of her hairbows and John picks it up

Or if the sister is a little older, she could have been trying to pick pocket John🤣

When reader locks eyes with price, yea he was doomed to be obsessed from the start

An alternative option for this Gaz where he’s Price’s right hand man? I like it!

“I know this is really difficult, I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry. Han, I’m so sorry-” he runs his finger along the silky hair bow in his hands while he listens to the conversation taking place only feet from him.

John was an observant man, and he was even better at reading people. Hell, that is partially why he had such a strong hold on this city, on these counties, because he was smart and observant. When he had first seen the little girl, no older than 5 years old wearing a school uniform heading toward the Tube, he was puzzled.

Until he saw a similarly looking woman trailing after the little girl carrying a backpack, keys, water bottle, jacket the girl didn’t want to wear, and an umbrella. John wondered if maybe the little girl was this woman’s daughter but no—this woman was too young.

He followed them to the Tube, streaming in through the flow of traffic, watching the girl skipping ahead. Every step she took, the woman took, only she struggled to take everything. And then, as the crowd started to dissipate, John saw them stop.

The little girl was upset, huddled by the wall because she lost on one her favourite hairbows. She needed the hairbow, it was her first day of kindergarten, she needed to look pretty for her first day.

The hairbow that John had picked up off the ground, belonged to her.

“Han, I’m trying my best, mom and dad are gone, and I’m-” John watched you both, observing you as you spoke with your sister.

“Y’alright love?” John approached the quiet corner you were both in, stopping a few feet away. “Noticed it on the ground, thought she might need it.”

You turned your head in his direction, looking up at him while crouched before your sister. She was fussing over the backpack, one that looked like it had seen better days, trying to get the straps right. You were trying to balance everything in your arms and deal with your sister, of which you clearly had guardianship over.

“My bow!” Your sister, John assumed her name was Hannah, had exclaimed with excitement as she reached for the bow and secured it back above one of her pigtails.

“Hannah that was rude.” You scolded her and sighed, slowly standing again, finding your balance while she adjusted the bow’s position. “Thank you.”

When you thanked John in your sister’s place, he smiled small and cordially. Externally he was a picture of a sophisticated and well dressed man, you’d of thought he was a business man, and he was of sorts—just not how one would imagine.

“No problem, love.” He slips a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone while the rests on his hip. “First day of school, nervous?”

“I’m in kindergarten at St. Catherine’s!” Your sister had no concept of danger, no understanding of how telling someone that information could be harmful.

“Han, we talked about this,” but once again, you were right on top of it, “you can’t tell people where you go to school because-”

“-stranger danger. Sorry, I forget.” The little girl frowned and scuffed her shoe against the ground, kicking a small stone away.

“Lot of dangerous people out there,” John removed his phone and began typing on his phone, sending a message to his second in command to find out as much about you as possible.

“Are you a bad person, mister?” She asked innocently, a till of her head and her innocent eyes drawing a natural chuckle from John.

“Hannah! We don’t ask questions like that!” You scold her again, gently yet firmly, and take her hand once the train you’re waiting for arrives.

“Depends on who you ask, eh?” John grins and winks at your sister, making the young girl giggle regardless of the caution you feel for John Price.

“This is our train, Han. We have to go.” You gather your things once more, playing a balancing act while trying to keep track of Hannah. “Thanks for finding the bow-“

“John Price,” he flashes you one of those smiles that can disarm almost anyone, waiting for one pivotal moment in this conversation, “and you are-”

“Y/N L/N!” Your sister chirps up, giving him exactly what he needs. “By mister!”

Your sister tugs on your hand and you follow quickly, taking off after her. John waits until you’re on the train, until the doors shut, and then he finishes his message to Gaz.

Find everything you can about these two, I want all records. No one touches them, if they do it’ll be their death warrant

John always wanted a family of his own, and he knows he’d be a damn good step daddy for your sister.

And he’s sure your sister will be over the moon to have a baby brother or sister on the way.

#soft!dark!John Price x reader #mob!John Price x reader #soft!dark!mafia!John Price x reader #mafia!John Price x reader

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phantomvegetable · 9 months ago

Text

Ghostface x Reader

deceptive devices tw’s: danny johnson, strong language, panic attacks

Danny was getting bored. Day in and day out, night after night, he was tasked with picking off little worms that gave him the same reactions every time: scream, cry, plead, beg, die; cry, scream, beg, plead, die. And so the cycle would repeat.

“Come on,” He often finds himself complaining to the empty air at night, almost like a prayer to the Entity. “Give me something new. You’re a fan of chaos, aren’t you? Let’s stir some real shit up.”

Soon, his request would be acknowledged—but not without a little coaxing.

The Entity demanded to be fed, to be satiated—and when Danny may or may not have missed his quotas more than once, punishments be damned—he knew he had gotten his way when he woke in a place that was not his home. Smirking, Danny pushed his way through the fog, brushing aside the curious observation that he was not wearing his usual ghostly attire.

It was only when he came upon a campfire surrounded by familiar, undead faces that Danny realized what was being answered was not his fantasy, but actually his worst nightmare.

A girl’s head perks up at his presence before he can even hope to slink away without being noticed, having to force an unnatural smile as more eyes fell on him from the circle. Shit.

“Oh?” The same pigtailed girl raises her brows. “A new survivor?”

“Poor bastard,” An older man sighs with a shake of his head. Danny’s blood boils with indignation, fingers twitching as if they itched for a knife that he did not currently have. He could murder this entire camp within minutes—they were the unfortunate ones, not him. “What’s yer name, kid?”

Just to get a rise out of them, Danny tried to answer with a snide “Ghostface,” but found that his own body would not let him. He fought with the spell for a good few seconds before giving up with a scowl, crossing his arms much like a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny,” A woman with curly hair and glasses smiles warmly at him. He curls his lip in a half-assed attempt at a returned greeting. “My name is Claudette. Over there is Meg, and this is Bill…”

She takes a painfully long time to introduce the rest of the survivors around the fire, sans a few others who were currently in trials according to Claudette. When she finishes, Danny politely asks where he can sleep, claiming to have a whopping headache, and is pointed in the direction of their tent site. He thanks them with a wry smile before abruptly turning on his heel, his face dropping into a sour expression.

This was not what he meant when he said he wanted a change, at all.

“Two can play at that game,” Danny utters under his breath, making a break for it once he’s out of sight. The fog promptly swallows him, chews him up, and spits him right back out to where he started.

So he tries again. And again, and again until Danny inevitably has to accept that he is stuck un the survivor’s camp. “What’s to stop me from killing them?” He asks the fog.

There is no reply. Danny grumbles.

For starters, he didn’t have a weapon—he’d have to swipe one off of one of the meatsacks, if they even had any. Secondly, if they decided to gang up on him and fight back, he would be seriously outnumbered…

The cons outweighed the pros, and Danny unsatisfactorily had to settle for doing nothing—for now, at least.

Deciding on a tent at random—he didn’t care whose it was—Danny slipped inside, snooping around personal belongings until sleep weighed his bones down like an old friend wanting to catch up after decades of being away. And, begrudgingly, Danny allows his eyes to close for the first time in a long, long time.

———

Something cold and wet jostles Danny from his rest a few hours later, causing him to stir with a snort. He opens his eyes to a black nose sniffing at him, followed by a brown-eyed gaze and floppy ears that perked curiously in his direction. A dog?

Danny stretches a hand out to the creature, earning a flinch and it backing up a few inches. He tries to coax it. “Shh, there, there…” It growls lowly before barking at him once. Danny cringes. “Hush, you mangy mutt..”

It barks again, tail wagging. Ugh.

A voice calls out a name—the dog’s, he supposes—which causes the canine to turn. Moments later, a head pokes through the flaps of the tent and peers down at Danny. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Against my will…” Danny bites out bitterly. You don’t laugh.

“Well, good. Then you can tell me what the hell you’re doing in my tent.”

“Just having a little shuteye,” Danny groans as he sits up, rubbing at his face. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept that long—it was almost as if he was cursed to remain active at all times in this place as a killer while the human survivors were afforded all the luxury of sleeping after trials. It irks him. “And I didn’t know this was your tent. How am I supposed to know whose is whose?”

You cross your arms, eyes narrowing harshly. “If you had bothered to listen to anything Claudette told you, you would have found your tent on the other side of camp.”

“Geez, aren’t you a ray of sunshine…” Danny stands after popping his back, finally taking in your appearance. You must have been in a trial during his arrival, because he doesn’t recognize you—and he would. Fiery eyes, a cross attitude… you were just his type. Danny chuckles to himself.

“Something funny?” You raise a brow. Danny’s back to playing pretend, waving his hands dismissively.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” He then juts his chin at the dog that woke him up, the animal now sitting on its haunches and looking up at you with its tongue lolling out. “Who’s the pooch?”

Your eyes flitter to it, then back to Danny, your feet shuffling in a way that lets him know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of giving the information away. “This is Daisy,” You introduce after a minute. “She’s my dog.”

“You don’t say,” Danny hums as he bends down to pet her. Daisy’s ears pin back before his hand touches her head, and she lets out a warning growl that has him backing off quickly. “Charming, isn’t she?” Your eyes rake him up and down.

“She doesn’t trust strangers,” You say lowly. “Especially creepy ones. And I find that she’s usually on the right track.” Danny feigns being hurt.

“You don’t even know me, Sunshine,” He juts his lip in a pout.

“That’s exactly why I don’t trust you,” You spit vehemently, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You may have the others fooled, but I know what you are.” Danny stills at that. Could you actually know?

“Oh?” He breathes, losing his playfulness. “And what would that be?” You shudder.

“I—I don’t know,” You veer, eyes flashing with momentary uncertainty. Then you’re back to a steely expression. “But what I do know is that something about you is off, and I will be watching you very closely.” Danny smirks, hackles lowering. So you didn’t know.

He leans in close, relishing in the way you recoil. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He purrs, tone light. You push him away in disgust, stepping back to give him space to exit.

“Get out.”

He happily obliges.

———

It’s a few days before Danny’s first trial as a survivor, giving him enough time to get a feel for his new teammates. Claudette, Kate, and Mikaela are all bleeding hearts who are quick to accept him without wasting a breath. Dwight and Meg are a bit more on the fence about him, but seem more willing to give him a chance than others. Then there’s you, Jake, and Bill, who are skeptical of his easygoing nature, casting looks in his direction anytime he passed by. Danny didn’t care—he welcomed the attention. Finally, there was Ace, who didn’t seem to care much about anything. He was just happy to have another player.

“Trust me, Danny-o,” Ace says while throwing an arm around his shoulders. It takes everything in Danny not to twist and break the appendage. “I’m like a good luck charm. Stick by me, and we’re sure to win.”

“Oh, sure,” Meg snorts, rolling her eyes from where she sits on a log across from them. “Like you bring us all to victory.”

“I help!” Ace counters, sitting up. “I’m at least better than slick over there who just creeps around with her dog.” You snort.

“And whose dog was it that saved you from nearly having your legs chopped off?”

Ace sputters, unable to come up with a retort. Danny’s gaze drops to Daisy.

“Does she come into trials with us?”

“She does,” You utter without looking up, focused on the piece of wood you’re sharpening. But Danny’s itching to get your eyes on him.

“Where did you find her?” He asks, strategically pinning you with a question. You falter, glancing down at Daisy who is asleep by your feet. Finding your resolve, you go back to gliding the stone against the stick in your hands, beating Danny at his own game.

“I didn’t. Like anything else in the fog—she came to me.”

“That reminds me of how I found my guitar!” Kate chirps, bringing the group’s attention on her. She continues her story about how when she was at her lowest point of despair, she was given her instrument, and blah blah blah blah. Danny wasn’t listening—he was solely honed in on you. Were you looking for Daisy when you found her? If so, how was it that you were given something that you cared about whereas he ended up stranded amongst a group of morons? It made no sense—and, honestly, it was a bit unfair. Frowning, Danny fails to realize you’ve met his stare. You cock a brow suspiciously.

“Something bothering you?”

“No,” Danny mutters, shrugging off Ace’s arm that was still on him and standing to his feet. “I’m going to bed,” He announces before stalking off without waiting for acknowledgement. He feels your eyes piercing his back as he leaves, no longer thrilled that he is your focal point in that moment.

On his way to his tent, Danny feels a somewhat-familiar breeze that whisks him away into a trial, the Entity promptly placing him in the streets of Haddonfield that Danny recognizes instantly. He rolls his eyes, the irritation he felt from earlier starting to take the form of a headache. He sees now why survivors needed sleep so much—they were so damn fragile.

“Let’s get this over with,” Danny sighs to himself, immediately setting out to find his old friend Myers.

He passes by generators, not bothering to fix them as Danny instead sweeps the area for any sign of Michael. He tries houses, trodden gardens, and the outskirts of the woods lining the neighborhood without finding so much as a bloody footprint. Growing increasingly frustrated, Danny follows his tracks back to where he saw one of the survivors—Meg, he thinks—slinking around in one of the homes.

If he couldn’t find Myers, he would just have to use bait.

Upon his silent arrival, Meg jerks abruptly once catching sight of him, causing the generator she’s working on to implode noisily. “Jesus!” She gasps, hand over her racing heart. Danny tries to hide a cocky smirk. “What are you doing just standing there?” Meg hisses, nervously scanning behind him. “The killer could see you!”

“Oh, I’m not too worried,” Danny says nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall. Meg narrows her eyes, mouth opening to bark something else at him when she tenses up. Strangely enough, Danny stiffens at the same time as her, an unfamiliar and unwelcoming sense of dread taking control of his senses. Meg inhales sharply, and Danny doesn’t have to turn around to know what she sees.

“Run!” She cries, scrambling to her feet as she high-tails it out of the room. Danny merely watches her go, a humorous chuckle escaping his lips.

“Never gets old, am I right?” He angles himself to face Michael, who just seems to stare at him. Danny forces down the terror that seems to rise in his throat, willing his heart to stop its incessant pounding. “Alright, now I know what you must be thinking. Why is he out of costume? Why is he talking to survivors? Well, I’m just as confused as you, bub.” Danny takes a step forward. “Now, will you please help me out of here so I can get back to what I do best?”

Michael, as per usual, is silent. But that isn’t what concerns Danny, no—it’s his body language.

Michael is poised as if he’s confused—which, admittedly, Danny would be at a loss too if he were in Myers’ position—and appears as though he doesn’t recognize him. His knife is half-raised, as if conflicted. He looks like he’s either ready to run away from or at Danny. Danny takes another step forward.

“Come on, bub. It’s me—don’t you recognize me?”

A pause, an uncertain shift, and then Michael’s knife is suddenly plunged into Danny’s shoulder.

Pain lights his every nerve on fire and Danny hollers out of shock and agony, staggering backwards as Michael pulls his knife back with a squelching sound. Blood spills onto his clothes, the floor, and down Michael’s arm, and Danny doesn’t find enjoyment in knowing that it’s his.

“Myers—“ He grunts, hand pressing into his wound. “What the—ngh—fuck? It’s me!”

But he isn’t listening. Michael moves forward threateningly, and Danny is appalled at how he flinches back. His heart is racing, his shoulder is throbbing, and he can’t stop hyperventilating. Panic sets in, blowing his pupils wide. Michael was going to kill him.

A flash of movement clouds Danny’s vision followed by a bright light that sends Michael reeling. Danny feels hands on him, helping him up, and before he knows it he’s being escorted out by someone.

They run, turning corners and vaulting platforms, until Danny asks to stop, his lungs begging for air. The hands let him go, allowing Danny to slide to the grass a bleeding mess, unable to catch his breath. He can’t focus on anything—his vision is all a blur. Everything starts to go dark when suddenly a weight is on his lap, grounding him momentarily. Finding the ability to raise his arm, Danny reaches out to first feel something soft, then a collar, then floppy ears.

“Just breathe,” A voice—your voice—finally registers in his ears, providing an overwhelming sense of calm that washes over him. “You’re okay.”

Danny wordlessly pets who he now realizes is Daisy, allowing her steady breathing to take charge in leading his own uneven breaths. He doesn’t even register that you’ve begun to stitch up his injury until he jumps at a particularly sharp prick.

“Sorry,” You mumble, not making eye contact. “Almost done.” You’re more careful this time, pulling the string taught before clipping it with your teeth. You move his clothes back into place, sitting yourself next to him after closing up your med kit and placing it to the side. You’re quiet, which Danny is grateful for while he searches to find his voice.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” He settles on, forcing a wobbly grin that you don’t return. He drops the act as he hisses out in pain.

“Why didn’t you run?” You ask bluntly. “You know they want to kill us, right?”

“Ngh… guess not,” Danny grimaces. “I thought having a little heart to heart would change his mind.” Your lips barely quirk up. Danny still counts it as finally being able to crack a smile out of you.

You sigh, standing to your feet after a moment. You offer a hand to help him up, Danny using his good arm to hoist himself to his feet. Daisy sits back, panting, carefree.

“Guess you’re not as threatening as I thought you were,” You murmur, more to yourself than to him. Danny still pretends to take offense.

“Not threatening?” He scoffs, leaning his head back. “Dollface, I could slice you into pieces with a toothpick if I wanted to.”

There’s a truth to his words that you don’t quite pick up on. Instead, you roll your eyes, motioning for him and Daisy to follow. “Yeah, yeah,” You dismiss him, throwing Danny for a loop when you take his hand in yours. “We can test that theory after we escape this killer, yeah?” You fix him with a look that is much softer than it ever has been, making Danny simultaneously freeze and melt at the same time. He can’t stop the smile that stretches across his face.

“Looking forward to it,” He banters. You squeeze his hand in retaliation.

#dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight reader insert #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #the ghostface x reader #reader really hit em with an “i know what you are”

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ramayantika · 10 months ago

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Parvati (mystery academia)

Black. black. Stillness and dissolution. Nothingness is draped in shades of black which now surrounds you. This darkness however is not heavy. It surrounds you like a gentle mist, and there is a shower of large hibiscus flowers donning the darkest shade of red, like blood.

The chiming sound of anklets wake you up at night. A slow whisper rings in your ears. 'Wake up.' You lie wide awake. Your heart thuds in your chest, but the wake up call never recedes. Wake up from which sleep? There is no answer replying you.

Your mother sends you to light the incense sticks. By routine, you circle the sticks twice around the images of the gods. A jasmine flower falls on your hand, and for the first time, the eyes of the goddess bore into yours.

You sleep soundly. The wake up call of a feminine voice repeats once again. Your subconscious steals you into a dream. A room of mirrors welcome you and there is a sound of distant laughter outside the mirror. It is sweet and lively.

You stand in front of the mirrors. Seven mirrors and seven pieces, each a fragmented image until you peer closely. A woman stands behind you, tall and graceful with her hand raised in a blessing. The pearl stud on her nose shines like a mirror and you remember only the large gold nose ring.

'Wake up.' A warm hand caresses your head. Golden glow surrounds her hand. Your eyes are dazzled and you squint hard. Slumber takes you again in a comfortable embrace, but your soul has never been this aware, as if arising from a long slumber.

'Mother,' you call out. A soft hand caresses your head and some velvety fabric touches your cheek. It reminds you of a distant but loved maternal touch, and you feel like a child again. You are safed and loved.

A large serpent coils around your body. Its hood sits on the top of your head like a crown. Atop its hood lies a lotus. The serpent must terrify you, but there is a sweet smell of sandalwood, a shower of kadamba blossoms, and red gulal sprinkled in the air.

A woman dances in abandon. There is grace, there is desire, there is passion and there is liberation in the air around her, and in her being. It is electrifying. The beautiful queen-like woman transforms into a beacon of darkness, and red fades in your vision. A loud howl alerts your ears and loud thudding sounds of a drum beckon you closer. Black. You faint.

Nine women surround you. Each woman wears a different coloured saree. Some look motherly, some look youthful, and some look terrifying -- every shade of life taking its existence in their bodies.

A flash of lightening and your body jerks open. The serpent from your dreams coils around you tighter. A trident manifests beside you. Your hands touch the weapon and electricity fizzles through your body.

It is dark again. In pitch darkness, a lady in red and white, decked in gold and long flowing hair manifests herself in front of you. 'You have woken up then.' The serpent from your dreams has followed your path and hisses in agreement. It understands human language, some strange way of nature to show her power, the power of the divine feminine, Her. The serpent looks at you. There is humanity in its eyes. What a curious play of Prakriti!

The youthful woman who giggles as sweet as sugar, beware, she is wild and untamed. You may desire to claim her for yourself, but she shall not. She is the Mother of the Universe, manifesting in different forms. The little girls with pigtails who sweetly handed over her ladoo too is her, and so is the frail old lady in your neighbourhood. She is everywhere.

Nobody knows how did those vile men die, but justice was served. The wise old woman whispers about the devi serving justice, a feat these strong and burly policemen who claim to be the protectors of the common public, and the 'fair' judiciary had failed to achieve. 'I saw the devi drink their blood. Their severed heads served as her garlands. It is true.' The rest of the crowd roll their eyes at the rambling woman.

The final night. Loud sounds of the drums make your heart beat thud in excitement. Women march ahead, their foreheads adorned with red vermilion. Little children dance their way to the river as vehicles carry the idols of the goddess to the river. There is a huge crowd, each person chanting the name of the goddess. Amidst the humungous crowd, there is a call that makes you turn your head towards the sky. A golden glow forms against the dark clouds of the night, and there she is.

The cosmos manifests in her. Adorned with the stars and galaxies, she stands tall and large in the skies, her large doe-like eyes looking at her children with love and affection. She is jagat janani after all. Her trident manifests in her arms and she solemnly swears to protect her children from every harm. Jai devi! Jai maa durga!

'It isn't a dream. You have reached out to me, just like I. A mother want her children around her. Remember, you and me, we all are one.'

taglist: @jukti-torko-golpo @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @krishakamal @ma-douce-souffrance @prettykittytanjiro @krishna-sangini @thegleamingmoon @kaal-naagin @chaliyaaa @desigurlie @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @ramcharantitties @houseofbreadpakoda @swayamev @rhysaka @aesthetic-aryavartik @ahamasmiyodhah @vishnavishivaa

#samridhi writes #devi #dussehra is coming soooo #yeh lo #maybe a bit boring idk i have written this amidst fest vagera

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happydragon · 1 year ago

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In Over His Head

Summary: Crosshair didn't know what he was thinking when agreed to look after the teacher's daughter, but now he has to figure out how to keep a four-year-old entertained. He fought in countless battles, he can handle a toddler right?

Ao3

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1,703

Crosshair was on his way to the docks when he spotted Jana on her way to school. That wasn’t a strange sight, seeing as she was the teacher, but what was the odd sight was that Jana’s daughter, Anaya, was also with her. Jana’s olive-toned skin contrasted nicely with her khaki-colored pants and cream blouse, her violet hair in a simple braid over her shoulder. Anaya, dressed in a simple pink dress, was the spitting image of her mother, with her violet hair in two little pigtails on top of her head. The only difference between the mother and daughter was their eyes. While Jana’s eyes were a dark emerald, Anaya’s eyes were golden brown.

Usually, her retired neighbor, Mrs. Thule, would look after the little girl while her mother worked. Maybe Jana was dropping Anaya off somewhere else today, not that that was Crosshair’s business. Regardless of how he felt about the Mirialan woman, her business was hers alone and he wouldn’t interfere.

He was going to just give a simple nod as they walked by, but then Anaya spotted him and her face lit up with joy. Her pigtails bounced with every excited step as she ran to greet him. Jana’s eyes also lit up upon spotting him, but didn’t run to greet him like her daughter.

“Crosshair!” Anaya greeted as she wrapped her arms around his leg and stared up at him with the biggest smile.

“Hello,” he greeted in return, unable to keep the small smile forming on his lips at bay.

“Good morning Crosshair,” Jana greeted once she reached the pair, “On your way to the docks?”

Crosshair nodded. He hated just sitting around in his family’s home. It made him think too much about things he didn’t want to think about.

“I’m going to school with Mama!” Anaya excitedly announced.

“Yes,” Jana lightly laughed, “Unfortunately my neighbor got sick so she can’t watch Anaya. Hopefully, she’ll do alright and not distract my students too much.”

He hummed and before Crosshair could even think, the words already left his mouth.

“I could watch her.”

“Oh! I couldn’t ask you-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

Was Crosshair in over his head? Probably but he knew some of the kids would not be able to focus with Anaya in there and Crosshair was pretty sure kids needed to pay attention to those sorts of things.

“What do you think, Aya?” Jana looked down at her daughter who tilted her head as far back as she could without letting go of Crosshair’s leg.

“Would you like to spend the day with Crosshair or Mama?”

Anaya's lips turned into a pout and her brows furrowed as she thought over the idea. After a minute or so she nodded to herself and announced, “Crosshair.”

“Looks like she’s going with you,” Jana said as she looked back up to Crosshair, “I truly appreciate your help. You can drop her off at school later, no need to worry about taking her home.”

Crosshair simply nodded as Jana knelt, commanded Ayana to be good and listen to Crosshair, then hugged her and nuzzled their noses together before standing back up to continue the rest of the way to school.

Crosshair watched her walk until she was well out of sight before looking down at Anaya, who while no longer wrapped herself around his leg, she instead tightly clutched his pant leg. She still stared in the direction her mother went but made no sound. Eventually, he tapped her head, which caused her to look up, her eyes wide with curiosity. He indicated with his head that it was time to go, to which she responded by raising her arms toward him and her hands made a grabbing motion. It took him longer than he would admit to realize she wanted to be picked up. He had never done this sort of thing before. He really was way in over his head.

Crosshair thought back to how he saw Wrecker pick up and hold Cut and Su’s kids and attempted to do the same. She didn’t complain as wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. With both his arms supporting her, he continued his trek toward the docks.

As they walked, it was mostly silent until Anaya began to take in the world around her and talked about the various things she spotted or imagined. He didn’t say much aside from the occasional hum or short phrase. Not that she seemed to mind.

When they arrived at the docks, he set her down to lay down some ground rules. He had seen plenty of grown adults hurt themselves here and he was not going to let Anaya be one of them.

“Listen,” he commanded and she stared at him with wide eyes, “I am going to be busy and moving a lot of dangerous things. When I tell you something, you do it. If you need me, just call my name. Understood?”

She nodded and he returned the gesture. Now to keep her entertained. Anaya was still small, so she couldn’t be much help. Maybe he can have her just follow him around. Best way to keep an eye on her.

For the next couple of hours or so, Crosshair worked the docs as usual, with Anaya as his shadow. The other dock workers found her adorable and a handful teased Crosshair about looking after her. One glare from him shut them right up.

When lunchtime rolled around, Crosshair decided to grab something from the local food stand. Thankfully, Anaya wasn’t too picky and happily ate her lunch. He knew they still had an hour or so before school ended, so he decided to walk with her around town some more, letting her take the lead in where she wanted to go. As they walked, older ladies would coo at the sight of Ayana and Crosshair, the former of the two ate it up.

Along their walk, Anaya spotted some Moon-Yos and excitedly ran to them. The Moon-Yos of course scattered off, startled by her running. She tried to chase after them but suddenly tripped over her own feet. At the sound of her cry, Crosshair was immediately at her side. Tears had already begun to stream down her cheeks when he picked her up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry coating his voice.

Instead of saying anything, she showed him her hands which had gotten scratched up by the stone. Thankfully, there was no blood. Crosshair sighed just slightly.

“Just a scratch, see?” he said as he gently traced his fingers over her hand. The frown still remained on her lips. Then she brought her hands to his face and quietly asked, “Kiss please.”

He raised a brow and waited for her to explain, but she just stared up at him expectantly. So he slowly pressed a kiss to one palm, then checked to make sure he was doing it right. When he saw she was still waiting, he kissed the other palm and then the brightest smile lit her face.

“Thank you!”

He simply hummed. He would have to ask Jana about that later.

Soon it was time for them to head over and Anaya once again wanted to be carried all the way there. This walk was a bit quieter than the one that morning, with Anaya laying her head on Crosshair’s shoulder. He wouldn’t admit it any time soon, but it brought him a strange sort of comfort for her to be so at ease with him. He didn’t know why, but it did. A very small part of him hoped that this would happen more often. He cared for Jana and Anaya, but not the same way he cared for his family. This was different. A good different.

When they arrived at the school, Crosshair found Jana seated at her desk, where she worked on some papers. He knocked on the door frame to announce his and Anaya’s arrival which caused both mother and daughter to lift their heads at the sound. He was pretty sure his heart stopped at the smile on Jana’s face when she saw them. Anaya waved excitedly from her perch but made no movement to get down.

“Well hello there!” Jana greeted as she got up from her desk and approached them, “Did you two have a nice day?”

Anaya and Crosshair nodded, the former just slightly more enthusiastic.

“She, uh, did fall earlier,” Crosshair mentioned nervously, “Scuffed up her hands but she was fine otherwise.”

“Crosshair kissed it!” Anaya excitedly added.

“Did he now? Well, then I say it’s definitely all better now.”

Jana then offered for Anaya to come to her, to which she happily went. Crosshair felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Maker help him.

“Thank you again for looking after her,” Jana said as she turned back to Crosshair. He simply nodded. He didn’t mind. He would do it again if she asked.

Jana then set Anaya down before she began to gather her things to head out. They all exited together and were about to go their separate ways when Jana suddenly turned to him.

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” she asked and Crosshair stopped breathing, “As a thank you I mean.”

“I uh-” he began but she interrupted again.

“Wait. That was stupid of me. You probably already have dinner plans with your family. My apologies, forget I asked.”

She began to turn away again when he called out, “I don’t! Have dinner plans, I mean.”

“Oh.”

Neither of them said anything for several moments. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to have dinner with her but she just said to forget it. Was he still invited or not?

“Well, if you're still interested, you can stop by before sundown,” she broke the silence, her eyes glued to the floor, “I usually feed Anaya around then before getting her to bed.”

“Okay.”

When she looked back up, her smile blinded him as she waved goodbye and that she would see him later.

If Crosshair wasn’t in over his head before he definitely was now. Strangely enough though, he didn’t mind.

Hope you all enjoyed it!!

@summer-of-bad-batch

#the bad batch #tbb #summerofbadbatch2024 #week3 #it’s just a scratch #forget I asked #tbb crosshair #bad batch crosshair #oc #original characters #crosshair x oc #ocs #to live again au

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n-s4kayaky · 1 year ago

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𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟

Pt.2 //Mrs.Crocodile

warnings: This story is about the Cross Guild in a female version, so clearly the relationships were about Female x Female since Reader was about a woman. Sexual tension, aggression, humiliation, power dynamics, MDNI, vaginal masturbation, Oral F!receiving, use of a strap-on, body adoration, use of term Mommy

a/n: The truth is that this is my first fic with lesbian sex, I've read a lot about it, so I hope you like it and it's well done ;p

Several weeks had passed since the Cross Guild was founded, as usual your lady would go to the meetings to talk to the other two women, and of course you would follow her and go after her like the good assistant you were to her (Not to say her loyal little pet) You would stand next to Mrs. Crocodile and keep quiet while you just filled out some paperwork, give it to your boss or many of the occasions serve her a glass of bourbon which she often needed so that her patience would not run out thanks to the clown girl, who in most of the meetings spent her time saying some stupid ideas, telling bad jokes or what bothered your wife the most, flirt with you. More than once Crocodile has grabbed Miss Buggy's head with his big hook, always pulling her from the long blue pigtails she always wore, usually you will try to calm your lady down by placing a kiss on her cheek or sitting on her large and luxurious lap, Crocodile would look at you and then throw Buggy's head across the room while he places his hand on your waist or kisses you back with more intensity. You could tell that Buggy wasn't your lady's favourite; but nevertheless Miss Mihawk was another option. He was always silent in meetings, posing elegantly and sipping a glass of luxurious wine, simply answering the odd question and contributing small ideas, not much else.You supposed that the reason why your lady put up with it was because of its refinement and intelligence compared with Buggy's, in fact, more than once your lady asked you to fill Mihawk's wine glass whenever it was empty, and so you did, walked up to her, took the bottle of old wine with great courage and filled her glass with wine, you always received a gesture of thanks from Mihawk, and on occasion he would take your hand and kiss your knuckles with some affection, leaving your cheeks the same color as the wine he loved to drink at meetings

Today, like any other day of the week, the ladies would get together and talk about their ideas, they could agree and sign papers. As you entered the room, Buggy greeted you as usual with a hug, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing you as if you were a large stuffed animal. You finally arrived, I missed you," she said as sweetness fell from her red-painted lips. You smiled and shyly and returned his hug, you really liked Buggy, she was a tender and funny girl despite her bad jokes, the only thing that made you nervous was her flirtations towards you. Crocodile walked past you, staring at Buggy as he let out a big puff of smoke from his cigar, let out a small "Tsk" in annoyance and put his hook around your hips as he pulled you away from the clown, going straight to his usual seat while greeting Miss Mihawk with a simple nod, which returned him while you instead moved your hand in greeting towards the woman, making her look at you and a very slight smile appeared on her lips, returning the greeting elegantly. You went to stand as usual by your mistress's side; But she had different plans today with you, the hook around your waist dragged you and forced you to sit on her lap, without much resistance you accepted your seat, watching her hook land on your thighs

Today's meeting went smoothly, they talked about political terms between Mihawk and your lady, they had their agreements, they signed their papers and talked about what the Navy could deal with. Everything went smoothly, your lady was quite serene and Buggy didn't cause any problems today, what's more, it seemed to you that the woman was quieter than usual and quite nervous, you saw how most of the time in the meeting she spent her nervously rubbing her gloved fingers, which made you miss and worry. After a few hours they finished the Meeting, you got up from your lady's lap so that she could get up, as usual she put her hand on your hip and you left for the big door, you went to open the door for your lady but before you could take the handlebars Buggy spoke "W-wait! Croco-Chan… This… Can I talk to you?"Crocodile turned and looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye, as if she were nothing more than a vermin, took a drag of his cigar while arching one of his thin eyebrows "What the hell do you want clown? Whatever you want to say, you could have said it in the damn meeting," she said irritably as she let out the smoke. Buggy swallowed nervously and looked at Mrs. Crocodile as he again began to play with his fingers. It has nothing to do with the meeting." Your lady looked at him strangely as did you and Miss Mihawk. What the hell do you want?" She said abruptly, already somewhat irritated by his impatience, "I-I was thinking and well… I'd like to ask you if.. I-I don't know, it's possible that… W-what, well." She tremblingly pronounced Buggy as she now played with her two big pigtails.Mrs. Crocodile's pacency was exhausted as she massaged the bridge of her nose. What the hell do you want?! Fucking let it go!" She said tired as she bit the tip of her cigar in anger. Buggy, frightened by the scream, covered her face with both hands: "C-could you stay one night Y/N with me?!" He said as his soul almost popped out of his body at the request. You widened your eyes, expecting anything but that, and it seems that the same thing happened to your lady, being totally frozen for a few moments. After a few seconds you saw Crocodile walk straight towards Buggy's trembling body, grabbing her pigtails tightly and pulling her so that her head would detach from her body as usual, she raised her hook, making Buggy's face that was already half sobbing face to face with your lady's "Repeat what you said, clown." "B-but it's not what you think Croco-Chan for! It's having a girls' night out. And-you know! Don't hurt me please!" He said as he squeezed his eyes with tears a string of snot came out of his round red nose, meanwhile your lady bit his cigar about to break it between her white teeth "Do you think I'm going to let someone like YOU be with MY assistant just like that?! HEY?! Isn't it enough for you to see every damn day how you flirt with her like I'm not here?!" You saw how he grabbed his hair in his hand and how his big hook landed on Buggy's throat. You quickly ran over to them and grabbed your lady's arm, swallowing hard with some nervousness as you tried to reassure her "S-ma'am, please… Don't get upset… Just think about it… If you don't accept, surely Miss Buggy will accept it without question, right?" You said hurriedly as you kissed your lady's wrist and then looked at Buggy's sobbing head, which nodded quickly with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Your mistress looked at you both, first at Buggy with some disgust and then at you, letting out a slight sigh as she threw her head past her body, which quickly rose and ran to the sobbing head. The hand you grabbed from your mistress squeezed your hand and then sighed and let go gently, resting it on your waist as it turned around next to you and went to the door while grabbing your waist. He glanced sideways behind him, staring at Buggy sternly, "I'm going to think about it; But until then I don't want anything to do with you, understood?" Buggy nodded quickly and without much ado Crocodile forced you out of the room along with her, walking silently to the ship that always took you home. The ride was quite quiet, more than usual, again insisting that you sit on his lap while he smoked his cigar in silence. You, on the other hand, were a little nervous, maybe you had made your mistress even more angry and you had made some mistake, you went to open your mouth to ask but before saying a word Crocodile put his fingers on your lips, imploring silence "I don't want a sound now… I'm thinking," he said as he pushed his finger away from your lips, causing you to remain silent

After several minutes you arrived at the home, a large mansion in your mistress's name. The butlers opened the door for her and you while she still kept her hand on your hip. Upon entering the great house, Crocodile went straight to his great bedroom, opening the door for them both. The well-known sight of the large queen bed with expensive sheets, the large closet full of big-priced dresses and jackets, and the beautiful dresser with gold accents became visible to you. Without a murmur you entered as your mistress closed the door behind you, she let out a great sigh as she went to her dressing table, in which there was an ashtray, she extinguished her cigar in it. You walked over to her back and carefully grabbed the shoulder pads of her big coat, taking it off and revealing the beautiful black designer dress that no doubt accentuated your lady's curves. Crocodile walked over to the large queen bed while you made your way to his closet, carefully placing his large coat in it. He caught your attention with a simple gesture and you walked quickly towards her, his hand rested on your hips and he was moving up and down, memorizing with his fingertips your beautiful curves for her "Honey… I've been stressed for a few days… Help me as you always make my love" She said in a lustful tone and certainly tired as she said. A slight blush appeared on your soft cheeks and you nodded meekly as you felt your knees give way and fall to the floor

You knelt before your mistress, who looked at you with a slight smile and tiredness, you ran your hands over her muscular legs, slowly pulling up the skirt of her beautiful dress, revealing her luxurious stockings that stuck to her legs. You caressed the soft material, slowly moving up to her big thighs and making the material of her skirt rise until it revealed the delicate branded thong that matched her stockings that your lady wore. You could feel a small spot of moisture through her underwear, you placed your hands between her two thighs, making her open them even more for you as her hand slowly settled on your head, starting to play with your hair. You brought your mouth close to the wet area of her underwear, giving a long lick through it as you listened to your lady let out a small sigh. The taste of her fluids and the cloth stung against her tongue, making you want more from your mistress and wanting to please her. You took the elastic of her thong and slid it little by little, she helped you by lifting her butt, making it easier to take off her underwear. You removed the cloth completely, exposing your lady's beautiful pussy already wet before your eyes, you noticed how your mouth began to salivate and you brought your lips closer to her intimacy. You placed your delicate lips around her swollen clitoris, kissing it with some affection, opened your lips and let your tongue come out, giving a long lick as or sensitive organ, making your mistress tremble on you. You brought this one to your mouth, starting to suck it and letting it soak with your saliva, you felt Crocodile's fingers tangle in your hair as he stuck more of your face to his pussy. You gasped softly as you gripped her thighs tightly, letting your tongue run up and down your mistress's soaked slit until you plunged your tongue into her wet, squeaky hole, letting it soak in Crocodile's sweet fluids, a low moan escaped her lips as she lay half of her body on the mattress, leaving you more accessible to her wet and luxurious pussy. Your tongue wandered along its walls while your nose brushed against her sensitive clitoris, you closed your eyes as you concentrated on eating your mistress, moving your tongue up and down. Crocodile closed his eyes, enjoying your tongue and as your mouth gave him that pleasure he longed for, his hands played with your hair, squeezing it from time to time and getting closer to his pussy in need of your small and sweet tongue "That's honey… Use your tongue just the way Mommy likes it." She said between sighs, making you wet yourself at your mistress's praise, you gently separated your tongue from her inside, watching a small trickle of saliva mix with the fluids in her pussy, panting you landed your tongue on her clit again, licking and sucking it while your fingers began to play with her entrance, passing these through his hole and letting them soak in his juices. You pressed your fingers into her entrance and inserted them, making her moan while your tongue played with her sensitive clitoris, sucking and rolling it between your tongue. Your fingers began to scissor open, feeling your lady's rubbery, damp walls settle between your fingers and squeeze them, craving more from you. Both of your fingers pressed down on the top of her inside while your lips were still busy giving her proper attention, Crocodile's fingers tightened tightly around your hair, pulling firmly on your hair as small gasps and moans escaped from her lips

You allowed your fingers to move faster, pulling them in and out, repeatedly hitting her G-spot, causing her back to arch and her walls to tighten, being aware that she was getting closer to orgasm. You lovingly bit Crocodile's clit while your fingers dug into her pussy up to her knuckles, giving her sweet spot a hard blow. Crocodile moaned loudly as he pressed your face against his wet pussy as he cummed, you closed your eyes as you felt his walls squeeze and milk your soft fingers. After a few seconds while you let your lady catch her breath you separated yourself from her sensitive clitoris, giving her a small kiss of goodbye. You looked at the beautiful sight of your lady's pussy, as small drops of her slippery fell from your fingers which were still inside, which you gradually withdrew. You saw how your fingers were covered with its sweet essence and without hesitation you brought them to your mouth, licking them and cleaning them of any trace of moisture while you looked through your eyelashes at your lady, who was looking at you with hunger in her eyes, her well-combed hair had been disheveled during the session and a small blush decorated her scarred cheeks. Crocodile's hand was still on your head, caressing it lovingly "My sweet girl… Always being so accommodating to me."He said as he watched with delight your fingers around your lips, which you opened to let them escape, giving your lady sight of your fingers full of saliva and completely cleansed of their essence, "I think my little girl has gotten an award for taking such good care of Mommy…" He said with a purr in his voice. You squeezed your thighs, feeling how your arousal filtered through your underwear, moistening your thighs, Crocodile made a gesture with which you stood up, but not before giving him a small kiss on his thigh as a farewell. Your lady's hand rested on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned on her touch, brought her face closer to yours and kissed you passionately while her hook rested on the curve of your waist, caressing it from top to bottom. Your lips moved against each other as your lady's tongue pricked your mouth, you allowed her access, opening your lips for her as she inserted her tongue into your oral cavity, seeking your tongue and intertwining it with hers, beginning a swing between the two tongues

Your lady broke away from the kiss, watching the slight thread of saliva that connected both lips, breaking it with a smile as her good hand caressed your flushed cheek "Be my good girl and undress" Without waiting a second you began to unbutton your work blouse in front of her, letting the fabric of it fall down your shoulders to your feet, Leaving you in a bra in front of her hungry eyes, the next thing you discarded was your pencil skirt, leaving you in nothing but underwear and stockings under the watchful eye of Crocodile, who was looking at your figure, settling on your designer underwear which she had given you as most of your underwear. His hand moved from your cheek to your covered breasts, grabbing them while his thumb rested on your nipple, moving it and reveling in feeling the hardness of it "A beautiful pair that you carry today, my affection; but I'd like to see you without it" Your hands moved to close your bra, opening it and taking it off for her, exposing your beautiful tits. Crocodile's head moved closer to them, letting out a small sigh in your nipple, causing a small gasp to come out of your lips, he smiled and closed his lips around your nipple moaning at attention. His grappling hook moved between your legs, all the way up to your crotch, pressing it with the curve of his grappling hook making you moan. He pulled away from your chest and looked at his hook, now slippery with your arousal, and smiled with satisfaction, "Are we desperate, honey?" With a quick movement under the elastic of your panties, leaving your wet pussy exposed to the cold air of the room. Crocodile moved closer to your neck and kissed it as he moved you to sit on the bed, he pulled away from you as he took off the rest of his dress, letting you see his two large breasts still covered by a beautiful luxury bra "Wait for me here, I want to see you with your ass up when I come back… I want to get a good look at how wet my sweet is" Smiling, she pulled away from you, walking to the end of the room. You quickly got on as he asked, resting your chest on the soft mattress as you lifted your hips to the sky, spreading your legs and exposing your pussy

Soon Crocodile came back to you, placing a hand on your ass while you felt something prick your entrance, you quickly looked sideways and felt how you got even wetter when you saw your lady wearing the strap-on that you had used more than once on the bed. You looked at the big eight-inch dildo that hung from your mistress's hips thanks to the strap, which deliciously squeezed her large thighs. Crocodile smiled as he let the dildo poke at your wet entrance, playing with it while firmly squeezing your buttocks, "Is my girl ready for Mommy to fuck her?" She said moving his plastic head up and down your damp slit, you gasped as you nodded shyly and the next second you felt his hand grip your hair tightly, throwing your head back as it whispered in your ear "Don't listen to you, princess.." "Y-yes Mommy… Your lady smiled broadly as she let the plastic glans go in an inch, making you moan in need. Use your words honey" "P-please, Mommy me" you said looking at her needily as your hips moved gently. With a quick movement of the hips the dildo was buried deep in your pussy, making you moan as your back arched "My little slut, so needy…" Her hips collided with yours as she fully sheathed the dildo in your pussy, slowly pulling it back until it hit you again. You moaned as you let your head fall between the sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt the fake member drag across your damp walls. Your lady's hand gripped your hips firmly, forcing you to move in the same rhythm against her, lifting your hips higher as you heard the sound of both skins colliding, creating a cacophony in the room

You moaned and closed your eyes as the dildo massaged and rhythmically entered your walls, causing them to tighten at the delicious intrusion. Your lady's nails digged into your hips, making you bounce as she started hitting your G-spot, making you moan loudly, Crocodile smiled wickedly as he began to abuse that place that made you see stars, hitting him repeatedly as he pressed his breasts against your back, bringing his lips close to your ear, Whispering in this "That feels alright baby? Do you like it when Mommy pleases your wet with your favorite toy?" I comment as she quickly slammed into your sensitive spot, making you moan loudly as your mind turned to mush to her, just babbling little Si while drooling over the luxurious sheets. Crocodile smiled in amusement as he lowered his mouth to your neck, slowly licking it, making you gasp and then screaming as his teeth dug into your soft skin. His hip banging was flawless against you, bringing the toy deeper inside you, kissing your cervix multiple times, making you see the stars as you moaned. The hand on your hip moved slowly until it found your cliroris, moaning you grabbed the sheets and scratched them while your hips had small spasms against your lady's. Your walls began to tighten around the silicone, threatening to, Crocodile could tell this from your behavior and the spasms your body was starting to have "Come on honey… That's it… for Mommy, be a good girl and." As if it were some magic trick, you let out a big moan and arched your back as you followed your mistress's orders, cumming hard around the dildo while it slowly slowed its thrusts. Your legs and hips trembled while your breathing was ragged, drool fell from the corners of your lips leaving a beautiful view for your lady. Crocodile caressed your hips as he let the dildo slowly slide out of you, making you gasp when it came out completely, leaving your pussy gaping and dripping, your lady looked at him with delight and gave a little slap to your clit, making you bounce

He moved a few inches away from your body as you listened to the sound of buckles, assuming he was taking off his strap-on. Then his hand and hook picked you up with care and affection, pulling aside the sheets and placing you on the bed, Crocodile walked away, listening to the sound of the lighter as the smell of smoke invaded your nose. A few minutes later, your lady lay down next to you, but not before gently wiping a damp cloth over your pussy, wiping it and making you jump a little with the sensation. Crocodile lay down next to you, now completely naked just like you as she smoked from her cigar, took your head and placed it gently on his chest while his hook landed on your hip. You accepted the closeness, snuggling into his chest as you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, relaxing with it while you closed your eyes tiredly. Before falling into a deep sleep because of the tranquility and silence of the room, your lady spoke, "I'm going to let you go with the clown." You opened your eyes at the statement and blinked as you looked at Crocodile, somewhat perplexed, "R-really?" Crocodile sighed as he reconsidered his choice, letting out a small cloud of smoke, "I know that no matter how much I tell you that you won't keep insisting like the stupid person that you are." He said, grimacing as he slapped his cigar, "Besides, I've known those two for a long time and I know they've had their eye on you… But not to do it" Your cheeks turned a deep red at her statement, You noticed your lady's fingers on your cheeks, squeezing them and forcing you to look at her "Listen to me well, I know very well what those two are up to and I know that I am not going to stop them so easily… I remind you that you are MINE, MY property, MY girl, MY pet. Got it?" She said as he looked at you possessively, making you nod quickly. She sweated and kissed your lips softly and affectionately, letting you lay your head back on his chest "Well… But I'll keep reminding you, my love…"

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