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spidehpig · 1 year ago

Text

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap.

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought.

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive.

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival.

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior.

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now.

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm.

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it.

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology.

Ghost decides that he hates her for it.

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman.

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top.

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs.

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick.

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini.

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk.

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face.

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs.

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock.

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp.

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him.

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep.

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment.

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.”

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost.

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest. Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

#cod #ghoap drabble #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x you #soap x you #ghoap x you #ghoap #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #my fic

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enbyenvy666 · 1 year ago

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May I request an a/b/o hitoshi shinso x cismale reader? They're all aged up, and a hero Shinso meets civilian reader. Just some fluffy interactions of shinso courting the reader, with a fluffy'n'smut ending? Thank you for your time!

wow this took so long to write lol

honestly i just took this idea and ran with it so i hope the wait was worth it ! also i haven't written for Shinso before so hopefully he isn't too ooc

(also he doesn't have a cannon hero name so i tried to get around that by the reader giving him a nickname instead)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, a/b/o, alpha!Shinso, omega!reader, slight scent and breeding kink, knotting, mating press, reader is a paramedic, reader treats shinso's minor wounds, fluff n smut, no beta we die like men w/c - 3.7k

Red and blue flashing lights made Shinso’s head hurt, straining his already tired eyes. Police cars and ambulances surrounded him and his fellow heroes, showing up after a particularly rough takedown. He had a couple of scrapes and bruises, but the paramedics wouldn’t let him leave before they assessed him. The only problem was, that there were others with more severe injuries than his own so it was taking a while.

As he sat on the curb, fiddling with his capture weapon, two work boot-clad feet entered his view. His purple eyes trailed up their legs, noticing the deep green uniform they wore with the paramedic shield embroidered over their chest pocket which held a couple of pens.

“Alright Mr. Hero, it’s your turn,” you grinned down at him, waving him towards one of the empty ambulances. He stood with a groan, feeling one of the cuts on his arm burn and sting. You climbed into the back of the ambulance, guiding Shinso to sit on the stretcher. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you as you fluffed around his, slipping a sphygmomanometer around his arm and a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Any pain anywhere?” You asked, and if he wasn’t looking at your lips he wouldn’t have noticed.

“No,” he muttered, watching how you gently inspected the cut on his arm. Even through the latex of the sanitised gloves, he could feel the warmth of your fingertips. Just when the band around his upper arm felt like it couldn’t get any tighter, it slowly deflated. You looked at the reading and smiled.

“Blood pressure is good.” But when you read the result of the oximeter, you frowned a little. Shinso didn’t like seeing you frown, and he wanted to do anything to see you smile again.

“Pulse is a little high,” you mumbled. If it was possible, he would’ve slowed his pulse at that moment, just to make this stranger happy. Readjusting the device on his finger, you also squeezed his hand in yours absentmindedly as you typed in his results onto your little laptop.

“I’ll keep this on a little longer, but otherwise you’re in good shape! I’ll just clean up your wounds a little and you should be good to go.” Finally, that smile was back on your face, showing off your pretty teeth while you changed your gloves.

The alcohol used to disinfect his cuts and scrapes stung, every time he would wince you would softly apologise. One by one, you tended to his wounds and with each bandage he felt himself growing more and more infatuated. As you softly dabbed an alcohol-soaked cotton pad over the smell scrapes near his hairline, he spotted something shiny under your uniform collar.

It was a scent-coating collar, torn and ragged around the edges, clearly old and worn out, but as he inhaled, he could smell the faint scent of you.

“You’re an omega,” he mumbled. You chuckled nervously, movements stuttering for a moment before you leaned away from him.

“Oh, yeah, guess I need a new one huh?” You joked, referring to the band that circled your neck. With a bandage in hand, you leaned back over Shinso and softly pressed it over the scrape, smoothing the edges down with your fingers.

“I’m just gonna check your eyes for any signs of a concussion,” you explained as you pulled out a pen from your pocket, clicking the small button on the side of it. The end lit up, and you pointed it towards his eyes.

“You should be fine… just making sure because you did hit your… head.” You trailed off, too concentrated on the way his pupils contracted and expanded. The way you bit your lip made his heart flutter, and he almost got worried the oximeter would read too high again. But that would mean he would get to stay with you longer so maybe it wasn’t a bad thing.

“Just keep staring at my nose.” Gladly. The light flickering in and out of his vision irritated his eyes even more, so he was thankful when you pocketed the pen and smiled.

“Alright, you’re good to go!” He almost wished there was something wrong just so you would stay with him, but alas, he left the ambulance. All of the other ambulances and police cars were gone, leaving just you, him and your partner.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“No problem, Mr. Hero,” you grinned back.

“It’s-“ The walkie on your belt started barking out codes and addresses, to which you grimaced. Must not be good.

“Shit, gotta go,” you muttered, quickly turning and rushing back into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Your partner got in the driver's seat, and just before they turned on the lights and sirens, you leaned out the window and shouted goodbye to Shinso. He couldn’t stop his lazy grin as he waved back at you, watching you zoom away, off to save someone’s life, he presumed.

He didn’t realise how much of an impact you made on him until he had another rough take down and you weren’t one of the paramedics that showed up. He felt disappointed, and the way the paramedics tended to his injuries wasn’t as gentle as you were. He wasn’t sure why, but he missed you.

It took some searching, but eventually, he found you at an ambulance station during one of your few breaks from being on the road helping patients. As you were taking stock of the inventory in your ambulance, Shinso’s messy indigo hair.

“Hi Mr.Hero,” you greeted happily, climbing down from the back of the ambulance, clipboard in hand.

“What can I do for you? If you’re looking for medical assistance I’m required to tell you to go to the hospital, I can take you there if you need?”

“No, I’m okay,” Shinso denied. While your eyes flashed with confusion, the same gentle yet gleeful smile stayed on your lips.

“I just wanted to thank you.”

“Oh! There’s no need, I’m just doing my job,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand. It looked soft, and he wanted to hold it, brush his thumb over your knuckles, or maybe his lips. To stop him from grabbing your hand and doing just that, he fiddled with his capture weapon, just like he was doing when he first laid eyes on you.

While he didn’t like you denying your hard work as ‘just part of the job’, he understood where you were coming from. He often has the same mentality when it comes to being a hero, and that makes him feel closer to you.

“I also wanted to,” he hesitated, feeling an unusual anxiety bubbling up into his throat. Why did this feel so difficult?

“Ask you to dinner.”

Your smile dropped, and so did Shinso’s stomach. Your cheeks grew warm as you looked away from the hero, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your giddy grin. If you had a tail, it would’ve been wagging at the speed of sound. Composing yourself, you looked back at Shinso, but nervously couldn’t meet his hooded eyes.

“I’d love to.”

The weight on his shoulders lifted, and he quietly sighed in relief with the faintest smile. But as soon as you started to organise when to go out, you both realised that your schedules didn’t align very well. Shinso kept on his stoic appearance even as he felt his hopes crumble. Was this really how it ended, before it even started, all because of conflicting schedules?

But finally, there was a night when you and him were free. It was a month away, but at least it was something. That date is what carried him through work. On tough days, he would remind himself of his dinner with you, counting down the days until it finally arrived.

He couldn’t believe how nervous he felt, but at least his stoic demeanour didn’t betray that fact. The flame of the candle on the table flickered and swayed, Shinso’s purple eyes watching its every move. Time felt like it was moving too slowly. What felt like ten minutes of watching the flame dance was truly only a minute, but every second of it made him more and more anxious.

The longer he waited, the more he fretted that you weren’t going to show up. Perhaps the month's wait had given you enough time to change your mind. Tugging on his sleeves and collar didn’t help to cool him down, but it was the only sign that he was upset. Just as he was about to get up and leave, the chair across from him was pulled back.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” How could he be mad at you? Your skin glowed in the candlelight, your lips parted in an apologetic smile that showed your beautiful teeth (even with any imperfections). You sat down before holding up a single rose in your hand and handing it to him.

“As an apology.”

“I wasn’t sure what kind you liked,” you explained sheepishly, hands nervously fiddling in your lap under the table.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfect,” he smiled softly. Thankfully dinner continued without a hitch, except for when a fan wanted a picture with Shinso. He was annoyed until he caught you stifling a giggle across the table. He loved to see you laugh.

When dinner was over, he didn’t want to say goodbye, even as you stood outside the restaurant, a cab waiting, he didn’t want to let go of your hand. It just fit so well in his. As you turned to him, looking up into his tired eyes, you smiled.

“I had a really good time,” you admitted, squeezing his hand. Lifting up onto your toes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. While it was only quick, to Shinso it felt like an eternity. Your soft lips on his skin, your scent clouding his senses, your palm on his chest to steady yourself. It took everything in him to not sweep you off your feet at that moment and claim you as his omega. But alas, you stepped away, with a final call for him to text you before you climbed into the taxi.

He was more infatuated than ever, finding more and more opportunities to visit you at the ambulance station. After learning your favourite snacks, he would drop them off for your lunch or dinner if you were working later. Sometimes he’d even leave flowers and on a Valentine’s Day when you were working, he left chocolates and a stuffed bear.

On nights when it was too late for a date but you were both free, you would talk on the phone for hours.

“And then she tried to hit me when I tried to check her blood pressure! I get that no one likes it, but come on! There’s no need to get violent,” you ranted.

“I know what you mean, I feel like old ladies just want to let their anger out at anyone who cares. One time I got a lady's purse back from a robber and she yelled at me for swinging her purse around too much,” Shinso replied with a soft chuckle. You bit your lip when you heard the sound. It was melodic.

“I mean, we’re just trying to help, aren’t we?” You agreed, rolling onto your stomach, legs idly swinging behind you.

“How did you go after the handoff today?” Shinso asked, running his fingers through his soft hair as he also lounged on his bed. Earlier that day, he caught a man in a hit-and-run who didn’t quite like being held accountable. He was claiming he had chest pains which meant an ambulance had to be called, and Shinso was super happy when he saw you climb out of the vehicle.

“He got worse once you and the cops were gone, the asshole even ripped off my collar,” you grumbled. Shinso felt possessiveness and anger at the thought of that guy putting his hands on you and harming you.

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” He asked.

“I’m fine, my partner managed to subdue him until we got him to the hospital.” It eased his worries to hear you were unharmed, but he was still worried about you.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” He asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Your hum through the speaker sounded like a soothing drone, he could use it as white noise if he wanted to.

“Don’t think so, why?”

“Do you want to come over? Dinner and a movie at my place?” Your legs kicked behind you like an excited teen, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“I’d love to.”

Both you and Shinso slept with grins, excited for the next evening. Work felt like a breeze, nothing could get you down when you knew you would be seeing Shinso when your shift ended. He felt the same, if not more excited and anxious.

Before you knew it, you were standing on his doorstep, fist raised shakily to knock on the door. As soon as your knuckles hit the wood, it swung open, revealing Shinso. He must’ve been waiting on the other side of the door.

He invited you in, to which you graciously accepted. You didn’t miss how he held one arm behind his back, but you were too distracted by looking around his home to say anything. It was cute, and you noticed the cat toys strewn about. Shinso cleared his throat, your attention now trained on him.

“I got something for you,” he mumbled, revealing the box he was keeping hidden. He seemed nervous, which made you feel anxious in return. With ginger touches, you took the box and opened it enough to peek inside. It was a collar, amethyst in colour with shining silver metal on the buckle. A definite upgrade from your last one.

“Shinso!” You gasped, picking it up from the box. The inside of it was soft so it wouldn’t irritate your skin, and you could smell that slightly chemical scent that would cover yours.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Do you like it?” He still asked, wanting to quell his anxiety.

“I love it,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist, and pulling him into a tight hug. He quickly reciprocated, head tucked into your shoulder. Without the old collar, he could smell your scent entirely. It was sweet, intoxicating. You pulled away and turned your back to him while holding up the collar.

While he wished you didn’t have to cover your scent, he still complied, clipping on the collar, wanting to do anything to make you happy. Using your phone as a mirror, you admired how the piece looked around your neck, unable to hold in your excited squeal.

Pulling the hero in for another hug, you muttered repeated thank yous. He held you in his arms as you pulled back to look up at him. Shinso’s smile was soft, but it was enough to make you feel jittery. With your gaze locked on his, the world around you fell silent.

Slowly, he leaned down, lips meeting yours in a kiss so passionate it made your knees weak. But you weren’t worried, you knew he would catch you. His hands groped and tugged on your body, palms rough from years of hero work. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands. Everything grew heated, clothes striped and initial date plans pushed to the side until you were finished.

The rest of the night felt feather light, and like there was a warm glow around Shinso, the edges of your vision tinted in rose. Dinner tasted like magic because he cooked it. And the movie was perfect because he picked it. Everything about him was amazing. You were on cloud nine, even as you went to bed alone in your home.

But that all changed by the next morning. Your body felt hot, coated in a sheen of sweat, and struggling to breathe. Stumbling out of bed and making your way to the bathroom, you could feel the slick between your thighs and realise how hard you were. Your reflection showed your sweat-dotted face and messy hair. Your cheeks didn’t cool even after you splashed cold water on your face, so all you could do was slink back into bed.

Your encounter with Shinso last night must’ve had more of an effect on you than you thought, leaving you in heat and needing more. Even as your hands shook, you managed to dial the man in question.

“Hello?” He spoke into the phone. His voice made you whimper, which he heard.

“‘toshi,” you whimpered.

“Is everything okay, baby?” He asked.

“Need you. So bad,” you panted, unable to resist the temptation of palming yourself through your underwear.

“What’s wrong?” The concerned tone in his voice was noticeable.

“In, ah, heat.” You swore you could hear him fumble the phone.

“I’ll be right there okay? Just hold on for me.” He hung up, much to your chagrin as you wanted to keep listening to his voice. It felt like an eternity before he finally showed up. You met him at the door, almost tackling him the second the door opened. He managed to get you back inside, even as you tried to climb him like a tree.

With your arms and legs wrapped around him, he carried you back inside, trying to ignore the way your scent made his body react. He felt himself growing hard, and a hot flush washed over his body. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you right then and there, but he needed to wait a little while longer, then he could have you. Carrying you to your bedroom was the easy part, but getting you to let go of him was another level of difficulty.

You ended up just dragging him onto the bed with you, desperately clawing at his back to keep him close, to drown in him. His hands shook, his grip on you wavering as he fought his urges. As much as he wanted to breed you, he wanted to make his omega as comfortable as possible.

Finally unlatching you from his body, leaving you to whine and squirm on the bed. Hitoshi shrugged the duffle bag off his shoulder, one you hadn’t even noticed. Blanket after blanket, he pulled them from the bag and placed them around you on the bed, creating a nest for you.

“I wanted to bring pillows but I didn’t have enough room-” your lips collided with his, arms pulling him close till your body was flush against his.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered between kisses, slowly pulling him down to the bed. Desperately needing air, he parted from your kiss as your back hit the mattress. You looked like a god below him, the sweat dotting your skin made your body glow. Your hands cupped his face, warm palms on warmer cheeks.

“Please Hitoshi, make me your omega, be my alpha.” All self-control left him when he heard those words fall from your sweet lips. Capturing your lips once more, his needy hands started pulling on your clothes, desperately wanting to feel your bare skin against his. He couldn’t get them off fast enough, almost resorting to tearing them off when your lips trailed down his neck. Your scent had flooded his senses, his vision clouded fuchsia and all he could think about was you, you, you.

The moment your underwear was pushed down enough, your hand travelled down between your thighs, fingers collecting the slick around your hole before gently but eagerly pressing them inside. You couldn’t wait for Hitoshi to undress himself, and the sight of you preparing yourself for his cock was something he never wanted to forget. As soon as his clothes were off, his fingers prodded your entrance. Reluctantly you removed your fingers, but you were given little time to dwell before his thicker digits fingered you.

You occupied your hand by jerking your cock, the wetness on your fingers helping your hand glided smoothly. There were practically hearts in Hitoshi’s eyes as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together when he added a third finger to your wet hole.

He couldn’t wait any longer, retracting his fingers and hooking your knees over his shoulders. Using your slick as lube on his cock, he pressed his tip to your tight ring of muscle, biting his lip to hold in a hiss of pleasure when he slowly thrusted himself inside you. You, however, moaned unabashedly as his cock carved itself inside you, making it fit perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

Hitoshi was quick to start an even pace, pressing your knees to your shoulders so his cock could thrust even deeper inside you. You couldn’t grab him in this position as much as you wished you could, instead twisting his blankets in a white-knuckled grip. Your eyes rolled back, swearing he was rearranging your guts at that very moment. Hitoshi couldn’t stop his groans as he felt your walls cling to his cock, pulling him back in every time his hips pulled away.

Precum dribbled from your tip, leaving glistening droplets on your stomach. The purple-haired man above you leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours to inhale your scent, angling his cock to hit your prostate in the process. Each thrust against the spot sent shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through your body, making your fingers and toes tingle.

Groans turned to growls as Hitoshi felt his peak building, his knot beginning to swell. He rut could only rut himself inside you, letting go of your knees to wrap his arms around your arched back instead, bodies pressed together. Your ankles quickly locked behind his back, preventing him from pulling out, as if he even wanted to, nails leaving red marks across his shoulder blades. Hitoshi tucked his head between your neck and shoulder, teeth brushing against your skin, but not yet biting down.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he growled over and over, his voice straining and growing in pitch until he reached his peak, ropes of cum coating your insides as his teeth finally sunk into flesh. The feeling of him filling you with his seed, his knot locking you together, and him officially making you his omega brought you to orgasm. Hitoshi’s hips finally stilled, panting against your neck as you both came down from your highs. Your fingers played with his soft hair, unable to stop a smile from gracing your lips.

Hitoshi pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark on your shoulder before lifting his head. He smiled softly, threading his fingers with yours as he kissed you deeply.

“My omega.”

-----

i hope you enjoyed :) also writing the next chapter of personal pornstar so stay tuned ;)

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x male reader #shinso x reader #shinso x male reader #hitoshi x reader #hitoshi x male reader #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o

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seokgyuu · 10 months ago

Text

Strawberry Wine - Part 1

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!

one; the author

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago.

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras.

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books.

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?”

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you.

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well.

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?”

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different.

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time.

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole.

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you.

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life?

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her.

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with.

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything.

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today.

“I’m sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.”

It’s too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.

“My wedding isn’t happening anymore, and you really won’t let me cancel the honeymoon suite?” Usually, you’d never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What he’s implying means you won’t get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases you’ve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone!

“I am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-“

You hang up on him. It’s not polite, you’re aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband… no, absolutely not. Then, fine, you’d have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldn’t be able to use.

As if life isn’t horrible enough already.

When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like you’ve just told them you decided to get Jaehyun’s face tattooed on your thigh.

“Are you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!” Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.

“What do you mean “free”? I literally paid for it months ago!”

“Okay, and did you already make that money back?” Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment.

The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched.

“She has.” Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.

“So what! I’m not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!” You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they don’t seem to understand the big deal.

You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed.

Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table.

“Y/N,” he starts and his voice sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, “I get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But you’re young! You’re young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, it’s not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,” he grabs your hand over the table, “but do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!”

He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just what’s best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way?

You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.

“Y/N-,” Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

“You get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I don’t remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!”

Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that you’re crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help?

It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad.

You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You don’t dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up.

Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldn’t be in this situation. No, you’d most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didn’t love you half as much as he claimed, that didn’t deserve the time and care you’d given him.

When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows it’s better this way. Jaehyun isn’t the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. It’s just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they don’t break it the way Jae had.

Once you’re on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that.

Minghao’s words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun.

Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself.

two; the lost soul

He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldn’t understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isn’t even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon can’t really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself.

The backseat is hot and Jihoon’s sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him.

Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. It’s nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasn’t used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didn’t re-apply his sunscreen every few hours.

Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there.

Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first love’s favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes.

In all seriousness, Jihoon doesn’t know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, it’s the right thing to do.

A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoon’s Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoon’s suitcase out of his trunk.

Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This… doesn’t look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like he’s about to throw up his airplane food.

It’s not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. It’s like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesn’t help him in the slightest.

Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldn’t have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-

The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.

“Hello?”

“Jihoonie!” It’s Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, “did you make it to the city of love?”

“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t,” Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Why? What happened?” Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.

“My Airbnb doesn’t exist.”

Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friends’ miseries.

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny, okay? I’m about to call another cab and get my ass back home.”

“No! No, you can’t go home! You’re here and I’m going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.”

When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesn’t dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution.

Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Paris’ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.

The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The building’s cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.

Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the building’s stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.

The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.

Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotel’s storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within.

He doesn’t dare to move from where he is standing. Doesn’t dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here.

But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real.

So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again.

A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more.

The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon.

Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesn’t actually belong here.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again.

“Of course, we can’t wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!”

Jihoon’s eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click.

“You’re actually here!” Jeonghan’s smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back.

“Well, it’s either this or the streets,” he smiles, “you never told me how… grant all of this is.” He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.

“Yeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.”

Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He can’t shake the feeling that if he had known about this… his stomach drops again.

“It’s beautiful.” Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesn’t know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him.

“That, it is,” Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, “and you will get to live here for the next two weeks!”

“I will what?!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise, “Jeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,”

“Obviously for free, dummy,” Jeonghan chuckles, “we have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.”

Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.

“How come it’s free when it’s fully paid?” He asks.

“Well, there was supposed to be a wedding and…. now there isn’t one. They didn’t meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, it��s free for the next two weeks since we can’t legally double book. You want it?”

It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghan’s offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s not ready for that, and he’s certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter.

“I do, thank you, Han, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“Oh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,” Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears.

“Yeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.” Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasn’t lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasn’t been easy these days.

“Aaaaand, here we go!” Jeonghan grins brightly, “your key, Mr. Lee.” He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.

“That rhymes. “Your key, Mr. Lee”.” Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.

“Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”

“Well, stop it and do yours instead,” Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, “where is this suite you promised me?”

Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm.

He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled.

There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesn’t know how to even describe them.

He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. It’s a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow.

A majestic cremé colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much.

Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldn’t wait to lay down and relax after the day he’s had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. It’s all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.

This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now.

So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesn’t even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed.

Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and they’ll go catch dinner together, then he’ll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesn’t know what it sounds like just yet, but he’s already excited to find out.

Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away.

three; the mix-up

You don’t think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. It’s not about the driver or the airport - but where you are.

Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like you’re going to wake up any second.

Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start.

The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface.

The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driver’s seat.

One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.

It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But you’ve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here.

You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks.

Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.

“Hi,” you tell him your name, “I have a reservation.”

The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.

“It is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?”

You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know it’s a step in the right direction.

“I will be staying here alone, thank you.”

It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile.

Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all it’s elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like.

There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes.

You don’t notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do.

When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isn’t as magnificent as you thought.

Jihoon doesn’t notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes he’s naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two.

Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasn’t inside your shower.

“What the hell!” You yell, turning around so you don’t look at the naked man any longer.

“Who are you?!” He yells back and you almost gasp.

“I should ask you that!”

The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back.

He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist.

“I’m Jihoon,” he finally says. You think you’re suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.

“That- you’re telling me your name?!” You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes.

“You did ask who I was, didn’t you?”

For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not… miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you don’t want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems… big.

You swallow.

“If you’re done checking me out, would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”

Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.

“Your room? I’m sorry, this is my room!”

While Jihoon did hit his head, he isn’t hurt enough not to understand that you’re most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off… that you wouldn’t come here. So, why on earth, where you here?

“I- I can explain,” he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Go right ahead,” you hate that your voice is shaking, but it’s not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasn’t your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.

“My friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldn’t be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didn’t actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.”

You blink at him.

“He just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?

Jihoon swallows.

“Well…,” he thinks a little longer on his answer, “yes. Yes, he did.”

Telling the truth is probably his best bet.

You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“As you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.”

Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didn’t quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed.

It all seems to happen in slow motion.

Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesn’t fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save.

A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you.

You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. It’s bad. This shouldn’t be happening right now.

The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you don’t even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoon’s face so close to yours - way too distracting.

“What the fuck?!”

Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoon’s lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain.

You don’t even notice it. Not really, at least. Now it’s not his face that’s distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.

“Jaehyun?” You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste.

“Who is that?” Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his question. He isn’t looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor.

“Oh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,” it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyun’s biceps.

This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red.

“You brought her here?” You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon who’s still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay.

God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half.

“Y/N,” Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.

“I see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said.

“New- new what?” He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyun’s face is priceless and you don’t want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.

“That is your new boyfriend?” She asks, her brows raised. You can see that she’s checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust.

“Got a problem, Sierra?” You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didn’t suit you.”

Your grip around the towel tightens.

Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who… never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didn’t happen was… the woman you’d called Sierra.

Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow… even if he didn’t know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise.

“I would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.”

Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck.

“How long has this been going on?” Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoon’s request. You turn to look at him again.

“That’s none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isn’t your room anymore.”

Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoon’s hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jae’s gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him.

“Fine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.”

It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, you’re about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.

“Great. Have fun in Paris then.”

He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun said, “since we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.”

Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that that’s not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.

“What a lovely idea. We’d love to, isn’t that right, baby?” You interlock your fingers with Jihoon’s and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.

“Sure,” he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra.

It most certainly isn’t a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isn’t a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years.

No, this wasn’t a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong.

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scekrex · 1 year ago

Note

Hey absolutely love your stuff (obviously since I keep requesting lol) anyways could I request Adam who somehow survived after getting beaten up by Lucifer and stabbed who even knows how many times by Niffty gets found by the reader who while an overlord isn't that powerful is super rich (I also picture them being like a mix of Alastor and Vox where like Alastor still holds a lot of more old timey views but also tries to adapt with the changing views like Vox) and decides to take him back to his mansion to try and help him survive (wants to make a few bucks later using him) after a bit the two share an oh fuck moment when they realized they have caught feelings. I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Overlord reader?? Uh fuck yeah!! I fucking love this ask so much xoxo/p

Bird of Hell's Paradise

Chains on my lips just add flames to the fire

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & sexual tension

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The battlefield was a mess through and through and while the devil and his daughter had built up the hotel again, a new, more inviting looking building was now located on the lonely hill in the pride ring, you still felt Adam's presence. The residents of the hazbin hotel must've already forgotten about him and therefore didn't notice you at all, too caught up in their doing.

The first man was badly injured and while you normally wouldn't care for such things, especially because it was an exorcist angel, this case was special. Because not only was the brunette laying in front of your feet the first man god had ever created, no, he was also the leader of said exorcists. You could only imagine how many sinners and Hellborn people would pay a good amount of money to harm him, even if it was just the slightest injury possible. So you bowed down and scooped the passed out man in your arms. If these sinners and even Lucifer didn't care for him, you would put him to good use. For your own benefit that was, but no one had to know about that yet. So you carried the first man across the entire pride ring of hell until you reached your home. The brunette man in your arms was still unconscious and given the blood he had lost and the hits he had taken that was pretty normal.

Once inside your mansion, you headed to the hospital wing, walking through the building with slow, heavy steps that echoed through the empty hallways. The hospital wing was close to the entrance, a decision you had made after stumbling through the doors with a fatal wound that had been exposing your guts. It was quicker to reach in an emergency and while those rarely occurred, you didn't like the risk. You put the first man down onto one of the beds, your claw sliced smoothly through the fabric of his once holy robe to get it out of the way. You needed to take care of the stab wounds the nifty little demon girl had caused. The stabs were deep but nothing you couldn't fix. You gave Adam one last glance before you stepped over to the medicine cabinet and for a quick moment you asked yourself why Lilith and Eve had left Adam, he wasn't bad looking at all, quite the opposite. And Lucifer had mentioned that Adam had ‘kinda let himself go’ which meant back when the two women were married to him, he must have looked even better. You quickly shook your head, what in the devil's name were you even thinking?

With wound cleaning supplies and a healing potion you stepped back to Adam's bed, the first human ever seemed to be slowly waking up. He braced his palms against the mattress, tried to lift himself up but you were quick to push him back down, the more he moved while his wounds were still ripped open the more blood he lost. And while Adam would be able to recover either way, the more blood stayed inside of his body, the better. At least that's what you thought. “Stay,” you hummed as you cleaned the blood from his skin. It was unusual to clean off golden blood instead of the red mess you were so used to. But you didn't mind, didn't care even.

Adam flinched away from your touch, tried to lift himself up yet again. Your hand took a hold of his throat and held him down by it, “I said stay, stupid angel.” Adam's eyes seemed to clear up a little, the fog that had covered his golden eyes, had made them seem yellow, lifted and the brunette stared at you, clearly not knowing what to feel. You saw anger in his eyes, rage and hatred but at the same time there was fear. Fear and pain.

Once the blood was no longer staining his perfect skin, you took the potion you had grabbed, popped the cork and held the smooth, cold glass against his bottom lip, “Open up,” you demanded, yet your voice stayed gentle. Adam hesitated and you really couldn't blame him. “It will cause your wounds to heal,” you explained to the former leader of the exorcists and he seemed to consider his opinions for a moment. Then he actually parted his lips and let you spill the disgusting liquid onto his tongue. His face scrunched up at the bitter taste and he kept the liquid in his mouth. “Swallow it, Adam.” Adam looked up at you, once again seemingly considering alternatives he had. Given the fact that he did as you told him, there hadn't been many.

Adam checked his chest as the wounds that had caused enough pain to make him pass out healed quickly. The only hint left that they ever even existed were golden scars that seemed to be permanent from now on, but the first man couldn't complain, could he? He was still alive and on top of that there was no more pain. The first man frowned at you, mistrust was lingering heavy in his eyes as golden orbs followed your every move. Yet he remained silent, not a single word was falling from his lips.

Your hand that had been holding him down by his throat let go of him and Adam was sitting up right in his bed in an instant. His hands traced over the new found scars, you watched him in silence. There was something about him, about his vibe that was different. It wasn't the fact that he was an angel, no, even though that made his vibe different too, but it was something soft, something afraid to break. You cleared your throat loudly and Adam's eyes were on you within a heartbeat, while mistrust still lingered heavy in them, curiosity was close behind and you couldn't help but catch yourself that you were curious about him too.

Adam always bragged about being the first man, like that was his biggest accomplishment and if you looked at it from a different viewpoint it wasn't even his accomplishment but God’s, Adam didn't create himself after all. Yet it was the only thing worth mentioning whenever he didn't want to do something, “I’m the fucking man, not your fucking housewife, I'm not gonna fucking clean that.” You sighed as you took a step towards Adam and he flinched, trying to back up but his back hit the kitchen counter sooner than expected. Your hands grabbed a hold of his waist and you effortlessly lifted him up to sit on said counter, Adam was taken aback by that.

It had been a couple of weeks since you had found and saved him and the mistrust that had been filling his eyes from the first second on had never truly left them. He would always leash out on you only to back down as soon as you reacted in some way that seemed too unpredictable for him. “When will you learn to think before you speak?” Your voice held a certain amount of softness, it always did when you were speaking to Adam. The guy wasn't a threat to you, not in his current situation. And you were trying to use that to your advantage. Because he was scared, basically a deer in the headlights, why not put that fear to use? You nudged his knees apart to stand between his legs, still taller than him you hovered over the first man with a mix between a sly grin and a soft smile. “When you start to suck my fucking dick,” you chuckled as his choice of words, very aware that he simply wanted you to fuck off and leave him be, you acted oblivious to that. One hand was placed on the counter to steady yourself, right next to his thigh, the other grabbed his chin to tilt his head upwards, forcing the brunette to look you in the eyes.

“Right now? Right here?” your voice sounded so delicious, Adam wanted to eat it up, in fact, he wanted to devour you entirely, feast on every piece you had to offer and only stop once he swallowed it all. In Christ's holy name, what was he thinking? Your lips were so close to his, so so close, all he would need to do was - he leaned into your touch, why he wasn't sure, it was as if his body was following a call sent to him by nature itself. And then his lips met yours and a low groan spilled from his throat as his hands grabbed your shoulder firmly, he was afraid you'd pull back, that you'd leave him like Lilith and Eve had and he didn't even know why. Why was he afraid of losing you, a sinner, a man he barely knew? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. And yet he kissed you like his life was depending on it.

The hand that had been braced against the counter was now on his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh playfully and drawing a delicious sound from Adam's lips. Oh you could drown in the noises the first man made, the little huffs and puffs, his groans that he tried to keep as quiet as possible, the whimpers he would later deny. Adam was the most beautiful creature that had ever set a foot into hell and you mentally punched yourself in the face for wanting to use him to make money. There was no way you'd use such a divine, holy and glorious man for that, no. Adam was yours, your little secret and you'd keep it, keep him.

When you two partened a sting of saliva connected your lips and both of your eyes were hazy, he looked blissed out and it was then that you decided you wanted to see him like that more often - as often as possible. You were to lean in yet again, wanting more, needing more. But your phone rang. “Pick it up, bet it's something fucking important, they don't fucking call overlords for shits and giggles, do they?” You knew Adam was right and you hated it. You pushed your body away from the first man's and you saw how he wanted to reach out, wanted to keep you close but didn't say a thing about it. You grabbed your phone off the dining table and answered the call, “The fuck do you want, Vox?” It was the first time Adam had heard you speaking so vulgarly, you usually seemed to be collected, considering your words wisely, but that? In the name of God, that was truly something else. And it was ridiculously hot. “No I fucking can't, ask someone else,” and with that you hung up, tossed your phone carelessly back onto the table and found your place between his legs yet again. “Where were we?” you hummed through hooded eyes. And it was only then that the two of you seemed to realize what exactly you had just done, what you were about to do again.

Both of your eyes widened and the next thing you felt were Adam's hands on your body, not just your shoulder this time but also your waist, your chest, your thighs, your back. It seemed as if he was claiming you with his hands and the worst part of it? You truly didn't mind, you even enjoyed his touch on you, leaned into it and closed your eyes to fully focus on his hands roaming over your body.

Fuck, you had fallen deep for this man, way deeper than you ever thought you'd fall. But Adam had followed you, had fallen with you.

“You were about to suck me off,” Adam mumbled, his voice already sounded fucked out and you hadn't even started yet.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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rock-omelette · 1 month ago

Text

Your phone is ringing (So pick it up)

Rating: M

Relationship: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Ivo Robotnik/Agent Stone

Add tags: Coming untouched, coming in pants, coming on command, no beta we die like Eggman LOL, wrote this instead of sleeping, pre-canon, pre slash, yeah theyre just freaky like that, recording moans, is that a tag, d/s dynamic, dom ivo, sub stone.

Summary:

He can feel Ivo's breath, brushing against his nape, whispering. "I promised you I'd record it."

He had. Stone had been a fool not to have taken it as the warning it had been, then.

It rings during a meeting, of all places.

The Doctor, allegedly, has a phone. For a fact, he has several, all of which with indeterminable numbers and encrypted to be ensure they cannot be tracked. Each of them serve their own purpose, and thus each may only be reached by different—strictly confidential—highly sought, horrifyingly powerful and important global figureheads. The sort wielding powers that make the President of the United States feel like a 6th grade hall monitor.

Since his hiring, it is within Stone's responsibilities to answer most of any calls made on any line, playing the dutiful partial role of secretary. He writes down any notes of confidance, details of commissions both government-funded and private, alternatively charming or threatening certain parties where need be and arranges all necessary appointments neatly within the Doctor's synced online calendar. Within any given moment of time, Stone carries with him 5 of these phones—not the limit, nor is it certainly the sure extent of the true number of phones, and he is of course obliged to drop any and everything in order to answer them when they ring. He carries out this task with as much relish, pride and professionalism as he does for everything the Doctor requires of him, no matter how distracting his circumstances come to be.

Hell, he's even managed to pick them up with his thighs above his head, being fucked within an inch of his life by his erotically cruel and breathtakingly malicious boss. By the time Stone cums (on command, naturally) he has already fielded a successful QnA on the latest project as commisioned by the wife of a Russian oligarch, and the woman none-the-wiser of any unsavoury activities happening on the other end of the line. Stone was a fucking professional, thank you very much.

All of these phones, as far as Stone is aware, are designed to be perfectly uniform and indistinguishable between one another, besides minute indicative differences that only the Doctor and Stone themselves could tell. They weigh the same, look the same, work the same and—this was most important to the point we're trying to make today—sound the same.

Or so they should.

The meeting isn't even about them, not really, though it does concern the utilization of the Doctor's latest spyware iteration for the CIA. It's the closest Walters could ever get to getting an honest explanation of their quarterly weapons budget. The Doctor couldn't give less of a shit how the government chooses to use their commisioned products, though Walters had once again threatened his monthly allowance on the Doctor's current research on magma-proof lightweight alloy, and so they had been once again dragged out of their safe haven kicking and screaming to stare down a bunch of unsuspecting "mouth breathing, dick measuring, eye-boring numb-skulls yapping like a bunch of demented puppies with their tails set on fire."

The CIA reps aren't happy. Neither he nor the Doctor are happy. Walters is scraping by pretense of professional co-habitation with the skin of his teeth. Nobody is having a good time.

And this is all before the Doctor's phone starts moaning.

Read the rest on Ao3

#stobotnik #agent stone #ivo robotnik #choice of fic

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fall0utmind · 4 months ago

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hi, i used a translator when i wrote this text, so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me 🙏we probably have one brain for the whole fandom, because i'm also hatching an idea with an a/b/o au in my head.my main idea was similar to yours with all the pain and illness, but in addition to the main focus on the relationship between vale and marc, i also wanted to write about marc's pack.his pack, consisting of young boys with whom he trains and cares for. for example, dani holgado, is definitely an alpha. looks at marc as an example, as someone to look up to. david alonso, i don't know, most likely also an alpha (for the sake of the plot lol). fermin aldeguer could be a beta. and of course maximo quiles, marc's protégé, omega. a hot-tempered boy looking at david with loving eyes.(all the boys look at him with such tenderness) I think they fit your idea perfectly.Marc, who is not a member of any packs except for the family one and is only the unofficial head of the pack of these boys. They are like his children to him.In the 2025 season, when all his guys are either in moto2 or moto3, they need his support, help and advice (they need to be held in the evenings after falls or when they are on the verge of a rut/heat) (this is in addition to his own season) and he has no time to think about his inner omega.I think this would be so different from the relationship between Vale and his academies, where the alpha of the pack is support in the media, a firm hand on the shoulder and distraction from all problems through entertainment.And Marc is soft with everyone, a support for them (he does not run away from problems, but solves them). the boys always know that they can come to him: he can listen to them or understand without words, teach them to stand up for themselves, give advice on how to take a certain turn on the track or what to choose as the first gift for courtship (or from what angle to look at the alpha))well, here is the true omega of the pack.another scene before his eyes - the day before the public loss of consciousness. maybe this is maximo, before the third race on the calendar on saturday - his first moto3 race because he just turned 17 the other day. he lies close to marc in his camper, burying his face close to the neck of the older omega. in his arms he feels like he is on the clouds, sometimes he does not finish some sentences, but marc understands everything and answers him with a laugh. perhaps before this grand prix, the boys gathered in their little pack and, he does not know for how many times, discussed that marc does not smell of anything. nothing at all. they asked alex a long time ago, but he never answered them.and max awkwardly asks about it, when before that he had been mumbling about David and his unique overtakes in his first year in moto2 for about 7 minutes non-stop, feeling how Marc relaxed. and literally three seconds later he regrets it, when Marc's breathing rhythm gets out of whack and how his shoulders tense under his grip. but the man only grabs the kid tighter and tells in general terms what happened between him and Vale, choosing only soft expressions, without hatred, sadness or pity.and the next day after the victory he faints. imagine Maximo's face lolin any case, thank you for your creativity and for your brain. not only is every word of yours read in one breath, you are also a very nice person. thank you ❤️

Hi, firstly, I'm so in awe of everyone on this app when English isn't their first language. You all make me feel so stupid 😂😂 so never apologise for that.

Secondly, what a lovely message!!!

Omg!!! Im so excited?? We all have a million a/b/o ideas and it's fantastic!!! I love that for us!

Wow! I never even considered that, it's so good??? The idea of Marc having this little gaggle of boys (borderline men) following him around like ducklings because he's like the main/pack omega (and he should be for the whole paddock) - i love it. I think there's so much room to work with in that dynamic. Like you said, the way the boys look up to him, how they need to be looked after when they've fallen or when they're about to enter heat/rut cycles. And marc is 100% being a mother hen. He doesn't even realise that he's doing it half the time? Like sitting with all the boys over lunch, giving advice, talking to them after a bad race, squished onto the motorhone sofas.

In one way, it's healing for his omega. But another is ruining him. Because it's suppressing so much that he isn't actually bonded to these kids, not on a biological level. He doesn't scent with them, etc, because he doesn't do it with ANYONE. (Post reconcilliation, he does. And they become his pups basically). These kids are clinging onto him and it hurts so bad because he doesn't actually have that connection with them 💔💔

Omg, and yes, the idea of Marc, an omega, by definition, being head of a pack. He is the one they always come to for advice, direction, and love. I especially love the comparisons to the VR46 pack. I think it would be really different. I think a. It is not a true 'pack' because of Marc's issues (although they act like one, and the boys desperately want it to be one, but don't want to push marc, just sometimes pile into his motorhome and lie on Marc's bed, confused about why there's no nest; leaving their clothes in Marc's space, he secretly hoards them for comfort).

The boys asking marc what happened omg 💔😭 marc telling them, but only the bare bones as he knows they look up to Vale and he doesn't want to ruin that, also he doesn't want to hurt/scare them because he's FINE, damn it. And then how they react when marc gets sick, can you imagine the fear? The anger they have at Valentino, but they feel so powerless because they're young and in lower leagues and UGH. God I love this idea so much. Love the dynamic, its very cute.

Thank you so much for the ask and for the kind words!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#motogp #marc marquez #rosquez #motogp rpf #my fics #valentino rossi #marcs little gang of pups #a/b/o sick fic

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lauracantsleep · 1 month ago

Text

Drive.

Synopsys: Truth be told, he didn't think twice before springing into action. Trouble would come, it always would. They were sitting in the eye of the storm, and he had to make sure that someone would be there to care for Lena. Certainly, it wouldn't be Baz. With Smurf in jail, Pope was all she had.

A/N: posted this on ao3 a few days ago and figured I could share it here as well. season two pope broke my heart, completely shattered it - so obviously I decided to write about it lol. it has been over a decade that I've written fiction with the intention to share, so bear with me. english is not my first language and this wasn't beta-read. also this is not a x reader/oc fic, more like a tiny character study.

set during 2.12 | 1 .4k words | ao3

╰✧˖°°.☾.˖✧･ﾟ･⋆.｡.˖･ﾟ･✧˖.☾.°°˖✧˖°°.☾.˖✧･ﾟ･⋆.｡.˖･ﾟ･✧˖.☾.°°˖✧╮

Maybe he wasn't the best option for her. There's nothing in his life that could assure him that the man he sees in the mirror would be a good father, but he loves her — of that he is sure of. More than her own father does, as much as it pains him to admit it. But not more than her mother did.

Pope's head feels heavy, like his brain is too compressed inside his skull. It wants to get out, he wants to get out, but there isn't a way. It's how he's felt for years now, maybe his whole life, if he were to be honest. He doesn't know — Pope doesn't feel like he knows much these days.

Gripping the sides of the sink, his head falls. Arms straining under a lavender shirt as he breathes in and out. Pope doesn't particularly enjoy looking in the mirror, doesn't do it often, because why would he? He knows what he looks like, there's no need for a reminder. The mirror shows him what he already knows. The hollows under his eyes a testament to all the things he can't undo. There’s a fracture in him, a crack that never healed right. Or maybe he just wasn't born right - he considers that every now and then.

Everything is a blur, all the things that could have been his, but aren't. His wife, his daughter, his home. All thrown away, life moving on without him during his years inside, doing time alone.

"Uncle Pope?" Pope raises his head with a sharp inhale, finding in the mirror a small figure holding onto the door frame behind him. Half in the hall, half here with him.

Lena watches him with cautious eyes — much too cautious for someone her age, he notes. Her voice is but a whisper. She's been quiet lately — a result of living with his brother, who made for a less-than-ideal father.

"Hey," his voice quieter than usual, still hoarse from screaming into his pillow during the night. He couldn't sleep. "Did you finish packing?" Pope turns around, moving towards her. Lena looks up at him and nods, seeming unsure as to what to do now. "Good girl, Lena."

If there's any pain in his body, and not just the ever-present mess in his head, he doesn't feel it now. Not with Lena looking up at him, so fragile. She looks just like her mother, he sees it all the time. The resemblance kills a part of him everyday. A shot to the heart, lack of oxygen. Suffocating inside his own self. Catherine raised a beautiful girl. His girl. Pope opens his mouth but the words don't come, not at first, lodged in his throat. As they stare into one another, this is one of the moments when he wishes he knew what to say. Wishes that the right words would come. Something that could make things better. Something to prove to her that he would fix everything (but that would be a lie).

"Are we going to Disney?"

"No. No, not to Disney." The words come out with a struggle, but as softly as ever with her. It's only with her that he can be this way. He used to speak to Catherine like this too, when they were young. And then when they were adults, when Baz wasn't around. It happened a lot once his mother started training him. "But we are going someplace nice, alright."

When he reaches out, his hand hovers, adjusting, hesitating. Pope touches her the way you’d touch a bruise — barely there, all weight held back. No grabbing. No claiming. Nothing like her.

But then his palm settles on top of her head, stiff at first before softly patting it once, twice. Lena is not afraid of him, she looks at him with trust, knowing he'll be there to check for monsters under the bed, to take her to school and be there on time to pick her up. His fingers loosen, threading carefully through her hair — just as soft as her mother’s. The realization hits him like a punch to the throat. For a moment, it's harder to breathe, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb brushes her temple, once, a silent apology for everything she’s lost, twice, a promise to do better.

Lena gives him another nod, lips sealed. Pope exhales through his nose. He’ll have to work on that, undo all the damage his brother had done.

"Is Mommy gonna be there?"

His throat moves, feeling tighter. He swallows hard, like he’s testing the gentleness of his voice before letting it out. Words don’t come easy to him, but for her, he tries. "No, mommy is not gonna be there, Lena. But she wished she could be there with us. It's what she would have wanted."

Another lie. He can't seem to stop. A part of him believes that it's because she's too young, fragile, innocent. He can't exactly tell her that her mother is dead and worse, by his hands. No, he can't do that. Maybe someday she will know, and when that day comes, she will hate him. Pope knows that. But until then, he is gonna give her a chance at a life. Something his mother didn't do for him, something he stopped Catherine from doing when she had the chance.

"Okay", her voice comes as a whisper.

Lena doesn't cry. She hasn't cried in a while, save for the nightmares. He's there for her when she wakes up in the middle of the night, afraid of a bad dream. 'It's the man, I can hear him outside', she told him once. Pope knows exactly what she's talking about. He doesn't need to close his eyes to remember her voice, calling for Catherine from the car while he dug the grave to bury her mother in.

Monster, the voice inside his head screams.

Yeah, he's aware.

By the time they leave, the house is bare of anything that matters. Chair still in the hallway from when he was guarding her door, after giving up on sleep. Toys and clothes are packed in a suitcase and Lena's backpack. Pictures of her and Catherine. Some with Baz and Smurf. Anything else is replaceable.

Andrew has his shades on as he closes the trunk, dark lenses hiding whatever flickers behind his eyes as he scans the street. Inside, a final packed gym bag sits beside a suitcase — closed all the way, all zippers to the same side. Another black gym bag is there, though the inside stores no clothing. He barely glances at it. His cut. Lena is strapped to her child seat in the back of the car — something nondescript, the kind of car you wouldn't look at twice, just until they're clear to buy a new one somewhere his family can't trace.

The door slams shut as she reaches for the green case on the seat next to her — a new tablet, something to keep her occupied. Andrew adjusts the mirror as he gets into the driver's seat, making sure he sees her. She seems okay, he tells himself. It could be worse. It's his mess, it's his ruin, but he won't let it touch her.

They hit the road with the California sun setting behind them. His old phone is thrown out the window. A cartoon in Spanish is playing from the tablet, the silly and loud noises taking over the interior, but he doesn't mind. Lena's a child, she's meant to be loud. Those headphones are no good for her. There are studies about that. And about all those hours she's been spending glued to a screen. Yeah, she doesn't need that. He'll get her some books when they're home, new crayons — the good shit, not that crap he used to colour with Julia — and stuffed animals to keep her entertained. He saw a play kitchen at the mall — maybe she could open a restaurant. The shadow of what could have been the beginning of a smile brushes past his lips.

He would give her a new life.

Truth be told, he didn't think twice before springing into action. Trouble would come, it always would. They were sitting in the eye of the storm, and he had to make sure that someone would be there to care for Lena. Certainly, it wouldn't be Baz. Half the time he forgot he had a daughter. With Smurf in jail, Andrew was all she had.

Maybe he wasn't the best option for her. Maybe he could never love her more than her mother did, but Andrew loved Catherine, and he loves their daughter too. He'll love her for both of them. And no one would find them, no one would touch her, no one would get past him. It's just him and his daughter now.

Andrew and Lena.

(his fingers tap the steering wheel once, twice)

They'll be alright.

#andrew pope cody #animal kingdom #shawn hatosy

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08melancholie · 8 months ago

Text

Light Banter. — Micah/Reader

tags: Grief/Mourning, Loss, Death, Mistakes, Soft Micah Bell, Crying, Men Crying, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Murder, Brutal Murder, no comfort, Minimal fluff, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Not Proofread, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell, and reader lol

summary: The things Micah would do to go back in time and listen to Dutch, the things he'd said about you. Just for once, to rewrite this passage in his life. But that's an ending he may never face; so he must learn to cope with his mistake—both of your mistakes, and must do so all alone.

a/n: so ummmm ive been thinking abt my own fic for the entire two days ive been writing it LIKE i was in class imagining one of the scenes. micah bell angst LETS GOOOOO !!!!

words: 3,648 | AO3 LINK

Dutch is many things; controlling, manipulative, power-hungry—but somehow never wrong. And Micah had to learn that the hard way.

How he said the two of you were a match made in hell—he was right there. When he said you were both the biggest pains in his arse, always causing trouble wherever you went; when he had to put you both on camp-arrest, an attempt at lecturing you to not go into random bars and start fights; when he'd refuse to send you on jobs together, because he knew the outcome every time.

And you both should have listened, for once.

Another day brings you more trouble to stir. Micah and yourself have been out all day—early morning to late afternoon. Few folks were robbed; few non-compliant killed. It was a bit ruthless and brutal—but you were outlaws, so who cares?

Well, Dutch cared. Too much, in your opinion.

Always had his nose in your business, finding ways to scold you and Micah for any minuscule mission that ended in bloodshed or law. But that was your nature! And per his own word, you can't fight your nature—and so you won't.

Now, was that worth being sat in his tent, talked down to for hours? Well, yes. You either zoned out every time, or were struggling to hold in your chuckles and chortles with Micah; always worsening your situation.

Like today.

"You two are just.. unbelievable!" Dutch is scolding you like two children whom were just caught stealing candy from the corner store. He made you sit down on his cot before he started tearing into you both for another bar fight two towns over—initiated by Micah this time. "I sometimes just want to keep you both in camp, doing chores—because this isn't the way to go about." He adds, and it falls on deaf ears as you space out wherever while Micah just.. sits there, staring at him as if he's processing the words coming out of his mouth, when he in fact isn't. Dutch sees this and is simply fed up. "You know what? We're not gonna continue like this."

His next words get your attention instantly.

"I'm separating you two." Your eyes dart up to meet Dutch's dark ones, glistening with distaste. "No more sharing a tent; no more doing jobs together; hell, if you make me go that far, I'll prohibit you two speaking to each other." He barks, and you feel your heart drop to your feet.

"The fuck?" Dutch shoots you a glare at the vulgar reply and raised tone. "You can't do that, Dutch." You protest, standing up off the cot. Micah's head shoots up to look at Dutch, just as surprised and protesting.

He stands firmly above the two of you, looking and talking down on both. "I can do as I please," He stands back to his desk, where he previously was. "already had Charles start to move your—" He gestures to you. "—things out into a different tent at the other side of camp."

Your jaw goes slack and you feel like you have to pick it off the floor. "That.. Dutch! You can't be serious, that's just plain cruel!" You protest, clearly against the entire idea. But, everyone knows who has the last word; it's the reason Micah hasn't talked all night, and the reason he's been watching you, bewildered at how you're protesting to Dutch's word so confidently.

"I am not changing my mind; get out of my tent, both of you." He says firmly, and you have to be dragged out by Micah as to not pounce on Dutch right then and there.

Micah grabs you and—reluctantly, because he'd love to see you ravage the bastard like a wolf—leads you out of the tent, sighing after you exit and shut the flaps behind yourselves. "As much as I'd love to see it, I can't have 'ya killin' Dutch."

It felt much more real when you've left the tent.

Your eyes snap over to where you shared tent would be; split into two, like they were before you 'moved in' together. "This is bullshit.. he can't just segregate us!" You turn to Micah, who looks just as upset.

"I hear 'ya," He places his hands on his hips, looking at the tent as well. "but.. we both know there's nothing we can do." The truth in his words is painful, and you almost don't want to believe it. "Let me help get yer stuff in." He offers, and you nod with a small frown.

Micah helped you get your stuff across camp, the choice of being moved surprising most onlookers who caught a glimpse of what was going on. You just felt worse; even they didn't understand the choice Dutch made. You were reluctant on sorting the last item in its original place, slowly placing your last book into a drawer. "I.. I won't be used to this—I can't do this, Micah." You turn to face him, looking up with a quivering frown.

Micah feels for you. He doesn't even know if he'll be able to process this. He got used to having you in the tent; reading on your shared bedroll before he'd lay himself down, and you'd start reading aloud to him; early mornings where you'd slip out before him—if he managed to get some shuteye, ever—and greet him with coffee; pouncing on him whenever there was a job the two of you could do together. He'll miss it all. "C'mere, I know.." His arms extend to you, and you waste no time in pressing yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You felt safe there—and you know it sounds foolish; safe in the arms of a bloodthirsty, ruthless killer? Well, that was the honest truth. Before you were this close and started sharing bodily contact every day, his hugs—because rare—always felt much more meaningful and real. Your face buries itself in his chest, hands hugging him from under his arms and resting on his back, where his hands find your sides and squeeze reassuringly. You can't tell if he's trying to reassure you or himself right now. "Why would Dutch do this to us?" You huff into his coat.

He looks down at the top of your head. "Beats me, darlin'. I can't put my finger on it, either." He shifts one hand to your back and traces your spine slowly. "But it's damn unfair, that's one thing."

You nod against him in agreement, then pull away slightly, to be able to look up at him. "I think that we should part right—there's an O'Driscoll camp out west, close enough to be a problem." You smirk up at him, and he returns it.

"Oh, yeah? Is there, now?" He releases his hold on you, letting you take a step back. "Well, what're we waiting on? Don't want Dutchy stoppin' us here, do we?" He brings your smile back to your face, and you instantly make a b-line for your horses, mounting up and not caring about the approaching Hosea, trying to stop you.

The ride to this camp was pretty quick, seeing as the both of you were overly excited about it. You were going to end this right, have fun and then probably sneak off to do jobs and have one of the girls cover for you, like they have before when you got 'grounded' by Dutch a few months back. "And there it is," You point out the small outpost-looking area ahead, hitching your horse close-by, but not too close either. "In all her O'Driscoll glory."

"She looks promisin'," Micah jumps off of his horse, following your lead as you take coverage behind a nearby boulder. "tell me how we're doing this, partner." He looks over to you, ready for your command.

Now, whereas you always usually had a plan on how to do things, you just wanted to stress-relieve this time. And so, you did exactly that. "The plan is, you shoot everyone but me and yourself." You give a brief chuckle before drawing your guns. "I just need to relieve some of these emotions, and killin' off O'Driscoll scum will do it perfectly for me." You add.

Micah's smile turns into that devilish grin you love; taking his DAs out swiftly. "Oh, you've got it, girl." He laughs wickedly—oh, how you love that sound. You nod and cock your weapons, rising from your spot.

The entire area smells of blood and gunpowder, a scent you've gotten much more used to since meeting Micah and going on blood-thirsty missions with him. Bodies are scattered all around; faces with bullet holes in them, slit necks and penetrated chests. You and Micah were stood in one of the cabins there, searching through the many drawers, cabinets and closets inside the room. "Damn, these bastards were poor as dirt." You lean on the table behind Micah, on the opposite side as you watch him search through a closet, his back turned to you.

"I found a few pocket watches, but that's about it." You add.

"Hm, well 'least we got something, wouldn't dream of getting back to Dutch with noth—"

His sentence is interrupted by a horrifying squelching sound. Your breath hitches, nearly just enough to silence you. "Mic.. ah—" Your words are knocked out of your mouth by the sharp pain in your waist, and the hand on your mouth.

Micah turns around immediately, met by the traumatising sight of a knife in your side, a barely alive O'Driscoll's hands on you as he runs the knife deeper, slowly and excruciatingly painfully. "What the—" He draws his revolvers, pointing them at the man who tuts at him like at a bad dog.

"Don't do that, Micah." You let out a breathless gasp when the man twists the knife inside you, your hands shakily trying to push him off. You're gasping into the hand on your mouth, backing up into him as your eyes water. You never had a bad pain tolerance; it was more the look on Micah's face at the predicament you both got yourselves into now that had you wanting to cry. "You killed my brothers, 'ya rat."

Micah's unsure in what he's supposed to do. He grips his guns tightly, staring wide-eyed at the sight before him as he scrambles for any way to stop your pain, watching you squirm for release. "Let her go, she ain't done nothing."

The man just laughs and gives another twist of his hand and knife in your side that has you gritting your teeth together. "She slit one of 'em's throats. Wild little thing, is she?" His breath is hitting your neck as he speaks, clasping his hand down harder on your mouth. His knife handle is almost soaked, red staining your light blue shirt and trickling down to your jeans. Just as he stops twisting it, he pulls it out. You squeak out in pain, shutting your eyes closed.

Micah practically growls, watching the man pull the knife out and press the soaking red blade to your throat. "Please—don't." He's desperate, barely able to look at you fighting to stay standing, gripping onto the mans' forearm for dear life. Dear life, indeed.

"Wow," The O'Driscoll laughs, pressing the blade in harder. "beg me some more, Micah Bell. Never thought you was that kinda person." Micah is fighting between anger and worry; wanting to rip the man's head off while watching you squirm, losing more and more blood by the second.

His blood runs cold when a dead silence fills the room and you still up—the knife painting your neck red.

"No!—" He shoots the man dead on the spot, a headshot right into the forehead. He drops his guns and kneels to you, making you sit up and lean on the wall. "Damn it! No, no—don't do this to me, girl.." He unbuttons his undershirt and rips a piece up out of it, trying to hold it up to your neck in an attempt at saving some blood loss. "Come on, you can't do this to me—this is not how we said we was parting, sweetheart," He holds your hand up to your neck, your eyes rolling back as you cough and clench your side. "Please, please don't."

As an outlaw, this was actually how you always envisioned your demise. But, you never thought it'd be this brutal—or that Micah would be forced to watch. "Micah—" You attempt to speak, and it sounds terrifying; your voice isn't you, it doesn't sound like you.

"Don't talk, baby. I'mma.. I'll get'chu home.." You can't really tell if he's trying to convince himself or you that there's a possibility of redemption here, the horrifying look in his eyes as your blood paints the floor and himself, the hand holding yours over your neck getting soaked and trickling down his whole arm. He's getting just as bloody as you, and yet he still thinks there's a way to save this. "It's not too deep.. I can still get 'ya home.." He's huffing and out of breath, as if he just ran a marathon.

You use the hand on your hip to shakily touch his shoulder, removing it from the first knife wound. "No—.." You mumble breathlessly, shaking your head at him. "Stay.. while I go." You manage out, blood leaking down your front from between yours and Micah's fingers.

"No, please—please let me help 'ya. Don't do this to me." He's pleading with you, reaching his free hand to hold onto your side. "Please." He's never experienced loss like this; for a man that killed and saw death since he was a young boy, he sure wasn't prepared.

"Hug me."

"Y/N, don't."

"Hug. Me."

"I love you, darlin'. Why won't you let me help you?"

"Please, Micah. Hug me, hold me in my last moments."

His hands release your wounds. One goes to the back of your head, leaning you into his chest as the other runs through your hair. "I never wanted this, baby. I'm so fucking sorry." He's whispering into your ear while running his bloody hands through your hair, pressing you into himself. This is how you always wanted to die; in the hands of your favourite person, getting to hold them and breathe in their scent, making sure they're the last memory you have despite the way you'd die.

You start to feel woozy; dizzy. You feel your breaths leaving your lungs, your life leaving your body. This, was something no amount of preparation could calm you. "I'm.. scared." You manage out, holding onto his shoulders with a surprising amount of strength.

"Don't be, baby. You'll feel better." He hums, his voice cracking. "And I'll see you there, too. I'll be there, at some point." He whispers, pulling you away briefly to press a kiss to your forehead, wiping some blood off of your neck before leaning you back into him. "I'mma bury you at the nicest spot you'd have ever seen. I'll visit you every day, babygirl. I know you love tulips; how 'bout I plant some there? You'll love that, won't you?" He rambles into your hair.

A haunting silence. Your breaths slow down and hands stop gripping his shirt, and you go limp on top of him. That's what truly breaks him as his eyes water, maybe for the first time in multiple decades. "Oh, baby. I'll make sure you have the prettiest little spot.. with the prettiest little flowers." His tears stream down to your face as he pulls you away to look at you; his beautiful, strong girl.

"Me an' Charles'll bury you, give you the best spot in the entire damn country. I'm so goddamn sorry."

After a moment of silence, he got up and grabbed his guns, holstering them before gently picking you up. He got you up on his horse, calling your own to follow him as he left the massacred O'Driscoll camp behind—not before setting a fire to the cabin in which the man who killed you laid. Just in case.

He held you against him the entire ride back to camp which felt much longer without your little quips and stories, uncaring of how stained his clothes were from your blood. He occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head, fastening you against him.

Getting into camp was probably the most terrifying part. He hitched up and held you against him as he stood at the entrance of the campsite, feeling shellshocked. He looked down at your unmoving body, his eyes narrowing to your much more peaceful face.

"Oh, Micah."

His head perks up to the sight of Hosea, standing up from the campfire and slowly walking over, his eyes wide and one hand covering his mouth. "Micah.. Micah, how.?" Hosea was at a loss for words; hell, he assumed you invincible from how many close calls he had to watch you suffer through, so seeing you unmoving in Micah's arms was a terrifying sight. "No—you don't have to say anything. I'll.. get Charles—Charles!" He turns and yells for the other man, as Micah looks back down to you, waiting on Charles.

He soon shows up and instantly frowns, looking down at your body. He looks up to Micah after a moment of silence.

"You know where you want to bury her?"

It was a nice little hill, always painted in flowers during the spring. There was a lake nearby—you always loved sneaking off and skinny-dipping with him, uncaring of Dutch's lecture the next day when you'd be too tired to work. You liked smelling things, too; from flowers to Pearson's meals to Micah himself. You constantly got up into his chest and took in his scent when he hugged you—or when you involuntarily tacked him into an embrace. He'll miss your little surprise attacks on him. He hopes that the flowers will be enough to smell for you.

"Do you want a moment before we lower her in?"

Charles' voice gets Micah out of his zone, and he looks at the man. "Thank you.." He grumbles and Charles nods, walking off a few feet to give Micah his well-deserved privacy.

Micah takes a seat down next to your lifeless body, now cleaned up and dressed in your favourite outfit. You looked mostly like yourself—if you ignore the paleness of your skin and neck wound openly displayed, unable to be hid behind your shirt collar. He takes you in for one final hug, breathing in your scent, like you would with him. It pained him that you smelled like gunpowder and blood in your last moments, but at least the perfume Karen offered to put on you made a small difference. He embraces you for a long time, enough for Charles to come back and interrupt, asking Micah if it'd be okay now. And Micah knew you needed peace; so he agreed.

His eyes could barely stay opened as Charles shuffled dirt over your body, losing the sight of you slowly. He bit his lip, watching the last of your face get lost in the surrounding dirt. His eyes watered briefly, but he couldn't let himself cry in front of Charles, so he shoved it down.

Charles tapped the back of the shovel over the dirt pouch, flattening it out before taking a step back. "There," He turns to Micah briefly. "I'll leave 'ya to.. process it. Seems you still need to." He hums before walking away, leaving Micah holding back tears before your grave.

Despite never being a religious man, he hoped that an ending was real and that you'd gotten your peace, even in your brutal suffering.

People in camp mourned you and visited your grave for a few weeks before most stopped and moved on. But Micah couldn't.

He was there every day—early morning to late evening, if not downright sleeping at your burial. He had issues with insomnia before, and you always made it easier to fall into the slumber he always hoped for. Sleeping next to your grave hasn't helped too much, but he feels better; not wanting you to rest alone, by your wish you vocalised when Dutch wanted to split your tent apart. Your grave was cared for immensely, and there was barely any space around it from the overwhelming amount of flowers Micah had either bought or planted himself. He had one of the girls teach him how, and made sure to include dozens of tulips. He knew what you liked.

"You've been gone three and a half months, baby. I still bring 'ya tulips.. but I'm not sure if you're getting tired of them." He spoke to your gravestone a lot; he missed your voice immensely, now regretting the few times he'd space out while you yapped his ear off about some random topic. "I planted a few roses, I know you like 'em too."

"Hope you can see and hear me, darlin'. Did you know I got your name into my other barrel, huh?" He takes his right revolver out, tracing his fingers over the initials he carved into the guns' barrel. "Yeah... it's real nice, huh?" He holstered the weapon again, looking down at you under the dirt patch for a moment before looking up at the sky. Somehow, it always looked the prettiest when he'd visit you.

"That's you, ain't it, sweetheart?"

The sky was a mix of neon oranges and pinks, slowly fading into light, morning blues as the sun made its way up the horizon. The clouds were nowhere to be found, letting the sun pass into another day. Another day he spent with you.

"Hi to you too, my sweet girl."

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated! Finally finished this fic dear God. I want this man so bad its unreal chat.

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staytinyville · 1 year ago

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Lollipop

↣ Summary: Seonghwa and his sweet tooth usually come out to play when you do.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Seonghwa x reader

↣ Genre: Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: dom!seonghwa, bimbo!reader,

↣ Word Count: 1.7k+

↣ Warnings: Shirabi, food play, nipple play, oral (f receiving), dacryphilia,

↣ A/N: Seonghwa fucked me up this comeback bro. This isn't beta read. I literally wrote this 2 minutes ago lol.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @cultofdionysusnet , @pirateeznet , @wonderlandnet , @cromernet , @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You tried your best to breathe in through your nose, allowing your body to relax its stiff muscles. It had been about 10 minutes since your arms and chest had been bound together, kneeled on the floor. However in those ten minutes you weren’t allowed to move from the spot the man had put you in. You were forced to stay on your knees, naked save for the pastel colored thigh highs you had arrived at the building in.

Seonghwa, who sat on the couch on the other side of the room, was enjoying a lollipop as his legs spread open. He allowed himself to be as naked as you, getting off to someone just watching him in his nude form. One of his arms was stretched across the back of the couch as he barely paid you any mind. As he cleared his throat you looked up and watched as he shifted his hips to get more comfortable and his cock had moved across his stomach.

Your eyes flew up to his mouth as he sucked on the lollipop one last time before taking it out, his lips forming a pop around the sweet candy. You licked your lips, looking down to the ground when his dark eyes found yours. He got up from his seat, his footsteps making their way towards you with small clicks of his boots.

“Look at me, sweet girl.” Seonghwa breathily spoke, crouching in front of you.

He took a hold of your chin, raising your head to meet his eyes. He began to grin wickedly when he saw how blown out your pupils had gotten, your breathing shallow and your lids trying to hold off from falling close. He felt a swell in his chest watching you look so fucked out without even so much as a touch on your skin. You were easy to get high off his sexual power.

“Want a taste?” He asked against your lips, waving the lollipop around.

You glanced at the candy before turning to his lips. You could see the red of the cherry flavoring staining his lips. And when he went to lick his lips you saw how the color stuck to his tongue.

He smiled proudly when he noticed where your head was going. “Such a pretty girl.” Seonghwa groaned deeply before dipping his head to give you a kiss full of tongue.

You nearly fell over from his body practically shoving you back, but you were quick to gather your thoughts again, shoving back as your body straightened up. Seonghwa began to get up from his position, draggin you with him. With pressure off your knees, you felt relief. However it was short lived when the air blew onto your core.

Seonghwa felt you shiver against him, your thighs clenching together as you squirmed from sensitivity. He cooed, pulling back from you. His eyes were wide, looking cartoonish almost as he looked at you like you were a precious ring he didn’t want to share with anyone else. He had his boyish grin, fingers digging into your cheeks as he rubbed at them.

“This is what I want you to do.” He spoke up, leaning down to rub at your sore knees for a moment.

“I’m not going to make you stay on your knees longer. I don’t like it when my baby has bruises.” He pouted, stretching back up.

As he put the lollipop back into his mouth, he began to lead you towards the couch, pulling you to stand between his legs as he fell down onto the cushions. His hands skimmed over the back of your thighs lightly, fingers dipping between the crease where your thighs met your ass. You whimpered, causing Seonghwa to grin, as the tips of his fingers were met with the wetness that was dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pulled the sweet from his lips. “I want you to keep this in your mouth and not make a single sound.” he tapped the lollipop against your lips, his saliva still coating the cherry treat.

Your tongue poked out, ready to take it into your mouth and do as he asked but he quickly pulled it back.

“Not yet.” He smiled. “Impatient baby.”

He stuck it back into his mouth to coat it once more, making sure it was covered with enough spit to not dry out the moment he pulled it out. When he did, you squeaked quietly as he quickly swirled the ball around your nipples, bottom lip pulled in between his lips as he watched with hungry eyes the red stain your body.

As he finished with his ministrations he turned to look up at you with hooded eyes. “Now you have to be quiet.”

It didn’t take him a second between shoving the lollipop into your mouth to him placing his entire mouth around one of your breasts. Seonghwa was a careful lover but he was still rough when it came to how he ravished you. He didn’t like leaving bruises, but that didn’t stop him from leaving the ones he knew would fade in a day.

Your teeth clench around the lollipop as you felt his teeth scrape against your hard nipples and how he seemed to suck as if he was trying to milk you. Your hands flew to behind his head, playing with his hair to distract you from the twitching of your limbs. Your knees began to wobble, swaying back and forth.

Seonghwa was quick to notice as he looked up at your scrunched up face and your need to grab onto something. So he moved his hands behind your thighs, holding you upright against him as he moved onto your other nipple.

He pulled away with a pop, chin resting between your chest as he waited for you to look at him. When you did he smiled cutely. Without so much as noticing, you gasped around the lollipop almost choking on it when his hand softly cupped your core. His rubbed his middle finger back and forth on your lips, not touching your core fully just yet.

“My baby is pretty. All for me.” He told you, eyes shining brightly.

“I love you so much. You’re so good to me.” He pouted, looking down at his hand playing with your pussy. “All the messes you make when I touch you. I love it so much.”

He pulled his hand back, watching as a string of slick came off you, groaning when he quickly moved to place his finger in his mouth. His eyes closed shut, head falling back as he tasted you. “My sweet girl, so good.” He whispered to himself.

“Seonghwa.” You whimpered around the lollipop, tears pooling in your eyes.

Your knees knocked together, bouncing up and down to get stimulation in your core. Seonghwa tsked, placing his hands on your hips as he moved you to lay on the couch on your back.

“My baby just wants to cum.” Seonghwa spoke out loud.

He moved to his knees, coming eye level to your core. He watched as the tears began to well up and one fell down the side of your cheek. He began to grin wickedly, scooting down further to breathe gently along your slit.

“Keep the lollipop in your mouth, jagiya.”

His words blew across your core, making you want to close your knees together. But Seonghwa’s body was blocking you.

“If it falls out,” He grinned. “I’m gonna have to punish you.”

His tongue laid flat onto your core after that. Since he didn’t tell you to be quiet this time, you let out a loud moan, almost choking on your saliva from the lollipop. He licked a large stripe from your hole up to your clit. You began to squirm, almost twisting away from him but he placed a hand along your hips to keep you from moving.

Your lips closed around the candy, moaning in a hum with eyes squeezed tightly shut. From his position he could see the tears falling into your hair. Each tear only made him give your clit a suck as his tongued at your hole. When he noticed saliva spill from your mouth he started to suck you harder, focused completely on making you cum on his face.

He moved his arms to hold your thighs up, fingers spreading you open as he mouthed harshly. As he began to suck on your clit once more, your eyes snapped open and you let out a cry that allowed the lollipop to fall from your lips.

Your orgasm came as you full force and you began to whimper and cry from the waves that began to crash down onto you. Soenghwa didn’t stop, instead softly lapping at your clenching hole that pulled his tongue in. His eyes rolled to the back of his as he shut them to fall into the bliss that was your pussy wanting to clench on something.

He groaned into your core, making your flinch from the overstimulation and whimper again. Seonghwa leaned up from his spot, grinning to himself when he noticed you trying to put the candy back into your mouth but your whimpers and tears were preventing you from making any kind of movement.

“Awe, baby couldn’t hold it in her mouth.” Seonghwa cooed again, taking the lollipop from your chin.

You sniffled, eyes opening to look at him. He leaned forward to lick at the sweet saliva that had dripped down the side of your mouth. He hummed at the cherry taste, licking his lips when his eyes moved up to watch you cry.

“I don’t like when you cry over sad things. But your tears of pleasure make me dizzy.” He whispered against your mouth, slotting his hips between your legs.

You whimpered again when you felt his hot cock between your pussy lips, wiggling to get him to where you wanted.

“Can you give me more?” He asked you, forehead placed on yours.

He smoothed down the hair in your face, slowly rocking back and forth. The lollipop dangled from his fingers close to slipping. But when you sniffled again and gave him quick nods, he leaned back up and placed the treat back in his mouth.

“My pretty girl gives so much.”

And so he slowly pushed himself in.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki , @emtrades22 , @tinyelfperson , @jaerisdiction , @0rangemilk , @v0nnaa , @wolfgurl2600-blog , @palindrome969 ,

#kpop fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #ateez smut #ateez fic #atz #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez golden hour #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #kpop smut

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lumineary-arts · 1 year ago

Note

I feel like I should let you know that you're one of my favorite murder drones artists like. EVER?? Your art is SO COOL hsjfknhf and I LOVE your Swap! AU ❤❤❤❤

First of all, I really wanna point you to @electrozeistyking 's Ghost Drone AU, it's another one of my favorites

Second of all, I wanna show you MY future AU which I still don't have a name for, but I have so many little plans in my head that idk how to get on paper, but here's what I DO have on paper‼️

Here's some designs I had drawn out

Reaper Drones are basically a newer form of disassembly drone that WEREN'T originally worker drones. They don't have much of a personality core. They just kill

Yes I gave them both Beta!J hairs because drones look WEIRD without hair

I ended up deciding that the original Nora design was gonna be a flashback design and gave her an updated design that isn't 6 years old. But it was too late..... SHE'S A MARKETABLE PLUSHIE NOW........

Anyway here's her updated design lol

She thankfully hasn't shown signs of the Absolute Solver.... YET.....

I hope you have a wonderful day!! Thank you for taking the time to read this super long ask❤❤❤

NORA HAS SUCH A SWEET DESIGN AWWW- oh these are interesting!! The idea of Reaper Drones that have the sole purpose to kill, without having been worker drones in the past is fun I love it. Nora's little form having all the physical elements of a DD but just harmless (like the tail going from being a stinger to being a lantern) is also super creative!!

#lumi answers!#murder drones

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take-everything-you-can · 2 years ago

Text

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: This Fandom has given me the most inspiration I've had in years and this is a thank you to every single one of you. This idea spurred from one too many drinks and unhinged DMs and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. So here goes nothing lol. A special thanks to my lady loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @bettyfrommars , and @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading and letting me fill your inboxes with all my little thots for our little gremlin man !

P.S : BEFORE I GET INTO ANYTHING THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without ya'll )

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )

Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one your married to.

TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, mentions of weight ( mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining Smut- fingering, soft touches, overstimulation slightly very slight, unprotected PIV, cream pie, spanking,..... tbh i can't think of anymore but if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)

WC: 4.1K

Flour covers the countertop in your kitchen, and a rolling pin is set to the side while you knead the soft pastry ingredients together. Apples sit freshly peeled in a separate dish. Sliced and added to sugar and cinnamon. Picking up the rolling pin, you do your best to flatten the dough to a thin sheet and mold it to the glass dish before you.

“Well, this dough is much better than the first,” you say aloud to yourself. Your husband once told you that speaking out loud to yourself was a sign of a weak mind, you never put much stock in that. But here you were doing exactly that as your days consist of waiting for your husband to return home from work.

You splash a bit of vanilla into the apple mixture to complete your pie filling. Once it is all tucked neatly beneath the fluffy dough, you take a knife and leave four little holes within the surface and crimp the edges together, sealing the flavors within. A touch of sugar is added to the top along with an egg wash before placing the pie on a rack in the oven. A timer is set for twenty minutes, a reminder to lower the temperature and to add your special ingredient.

Soft music plays throughout the house, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald keep you company on these long lonely days. Lonely but only for such a short time. Your husband works for the state doing something he thinks you're too dumb to understand so why talk about it? If anyone ever asks you simply say ‘Oh please you think a woman wants to know such things’. That usually earns you a laugh at cocktail parties and a warm smile from your man. If you could even call him that.

Yes, he is your man in the sense that your last names are the same and you had shared the same bed. Where is the love though? It isn’t tangible and hasn’t been for quite some time now. Your day begins and ends with a few words apart from an I love you. You served him still, acted to the prying eyes, as a doting Wife. Four years and Everyone still thought you had a perfect life.

That dream of white picket fences and shared milkshakes. That love of never-ending kisses and satisfying sex. Everyone around you wanted all that you had. Would they still want your life if they could see past those closed doors and shut curtains?

Would they want to spend their mornings hiding the bags under their eyes from nights of restless sleep? Would they want to have a constant monologue of the flaws seen in the mirror? Ones that your oh-so-loving husband pointed out to you time and time again. Would they want to cook and clean knowing they would never receive a thank you? No, you knew they wouldn’t. All the small things that build and grow until it becomes a monotonous routine. Walking through days as if the next would be the exact same and then doing it all again and again, Until one day something changed.

Two months prior A knock on the door, one that started to come once a week. The company of CC & Drums Dairy was paid to bring you a gallon of milk, A necessity your husband called it. A man with long dark locks that flowed over his shoulder and curls that dipped across his forehead under his cap. Deep Brown eyes that sparkled with flecks of amber as the sun hit him just right. Dressed in white overalls to comply with his company uniform and sleek black shoes that shine just as brightly as his smile. His name tag reads Eddie in a sweet embroidered cursive. Eddie, a name that would soon become something you would never forget.

Your timer goes off as you check the pie, squeezing a lemon over the crust for that citrus tang. Slipping the dessert back into the oven, for another half hour or so, a knock sounds through the house, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy. Eddie had arrived.

A quick task of undoing the strings to your apron and a fast fix of hair in the mirror you had hung in the hall. A hand to your abdomen as you intake a breath and let it stagger out between your lips, hesitating to open the door. The second you see him you can feel the way the tops of your cheeks heat and plump with a smile. One that matches his.

You take a second and wonder if he knows how handsome he is. The way the small lines beside his eyes crinkle with years of use. You wonder if he knows that the instant you see him, your heart stops beating. But most of all you wonder if you're the only one those soft eyes and long lashes catch in his gaze.

“Afternoon darling, I must say this heat wave has got to be breaking records. Ought not keep these out here too long.” as he lifts the small crate of glass bottles holding the product out.

You knew better than to take it from him, even if every bone in your body screamed too. The last time you tried you nearly flipped the whole crate, underestimating the weight. From that day on you always stood to the side as you let Eddie into your home to set the dairy in your kitchen. It was another thing you wondered about him. Did he do this for everyone else too?

“ Well let's not keep them then sir.” standing to the side he slides past you brushing a hand across the elbow you held to the door. His way of saying hello. Small touches here and there as he could never keep his hands to himself for too long in your presence.

“ Something smells awful delicious in her ma’am.”

“An Apple pie is in the oven, maybe you’ll stay and have a slice. For your troubles of course.”

“Mhmm, my troubles.” Eddie sat the crate on the counter next to the ice box and turned his body towards you and enveloped you in his stronghold. An intoxicating embrace as he pulled you flush to his body.

“ I missed you, you know that pretty girl?” soft tone, almost a whisper. A small smile he couldn't see but could feel made its way to your face.

“I bet you say that to all the girls on your route.” he lets out a small chuckle.

“Only the breathtaking ones.” a falter to your features as your mind reeled with all the possibilities.

Does he miss Mrs.Cunningham the way he misses you? Does he miss Ms.Buckley the same? That sick green monster finds its way under your skin as you think of all the girls he must have at his beck and call. But today that monster wasn’t going to ruin the few fleeting moments you could spend with him. You needed Eddie in the most carnal of ways.

“Do you want to know what I missed? “ Your fingers trail their way from the small of his back and up over his shoulder, landing on his neck just below his ear. Cupping his face you bring it down and catch his lips as they meet yours.

“Oh yeah? you missed me too Pumpkin?” a second crash of your lips to his, makes him hum from the back of his throat. His nose nudges yours to the left so his teeth can catch your bottom lip, pulling back slightly to hear the small whine you emit.

“I always miss you, Eddie.” His hands travel down over your figure as he starts to ruffle the hem of your dress up. Thankful for its length to hide how wet you had become just from him being in the home you share with your spouse. A topic you and Eddie tried to steer clear of, but the wrongness of the act just felt so right.

Over a year your husband hadn’t touched you, barely talked to you and some days you were even sure he hadn't even looked in your direction. Eddie though, In the last two months, Eddie had made you feel seen. He made you feel heard, and most of all he made you feel desired.

As his hand finds the thin cotton that covers your cunt he glides his digits over the wet patch that had grown by just the thought of him. A deep hum and a small huff of breath from Eddie against your neck as he kissed his way to your shoulder.

“So wet for me and I've barely even touched you. Are you that starved for affection?” The words forming in that sweet small surrender to him were all but cut off as he slid a finger through your folds and teased your entrance. A gasp was the response he got, one he loved to hear in protest every time he had you.

“C’mon honey tell me what you want.” how could you respond to him with words if you couldn't even think of them? The man before you had spent the last few months discovering just how to make you melt in his arms.

He knew that the spot behind your knee was his best friend for when he had you on your back. He knew the way your hips stutter when you're close to your peak, and he knew that if your eyes found that they couldn't stay open that you were in utter bliss.

His favorite thing he had learned throughout your time together though was that even when he knew you had your doubts, you still trusted him in every sense of the word.

After only two months Eddie knew you better than you know yourself. Better than your husband had ever cared to know you.

“ Please, Eddie.” He smiled down at you

“ Please What Honey?”

“ Dip in Eddie, Fuck me please.” He could feel the slackening of your legs as his assault on your clit had made you a bit sensitive, in his focus on making you feel as good as he possibly could, in what little time he had with you. He slid two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat as his thumb stayed in a rhythm that matched his wrist as he curled in and let the sounds of his efforts echo off the small kitchen walls.

Moaning into Eddie's ear as his finger worked in and out of you making that heat inside of you grow higher and higher. Clutching the strap of his overalls, a small pull leaning back, as the pleasure he was giving you kept climbing.

“ Come on now baby, let go.” A final intake of air, hold on to the breath that led you to your walls squeezing eddies fingers tight. That coil snapped as you let your body fall slack against him a loud moan from the farthest depths within you found its way out of your lungs.

When your eyes land on Eddie after your come down all you can see is that smile. The dimple-creasing smile that kept haunting your dreams at night.

“I need more.” You didn’t know how but his smile grew even wider and more sinister as his tone began to deepen. A kiss is pressed to your lips, not urgent, understanding.

“ You need more? Well, it's a damn good thing that what you're asking for is in stock then Pumpkin.” He turned you around to face the small table that sat in your kitchen, knowing what he wanted from you. He wasn’t the only one taking notes from your time together.

You braced yourself against the worn wood and clutched the sides of it as you heard the familiar clinks of metal as his rings fumbled with the buckle of his belt.

The wait, though it is small, is brutal. Anticipation makes your stomach flip and cunt flutter. A shuffle out of his overalls gives Eddie a moment to just admire the way you listen so well. These small moments have him thanking every bad decision that got him here. To this small town, with this small job, on this small route. A route he picked up as a last resort. Yeah, he doesn't know who he's praying to but whoever is listening, he's singing grace.

A grip in the slight pudge of your hips to keep himself steady, Eddie is gentle as he slips his cock through your folds gathering your slick over his length and breaching your desire. A deep moan and a few choice words fall from Eddie as he fills you and meets the small wavering gasp you let out, a breath you didn't know you had been holding. A whine of impatience, his sign to move.

A soft speed turns ravenous as his dick uses your walls to curve his hooks into you deeper and deeper. A sigh of his name and you can feel the stutter in his thrust. He slows his pace if only to keep himself from having to leave your presence all too soon.

"Fuck darling, so good to me, taking me so well like this pussy was made for me." You mewl from beneath him, dropping your forehead to the wood that is holding you up. You fear that if it had not been here your legs would have given up the second he started talking. "Isn't that right pumpkin? Made just for me? " A sharp thrust and you know he wants an answer in the way his grip turns bruising. A trip through your mind as you try and collect the words from thin air.

"YES! God yes, I was made just for you."

"Such a good girl for me baby. That's right, isn't it? You're all mine aren't you?" Another squeeze to your hip and a smack that lands hard on your ass. Eddie's palm kneads the sting as you answer him.

" All yours, all yours, no one else, just you baby." A grunt hum from the back of his throat as he grips your shoulder and leans so his body is flush with yours. His breath is on your neck as he leans to your ear.

"Not even your husband, just you and me baby?"

"Just you and me Ed's" Your eyes tunnel and you see white as your orgasm rushes through you, Eddie's own a thrust away as he moans deep against your skin. His body weight and yours against the kitchen table as you both find your way down from the clouds.

Small kisses he leaves to your spine and the back of your neck. You turn your head and he places another small one to the upturned corner of your mouth. A bell chimes and you sit for a few seconds letting Eddie gather his own bearings. A small pat to the curve of your pussy as Eddie pulls the cotton back in place. A shock to your sensitivity.

"Keep that in there baby, that way you have a part of me while I'm gone." A heat to your cheeks as the thought of Eddie's cum dripping out of you while your husband sat across from you and read the paper over dinner. A sly smirk from the man you just let defile the small space, one you would let do ungodly things to you.

You put on oven mitts as Eddie finds a few glasses in the cabinet. You slice into the flakey crust and slip through the filling as you place the large piece on a plate for you to share. Eddie pours milk as you find some silverware, he places the bottles in your fridge so they keep.

Turning with a smile, he is the definition of adoration. In your eyes he is everything.

Why is it that when his time with you is coming to an end you almost wish it would end as soon as possible? Almost as if you would wish he would part with some harsh words to make you not want him in the most beautiful ways. You have to make yourself believe these things before he leaves because if you don’t, it would just shatter you. So you take a different route, you don’t shatter yourself, instead, you splinter and crack all the things that hold you until you see him again. The times where he glues those little shards back in place if only for you to break them off again and again. A scared thought and a small shake of your head trying to rid yourself of it. A married woman. What would he possibly want from you other than a good lay?

He sees that doubt within your mind as if reading it. He takes your hand in his as he laces your fingers together.

“ Penny for your thoughts Pumpkin?” You glance finally meeting his eyes as you clear your throat.

“ Nothing important hun.” You slide a fork to his side of the table as your eyes dart to the clock. He squeezes your hand once more, lowering his eyes in search of yours again.

“It is important if it bothers you.” Your heart stops. The breath you were going to take gets caught in your throat and you turn on that winning smile you had trained yourself to hold in uncomfortable circumstances. One you wish he couldn't see through.

“ It’s nothing Eds, really.”

“Do you promise?” you take a hand and cup his cheek.

How do you tell him that he is your first thought in the morning and the last thought before falling asleep? How instead of counting sheep you try and count the freckles on his face by sheer memory? How could you tell him you wish you were his one and only? That you have never felt about another human soul the way you feel about his. Instead, you stuff it down, apple pie soon to follow.

“I Promise.”

You know he doesn’t believe you but he would rather set out to sea and die of starvation as the sharks feed from him than to make the last moments he has with you tainted with fights and tears. God when you cry it absolutely destroys him.

The first time you had ever let him take you in his arms you had just gotten off the phone with your husband. He had heard hushed words while he waited for you to grab the weekly tip your husband left for him. Your husband had informed you that he would not be coming home, as the fight from the night before had lingered into the morning and would now follow you well into the night. The first time you had opened the door Eddie studied the angelic features of your face, and they had plagued his dreams for such a long time at this point.

When you rounded the corner with a smudge of mascara beneath your eyes, he instantly without thinking took you in, pushing your face to his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head. Slight comfort made the tears begin again as he wiped the remainder of the smudge and irritation from your face. No man had ever done something as small as comforting you before. In the two months since he had started this route, he knew he had instantly fallen head over heels in love with you.

You had taken two bites from the plate that sat in front of you and Eddie had finished the slice. He even went as far as to slide a finger in the crumbs on the plate and lick them off in an attempt to show you how much he had enjoyed it. His time with you.

A gathering of glasses you brought to the sink as he brought the other dishes and sat them in the deep well while wrapping his arms around your waist and you stood eyes closed relishing in the last little bit of affection he could offer to you.

A kiss to your shoulder as you turn your head resting it on his.

“I’ll be by in a week Pumpkin.” A nod to the fact you already knew. “ Seven days.” Another nod, not risking the crumble in your voice. “ Not long at all.” Another small kiss to your cheek as you turned into his chest and rested your forehead on his.

“Seven days?”

“ Seven days Pumpkin. Do you think you can wait for me? Just seven days? “

“I think I could wait a lifetime for you Eddie.”

“I’ll see you in a week, Mrs.Carver.”

“ A week Mr.Munson.”

A kiss to your lips and a parting gift of his very own pie before he snuck out through the back door, so as to not raise suspicion. A slow walk from the kitchen to the door and to turn a lock, on your mind. On your hope. You could do this. You could wait seven days.

Your husband comes through the door late as he had been doing for the last year or so. You had expected it from him at this point. You had started to make his dinner later and later knowing that if you had made it too early he would tell you all the ways he couldn't eat it. If it had gone too cold he would refuse and the hard work would go directly into the trash.

He walked in as you took his dinner off the stove and placed it on a dish for him.

“Right on time doll.”

“ I don’t know how on time it is, It’s Nearly eight in the evening, Jason!”

“ I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

He always did this. He would come home and you would ask him where he had been, and he’d always end the conversation before it could even begin. You sat his plate in front of him as you sat across the table from him. Times where you could really take him in and see that the feelings you had once long ago were snuffed out like a flame to a candle.

“ Are you not eating dear?”

“ I ate a bit earlier in the day.”

“Thanks for waiting .” He rolled his eyes and you returned the gesture.

“ I wouldn’t have had to wait if you had just picked up the phone and told me when you were going to be on your way home. I’m not waiting until we hit a new day to eat Jason I’m not going hungry just so you-”

“ Wouldn’t harm you any though would it.”

You left the table. Your weight had started to become a key focus as he knew it bothered you more than anything else. You had gained some weight and your mother and friends had commented on it from time to time. For your husband to tho, it made you furious. You ate when you were unhappy, it was something you had done since you were a child. The only person who thought you could stand to eat a little more had been Eddie.

It happened slowly, you would make him food now and then, and the majority of the time He would offer you a bit. It started with a bite and progressed into cutting his sandwiches in half just so you could have something to eat. Unlike your husband, Eddie had a suspicion that you weren’t eating enough. Like you weren’t giving your body what it needed to survive so he would constantly ask for you to eat with him. At least then he would know you had something of substance within your day.

You had gone to your bedroom and gotten out of your daily’s slowly separating them into their hampers waiting to hear the stomping footsteps of Jason as he made his way to the spare bedroom. He had taken residency there about a month before Eddie came into your life and you were thankful for the times that Eddie left you yearning for more. To call out another man's name while with your significant other no matter how insignificant they were would still bring you shame like no other.

Slipping into your nightgown as Jason shuts the door to his room you wait a few minutes to take the walk back down the stairs to stand in front of the sink. Looking up at the sky through the window above the stars seem to shine brightly. You attempt to find the little dipper and look for its companion not far from where it lays, the version of a larger size. Constellations begin to blur as you let the silent tears fall. Hoping that somewhere out there in this little old town, Eddie too is looking up at the moon and wishing you were by his side as you wished upon all the stars in the sky. What a long time seven days would be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #milkman!eddie #eddie fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

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scekrex · 1 year ago

Note

Smut? Yes smut, hey, hello bby 🤭

Adam and reader just taking a stroll on Earth, simply to walk around and spend time together somewhere that isn't all light and overly brightly colourful Heaven (They got a permission from Sera, surprisingly lol, they promised to behave which is even more of a miracle and a phenomenon). Since they couldn't look like they normally do, halos, wings and etc. (Plus Adam's height, this bitch is a giant, I think he's like 10ft tall standing next to everyone and especially Alastor who's 7ft tall 💀) or even the eyes, even if they could pass as contact lenses, they just took their human forms like during the mission they got some time ago (Is this a continuation of the previous prompt? You bet your cute ass it is). They stumble upon the bar they were in during said mission and decided to go in, this time without the intention of getting hammered since they got reprimanded hard af by Sera for that, so they got like three, four lighter drinks before some tries to cozy themselves up to reader, clearly not caring about Adam literally having his arm around his husband's waist, shamelessly flirting and trying to get him to follow them to "have some fun". Adam being Adam, completely anxious and insecure about shit like this since it happened before immediately stands between the person and reader, telling them to fuck off before storming out of the bar with reader, quickly getting back to Heaven to fuck his brains out not to only calm down his insecurities and rage but to also make sure that his husband remembers who his heart (and ass) belongs to (Not as if we'd ever forget, btich we loyal in this house).

Muah 🤭😘

My skilled fingers casted some magic and I present to you: Adam fucking your brains out. He does it quite well too (didn't expect any less from the Dickmaster himself)

Got Me Obsessed

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, consensual sex, unprotected sex, blood

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

It was refreshing to escape heaven's bright colors and shiny lights for a night, while yes heaven was drop dead gorgeous and you were very grateful that you were allowed to spend eternity up there with Adam, it was nice to see earth again.

Your last visit had been nice too, yet it had ended with Adam and you all wet and drunk and though it had been fun, it wasn't something you planned on repeating all too soon because the headache that had held you in a chokehold the day after had been many things and pleasant wasn't one of them.

So when you two walked past the supermarket that you had stolen a shopping cart from the last time you had been here, you couldn't help but look at each other with the stupidest grin ever. Having Adam on eye level without his shiny halo and the golden wings framing his absurdly tall body was something you enjoyed more than you would admit. It was nice to just look sideways and be able to look him in the eyes, no tilting your head upwards, no him having to bend down. The golden eyes you missed though, they were the portal to the soul after all and while Adam's brown eyes suit him, they simply weren't the same.

And then the bar you had crashed on your last visit on earth came into view and you couldn't help but to grab Adam's wrist and pull him inside, “Not getting wasted today but we should drink to the fact that Sera gave us permission to visit earth again.” Adam hummed in agreement, he saw no point in denying the both of you one or two weaker drinks. So you both maneuvered your way through the bar, it was less crowded than it had been last time, there were only a few tables that were actually used. But you two didn't mind, you weren't there for people after all, you were there to have a drink. Or three.

Both of you sat down on the bar stools at the counter and while you ordered a sex on the beach, Adam went for a vodka tonic. The first man had his arm wrapped around your waist, his hand was lazily grabbing your side and your head was resting on his shoulder as a stranger approached you. He was a little smaller than Adam, had black, curly hair and green eyes that roamed over your body curiously. The brunette was quick to notice the other male approaching you and growled at the stranger, almost like a dog. You patted his thigh softly which caused his attention to shift from the man - who had decided to sit down next to you - to you. “Adam, it's fine,” you assured him with a small smile as you slightly tilted your head to look up to him, your head still on his shoulder.

“Heya, sweetcheeks,” the stranger started a conversation, his lips stretched into a sharp, hungry grin that you decided to ignore as you gave him a quick nod in return. “So what's a cutie like you doin’ ‘round here?” the stranger seemed to purposely ignore Adam because the hand that had been grabbing your side lazily only moments ago tightened. You lifted your head and pulled slightly away from Adam in order to have a proper conversation with the stranger. While for Adam it was obvious what the man's intentions were, you seemed oblivious. “Y’know, having a drink, enjoying the night, getting away from the struggles of life for a couple of hours,” you explained lazily as you took another sip from your drink. The man had the fucking nerve to put his hand on your thigh, “Bet I could help ya enjoy the night n forget about your daily life in no time, shawty.”

And that was when Adam got up and shoved himself between you and the stranger, his body knocking the man's hand away violently. “What the fuck dude, I was having a convo with that pretty babe here,” the black haired exclaimed in anger as Adam pulled you into his arm and lifted you up bridal style. Fuck that bar and fuck that dude too. He had seen enough. He had lost two wives because of some bastard that had flirted with them, had offered them things Adam could never. He wasn't going to let that happen to you too, he wouldn't let this fucking cunt touch you, let alone have you in every way possible.

“That fucking ‘pretty babe’ is my husband you fucking cunt, so go look for some cheap street whore if you want sex but don't you fucking dare and touch my man,” the bartender looked at Adam, then at the other guy, with a simply shrug he went back to work though. The stranger was about to respond but the first man had enough of it. If he would've had his wings he would've knocked the other guy off his chair with them as he stormed out of the bar, carrying you with him.

Your soft, warm hands cupped his cheeks and while he was still furious about what just had happened, he leaned into the loving touch within a heartbeat. “We’re going back to heaven,” Adam stated and with a snap of his fingers he opened a portal and stepped through it. “Already?” you whined. The alcohol you had been drinking seemed to have more of an effect on you than it had on Adam but you really didn't mind feeling a little dizzy. “That guy wanted to fuck you so badly it made him look absolutely fucking stupid,” Adam ignored your question and instead explained why you were heading back. With a quiet noise the portal closed behind the brunette and you found yourself in your bedroom. You grinned up at him as your eyes met the golden ones you loved so dearly. His wings were folded, pressed to the sides of his body and his halo was back where it belonged, on Adam's gorgeous head. He was also the fucking giant again but you really couldn't complain, not when he carried you over to the bed with such ease to drop you onto the soft mattress, your head landed on a pile of pillows and you sighed dreamingly as Adam crawled on top of you.

“That bastard wanted to fuck you and you fucking talked to him like it wasn't the most obvious thing,” the brunette made quick work of his own clothes before he stopped for a moment. His eyes asked for consent in a nonverbal way and you gave him a small happy nod to assure him he was good to continue. So his hands were onto the hem of your robe, “Seems like I have to remind you who your ass belongs to, and spoiler babes, it's not some horny bastard that craves drunken sex.” You let out a small giggle at the irony of it all because right now, Adam seemed to fit his own description quite well.

Your robes were hitting the floor sooner than you had expected them too, your underwear was quick to follow. Adam harshly grabbed one of the pillows that your head was resting on, yet he was careful not to hurt you. The pillow he had just grabbed was precisely placed under your hips to lift them up a little.

It seemed as if his body was on autopilot, he acted on instinct and nothing else. The urge to mark you up, claim you as his once more was too big to resist. He wanted the world to see who you belong to, he wanted those horny bastards to know better not to touch his babes. ”Mh, eager, are we?” you commented and your hands reached out for his hips, pulling them flush against your own and letting out a choked moan. Dear God, you would never get enough of that sensation, never. There was no way you would ever grow tired of how your body reacted to Adam's, or how Adam's body reacted to yours. Having sex with the first man always felt like the first time, it was never the same, always resulting in a post orgasm high for the both of you.

“Listen babes,” he made you snap out of your haze for a moment as your already fogged up brain processed his words, “I’m gonna fuck you, mark you up like the bitch you are for me and give you a fucking reminder that this,” he wrapped one hand loosely around your already hard dick, giving your erection a firm stroke down to the base. The moan you let out was the most beautiful sound he would ever be able to hear. You always sounded so magnificent when you got vocal for him and he adored it, always drowned in your pleas for more, more, more, for him to take you harder. His other hand slipped between the mattress and your ass, squeezing the soft flesh there in a teasing way, “And this belongs to me and fucking me only.” Your breath quickened and you whispered breathlessly, “Yes, yours.”

But as quickly as he had given you the blessing of friction, he took it from you. His hands roamed over your body, nails leaving angry red scratches all over your chest, scratches that would stay at least a week, if not longer. Oh you wanted them to last longer than a week. The feeling of Adam acting all possessive made your body shudder from overwhelming pleasure and your hands moved from his body to the sheets, grabbing the fabric tightly. You tried to ground yourself, tried your hardest to not back down so easily. But then Adam's lips crashed against your neck and your body reacted to that immediately. Your back arched for him in a delicious way only you could, your head was tilted upwards to extend the amount of room he had for hickeys and bite marks. Your brain felt as if it was wrapped up in cotton, the sounds of pleasure your body made for him to hear sounded dull, far away, but his voice was louder, deeper and dominanter than ever.

“Say it again,” he ordered, lust had not only clouded his glorious looking eyes but also his voice. You were able to hear how badly he wanted you without him having to say it and it was moments like these that you thought existing couldn't get any better. His hands held your hips down firmly, nails dug so deep into your skin that they broke the soft flesh, golden blood coated Adam's fingertips but neither of you cared, if anything it only added to the pleasure you both were feeling. Your hands that had been gripping the sheets tightly moved to his neck instead, your hands buried themselves in his soft, soft hair, giving it a light tug which earned you a small groan.

“I’m fuckin’ yours, Adam,” you moaned as he sunk his teeth into your skin. A bite mark formed right underneath your jaw, everyone would be able to see until it would eventually fade. You didn't want it to fade, you wanted him to mark you up permanently, so without giving your words a second thought you hummed, “Make it scar, please, make it permanent.” He seemed to actually think of denying you for a moment, concern had appeared in his eyes and you were not having it. You wrapped your legs around his hips, if he'd pin yours down, you'd drag him down with you you thought as you tighten your legs around him and your hips collided.

As if that had been the command he had been waiting for he brought his lips down onto the bite mark yet again, his soft lips parted and therefore exposed his teeth. He bit down again, harder than he had before until he tasted the sweetness of your blood on his tongue. Soon his entire mouth was coated in the delicious liquid that kept spilling from your body. When the brunette pulled slightly back to lick the blood from his lips you pulled into a kiss, to taste your own blood on his lips felt absolutely overwhelming.

Your hips kept rutting against his in steady motions, he was meeting your thrusts halfway through.

The golden liquid dropped onto the sheets and Adam was quick to lick it from your neck, there was simply no way he'd waste any more of it, he wanted it all, wanted all that your body had to offer. “Such a needy fucking bitch, aren't you?” You whined at that, your hips stuttered against his and all you could do to answer was nod. Yes you were his needy bitch, his good boy, his fucktoy. You were whatever he wanted you to be.

Your legs started to give out due to the pleasure your body was feeling and he used that to his advantage and lifted his hips again, yours were still pressed against the pillow underneath. “No,” you cried out at the lack of friction and desperately rutted up against nothing.

You needed him.

One hand left your hip and you saw him snap his fingers. The feeling you were expecting once that hand was back onto your hip, back to pressing it against the pillow was absolutely overwhelming yet not enough. You felt your insides stretch, Adam had decided to use his angelic powers for preparation this time. He rarely did that, usually enjoyed scissoring you open and eating you out, he only ever used his powers during sex when he knew he wouldn't be able to prepare you properly, when the lust had taken over and was fogging up his brain entirely. In order not to hurt you, he had used his powers. You secretly thanked the Lord for giving Adam these powers in the first place.

The snap of his fingers had also coated his dick in lube, that you were able to feel when he pressed the tip of his erection against your ass, slowly entering you. Your muscle stretched around him with ease and he slipped inside almost effortlessly. It really didn't take the brunette to bottom out inside of you and he started even sooner to move his hips. “Fuck,” you muttered, your nails scratched his scalp and he let out a quiet moan as he harshly moved his hips back and forth. The angle always changed as the self claimed dickmaster was trying to aim for your sweet spot.

A loud moan erupted from your body and your ass chased his dick once he had found it. “Adam,” you moaned his name, you wanted more of that feeling, more of him. You wanted his hand on your dick, maybe even your mouth, you wanted him to keep fucking you like a wild animal, “Adam, please.” His head moved closer to your ear, hot breath was hitting your already warm skin and his voice made you shudder violently, “Yes, babes?”

Your body responded by moaning his name yet again, asking for more without actually saying it, begging him to touch you without actively asking for it. The dried blood on your neck felt weird when his breath ghosted over it and the thought of a scar on your neck, visible for all eternity was driving you insane in the most glorious way possible. “Please, more,” you asked of him, as you tried to use his belly for friction - but to no avail.

The constant penetration of your prostate made you clench around his dick and Adam gasped at the sudden tightness that was surrounding him. “Close, so close,” you informed him and that made a sickly sweet idea bloom inside his head, “Good. Because you're gonna cum untouched for me.”

The pure thought of it made your dick throb and it only took a few more seconds for you to actually come undone. The sticky white liquid splashed onto his stomach, covering both of your soft skin in a warm coat of cum. The heat around Adam's dick tightened once again and he kept fucking into you at a brutal pace.

One thrust, two thrusts and then he filled you up all nicely. The energy he had only moments before was gone and he stilled inside of you as his cum painted your insides white. His wings were puffed out, the golden feathers spread, making him look holy. You couldn't help but smash your lips against his, catching him in yet another bruising kiss that drew a moan from him.

He slowly moved his hips back in order to pull out, a small whimper fell from your lips but was quickly kissed away by him. He slid down your body until his face was right next to your dick and you were about to ask what the fuck he was doing but your train of thoughts was interrupted when his mouth opened up and his lips wrapped around the head of your dick, sucking it clean from the cum. He didn't stop there though, he slowly worked himself towards the base, then released your now soft dick to lick the messy white from your stomach. While he did so, his eyes were focused on your face, on the emotions that were on display and, oh dear Lord, you were looking fucking fantastic.

Once the white had been removed by his tongue, he snapped his fingers yet again in order to clean both of you properly. Adam came back up to lay down next to you, his arms were open, inviting you for cuddles and you were quick to roll over and cuddle up against his chest. “I love you,” he hummed against your hair and kissed your head softly. “Love you too, big guy,” you gave his chest a light pat and placed a small kiss on it too.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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saerotonins · 2 years ago

Text

lap princess

ft. kujo jotaro x gn!reader (the usage of princess is only for the sake of the title)

content warnings: fluff, modern!au, 3taro w/ less trauma LOL, suggestive themes if you squint, reader likes to watch some kdramas, characters are aged up to 18+, not beta read

wc: 775

notes: am i projecting? yes maybe...

you always like hanging out with jotaro in his room.

sometimes you two watch movies as to pass time, read books together, or most of the time, just bask in with other's presence.

jotaro had invited you over for some company and you knew that meant that you were going to be lying away either on his floor, or his bed. you have no complaints because that just means you get to spend time with each other albeit in silence.

this isn't a problem the two of you would think about. jotaro is a natural listener. often choosing to open his ears to whatever hyper-fixation you decided to dwell on, current interests, or even shows that you were currently watching, sometimes even opting to share some of his thoughts or even humming as to let you know that he was engaged to whatever you are talking about.

caged around his arm, you watched some k-drama on your phone while jotaro reads on his pocketbook on his free hand. the warmth he provides felt comforting, for someone who acts so cold, together with his tough exterior, he's surprisingly a great alternative for a teddy bear. although you might argue that he is better.

shifting from his hold, you began to lie down on the free space on his bed when he stopped you.

"what are you doing?"

"i'm just going to lie down a bit while i watch."

just as you were about to let your head hit the pillow, you suddenly felt both of jotaro's hands on either side of your head. your mouth was ready to complete until you realized he moved your head somewhere.

his lap.

despite the bold move, you don't have it in you to tease him. like his arms, his lap feels so warm, so soft despite his muscly build.

jotaro went back onto reading his book when he felt you squirming, trying to find the most comfortable position to lie down while watching on your phone. his breath hitched, his legs were crossed and coincidentally, he placed your head near his—

"(y/n), quit moving" jotaro felt his face turn beet red, thank the gods your attention was on your phone or else you would've seen how flustered he was.

"hold on, i'm trying to be comfortable," you argued back.

he finally let go the breath that he didn't know he was holding back when he see you settled on his lap, holding your phone to your side.

the silence was comforting and relaxing. jotaro likes to spend his time with even if it's only this simple. so mundane, yet so fulfilling, he thinks.

some minutes later, he felt a soft thud on his bed, he looked down and saw your phone lying flat on his bed, with your eyes closed and quiet snores accompanied by the voices of the ongoing drama from your phone. a small smile evident on his lips as he pulled his comforter on your body, providing you more warmth, he then paused the show on your phone so you can sleep in peace without any disturbance.

"jotaro! y/n! i bought some sna-" holly's voice came to a halt as soon as she opens her son's door, revealing the adorable sight before her.

jotaro's free hand gently patting your head that is placed on his thighs while his other is holding the book he's currently reading. your soft snores along with the quiet whirl of his room's air conditioner enveloped the whole room.

sensing the open door of his room, he looks away from his book and sees his mom wearing a giddy smile and tray full with homemade snacks and drinks. a slight smile formed on his face as he puts his index finger over his lips, as if playfully silencing his mom. holly then pursed her lips, hiding a playful smile while tiptoeing through jotaro's room. she then carefully and quietly placed the tray over the kontatsu to avoid making unnecessary noises that might get you out of your sleep.

after making sure that all is well, holly tiptoed once again to exit jotaro's room, not forgetting to send a small wave to jotaro and your sleeping form before finally closing the door.

it's like times like these when jotaro felt the most safe and allow himself to be vulnerable. the normalcy and domesticity that you provided in his life serves as a surprise but certainly welcomed. he likes that he knows that you're always by his side, always eager to help him in ways that you can and offer him your company.

even if it's just you laying on his lap.

#julie's world #jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #jotaro fluff #jjba fluff #jojo's bizarre adventure fluff #jjba x you #jjba x reader #jotaro x you #jojo's bizarre adventure x you

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andromeda-nova-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Can't Get What We Want Without Knowing

Fem!Reader

Summary: Words can have so much meaning behind them and that is before knowing how people will interpret the same word differently. It’s a thing that can make simple concepts much more complicated than anyone could have thought it to be. With the things Wriothesley has gone through ‘I love you’ was a sentence that he would rather never hear.

Words: 3,397

AN: @thesteambird 's Uncommon Acts of Love Event. I love how behind we all were on posting and writing for this event. Love that for us lol.

This fic touches on Wriothesley's past and briefly discusses the murder of his adoptive parents. It also goes into the trauma his adoptive parents have caused. If that feels too heavy for you to read at the moment, I recommend you look at The Honor of Trying Not to Step on Your Foot or A Sticky Situation. Both are Fluffy fics that do not approach this topic.

Beta read by @swordfish-ii, @milkstore. Thank you so much for looking over this fic. I appreciate it. Thank you to @paimonial-rage for doing my final check on one of the paragraphs I struggled more with. The three of y'all are the best!!!

Y/N walked into Wriothesley’s office. Her movements were tired and slow. Working a shift on the surface before directly coming to the fortress to work a second took a lot out of her. It wasn't common that she would work back-to-back shifts. She knew her limits. She held on tightly to the staircase rail as she made her way up the stairs.

“Are you in here Ri?” She called out as she went up only to see him sitting at his desk highly focused on the documents in front of him. Knowing him, it was probably accounting paperwork for the fortress he was working on.

He looked up. “I thought you would have left already.” He had only seen her once today which wasn't for long. He was only in the Infirmary to grab some paperwork from Sigewinne real fast. They didn't even get a chance to talk as she was working with a patient.

“I got caught up with something. Ended up staying past when I was supposed to leave today.” She could feel her eyes droop. A yawn took over her. She took her jacket off and threw it on the empty coffee table.

“I can arrange to have someone take you home if you like.” He offered.

She shook her head before moving close to him and taking his lap as her seat. “Just let me sit here till you are done.” She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I’m working.”

“Work around me. I missed you.”

He sighed. “You can't be serious right now.” He looked down at her. She looked so peaceful cozying up on him. “You know I have a couch in my office for a reason.” He couldn’t bring himself to peel her off of him.

“The couch isn't you. I didn't miss the couch.”

He tried to hide his smile with a sigh. “You are really something else right now.”

“I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“I know that. That’s why you should lie down somewhere comfortable and not sit on me. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your rest just cause I have to work.” He tried to appeal to her sense of reason.

“I made sure to leave your writing hand free. You're interrupting my rest by talking to me right now.”

“This can't be comfortable.” Even though for him it felt extremely comfortable to have her curled up on him. How much he just wanted to give into this.

“Oh, it's very comfortable.”

“What happens when I'm done working?” It was the only opening Wriothesley was giving her to convince him out of his work.

“Just let me nap here for a moment. Figure that out later.” She really was just tired.

“You could just go sleep in my bed.” He offered. “It can't be that comfortable lying up on me while I'm dressed like this. At least let me take some of all these metal bits off of me.”

“I won’t fall for your tricks to get me up.” She lifted her head off his shoulder and moved her arms around his neck. “You aren’t getting rid of me right now.” She kissed his cheek before laying her head back down partially on his shoulder and her arm.

He rolled his eyes. “Is there really nothing I can do here to get you to sleep somewhere comfortable?”

“Accept fate. It’s late, you can’t be working for that much longer anyway.”

“Did Sigewinne tell you I’ve been up late in here?” He asked trying to find a reason he was being used as a pillow even though she would normally go to sleep on the couch in his office if she needed to rest.

“No. Have you been staying up later than normal?” She lifted her head back up looking at him. “Do I need to tell Sigewinne it's worse than we think it is?” Y/N asked with a raised eyebrow as she looked for bags underneath his eyes.

He looked away from her gaze. “You know I’ll be up later if I can’t focus.”

She frowned. “I did say I would just be here asleep on you. You are the one who keeps talking to me. You could have been back to work so long ago Ri.”

“Look it’s just easier for me to get things done when I can focus with no one else is in the room.” He looked back to see her frowning. “I’m fine with you here. I just need some space. Just give me an hour, I promise I can walk you back home or get you somewhere comfortable to sleep here tonight.”

She sighed before agreeing to his simple request. “Okay. That’s fair I guess. Just an hour?”

“Just an hour. Promise.” He kissed her cheek as a way to seal his promise.

“Can I at least have your coat as a blanket?”

“Sure, if it makes you happy.” His jacket was already on the back of his chair.

She placed a quick peck on his lips. “I love you,” Y/N spoke quickly before grabbing the jacket and moving to the couch in the office to make herself at home.

Wriothesley froze up on her words. They were said so quickly and casually like it was natural for her. Those words shouldn’t be natural. A horrible thought ran through his head, ‘was she lying?’

‘I love you’ was a sentence that Wriothesley would rather never hear. He heard that sentence too many times to count as a child. Even to this day whenever he hears that sentence, he would tense up. It was an issue that he knew solely belonged to him.

It was easier to hear that sentence when it wasn’t directed at him. When those words or any form of it was spoken to him, all Wriothesley could think of was when he was a child. It brought him back to when he found out what his adoptive parents were really doing. And on the worst days, he could clearly remember those as the first words they used against him as he worked on freeing himself and his adopted siblings. Their ‘I loved you’ was a clear lie they spoke trying to stop him before fighting to keep their lives.

Having the only people who ever said they loved him being the same people he had to kill twisted his feelings on those words.It was all he could associate those words with. Lies and betrayal. It was all he knew behind those words. He gulped down the air caught in his throat before loosening his already loose tie that suddenly felt like it was choking him.

He could have sworn he worked through this already. Shouldn’t admitting that he wished he could have a happy childhood and that he had a load of trust issues from his childhood be enough not to feel this frozen? ‘I love you’ brought him right back to how he felt as a kid hearing those words for the last time.

“You know Ri, for someone who wanted an hour to focus I hear no writing going on over there. Are you such a math genius that you can just do everything in your head?” She stared up at the ceiling as she curled up under his coat.

He looked over at her with unneeded suspicion. Was Y/N lying to him? Was she just saying that she loved him? What could she be doing in the shadows that would come to light? When would she betray him? He knew it was wrong that those questions were going through his head but he couldn’t stop from wondering. The questions just got louder in his mind. ‘Was she lying?’

The lack of response filled her with more curiosity than worry. She sat up with a quick yawn before looking at him. “You okay Ri?” It was a question she didn’t think too much about when asking. She was blissfully unaware of the effect her proclamation of love was causing.

The warmth in his face looked drained. Warm eyes she would normally compare to a puppy in his time around her since they began flirting now looked cold and calculating. He didn’t look like her boyfriend. He looked more like the Warden of the Fortress of Meriopide. But even that description felt wrong. His eyes felt darker than that. Something that she didn’t know.

She knew she was safe around him but something about how off he looked made her stay put. “Wriothesley what’s wrong? I know accounting is a lot to deal with but I’ve never seen anyone look like they are about to break a pen over some numbers.” Giving him space while she was assessing the situation felt like the best move.

He looked down at his left hand. She was right. The pen actually spilled ink on his hand as well. “I’m gonna go clean this off.” He got up from behind the desk fast. “I’ll have a guard come get you and take you home.”

“Wriothesley? What’s going on?” She repeated the question as she got off the couch leaving his jacket behind, beginning to follow him while also trying to keep some distance between the two of them. Concern was fully flooding in her mind.

They literally just agreed on what was to happen less than five minutes ago. He had already had opened the door to his office to let the guards know the new plan. She was shuffled out of his office so fast they didn't get to talk. And with the sound of a lock on his office door as she was standing on the outside sealed any chance of conversation. That was it.

She didn't even get to know what was wrong. It was all she thought about on the long walk home as she moved in silence with one of the guards escorting her. It was just so confusing. It didn’t help that she was rushed out so fast she didn’t even have time to grab her own jacket.

It made the next day awkward for her shift at the fortress. Part of her wanted to be petty and angry at being thrown out so suddenly but she couldn't bring herself to it. It all just felt so off. It was hard to be properly upset when things just felt wrong.

It was honestly a miracle that Sigewinne had let her stay in her thoughts so far throughout the morning. She may be curious about how different Humans are from herself but she wasn't oblivious to when a person needed space. It was also what Y/N was trying to do as well. Give Wriothesley some space. He clearly needed it if she got kicked out so suddenly with no explanation.

There were footsteps entering the infirmary. Y/N knew they couldn’t be Wriothesley’s. His steps were heavy with the weight of his boots and the clank of the clothes as he walked. These steps were much lighter and she could hear heels as well. “Hello girls!” A warm voice greeted.

Y/N looked up from the desk she was giving a quick clean. “What brings you here Navia?” She thought for a moment thinking back at the schedule that was open on Wriothesley’s desk last night. “Wait, you were discussing the optimization of delivery routes for the fortress.”

She sighed. “It was exhausting. I even managed to get a paper cut. We aren’t even done yet.”

“How bad is it?” Sigewinne asked.

“Not too bad. But I needed a break for my sanity.” She looked over at Y/N. “I have no idea what you see in that man. He’s worse to deal with than normal.” She complained.

“He’s still out of it?”

Sigewinne was in the middle of grabbing a band-aid. “I know he wasn’t doing well when I saw him early this morning. I thought you said you hadn’t seen him today.”

Navia came in and sat on the bed. “Did something happen?”

“No, yes, I have no clue.” Y/N let out what she had been holding in. “So yesterday I had a shift above ground and one here. Unplanned, I had a coworker call out sick.” She reminded Sigewinne before she could say anything.

Sigewinne stayed quiet as she brought over the band and a few items to clean the small paper cut.

“So I was tired and a bit clingy. I hadn’t seen him in a few days. I missed him. So instead of going home I went to his office ‘cause it was after dinner, I knew he was going to be in there just doing paperwork.” She explained. “I may have been a tad too clingy but I backed off once he said that all he wanted was an hour to do his work. I gave him a quick kiss, told him that I loved him, took his jacket, and went to get cozy on the couch. I then got kicked out and a guard escorted me home. I still don't even have an explanation for why. He wouldn't even talk to me.”

“That doesn't even make sense of why he's so out of it.” Navia agreed.

Sigewinne finished up with the paper cut on Navia’s finger. “No, it makes complete sense.”

Both of the women raised their eyes looking at each other before turning their confused expressions to Sigewinne.

“He has a hard time when someone tells him that they love him. He doesn’t even like to use the word love.” This was something Sigewinne knew wasn’t her place to explain everything, but it was better than leaving Y/N in the dark. She was one of the few people that he had told his entire thoughts on this too. It took the years of him here and spending time in the infirmary for the two to grow close before he even took up the position he has today. The trust he had within her wasn’t something she’d even think of breaking.

“There's a big difference between a hard time and completely shutting down,” Navia explained.

Y/N sighed figuring out what happened. “I wish he would have just told me.” She slouched. “How upset with me do you think he is?”

“Maybe it's more conflicted?” Navia suggested.

“Regardless I feel shitty. I really do love him. I don’t want to hurt him.” Y/N covered her mouth after realizing she cursed. “I’m so sorry Sigewinne.”

Y/N was normally good about not cursing in front of Sigewinne. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard cursing before but she appreciated everyone's attempt to keep their mouths clean around her. It didn’t bother her to be honest but for Y/N to curse in front of her confirmed how much what had happened was stressing her out.

“You should go talk to him,” Sigewinne recommended. “Everything I’ve read says communication is essential in relationships.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk and just kicks me out again? I really didn’t know.” Y/N’s voice was filled with worry yet her words held with the strength of someone who knew at the end of the day it wasn’t her fault for what had happened.

“Then I’ll knock some sense into his head,” Sigewinne spoke trying to lighten her mood.

“How about I come back here when I’m done? That way you know when to go in and talk with him,” Navia offered.

“I would appreciate that.” All Y/N could think of was how to make things as right as she could.

Y/N took a breath before opening the office door. At the very least she would get her jacket back if she chickened out.

“I know I requested my lunch to be brought in today but isn’t this a bit early?” Wriothesley called out from above.

Y/N made her way up the stairs. “I don’t have your lunch.” She stopped at the top of the steps. “Can we talk?”

He looked over before promptly looking back down at the paperwork in front of him. “You’re on the clock. I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

“I’m on break and it's been a very slow day.”

“I have work to get done.” He tried using his work as an excuse. Looking over at the papers piled on his desk, the side that contained finished work was piled high. If anything he was probably ahead at least for a few days.

She frowned before glancing around the room. “Where is my jacket? I didn’t get the chance to grab it before I had to leave.” She gently reminded him.

He sighed before placing his pen down. “I put it up. I’ll go get it for you.” Wriothesley got up from behind his desk.

“I’ll go with you.” Taking care of her jacket had to be a good sign at least.

“No need. Just enjoy your break. I’ll have someone go bring it to the infirmary in a bit.” He tried walking past her to the stairs.

She grabbed his arm completely on instinct, something she hadn’t planned on doing. “You should know it’s hard to enjoy a break when I don’t even fully get to know what happened last night. Can we please talk?” She pleaded as she looked at his eyes trying to find thoughts within them. “Sigewinne can only tell me so much.”

He didn't meet her eyes when he took a breath. He felt shame in what he needed to ask. “Are you lying to me?” He desperately needed to know before he could pull those walls back down. They were something that he thought he could have fully down, but now he wasn't sure.

“No. I meant it. I'm not the kind of woman who expects you to say it back immediately but I do need some context on why you shut down on me.” She let go of his arm feeling that he would run away from this. “I don't want to hurt you. But I'm not going to be with a man who refuses to communicate with me on stuff like this.” It was something she hoped she wouldn’t have to put her foot down on.

“How much did Sigewinne tell you?”

“That love is a hard word for you. That you don’t care for it being told to you. She kept it to just that.”

“I think I’ve been pretty open about how I feel about my childhood.”

“You tend to avoid details but I remember what you went through from what you told me.” It was hard for either of them to look eye to eye. Their gazes focused on the floor below them.

“They,” his foster parents, “constantly told us how much they loved us. Showered us with those words till the day I- well, you know.” He wasn’t one to share every single detail of the murder he had committed. It wasn’t something he enjoyed reliving but it would be something he would have to carry with him till the day he dies.

His foster mother lied through her teeth. Hearing her say ‘I love you’ trying to lure him into that false sense of security just for his foster father to cause one of the many scars that were on his body. It haunted him. It probably was the moment that cursed that sentence for him.

“You could have warned me. I wouldn’t have said it.”

“I thought I was ready to hear it by now.” Wriothesley looked out the corner of his eye trying to read her body language.

She sighed before turning to look at him. “Things like that happen and it’s okay. Everyone has days where the things we carry hurt more. If anything I should have backed off and given you space when you asked me to.”

“I was okay till you said those words.”

“I won't say them again then. Not till you’re ready.”

“Did you really mean it?”

“I did. And that means if I have to change how I express that, I will if it means not making you relive something that you don’t want to. I care about you. I want you to remember that.”

He reached out for her hand. “Let’s go get your jacket.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she held his hand. “If it isn’t too much, do you mind if I have lunch in here with you?”

“How about dinner instead?”

“I’m good with that.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #steambirduncommonacts

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saltcxrcle · 2 years ago

Text

ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪꜱᴇ

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Summary: You spar with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara x spider fem! Reader, fem reader is a Spider-Woman

Words: 2.5K

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Warnings: none, some sexual tension, banter, reader loves to annoy Miguel, no use of y/n

A/N: I have no clue if I should post this after months of not writing lol (so if it does hi tumblr it has been a while 😅). And as always thank you to my wife @songofpatrochilless for beta reading!

A/N pt.2: try and find the vampire by olivia rodrigo reference 🤭

𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘰'𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

An alert from your watch makes you stop typing the report you were writing for Tony. You look at it confused since you don’t typically get a message or an alert on your days off. You tap on the watch, and Lyla appears on your desk.

“Hey, Lyla!” You greet her cheerfully, “What does Miguel need from me?”

“He needs you at HQ, Miguel said something about training?” Lyla tells you.

“You don’t sound too sure about why he’s calling me either.”

Lyla just shrugs at you and says to hurry up. You roll your eyes at her and tell her you’ll be at HQ. She disappears with a little salute and pulling out your phone, you text the team that you’ll be out for a couple of hours.

You tap on the spider pendant hanging from your necklace twice. Your spider suit (sans mask) forms around your body. You tap on the watch and configure it to go to Earth-928B. The hexagonal portal opens, and you begin to walk through it, getting pulled through. Being welcomed by the sight of the infinite universes never ceases to amaze you. After a minute, the portal opens and you end up in the elevator in HQ. As you leave the elevator and head to Miguel’s office, the various variants of Peter Parker and other spider people greet you as you pass them.

You can hear your footsteps echo through the empty halls as you near Miguel’s (cave) office.

“So, is there a multiversal villain that isn't in their universe, and that's why you called me on my day off, or did you miss me?” You call out to Miguel as you enter his office with your hands on your hips and a smug smile as his desk floats down slowly.

"You know you should fix that to make it go down faster." You quip.

His desk finally reaches the floor, and Miguel is unamused.

“Neither.” He responds, deciding to ignore the comment that you made about his desk. Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief as you observe Miguel's choice of clothing.

“Ermm…so where’s the suit? I wasn’t aware that we had casual Fridays at HQ now, and I didn’t take you to be someone to wear their symbol on their casual wear.” You stifle a laugh as your hand gestures to the loose-fitting grey joggers and tight black compression tank top with his emblem stitched in the front that he is wearing instead of his usual red and blue spider suit.

There’s a hint of a smirk as he sees your eyes trail over his form.

“We don’t.” He responds to my question, “But we’re training today.” He goes to leave the room. You quickly follow him after him as you trail behind him slightly.

“Wait, slow your roll, Dracula! What do you mean by training?”

Miguel scoffed at the nickname, “I haven’t been able to see what you are capable of, so you and I are going to spar.” He explains as he walks toward the training room.

“I thought you recruited people based on their experience?”

“I landed in your universe on a whim-“

“You mean you got sucker punched into my universe trying to get back to this one and passed out.” You interrupt Miguel.

He sighed heavily, “I landed in your universe and wasn’t planning to recruit you until I figured out what you could do. What the others don’t do.”

His comment rendered you speechless, not liking how he tried to bring up your past. You guys spent the rest of the walk in silence. You felt you were nearing your destination. You were right as he stopped before a door and opened it, and Miguel gestured for you to enter first.

“Well, would you look at that? Miguel O’Hara has manners.” you tease as you enter the mysterious room.

“Hardy har har, I've never heard that one before.” He says dryly.

As you walk in, the room is pitch black, and all you can hear is Miguel’s footsteps. You hear a click and the hum of electricity before the bright lights flicker on.

The sudden brightness throws you off slightly. You have to blink a couple of times to clear your vision. The first thing you notice is that the room is massive. Foam mats line the floor, leading you to believe those are for sparring. Where there aren’t foam mats, linoleum pathways lead you to different parts of the room.

As your eyes move to the left side of the room, there is a window that looks into what seems to be a dance studio? You can see the barre used for ballet, and you suspect that the “window” is a two-way mirror. You raise an eyebrow at the dance studio, wondering why there was one in the first place, but you continue to scan the room.

The ceiling is incredibly high, with metal bars protruding from the walls leading up to the high ceiling, and from the ceiling itself. Then, your eyes landed on the center of the room. There was a boxing ring, and Miguel was standing in the middle.

“I thought there was already a training facility that the others use?”You question Miguel as you begin to walk up to the ring.

“This is an old one before I had the other built. It’s a bit outdated for the others. So, no one uses it anymore. But I’m using it to see what you can do. Do you have clothes underneath your suit?”

“No, I go commando all the time.” You snark at him.

Miguel sends you a look, his red eyes flashing slightly at you.

“Yes, I have my plain clothes underneath.” You answer with a slight sigh.

He gestured to the right side of the room, where a door labeled locker rooms was.

“There should be some spare clothes in one of those lockers. Get changed, and meet me back here.” He ordered.

You nod and walk into the locker rooms. Inside, the room was split into two, with a door leading to a men's and women's side. You walked into the woman’s side, and it looked like a generic locker room. Lockers lined the walls furthest from the door you entered from, changing stalls to the left and sinks and bathroom stalls to the right. The lockers had no locks, so you pulled a random one open. There was a black sports bra and some black leggings. You close the locker door with the clothes in hand and head to the changing stalls.

Once you had gotten changed, your feet quietly led you out of the locker room, and you lifted your eyes from the ground to see Miguel raising his arms above his head, making his shirt rise slightly, giving you a good look at his prominent v-line and how low his pants are sitting at his hips. You feel yourself flush at the sight of Miguel’s tan skin. You clear your throat to alert Miguel. As you climbed into the ring, you could feel his eyes on you.

“So, are you ready to go down Nosferatu?” You ask him with a teasing grin on my face.

He rolls his eyes at me and puts his hands on his hips, “Some ground rules before we start. No webs, no face shots, and tap out if you get pinned. And stop calling me that.” He explains as he points his finger at me.

“Got it, and I’m not going to.” There’s a grin on your face. “But one thing before we start.”

“What is it?” He says, getting a little impatient.

“Are you sure you want to spar with me specifically?”

“Why? Are you afraid that you’ll lose? I don’t see a problem with that.” Miguel says while shrugging with a half smile on his face.

You grin wide at his cockiness, “Great, you’re feeling confident. No, I’m not afraid. I just wanted to ask if you thought this through.”

“And why is that? Humor me.” Amusement coated his tone.

“You’re asking the person groomed to be an assassin since they were 9 to see what they can do. I have to say it’s not one of your brightest ideas, Mig.” As soon as you finished your sentence, you went to swipe his feet from underneath him, but at the last second, he managed to dodge your attack.

“I guess we’re starting now.” He mutters under his breath as he gets into a defensive position, but your advanced hearing makes it easy for you to hear his words.

The both of you begin to circle each other. The both of you are in defensive positions and waiting for the other to strike.

“Bring it, Miggy.” You flash him a smirk, your tone teasing as you make the hand gesture to come at you. He lunges at you.

As the both of you spar in the boxing ring, neither can keep the other pinned. You can feel the sweat coat your body, your chest heaves from exertion, but you can’t wipe away the smile on your face. It had been a while since you’d been able to spar with someone that matched your skill level.

You guys reached a standstill. You and Miguel start to circle one another once again. You decide that you have to finish this. You run full speed at Miguel, surprising him. Miguel was unprepared for the sudden attack. You jump and wrap your legs around his head and neck. Using momentum, you twist your body to bring him to the ground. He fell on his back hard on the mat as you landed on your feet. You take this as a chance to pin him down. You straddle his waist and pin his wrists down onto the floor.

You lean over him, your face hovering over his. You can tell that Miguel was not anticipating your sudden move. The wind got knocked out of him. His breaths were harsh and shallow. You smile smugly at Miguel once he opens his eyes.

“Do you yield?” You tease him as you lean further down into Miguel, feeling his harsh breath hitting your skin. You can see him swallow hard and try to get out of your grip, but you fight against his attempts to get out of your grasp.

“Are you trying to get me off of you?” You coo at him, laughing slightly at his attempts. His face twists into a snarl at your teasing. He bares his fangs at you as he tries to get you off.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that Miggy.” You taunt him as you tighten your grip around his thick wrists and squeeze your thighs around his waist. He suddenly stops wriggling around, and a smirk appears on his face. He leans closer to your face, your noses brushing against one another. The smile slips off your face as you stare into Miguel’s ruby-red eyes.

“You know, you shouldn’t let proximity distract you, Hermosa,” Miguel says in a sultry whisper, his words fanning over your lips, and you can feel yourself swallow hard at his words.

“It’s not.” You croak out, feeling your chest tighten. Miguel brushes his lips over yours. You were not expecting that, and your grip on his wrist falters. Suddenly, you feel the world turn upside down.

You groan as you land flat on your back from Miguel flipping you over him. As you try to scramble to get up, Miguel straddles your legs and pins your wrists to the mat with one of his hands, reversing the position that you had previously.

You look up at Miguel hovering over you with the smugest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face. You try to figure out how to get out from underneath him, but he has your legs pinned. You wriggle around and try to thrust your hips up to throw Miguel off you. Your attempts are futile since he’s so much bigger than you. Miguel chuckles lowly at your poor attempts to get him off of you.

“Don’t let the enemy distract you.” He whispers in your ear and chuckles as he moves back and gets off of you. You curse under your breath and stay lying on the mat.

You hear Miguel pad off to a corner of the ring to grab a towel to wipe his sweat off and drink his water. You close your eyes. You take a minute to catch your breath and compose yourself, feeling flustered by Miguel’s actions.

After a few minutes of laying there, you can hear Miguel walk toward you and toss a towel, landing on your stomach.

“Get up.” He nudges your side with his foot.

You groan while opening your eyes, squinting a bit as your eyes adjust quickly to the bright lights of the unused gym. You took the towel off your stomach and sat up. You wiped the sweat off of your face and neck. After wiping the sweat off, you wrapped the towel around your neck. You could see Miguel’s hand appear in front of your face. You take it, and he pulls you up from the floor.

“So, how did I do?” You ask him.

“You’re better than I expected.”

“Wow, did you expect a fully trained assassin not to be capable?” You scoff jokingly at his words.

“I mean, you’re better than everyone else that I’ve recruited so far.”

“That I am.” You smile. You guys leave the old training area and head back to his office.

“So that’s all you wanted me here for?”

He nodded at you. “Today is a slow day for anomalies. So I decided it was time to test you.”

As soon as he uttered those words, multiple alerts went off on his watch. It was as if the universe heard his words. Lyla appeared and alerted Miguel that there was a Rhino anomaly in Earth-5573. He groans slightly in frustration and looks at you. “I know it's your day off, but could you help?”

"Yeah, I was bored doing some paperwork anyway." You shrug.

"Okay, head to that earth, and I’ll send Jess with you.”

You hum in confirmation. You press your spider pendant. In a second, your suit forms around your body. You look down at your watch and open a portal to Earth-5573. Miguel grasped your wrist before you left, making you look back at him.

Miguel had an unreadable look in his eyes. You look down at his hand and back at him. He seems to snap out of whatever daze he is in and clears his throat while fixing his posture.

“Don’t be reckless out there.” He says sternly, but you can hear the warmth in his words.

You smirk at him, “Will do, boss.” You salute him playfully at him. “Oh, Miguel!” You call out to him.“Don’t let anyone hear that, or they’ll think you have a heart.” You tease him before walking through the portal, and the last thing you see is Miguel scowling. A giggle escapes my mouth before the portal closes, and you head to Earth-5573.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #daisy's writing #daisy writes for once #daisy writes

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