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loonylupinblack3 · 2 months

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Overprotective

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, suggestions of violence occurring (nothing actually happens just very brief suggestion)

Summary: Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: posting bc of max's win in china

Max had always been protective of you. Since as long as you can remember Max had acted like your protector, stopping you from doing risky things and helping you when you did them anyway and hurt yourself.

You were childhood best friends, having known each other since you were five and he was six, brought together by a love of karting. As time passed and the two of you grew up, your relationship stayed strong, but changed. Feelings grew between the two of you, though it took until you were 21 before you two did anything about it.

So you were used to Max’s slightly overprotective tendencies. It was second nature to you, as familiar to you as breathing. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t get on your nerves from time to time, like tonight for instance. You were supposed to be going out with your girlfriends to a newly opened club, but Max was having some trouble letting you go.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you enter the living room from his seat on the couch, eyes roaming your body. You were wearing a cliche club outfit; short black dress, heels, and bangles on your arm. You could see the appreciativeness in Max’s gaze, but also concern.

“You look nice,” he said, putting his phone down.

You smiled and gave a little spin. “Thank you. It’s the dress I got on Tuesday.”

Max stayed silent for a moment, considering what to say. “You look very beautiful, Schatz, don’t get me wrong…. But is that what you’re wearing out?”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

Max hesitated again. “It’s just… it’s not very restaurant friendly.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. You had wondered briefly why Max had been so calm about you going clubbing, but you’d brushed it off thinking he just didn’t mind it. Now you knew it was because he didn’t actually know.

“Well, Max, that’s because we’re going clubbing, not to a restaurant,” you say slowly, waiting with baited breath for his reaction.

Max blinked, surprised. “You’re what?”

“We’re going clubbing….”

Max opened his mouth then closed it, clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You thought I knew you were going clubbing? Even though I didn’t say anything about it? Or warn you about drinking too much?”

You grimaced. “I know how it sounds but I genuinely didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

Max sighed. “I know, I trust you. I just don’t know if going clubbing is a good idea.”

“But it’s already been decided. And I got dressed up.”

You pouted slightly and Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. Me and the girls have sorted everything out.”

Max started. “You mean it’s just going to be you girls alone? What about Izzy’s boyfriend Liam? Or Kate’s boyfriend? They’re not going?”

“It’s a girls night,” you reminded him. “No boys allowed.”

“Schatz….” Max warned. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go to the club alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone-”

“You’ll be with a group of girls, all of you vulnerable and easy to prey on,” Max said sternly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but without a man around you there are certain people who will take that as an opportunity to try and hurt you.”

You sighed. “I know Max, but we’re fine. We know one of the bartenders and he’s promised to keep an eye out for us, plus Liam will be driving us home so we have a ride. Seriously, you don’t need to worry.”

Max frowned, looking at your face for any trace of doubt. “I always worry about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max continued thinking before eventually conceding, walking up to you and wrapping you into a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured into your ear.

You returned the embrace. “I always am.”

You pulled back, still in Max’s arms, and he tugged down your dress with a slight scowl. “Too short.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye Max.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Max said, “and text me when you’re coming home.”

You nodded your head and hugged him goodbye once more before leaving the apartment and your boyfriend. You knew he was worried, knew he’d probably be worried for the rest of the night and wait up for you, which made you feel guilty. He hadn’t prepared for you to go out clubbing, completely different from a tame meal at some restaurant, and you knew he’d be agonising over it for the rest of the night.

All you could do was answer his texts and make sure he knew you were safe.

Except things didn’t go to plan.

You arrived at the club and everything was fine. You looked around, taking pictures of the new place, and greeted your bartender friend. You ordered some drinks and stayed by the bar for a bit, talking and catching up, before one of your wilder friends, Lily, suggested shots and then dancing. You weren’t much of a shot person, mostly because you were a lightweight, and you hadn’t planned on getting too drunk tonight but everyone was egging you on, and you didn’t want to be left out so you agreed, the four of you slamming down tequila shots like you did in college.

Then it was off to the dance floor, you, Lily, Kate and Izzy forming your own circle, dancing and laughing with one another. And you were having fun. You were feeling happy, giddy, and the only thing that would make this night better would be to have Max by your side.

You stepped out of the dance circle, moving back to the bar as you took out your phone. Noticing the multiple texts from Max left unanswered you felt a pang of guilt, but it was distant compared to the excitement you felt.

y/n: maxieeeeeeee

maxie❤️: you okay?

y/n: im the bset y/n: i mss yoi y/n: u shoud come tothe club

maxie❤️: are you drunk??

y/n: jst a litttle bit

y/n: lily siad shots

maxie❤️: you did shots? are you okay?

y/n: im grate

y/n: u should cmoe hree

y/n: i wnna party wth yoou

maxie❤️: already on my way

If you were sober, you probably would have picked up on the annoyed/concerned tone Max’s text had, but you were not sober, so you texted him a ‘yaaaaayyyyy’ and turned your phone off, waiting for what you thought was going to be your party ready boyfriend.

Instead, after you’d had another shot with your friends and continued dancing, you found yourself face to face with your concerned and worried boyfriend.

“Maxie!” you slurred, throwing your arms around your boyfriend in a hug. “Come dance with me!”

Max chucked, trying not to show his concern, but his tight hold on your waist gave him away. You pulled back and looked at him. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Max sighed, manoeuvring you so you were off the dance floor. You were almost too drunk to notice, just clinging onto your boyfriend. “I’m here to take you home.”

“But I don't want to go home. I’m happy here,” you whined like a child.

Max muttered under his breath, “did I or did I not tell you not to drink too much.”

You frowned at his bad attitude. “I just want to dance.”

He shot you a look. “You can dance at home where you're safe, not in a club full of strangers while drunk out of your mind.”

You pouted but your boyfriend had already made his decision, half dragging half carrying you to where he parked his car. You knew better than to fight Max when he was like this, even drunk, so you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the road ahead of you while silently cursing Max and his stupid overprotectiveness.

Max glanced at you as he drove. “I can tell you’re upset with me.”

“I was having fun,” you complained, “and you took me away from it.”

Max sighed. “I’m sorry Schatz, I am, but I wasn’t comfortable letting you stay in a club full of strangers drunk without me.”

You pouted again. “So why didn’t you just stay at the club with me?”

Max laughed a bit. “Because I only enjoy clubs when I’m drunk, and the whole purpose of me being there would be watching you while you’re drunk, not the other way round.”

It made sense even to your drunk brain- sort of -so you dropped the subject, letting Max off the hook. Maybe you’d argue with him in the morning when you were sober and had a better grasp on reality, but as Max parked in your driveway and helped you out of the car, all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and go to sleep, which is exactly what you did.

Max helped you undress and got as much makeup off your face as he was able to with his limited skill set and then got you into bed, laying down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest where you sighed into it, content.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Even drunk and half asleep, you still managed to reply, “I love you too.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fluff #f1 fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 fanfiction

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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oxygen | jjk

If you get caught, you'll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

○ Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Mafia, established relationship, angst, smut

○ 9 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Mafia)

○ Word Count: 2,053

○ Warnings: Organized crime, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, infidelity (MC's boyfriend is Yoongi *gasp*), MC is actually kind of sick in the head lowkey lmfaooo, marijuana (is it a jai fic if weed isn't at least mentioned?), casual conversation about being murdered, dom!reader, sub!Jungkook, gunplay, consensual sex while under the influence of alcohol, unprotected vaginal sex, orgasm control, hair pulling, rough sex, pain kink

○Notes: I was never here. I repeat, I WAS NEVER HERE.

○ Post Date: February 13, 2024

○ Masterlist |

○ What was Jai listening to? Oxygen - Jackson Wang

“I fucking hate you.”

Jungkook tastes blood as he watches you stumble up the marble stairs, break-ankle stilettos grating into the stone like his molars grate against each other when he chews the inside of his cheek.

It takes three steps before you give up, bending to slip your finger under the thin black strap that hugs each ankle to keep the red bottoms in place. Off-balanced from holding your leather jacket balled up under one arm, you teeter on one foot, and Jungkook has to fight the urge to grab your waist.

Air rushes out of Jungkook’s nostrils, a scoff that mixes with the wind. It’s one of the last days of summer before autumn cuts the nights short and chills the air. If Jungkook could have his way, he would be sitting out on his balcony right now with a fat blunt and his phone on silent.

Instead, he’s dealing with you.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna fucking help me?” you snap, words slurring together when you pout through them.

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek where he’s bitten into the fleshy skin. The metallic flavor mixes oddly with the aftertaste of his half-smoked blunt from earlier.

“Thought you said you hate me,” Jungkook sucks his teeth, tattooed fingers squeezing your bicep to steady you while you unclasp your shoes.

“I do.”

“Hmm.” Jungkook exchanges a grip on your arm for the heels, black and deadly like the Glock clipped to his waist.

Your dress rides up far enough that your asscheeks are exposed when you bend down again, your skimpy black thong doing nothing to cover you. The sheer pair is one Yoongi bought you for Valentine’s Day last year. Yoongi hadn’t batted an eye when he dropped thousands of dollars on a lingerie set that he isn’t even patient enough to appreciate on your body before he rips it off.

Not Jungkook, though. Jungkook is patient.

“Carry me,” you whine, pushing up against Jungkook’s side, nimble fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging.

Jungkook knows not to look up at the columned overhang, but the many cameras lining the mansion's exterior weigh heavily on him as he helps you up the stairs to the front door.

“I can’t,” Jungkook grits his molars, jaw flexing beneath taunt skin, “And you know that.”

The keypad at the front door unlocks with Jungkook’s thumbprint. Inside, the foyer is dark. It’s nearly four in the morning, and the rest of the guards are either monitoring the cameras or asleep. They’re all lower-level and easily bend to Jungkook’s will, meaning none of them will rat you out for slipping off in the dead of night to go party with your friends despite being under strict orders not to leave the house until Yoongi returns from his business trip.

As second-in-command, Jungkook should be in Japan with Yoongi, handling what will likely be one of the largest arms deals in Bangtan’s history. But Yoongi is paranoid, and paranoid men don’t leave their girlfriends with just anyone. Especially when their girlfriends are trouble.

And you? You’re trouble in a tight little black dress, hips swaying as you walk with new purpose through the foyer, your leather jacket thrown on the floor for Jungkook to pick up as he trails behind you — always trailing, following just a half step behind you, only in front when he puts his life on the line over yours. And he does, has the scars on his body to prove it, scars you like to bite to remind him of everything he’s willing to lose for Yoongi. For you.

There are only three types of rooms in the house that don’t have cameras installed: bedrooms, bathrooms, and arms rooms. You like to have Jungkook fuck you in all of them.

Tonight, it’s one of the basement-level arms rooms, the one Yoongi likes to use for entertainment because there’s a full bar and a conference table typically littered with guns, drugs, and money.

And sometimes, if Yoongi is in a shitty mood, girls.

You don’t care what Yoongi does, though it wouldn’t matter even if you did. As Bangtan’s leader, there’s no room for criticism of the boss — unless someone wants to lose a limb or their life, and Yoongi is known to be trigger-happy.

You learned that from him.

Jungkook lets out a shuddered breath as you drag the muzzle of his gun from the middle of his sternum down his abdomen. The metal is cold, and you move slowly, taking your time over every hill and valley of his muscles, painting goosebumps across his skin until you reach the waistband of his underwear.

The chamber is empty, but it still makes Jungkook’s heart jump in his throat when you press the gun against his clothed cock.

“Yoongi is going to kill us one day,” you whisper, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth to bite back a smile.

Jungkook leans back with his elbows against the table where you’ve sat him at one of the chairs. You’re in your heels again. Jungkook loves it when you stand over him, a powerful force far too often squandered by Yoongi’s overbearing leadership and desire to be the most feared person in the room. It’s one of Yoongi’s greatest mistakes.

You’re gorgeous, stripped down until all you’re wearing is another man’s Valentine’s Day gift, your own body a present Jungkook has the unholy pleasure of opening again and again — but only after you’ve opened him up, gutted him like a fish.

Or blown him open, a bullet bursting like shrapnel to cut him from the inside out. Jungkook would let you do it.

Jungkook stares up at you with innocent eyes that tell nothing of the secret horrors his hands have done, of the horrors he has endured and inflicted upon others. He stares up at you with innocent eyes and his lips wrapped around the muzzle of his gun that you hold with your finger on the trigger.

“Bang, bang,” you giggle as the gun clicks, and Jungkook lets you slide it further into his mouth, the tangy taste too similar to blood and nothing he hasn’t tasted before.

Maybe it’s fear that makes Jungkook crave you. Maybe Jungkook has a death wish. Maybe Jungkook likes the idea of you being his lifeline, the sole decider of whether he lives or dies. All it would take is one tiny confession twisted into a lie, and you could convince Yoongi that Jungkook came onto you and tried to seduce you.

Jungkook knows Yoongi would enjoy making him suffer if he thought Jungkook was treating you unkindly. Yoongi would enjoy violently murdering Jungkook even more if he knew just how good Jungkook treated you.

You don’t pull the gun back until Jungkook gags. Tears collect along his eyelashes, but he blinks them away as you toss his gun onto the table.

“You’d let him kill you.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse from the gun, and it cracks when you sit on the table in front of him and spread your legs. “I would.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“So are you.”

Jungkook’s cock throbs as he watches you slip your thong down your legs. You drag his spit-slicked gun along your dripping pussy, parting your folds and getting the muzzle shiny with your arousal. When his eyes flit up to meet yours, you let out a broken moan, tongue slipping out to lick your bottom lip.

“Come here,” you beckon, the curl of your finger tugging Jungkook forward like a red string tied in a noose around his neck. He fits perfectly between your thighs, his clothed cock pressing against your exposed pussy.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook whispers against your lips. His body crowds yours, forcing you to tip your head back to look into his pretty doe eyes.

“Be a good boy and clean this up first,” you say as you hold up the gun in front of Jungkook’s face.

Jungkook doesn’t look away as he licks a stripe up the length of the gun’s muzzle, too turned on by how intensely you watch him lick and suck your juices off it. How eagerly he bends to your will is pathetic, but he doesn’t care.

When you toss his gun away to dig your nails in his hair and tug him into a bruising kiss, Jungkook feels like he can finally breathe.

You taste sweet, like whatever fruity cocktails you’d been drinking with your friends. Jungkook sucks your tongue, and he feels the vibration of your moans go straight to his leaking cock.

“Fuck me,” you moan with nails in his back, “And make it hurt.”

Jungkook helps you off the table to bend you over it. He may prefer sex that is slow and face-to-face, but Yoongi is coming home in a few hours, and sometimes, you like to punish yourself by denying yourself the sweet, sensual care that Jungkook prefers to give you. Sometimes you like it dirty and fast like this, Jungkook fucking into you with your wrists behind your back and your face pressed into the conference table’s cold, sleek surface.

You look forward to the tender bruise you’ll have on the apple of your cheek and against your hips from where Jungkook fucks you hard enough that you slam into the edge of the table. It’s a gamble, wondering if this will be the time Yoongi finally notices.

Sometimes Jungkook wonders if Yoongi already has noticed, and he’s just biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to kill you both.

“Fuck, jagi,” Jungkook moans. The table squeaks and grunts as the force of Jungkook fucking you pushes the table back and forth across the floor.

“Do I feel good, baby?” you gasp, twisting your hands in Jungkook’s so you can wrap your fingers around his wrist, too, to have something to hold onto.

“So good,” Jungkook whimpers, tightening his grip on your wrists. “Can I cum? Please?”

Your skin is probably chafing from how hard you’re being bounced against the table, but all you do is moan and clench around Jungkook’s cock, taunting him.

“Jagi, please,” Jungkook begs, hips faltering slightly. You’re so wet and creamy. There’s something about fucking you in the arms room that always makes you feel and sound better.

“You wanna cum? Baby boy wants to cum?”

“Wanna cum so bad, you feel so, fuck, so, so good.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists to dig his fingers into your hips and pull you onto his cock with each thrust. You lift off the table slightly so he can wrap one arm around your waist and slip his fingers through your folds, playing with your clit as he fucks you. He knows he needs to make you cum first before you’ll let him.

"Just like that, you're doing so well," you pant, pussy clenching and pulsing around Jungkook's cock so hotly that he knows you're going to cum soon.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long. Jungkook has you so worked up that you cum once he pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingers while you writhe and squirm on his cock, whimpering his name.

“Come on, baby,” you moan, “Cum for me, now.”

Tilting your head up, you let Jungkook kiss you. He squeezes his eyes shut as he cums inside you, mouth hanging open and completely useless to kiss, so you press light kisses along his sweaty throat instead.

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispers once his body has calmed down, gently easing out of you. His hands shake as he collapses into the chair and pulls you into his lap.

You kiss him properly this time, sliding your hands through his sweaty hair. He’s pussy-drunk, fucked dumb, nothing but static in his head as your lips glide with his. He could stay like this, pliant like clay in your hands, let you mold him into whatever you want him to be. Let you make or break him. Jungkook doesn’t care.

“Tell me you love me,” you demand, nails sharp against Jungkook’s scalp.

“Jagi,” Jungkook whimpers when you pull his hair, “I love you so much. I love you more than anything.”

“More than yourself?”

“More than myself.”

You hum into the next kiss, and Jungkook feels his body melt.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #oxygen

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sminiac · 4 months

Note

Heyy can we get soul bf if not its okay i really live your intak,theo and keeho ver.

⋆ Haku Shota + Reader

💌 — Of course I can my sweets! Thank you sm <3!!!

Bf!Soul who buys you the silliest gifts whether he’s travelling or not, the type to see ads of utterly ridiculous items that would have no practical value to it and still put them into his cart without hesitation and giggles to himself when handing the package to you when it comes in, wouldn’t say a word even if you repeatedly ask him what it is, just sits and waits patiently for you to open it.

Ex: Sometimes he even goes out of his way to buy you matching accessories, but sometimes it’s the most absurd looking thing you’ll ever see. Also yk how he has 2 custom rings of his dogs? He’d 100% get custom pieces for the two of you, the design pertaining to something that only you and him understand! Would also get a few pieces with your initials engraved in the back, another little secret only you’d know about.

Bf!Soul who doesn’t like messaging you when he’s away, he absolutely will when there’s no other option but he’d much rather hear your voice, and he makes sure to tell you too! “I just missed hearing you talk to me that’s why I called, it makes me feel better, you know?” He’d also send you little texts throughout the day to keep you updated on where he is, what he’s doing, but they’d never be in great detail, you’d look down randomly at your phone and there’s just: “Baby I ate a bug!!” and “Walked head first into a pole >ヮ< I’m okay I think”

Ex: He’d also frequently tell you “I miss you” but every time he’d explain why, and it would almost always be a different reason each time :,)

Bf!Soul who is such an affectionate person, hugs and kisses given to you for the smallest reasons, you open something for him? You’re suddenly being smothered in kisses, they’re so quick and gentle that before you know it he’s pulling away like he didn’t just leave you blinded and dizzy from his lips. Also the type to hug you unexpectedly, just slowly raises his arms leaving his chest open until you get the hint and pull yourself into him, the same with holding your hand, but instead he’d keep reaching, pulling, trying to dig his fingers to his designated spot between yours.

Bf!Soul who builds you the cutest, most aesthetic buildings you’ve ever seen in your shared Minecraft world, the amount of time and effort he’d put into making everything pretty for you is insane. Takes care of your cats, dogs, and other random plethora of animals when you’re offline, would also leave you random little signs with messages on them for you to find whenever you’re active again, sometimes they’re just silly nonsense, others you’ll find really cute ones of him just completely gushing over you.

Bf!Soul who I feel like is so “Guess what Y/n did?” To his members, a constant yapper about you, if you’ve done anything to your hair recently, that one makeup look you did, that outfit you wore, that thing you said, everything and anything he’s constantly connecting to you and then he just has to tell everyone!

Bf!Soul who lets you do anything you want to him, he’s just pure putty in your hands! You want to put his hair in cute pigtails again? He’s already finding a spot between your legs so you have easier access to his head. You want to see him in a certain outfit? He’s laying out all of his options for you to pick from, and he doesn’t complain even one bit throughout the process.

Ex: Small spontaneous photoshoots happen quite often with this, does so many poses for you, even refers to you as his ‘pretty photographer’ when crediting you in the caption of his posts for taking the pictures of him.

Bf!Soul who would request of you to send your favourite songs to him just so he can make a freestyle video for you :,)

Bf!Soul who I feel like puts an incredible amount of effort into conveying his love for you, he really appreciates someone who can even help him, whether that’s guiding him into the words he can’t seem to find or just simply being patient with him. Likes cuddling into you while you play with his hair as he rambles on and on about you, what you mean to him, how lucky he must be to have found someone so reactive to his energy that not a lot of people can match in the way he feels is genuine. When he has the time he really gets into the details about how he feels, the emotion behind it, I feel like he’d really like the deep, touching talks late at night where everything just pieces together right in front of his eyes thanks to your presence, your kind heart. He could talk to you for hours, things are just easy with you.

#bf!p1harmony #haku shota #haku shota x reader #p1harmony haku shota #p1harmony soul #p1harmony soul x reader #soul p1harmony #p1h soul #p1h soul x reader #p1h soul imagines #p1h haku shota #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony fluff #piwon imagines #piwon x reader #piwon fluff #piwon #soul x reader #soul

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sunaluv · 1 year

Text

WAGs

WAG: A wife or girlfriend of a sports star

Featuring: k.sakusa, r.suna

[ushijima,atsumu] vers.

Note: happy new year! I love how I posted like 5 things then dipped but I wanted to write some more on here 😭 enjoy!

Sakusa:

You had met sakusa whilst he was making a name for himself. He wasn’t as big as he was now, but his name would be floating around the internet somewhere.

That’s actually how you first saw him. One of your friends had shared a photo of his in a groupchat, and the whole chat was going crazy over this insanely hot insanely talented upcoming volleyball star.

Of course you found him attractive, but you were absolutely certain he would be yours. There was no mindless attraction. You geniuinely believed your friend had just send your future husband directly to you.

She kinda did tho

Flash forward a couple months, you were doing some early morning shopping as one does. The store was quieter, everything’s was in stock. It was perfect. It was SO PERFECT.

because just as you were picking out snacks for your apartment, you saw a masked man dressed in a black hoodie that may have been a bit to small for him, seeing as you could make out the definitions of his muscles through the fabric.

You knew that man from anywhere, after all you had only been dreaming of him for the past few months.

Not wasting this opportunity, you bravely approached him, making small talk about the stuff you were buying.

‘This was no one and done situation though, ‘you thought.

The next store runs, you slowly grew closer, sometimes going to the shop only to talk to him.

He eventually gained the courage to ask you on a date and from there your relationship progressed until you took his last name.

By now, sakusa was bringing in BANK, not that that was the reason you were with him but still.

He vowed to spoil you like you deserved whilst you were in the talking phase, and boy did he keep his promise.

Eventually, you quit your job after your husbands persistent pleads that he makes enough money to support the both of you. All you had to do was support him in his games.

And with your new free time, you were seen at the majority of them, looking pretty on the Jumbotron with your hair done, dressed to the t with the finest jewelry, the most noticable one being the gold necklace with his jersey number on it that sat in between your collarbones.

Naturally, you gained your own cult following on social media, and you were often photographed at games and events due to your great fashion sense.

Speaking of

You met the rest of kiyoomi’s team at an MSBY exclusive event, aswell as the other wives and girlfriends of the players.

Sakusa loves you dearly and will spoil you at every given chance.

SUNA

You and suna were highschool sweethearts

You had supported him ever since the inarizaki days and continue to to so as he plays for EJP.

People have known about you for YEARS. It was almost like you grew as he did.

But it was mainly because he still has the cheesy romantic highlights of you from inarizaki, so as he gained more followers, more people viewed the highlights.

Even if they didn’t, his actual feed is full of pictures of you.

When it comes to spoiling you, he sees gift giving as more as a thank you or appreciation for sticking with him all these years, because you played a big part in shaping his career too, looking after him when he didn’t.

That being said he really does appreciate you, shown by the various Swarovski crystals adorning your neck and wrists, the sleek sports cars he bought for you claiming ‘they’re our children’, or the random, but costly furniture you obsess over dotted around your shared penthouse.

The man introduced you into a world of luxury and endless princess treatment, and vowed to never take you out of it.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #suna x reader #haikyuu!!#hq drabbles #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x y/n #suna x you #sakusa x you #sakusa drabble #sakusa kiyoomi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days

Text

All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock.

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts.

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to.

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy?

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each.

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing?

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within.

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have.

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you.

“Good morning,” you force out at last.

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.”

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split.

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.”

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.”

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.”

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?”

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.”

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?”

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid.

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?”

“Oh?”

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?”

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look.

“It’s delicious,” you smile.

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.”

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy.

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?”

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger.

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.”

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees.

“Thanks...” you wisp.

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.”

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it.

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?”

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.”

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--”

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.”

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are.

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk.

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above.

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter.

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets.

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.”

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...”

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark.

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?”

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you.

You shake your head, “no thank you.”

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on?

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time.

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns.

“Been a while...” he mutters.

“You remember,” she rebukes.

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused.

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know?

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place.

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book.

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack.

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?”

You look at him and blanch.

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.”

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series.

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug.

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.”

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug.

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?”

“What?” You peek at the book again.

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.”

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...”

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures.

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.”

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.”

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.”

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...”

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all in #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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pucksandpower · 1 year

Text

Lewis Hamilton x Queen of Latin Music!Reader - Social Media AU

lewishamilton posted a story

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, antonelaroccuzzo, and 2,746,583 others

yourusername temporada de fresas 🍓

(Translated from Spanish: strawberry season 🍓)

View all 18,096 comments

lewishamilton delicious

y/nupdates excuse me, sir???

lh44updates did you see what lewis posted on his story a few minutes before this?

y/nupdates oh my god 😵‍💫 if this is a coincidence, i’ll eat my hat

f1wagupdates no way it’s a coincidence because this is textbook soft launching

lh44updates imagine if they made the jam together?

f1wagupdates this might mean that they’re living together or at least staying over

latingossip “lewis” this, “hamilton” that … why is no one talking about the fact that this is directly shading her ex?

yourfanclub i love that y/n is sneakily calling ruiz out by using strawberry jam considering it’s sort of the reason why she broke up with him in the first place

y/nupdates it’s so poetic

yourfanclub especially taken into context with lewis’ story 🤭

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, neymarjr, and 2,941,685 others

lewishamilton Feeling beyond blessed on my birthday 🙏🏽 Thank you for filling my heart with love, joy, and the most incredible music. Here’s to another year of embracing the magic of life ❤️🎵

View all 17,328 comments

yourusername happy birthday, my love! you are a blessing in my life each and every day. i will always be eternally grateful for the endless love and happiness you bring into my heart

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

charles_leclerc are you okay, mate?

georgerussell63 OPEN UP AND SET IT FREE (AH-OOH)

alex_albon he’s still a little starstruck

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

landonorris i think the party broke him

georgerussell63 LET IT OUT SO IT CAN BREATHE

f1wagupdates they are finally official 👀

latingossip not like they’ve really tried to hide that they’re together but it’s definitely still nice to get confirmation

y/nupdates i hope everyone who got to see her perform appreciates how lucky they are 😭

yourfanclub i would have given my firstborn to be invited 🫣

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, badgalriri, and 9,852,416 others

yourusername “slipstream” with XNDA is out now! hope you guys love it ❤️

“slipstream” con XNDA disponible ya! espero les guste ❤️

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lewishamilton my inspiration and motivation 😘

yourusername the reason my heart sings 🥰

f1wagupdates they’re actually the cutest

y/nupdates who is XNDA? his voice is so familiar but i’ve never heard of him before

hamilfan44 XNDA is just the stage name that lewis uses for his music

y/nupdates for real? he’s so talented!

lh44updates the fact that lewis used to be insecure about his rapping and now he’s proudly featured on a song with his girlfriend 🥹

Comments

⤷ Wait … did I just hear that correctly? Did Lewis call Y/N his wife?

⤷ He said it so naturally that I didn’t even realize until you pointed it out 😳

⤷ It’s definitely a surprise but I absolutely love them together! They are so much happier with each other

⤷ This is a bombshell considering they never even officially announced they were engaged in the first place

⤷ Who can blame them for wanting to keep it private after so much of their lives has been aired to the public? This just goes to show that they are well and truly in love

⤷ I hope this means we continue to get more music collabs from them

yourusername and lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, billboard, and 12,586,734

yourusername and lewishamilton racing against the world, our love’s the finish line 💍

View all 183,625 comments

mercedesamgf1 congratulations to our favorite paddock couple! wishing you a lifetime of happiness and success together

georgerussell63 i’m not even mad because they’re my favorite paddock couple too

carmenmmundt honestly same

billboard congrats! we can’t wait to see the hamilton-y/l/n family expand (and by that we mean new music of course 😉)

f1wagupdates what do you know that we don’t?

lh44updates i’m not sure what i want more: for them to release a new song collab or for them to have the most adorable baby ever

y/nupdates why not both?

Liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

y/nupdates umm are you guys seeing this???

donatella_versace so stunning, my darlings! thank you for giving me the honor of designing your wedding dress (and roscoe’s tux) 🩷

formulanone when a dog gets to wear something that costs more than your rent 🫠

paddockstyle roscoe is a fashion icon just like his father

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dancingbirdie · 7 months

Text

I Promised You (Chapter 2)

Here it is! The second/final part to this fic request I received. I worked SO hard on this, and I'm super proud of how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy!

I'm thinking about doing a possible epilogue with a dash of smut and domestic bliss but it's just a thought at this point. Let me know if you'd be interested in something like that!

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, FLUFF, angst, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

The three of you agreed it would be best to wait until the next morning before you attempted the spell. It irked you, having to wait yet another night, but you recognized the soundness in the logic. A good night’s rest and complete sobriety were more prudent, especially attempting something as audacious as this.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to rest without the aid of a sleep potion, so you downed a bottle in one swallow before forcing yourself to crawl into bed. Not long after, Astarion joined you in the four-poster you shared, lying on his back and staring vaguely at the canopied silks above you. You turned on your side toward him, trying to gauge his expression.

“If it doesn’t work —” he began, breaking the silence.

“It will,” you affirmed in an ironclad tone.

Astarion nodded absently, his train of thought undeterred.

“But if it doesn’t… I want you to know that it won’t be the end of the world,” he finished, turning his head to look at you.

You stared at him dubiously, quirking a brow.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know you. I know how hard you push yourself. And I know that if this somehow doesn’t work, you’re going to blame yourself for it. If you’re even still here to know if it doesn’t work. Gods,” he grimaced, turning to stare up at the ceiling again. “I still can’t believe the two of you have convinced me of this.”

“I appreciate your assurances, darling, but they’re not needed. I know this is going to work… I can feel it in my bones,” you smiled, reaching for his hand over the covers. Your fingers intertwined easily. He lifted them to plant a kiss on each knuckle.

“Nevertheless, I wanted it known. I don’t want you crawling on your hands and knees begging for forgiveness if it fails. The very idea that you’re even willing to try this for me is more than enough.”

“I love you,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. Your eyelids began to droop. You could feel the beginnings of the sleep potion taking effect.

“And I love you, my darling,” Astarion returned, sidling closer and wrapping you in his arms.

You fell asleep to the sensation of him kissing the crown of your head.

***

You roused from sleep to the chiming of the first morning bells, your senses on high alert.

It was morning. It was time.

You peered over your shoulder to see Astarion still lying beside you, his eyes closed in meditation. You reached a hand behind you to poke him, gently, in the side.

He scoffed but kept his eyes closed. “Keep those jabby little fingers to yourself, pup.”

“Just seeing how alert you are” you teased.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. I’m perfectly aware of my surroundings,” he quipped.

“Good, good… That means you’ll be expecting this!” you laughed as, all at once, you half-jumped, half-clambered on top of him, pinning him to the bed.

He hadn’t been expecting it, if his annoyed cries of outrage were anything to go by.

“Unhand me, you little beast,” he cried as he attempted to pin your arms to your sides. “Have you gone completely mad?”

You giggled as he wrestled you into compliance, grinning mischievously as you sat atop him.

Seeing your expression, he huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Honestly,” he chided. “Can’t you ever just behave?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” you smirked, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours.

He squawked in surprise at your suddenness before leaning in to kiss you deeper.

After a few moments of heated embrace, you broke from the kiss, both of your breathing a bit ragged.

“Gale will be here soon,” you murmured. “We best get dressed.”

“Bah. Don’t mention him when I’ve got you straddling my lap like this,” Astarion grumbled.

You laughed but wiggled your way off of him anyway. He growled his disapproval.

“It’s almost time,” you whispered excitedly, darting across the bedroom to fish some clothes out of the dresser.

Astarion turned to recline on his side, head propped up in one hand, watching you from his vantage point on the bed. Piddling about the room as you were, you failed to notice the look of sincere worry splayed across his features.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Almost time.”

***

Gale arrived shortly after the two of you had dressed and descended the stairs to wait in the den. Per usual, all the curtains in the cottage were closed, preventing any sunlight from creeping into the rooms. Or any prying eyes from peering in. Not being blessed with dark vision as you and Astarion were, Gale muttered a string of curses as he stumbled into an overgrown houseplant you had been nursing, nearly invisible in the gloom. Astarion suppressed a laugh while you murmured a series of apologies and began moving hurriedly about the room, lighting candles to help the wizard see a bit better.

Anticipation skittered across your skin and through your body as you helped Gale prepare for what was to come. You conjured a cot, gathered some medical supplies, and laid out some blankets for when you inevitably passed out. Meanwhile, Gale set to work on warding the room to prevent any collateral damage to the cottage or neighboring houses should the spell go awry. You tried to avoid glancing at Astarion, who was perched in his reading nook, one leg bouncing with nervous energy. You hoped that if you just carried on, business as usual, it would make him less inclined to call the whole thing off. And, too, he despised being coddled in front of an audience, even if it was your old companion Gale.

Finally, finally, all the preparation was complete. You turned slowly to survey the room. Formerly the den, it now resembled a half-hospital ward, half-wizard’s keep with all the furniture shoved aside to one corner, a cot and medical supplies positioned in another, and a sizable runic circle drawn in chalk in the center of the room. You had everything you needed. Now, it was just time for the spell.

“Do you feel ready?” Gale asked carefully, observing you taking in the room.

You turned to him and smiled.

“Yes. I’m ready,” you answered. Confidence bloomed in your chest as you walked forward to take your place in the very center of the runes. Then you turned to Astarion.

“How about you, darling? Ready?” you asked, reaching out for his hands.

You could see the anxiety in his eyes, rounded as they were, but he nodded once and rose with preternatural grace to walk forward and take your hands. You both stood stock-still, facing one another.

Despite being on solid ground, in the comfort of your house, it suddenly felt like you were on the precipice of something incomprehensible. This home, this room where you had shared so many wonderful memories, was now a liminal space. Whatever was to happen, neither of you would be the same afterward. It was a heady feeling, the awareness that you were about to walk headfirst into cataclysmic change.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Whatever happens. I love you.”

“And I love you,” you returned, smiling broadly. “Whatever happens.”

With a final reassuring squeeze, you slipped your hands from his. Closing your eyes, you rested your palms on your diaphragm and began to take a few deep, concentrating breaths. Centering yourself for what was to come.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt ready. Calm. Assured.

“Let’s begin,” you intoned. Both Gale and Astarion nodded wordlessly.

With your eyes locked on Astarion, you reached into the well of magic within your body, drawing up power slowly, methodically. You began channeling it through your fingers. Almost as though they were doing it on their own accord, your hands lifted to begin performing the spell’s gesticulations, your wrists twisting and fingers curling with perfect precision.

Then, in a low but strong murmur, you began to recite the required incantation in Celestial. It was a lengthy script that you had spent months memorizing and practicing in order to pronounce the words flawlessly. The words poured from your lips in lilting, seamless tones as you continued to shift your hands and maintain your gaze on Astarion standing before you.

After a few moments, the candles you had lit around the room snuffed out in unnatural synchrony. The runes encircling the two of you began to emit brilliant white light. While they touched you as well, the rays seemed to direct themselves intentionally toward Astarion, bending so that every bit of him was illuminated from head to toe. The light left him unharmed, however, washing over his skin like a gentle caress. The effect left him looking like a veritable angel. You committed the sight to memory, glorious as it was.

It carried on like that for some time, uninterrupted, but you reckoned you were nearly halfway through the spell when you felt a sudden shifting within you. The sensation of your magic changed. What had once felt like open channels coursing through your body was now beginning to feel more constricted. Like something was compressing your power.

Sweat began to bead on your forehead, and your bones began to ache as though your entire body were being drained of all its energy. Distantly, you realized that one of your knees was also beginning to buckle. But you couldn’t stop now. You knew from your training with Gale that if you paused, if you faltered in the incantation or hand movements even once, the spell would be ruined. And there would be no second chances.

Refusing to be deterred, you pushed with all of your might against that fatigue, willing yourself to maintain your focus on the spell. On Astarion. On the look in his beautiful eyes. Was it just your imagination, or were they starting to look a bit different?

Just as you began to feel your second knee buckle, a strong pair of hands braced around your shoulders. Holding you up, providing you support. You couldn’t break to look behind you, but you didn’t have to. You knew it was Gale. Your kind, long-suffering companion. Your closest friend. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t let you falter.

Sustained by his added support, you managed to utter the last remaining lines of the incantation. Your arms were heavy and growing lethargic, but you willed your hands to finish the final movements. You could feel you were on the verge of unconsciousness. Your magic was screaming in your veins to relent, but you bullishly forced your body into compliance.

You will not fail, you chanted in your mind. You promised Astarion this would work.

Finally, finally, the last syllable fell from your lips. As the room descended into hushed silence, you felt your magic give one last, desperate surge before abandoning you completely. The shock of it caused you to lose all remaining strength, catching Gale by surprise as you slumped gracelessly to the floor.

You lay there with eyes wide open, but you could barely take in your surroundings. Everything appeared to be covered in dark, gauzy film. You could hear rustling around you, above you. Then a pair of hands were grasping your face. You couldn’t make out the words they were saying to you.

In your last few seconds of consciousness, you could have sworn you saw a pair of startling blue eyes peering down at you, concerned.

Funny, you thought in a delirious stupor, none of your friends had blue eyes.

***

“Vital signs all look to be in safe ranges. Their magic is completely depleted, but that will resolve itself over a few days of rest.”

Astarion listened to Gale’s explanation, but his eyes never wavered from your face. It was so foreign, seeing you like this, wan-faced and unconscious. Of course, he had seen you injured before, but no wounds had ever rendered you so still and lifeless. It felt utterly unnatural for you to be this motionless, when you were usually such a tumbleweed of frenetic energy. The anxious, nonsensical part of him was itching to shake you awake, will you into consciousness by sheer brute force.

“Astarion, did you hear me?” Gale’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“They’re going to be completely fine.”

“Yes.” Astarion replied absently, eyes never leaving your face.

“Astarion.”

“What?” he hissed, finally lifting his gaze to the wizard. His voice had as much bite to it as a rattlesnake prepared to strike.

“The spell worked,” Gale smiled.

“I– I know,” Astarion replied, peering back down at you. “My fangs are gone, I think.”

He paused, swallowing thickly, before continuing. “I can’t feel them anymore. It just feels like regular canines now.”

“Don’t you want to take a look?” Gale asked cautiously.

Astarion’s eyes flitted up to meet the wizard’s gaze and then back down to your sleeping form.

“We don’t have mirrors in the house,” he replied in a timid sort of tone, sidestepping the question.

“I can conjure one. Here–” Gale paused, then began murmuring a few phrases in a language unknown to Astarion.

After a moment, an ornate, floor-length standing mirror shimmered into existence in the center of the room. Astarion flinched, staring at it, caught between two diametrically opposed urges to flee from the room and sprint toward the mirror. How was it that both feelings could exist simultaneously in his body, a distant part of him wondered.

“Go on,” Gale encouraged. “See for yourself.”

Astarion glanced down at you one last time before releasing a shaky breath and moving from the side of your cot to the center of the room. He approached the mirror at an angle, so that he couldn’t yet see his reflection. If he had one.

He knew he should just charge up to the blasted thing and see for himself whether it was true, that the spell had completely worked. But something about the mirror just felt more real, more meaningful, than the notable absence of fangs in his mouth. And that made it a thousand times more intimidating. Seeing his reflection for the first time in over 200 years? It was something he had only dreamed about for decades and decades. Astarion didn’t know how he would bear it, if he stepped in front of that mirror and saw nothing but the back of the room reflected.

He knew Gale was watching him surreptitiously as he tried to maintain his composure. He really did not want to break down completely in front of the wizard, no matter how good a friend he had been to you both over the years.

Finally, clenching his eyes shut and with a grumbled “Fuck it, just look” to himself, Astarion sidestepped to stand fully in front of the mirror. He opened his eyes.

And then he was watching himself open his eyes.

His beautiful, cerulean blue eyes.

The jaw of the face he saw in the mirror dropped, mouth opening in shock. His jaw. His face. It was his mouth he was watching as it opened.

He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Slowly, he raised one hand to his hair. The mirror image tracked his movements. He watched himself as he threaded his fingers through his curls. His silver, perfectly coiled locks. He marveled at how they laid so carelessly posh on his head, giving him a tidy yet windswept sort of look.

His other hand lifted to touch his jaw. His eyes tracked his fingers’ movements in the mirror as they traced the sharp cut of his jawline. When he turned his head, he noticed the puncture marks on his neck were nowhere to be found. Not that he had ever seen them, of course, but he had felt them. Those warped indents left over from Cazador’s brutal transformation process. Many of his unfortunate victims over the years had commented on how barbaric the scars appeared against the otherwise perfect skin of his neck. But looking at himself now, nothing remained on either side of his neck than spotless, alabaster skin.

His eyes darted wildly about his reflection then, barely able to comprehend everything he was seeing. His unblemished, pale skin. His full lips. His refined patrician nose. His sharp cheekbones. His delicately pointed elven ears. His perfectly defined brows. The thick, dark lashes that surrounded his eyes. Blue eyes. The broadness of his shoulders. His trim waist. His lean yet muscular legs. The way his physique alluded to a subtle but powerful amount of strength.

He was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And he could see it for himself now, for the first time in centuries. He could see it all for himself, those things his former lovers had praised him for. The things you complimented him on. The features he caught you ogling time and time again.

And then, he felt something truly remarkable inside his body. A sensation long since forgotten but now returned to him in full force, as though it had never left. His heart was beating in his chest. Pounding, in fact. Almost as though it would blast a hole right through his ribcage.

It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and stupefying all at the same time. And suddenly, like a swift punch to the gut, the magnitude of it all wrenched the very breath from his lungs. He crashed to his knees, watching his reflection as he slumped before the mirror.

A strangled cry clawed up and out of his throat as his mind twisted itself in knots, trying to accommodate this reality alongside everything else he had known and experienced before. He felt altogether too much and nothing at all. Tears poured from his open eyes as uncontained sobs wracked his body.

Amid his emotional outburst, Astarion registered a gentle hand against his upper back. A solid presence against his side. Gale. Dear, sweet Gale.

Distantly, he realized the wizard’s hand did not feel like a searing heat against him anymore. In fact, he felt no warmer than Astarion felt. Like their body temperatures were near equal. Before, that had only ever happened when his spawn siblings or Cazador had touched him. But now, he was as warm as any other living being.

Living. Being.

Before he could seriously reconsider it, Astarion crushed Gale in an embrace as he continued to weep, the need for companionship and solace a sudden ache within him. The wizard held him with all the comfort and compassion a friend could offer, rubbing his back in soothing circles and murmuring words of assurance.

Finally, after some time, Astarion peeled himself away from Gale’s embrace. He dried his eyes on the cuff of his shirt and attempted to restore some remaining ounce of his dignity. Gale sat quietly next to him, affording him some companionable silence to gather himself.

“Ahem,” Astarion coughed, attempting an air of normalcy. “Th-thank you, Gale.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend,” Gale responded with a gentle smile. “Truly, I am so happy for you.”

Astarion nodded, peering about the room, his eyes landing on the mirror once more.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” he murmured, watching himself speak the words.

“Well, you could always take the test one step further and walk outside,” the wizard suggested.

“No,” Astarion shook his head, glancing back at you, asleep in the cot. “I want to wait until they wake up. Do it together.”

Gale nodded in understanding. Peaceful silence permeated the room once more.

“Gale?” Astarion asked after a few moments.

“Hmm?”

“If you tell anyone I wept on you like a newborn babe, I’ll fucking kill you.”

A hearty guffaw erupted from Gale’s mouth at Astarion’s words.

***

Consciousness rose up in you slowly, as if emerging from a deep body of water. You felt around the sheets blindly, realizing you were back in your bed. Strange, given the last thing you remembered was slumping to the floor before Gale’s feet.

Had the whole thing been a dream? Your mind reeled at the thought.

Then you hesitantly reached down, reached inward, for your magic. The result was immediate and evidence enough: your well of magic was not nearly as expansive as it had been before. What had once felt like a reservoir the size of a lake now felt akin to a pond. Still potent, but a much smaller resource.

That’s okay, you reasoned to yourself. It will all be worth it, if it worked.

You refocused your attention to your surroundings, peering around the room for any sign of Astarion. You had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days later for all you could gather.

After a few moments, you heard the door creak. Your eyes darted over to the sound of the noise, and you watched as Astarion cautiously entered from the hallway. At the sight of you awake, he paused in the doorway to look at you.

His eyes met yours. Blue eyes. Dark, cerulean irises.

Then he gave you a broad smile. No fangs. Perfectly normal, elven teeth.

Suddenly you found yourself unable to see anything as your vision blurred behind a rush of tears. It worked.

It really, truly worked.

Your arms outstretched, you beckoned to him, childlike, wanting nothing more than to feel him close to you. Astarion huffed a laugh as he crawled into bed with you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

Laying your head against his chest, you began to weep anew as you heard his heart beating against your ear for the first time. A reliable, strong thump-thump, thump-thump. It was, without a doubt, the loveliest sound you thought you had ever heard. Astarion said nothing, just held you as you cried tears of pure joy, of relief, into his shirt.

After some time had passed, you finally detached yourself from his chest, putting enough distance between yourselves that you could truly take in his changed features. You noted the absence of the puncture wounds on his neck. You stared unabashedly at his gorgeous eyes. Tentatively, you reached a hand out to part his lips with a finger. He chuckled as he surmised your intentions before opening his mouth slightly to allow you to see his perfectly normal-looking canine teeth.

“Have you gone outside yet?” you whispered in a scratchy tone, your voice rusty from lack of use.

“Not yet. I was waiting for you, darling,” he smiled.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Oh, about a day and a half, I’d say,” he replied. “Your snoring has been absolutely egregious, by the way,” he continued, a wicked little smirk gracing his mouth.

You smacked him lightly on the arm. “How dare you!” you cried with mock outrage. “I cure you of vampirism and this is the thanks I get?”

“You cured my vampirism, not my cheeky personality, darling,” he teased, but then grew more serious. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling?”

You squeezed his arm in assurance. “I feel fine. Still a bit weak, but I should fare better after some food and a little fresh air.”

“And your magic?” he eyed you carefully.

You paused, biting your lip.

“Don’t sugarcoat it, darling,” he warned.

“I think it took a lot from me. Permanently, that is. My well of magic feels much smaller, but it’s still enough to defend myself with, if the need ever arises.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. The look on his face was one of utter guilt.

“Don’t be. Astarion, look at me,” you beseeched him, clutching his face in your hands. “I would do nothing differently. I’d give it up all over again for this. To see you cured. This is a gift.”

He let loose a halfhearted laugh. “I think it should be me saying that last bit rather than you, my dear.”

“Are you kidding? Think of all the blood I’m saving myself now that you’re finally cured,” you quipped, winking at him.

A true, hearty laugh bubbled past his lips. “Leave it to you to say something so crass during such a serious moment.”

“But you love me,” you cooed, leaning in for a kiss.

“Always, my darling,” he returned, pulling you closer to him as his mouth descended upon yours.

***

The first morning rays were peaking over the horizon when you cracked open the cottage door to peer outside. Your gaze wandered across the rolling hills beyond the main thoroughfare, catching glimpses of the herdsmen and farmers who were out beginning their days’ work. They were the only other folks up and moving about at this time of day.

You took in the cloudless sky, painted with beautiful pastel smatterings of oranges, pinks and blues. The air was pleasantly misty as a gentle breeze washed across your face, bringing with it the subtle scent of chimney smoke from neighboring houses.

It was, by all accounts, an incredibly mundane morning. At least for everyone else besides you and the pale elf lingering behind you on the doorstep.

“Are you ready?” you asked, looking back at Astarion.

His gaze was trained on the sunlight beginning to peak over the hills. He nodded absently, allowing you to take his hand in yours as the two of you began strolling down the road.

His fingers were tense as they interlaced with yours. You could tell his body was priming itself to flee at the first sign of discomfort. It was knee-jerk survivalist behavior. You knew it would subside after today, which is why you remained a silent, comforting anchor of support by his side.

As you continued to walk, the two of you took in the comforting signs of life around you. The smell of fresh bread baking in someone’s oven. The bleating of a family’s goat. The quiet clucking of hens in their coop. The laundry hung out to dry. You watched as Astarion took it all in, his eyes wide with wonder at being able to see this side of living once again. He hadn’t been able to witness it since the tadpoles in your brains had been destroyed.

By the time the sun had fully risen above the horizon, you and Astarion had made it out of the little town. You were walking along a well-trod path through the hillside when the morning light swept across your skin. You felt Astarion flinch at the sensation, his fingers squeezing yours in a vice-like grip. You paused your walking, turning to face him instead.

He was gorgeous, half of his face limned in the gentle warmth of the sun. His eyes filled with such hope and happiness it threatened to rend your heart in two. You watched as he looked at you and then down at his hands, flipping them over, studying them in the light. Noting how they didn’t burn or blister.

“See? It’s real. You’re cured,” you whispered, smiling up at him. His blue eyes met yours.

“A whole lifetime of this,” he murmured, returning your grin. “Of you. Of the sun. Of living,” he emphasized, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. It was beating like mad beneath your palm.

“Here’s to all of it then, darling,” you replied before capturing his lips with yours.

***

TAGLIST: @call-me-nyxx, @tenderlyuniquepatrol, @arioneway, @twistedcutie3, @bloopthebat, @my-bunny-prince, @starlight-ipomoea, @iceice-baeby, @moonmaiden1996, @dark-star-exe, @campfull-of-weirdos, @yokaimoon, @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

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virgincels · 4 months

Text

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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n6ptunova · 7 months

Note

i loved your chris bf hcs! could you please do one for matt? thank you and i hope you’re having a good day :)

boyfriend headcanons • matt sturniolo

a/n: thank you so much ily!! hope you enjoy thiss🫶

warnings: none

- you can’t convince me that matt wouldn’t be the type of bf who accidentally ignores you in public/groups of friends. he doesn’t mean to but he’s so awkward and doesn’t like pda much so when he tries to avoid it he avoids you altogether. it used to hurt your feelings but after talking to him he reassured you that he’s just a dumbass.

- he makes up for being distant in public when you guys are alone tho. he lovesss having you in his arms hugging his slutty waist, while he strokes your hair and kisses your head/cheeks occasionally. he’s def the big spoon most of the time.

- his love language is physical touch and acts of service, so he’ll often want to drive you to run errands together (grocery shopping, ikea visits, etc.) it makes him feel like you’re a married couple which kind of sums up your relationship with him.

- he’s also the designated bug killer, bob the builder ass bf. you got new furniture that needs to be built? he’s doing it no question. you broke something and need it fixed? he’s on it. he almost babies you honestly and he loves it but when you take it too far and act too spoiled he’ll be like alright wrap it up.

- he’s kind of moody sometimes for no reason like you’ll be making jokes or annoying him for fun and he’s just “not having it” when in reality he can’t get enough of your attention, he’ll pretend to be annoyed and keep rolling his eyes but he can’t wipe the goofy ass smile off his face.

- BABY FEVER!! every time he seems a cute baby out in public or on tiktok he turns into the biggest softy, “babe look oh my goddd they’re so cute i want one.” *hears the baby laughing* “nvm i want ten.”

- perks of dating someone with a car (ns to chris and nick! full shade actually) is you get to go on a lot of late night cruises with the top down, blasting your fav music, him using his free hand to switch between holding yours and placing it on your thigh. plus you get some privacy to….be risky! if ykwim

- matt loves when you take an interest in something he loves eg. pokemon, certain artists he listens to, cabin life, etc. he gets so excited and giddy and he’ll want to tell you everything he knows about these things. and he does the same for you but he gets embarrassed and defensive if you point it out so you just silently appreciate it.

- ^ you once caught him reading one of your favorite books simply because he wanted to talk to you about it and seeing you get all excited and passionate while talking about it.

- he’s definitely a soft launch type of guy. always posting pics where you just barely show. the back of your head, or your nails in the corner of the pic, your shoes etc. i can’t imagine him fully posting up with his gf on instagram or tiktok but maybe if it’s been a few years he’d do it for anniversaries and it’ll be like aesthetic ass pinterest vibes photos.

- matt would always be taking candid photos/videos of you and saves them in an album that’s full of just you. 90% of his screen time is his camera roll just bc he’s always looking and admiring the pics he took of you, he’s obsessed fr.

- after a while i feel like matt would start to show his silly/goofy side a lot more with you. he would so be the type to chase you around trying to tickle you- he just loves hearing your laugh. it usually ends with him pinning you down with one hand and tickling you with the other until you’re almost out of breath then he’ll stop and kiss you to make up for it.

- he’ll be more talkative with you than with his brothers sometimes since you don’t interrupt. he’s always rambling about whatever’s on his mind and apologies after like pookie you’re good talk more!!

- he’s a bit indecisive in general like where to eat, date ideas and stuff but he tries because he knows you like when he’s ‘assertive’. idk how to explain this but he acts like the stereotypical “man provides” but in a non toxic/non misogynistic way.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo headcanons #n6ptunova

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mournings-stars · 4 months

Note

so lute and velvette… opinions on what they would like to receive as gifts? 👀

OHHH OK i got carried away and did how theyd react to gifts but trust i followed the prompt at first

so lute doesn’t like gifts (this is a lie). if you get her anything she’ll just throw it away (she will treasure that shit til the day she dies). just dont get her a work-related gift and she’ll love it forever

velvette on the other hand loves gifts — she expects them and you know it’d be a death wish to get her anything related to her work — even if its shallow, she’d rather have that because something work related feels undermining

say you get lute flowers? she’ll appreciate them in private because no one ever gets her anything, and she doesn’t know when she’ll get a spontaneous “they made me think of you” gift again

get velvette flowers? that woman is expecting flowers with every gift you give her because flowers can’t be a gift again silly, now they’re just common courtesy

but don’t worry, velvette is gushing about you all over social media because you meet her expectations so well — she posts things like “never settle for less” and its more and more every time

lute is discreet about her fawning. rather than broadcasting her appreciation, she’ll find herself staring at the flowers she’s been keeping healthy with fresh trims and water whenever it was needed and thinking she should probably do something to show her gratitude — so that you weren’t just giving her something unwarranted ofc. not because she wanted you to start giving each other gifts

of course that would be exactly what happens

i don’t think velvette would put too much effort into getting you a gift, like shes not thinking about what you might like in return or anything, but if she sees something you’ll like?? (and she knows what you like) best believe she’s getting that no mater the price

and vel is not the type to take off price tags. not because she wants you to feel bad about her spending so much money, but because she wants you and everyone else to know that she’s going to do everything possible to keep you happy, so that price tag going on her story with a casual “anything for my baby”, is 1000% percent a threat to the world

i have half a mind to think she makes sure to buy you the most obscenely expensive things when you’re not there to object and tells you it was final sale, but “it’s okay, love, we’ll go and get you something else, yeah?” and thats how she gets you because she knows you love her gifts, and she will be getting you more

with lute, you’d definitely be the one buying things on a whim. however, she would make you return things that were too pricey, only to find something she’d want to get you — conveniently she’d forget to check the tag, or she’ll talk to the shop owner until she got the price down

“what about this?” she’d ask when she saw something she wanted to get you, and you’d have to ask her whether it was for you her her. she’d lie, obviously, and end up finding a way to give it to you in the future

lute would also tell you not to get her anything then be walking with adam down the promenade and tell you to “catch” as she tossed you something she got for you

and that girl is 100% watching to see you fawn over it, smiling when she sees how excited you are only to be pulled out of it by you coming back to give her something in return because you just knew if she told you not to get anything, that meant she got you something. like it’s basically a competition at this point and she counts that as a loss — and lute does not lose

velvette, on the other hand? not a competition; she’s winning either way. she has a partner who gets her gifts that meet her expectations, and she has a partner she can give gifts that meet her expectations

but lute’s competitiveness about gifts is hot so who’s really winning…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin velvette #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #hazbin x reader #lute headcanons #velvette headcanons #hazbin

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vhagarlovebot · 1 year

Text

HELPING HAND.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: when aemond confides in you that he’s never laid with a woman, you make sure to change that.

content warnings: 18+, canon typical incest, unprotected p in v, curse words, loss of virginity, handjob, cockwarming, praise, inexperienced!aemond, a bit of fluff. block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t want to see my dark content.

note: well, hello ! here’s another one of the works i posted on my old blog and just recently found. i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

BEFORE YOU KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING, aemond’s lips are on yours. you whimper, surprised but quite pleased, because you’d be lying if you say you haven’t thought about kissing him in many different scenarios.

his lips are soft and sweet, but you can tell he is insecure and that is why his movements are sloppy, he keeps his hands away from your body not knowing where to place them; but you need his touch, his warmth, and so you guide his hands to rest on your waist.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the first girl he’s ever kissed.

without breaking the kiss, you move from your spot on the bed to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his body.

“your lips are soft.” you whisper against his swollen lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“yours taste like cherry.” his voice comes out raspy, eyes locked on yours. “i like it.”

yoi cup his cheeks and kiss him again. this time you’re hungry for him, smashing your lips against his own. and he lets you know he likes it holding you tighter against his body as your fingers travel down his head and tug at his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat you start to suck, intending on marking him right below the collar of his button down.

he gasps, pants tightening. your fingers work fast unbuttoning his shirt, his smooth and pale skin screaming for your touch. you bite down on his neck and he groans, pulling you away.

aemond pupil is dilated, lips parted and red. you shudder at the view, so wrecked just by an intense make-out session. but you want more.

you take your top off, your bra following shortly after, and nod at him to do the same; he’s quick to obey. it’s like he goes into a trance the moment he sees your chest, and you think you can cum just by the sight of him.

“you can touch me.” he makes eye contact for a few seconds, and then lowers his gaze, swallowing. you know he wants you but he’s too nervous to do things on his own, so you help him by guiding both of his hands to your breasts. they’re cold and the friction they create makes you close your eyes and arch your back, palms rubbing against your nipples and hard cock pressing against the fabric of your undergarments.

once you feel he has gained confidence, your hands move slowly over his chest, caressing him softly as you start to kiss his neck. you drag your nails down until they’re at the waistline of his pants and, not wasting any time, you unbuckle his belt.

his jaw drops, taking a sharp breath as he lifts his hips up so you can remove his belt and lower his pants. and when your hand comes in contact with soft flesh, the sound he makes soaks your panties.

aemond squeezes your breasts, making you whine. “easy, pretty boy.”

you giggle, sucking on his bottom lip as you pump his cock. he’s panting, eyes rolled back and desperate. his hands are everywhere on your body, coming to a halt when he lifts your skirt, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass.

aemond whines, thrusting into your hand. “are you close, love?” you ask into his ear, increasing the pace of your hand, while your other hand lifts his chin up. his face is flushed and he’s trying really hard to not let himself go. “i got you, aemond.”

and that’s all he needs to cum in your hand, grasping your waist so hard you know his hands will leave bruises. he groans loudly, and you immediately cover his mouth.

you look at your hand and then at him, who’s resting his head against the headboard with his eyes closed, and you clean it on his chest making a mess between cum and sweat.

“fuck.” aemond murmurs, opening his eyes.

“we’re not finished.” you leave a quick kiss on lips before lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side. “you can take it. right, pretty boy?” he hums, eyes fixed on what he can see of your cunt. “i need you to look me in the eyes and say it.”

aemond gulps and his big violet eye looks at you pleading, the head of his cock brushing against your cunt. “i can take it. please.”

you grab hold of his shoulders, and sink down. slowly. the look on aemond’s face, contorted in pleasure, and the sounds coming out of your mouth creating an intense and seductive atmosphere. he holds you tight against his chest and groans, closing his eye tightly.

“you’re so big.” you whisper, his hands returning to your ass, helping you slide down further.

aemond sucks in a ragged breath as you lift your hips up again, just to sink down completely onto his cock. you move slowly at first, teasing him, wanting to hear him beg, but he sees right through you and squeezes your flesh as he starts thrusting into you. you moan, ducking your face into his neck, trying to muffle those sounds.

“oh my gods, please.” you don’t know what you’re asking for, but is like a praise falling from your lips over and over and over again.

your walls tighten around him and aemond moans so loud you fear someone would hear you, and then you’ll be in big trouble. your hand covers his mouth while you look for something, anything, and your eyes fall on a black leather belt by your side. without saying a word you hold it closer to his lips and aemond opens his mouth not giving it a second thought, blindly trusting you.

“such a good boy.” you say, taking control by lifting yourself up on your knees, fucking him rough. you reach between your bodies to rub circles into that sensitive bud that makes you bite your lips so hard you taste your own blood. “i know you’re close. cum with me.”

you keep grinding on him, tits bouncing with every movement, and it doesn’t take much more before aemond is cumming inside of you, groaning onto his belt, eye closed and a blissful face that sends you over the edge.

you hold your breath, head falling backwards and tights clenching around him. you try to steady your breathing as you come down, legs shaking.

neither of you speaks, all you can hear are your rapid breaths, and when you meet his gaze, he kisses your neck, inhaling your scent. his cock softens but he doesn’t move, and you don’t want to move either, so you stay there; your hands stroking his silver locks. you pull him back to look at him, and you notice that his eye is glazed over and there’s sweat covering his lovely, flushed face. a part of you can’t believe what just happened, but the other part couldn’t be happier. and satisfied.

“can we stay like this for a little while?” aemond asks with a raspy voice and swollen lips, a smile forming on his face. you nod and he buries his face into your neck, arms around your waist while yours are around his neck, rubbing his back.

and when aemond starts to hum a little tune, you know you’re exactly where you want to be.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#★. dark themes!#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen scenarios #prince aemond x reader #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd x you

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sandfordsmostwanted · 1 year

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No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content... ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma.

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out. Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway. And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together. As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other. It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned. Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real. It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began. A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college. Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated. (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song)

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

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casuallyawkardd · 11 months

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Close Encounters of the Spiderkind Pt II

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: Your daughter needs a sitter at the last minute and no one else is available, at least that’s what you thought..

Warnings: Fluff, Miguel is still a softie around kids, your daughter is a menace to society, this is basically the Miggy and Vada show, I’m not fluent in Spanish so correct me if I mess up

A/N: Here’s the part 2 ya’ll wanted so bad! Thank you for the lovely feedback from the last post, I appreciate you guys 💞 If you want to be tagged for future parts, be sure to join the TAGLIST

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Another month had passed since your little home visit with Miguel. Halfway between then and now, you had decided on sharing your little secret with the rest of the Spider Society. It was no surprise when the other spiders wanted to know more about your daughter, many insisting that you bring her in some time for them to meet. It was especially rewarding when Peter B and Jess heard the news. Granted, Jess was a bit annoyed that you had kept Vada a secret for so long and Peter thought you had deprived Mayday of a potential friend, but after the initial shock they were just as eager to meet her as the others.

Everyone was surprised at how anticlimatic Miguel’s reaction was. “I already knew,” he would reply when someone would question his behavior, “it’s my job to know.” Ever the cocky asshole, O’Hara.

The biggest pro to the whole of Spider Society knowing you had a kid was the near infinite amount of babysitters. And trusted ones at that. Except Ben...he was on probation for encourging Vada to hit a new PR with very big, very real weights. Hobie was on thin ice as well, in your opinion Vada was too young to be ‘sticking it to the man’ as he so generously put it.

When Miguel finds you, you’re in the Go Home Machine control room. Weird, he definitely remembered assigning you an urgent mission. He saunters in, welcomed by the sound of Spider-Byte and you in a very heated discussion.

“Come on Margo, it’s only for a few hours. Vada is a good girl, she won’t get in the way of your work.”

“Nope, not gonna do it. It’s way too last minute, do you see how many anomalies I have to send out today? Plus, I don’t do kids. They're sticky and my equipment doesn't do sticky,” Margo says dismisively, her holgogram zooming around the room as she continues her work.

"My daughter is not sticky," you retort, spinning around in place trying to keep up with her, arms crossed, suited up and ready to go. Miguel recognizes the annoyed look on your face, glad he’s not on the receiving end of it for once, but he’s about to be.

“What’s the hold up? I told you to be on Earth-76C ten minutes ago.”

Your head snaps in his direction, frustration fading only slightly as you huff, “I know. I’m supposed to pick up Vada in an hour, but now I need someone to do it instead and watch her until I finish the mission,” you deadpan him, fidgetting with the Gizmo on your wrist.

“Did you try-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve asked everyone. Jess is doing date night, Peter said Mayday is sick...” Miguel listens as you rattle off the excuses every spiderperson threw at you, listing every close friend of yours in the society. “...Her grandparents are out of town and my neighbor is the one watching her now, but she has plans tonight as well. So if you have any bright ideas-”

“I can watch her,” it’s so surprising to hear those words come out of Miguel's mouth that even Margo has stopped working to look at him, but his eyes are focused solely on you. Your mouth is moving, but no sound comes out as you try to form a coherent sentence.

“I couldn’t-”

“It’s really no problem.”

“You’re probably busy-”

“I’m actually very free right now.”

You scoff, hands moving to your hips, “Did Lyla lock you out of your lab again when you went to go grab food from the cafeteria?”

His eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightens, “Do you need a sitter or not?”

Miguel had lost track of how long he was standing in the hall of your apartment building, holographic suit materialized into more fitting clothes for your universe. It felt like an abnormal amount of time, but was probably only a few minutes. Only one old lady going into her apartment looked at him funny, but that was most likely due to the uncomfortable look on his face. It’d been a long time since he’d had to look after a kid by himself, let alone one as young as Vada.

He had seen her in passing, whenever you would pick up or drop her off with one of the other spiders who had agreed to watch her. You even introduced them one time, saying he was your boss. Vada had just stared at him, he couldn’t tell if it was with a look of fear, confusion or awe. He had no idea how she would react to him picking her up rather than her mother.

His knuckles rapped against the door and Miguel could hear someone approach from the other side. When it opened he was greeted by a woman, looking to be around your age, maybe even younger. She did a double take when she saw him, but Miguel was used to that. There weren’t a lot of universes where being six foot nine was considered normal.

“Can I...help you?” she asked him finally.

“M’name’s Miguel...I was told to pick up Vada,” he said simply and her eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh! You’re who she was calling about,” she called Vada’s name over her shoulder, letting the little girl know it was time to go. “How do you know Y/N again?”

“We’re coworkers,” it wasn’t a lie technically. Miguel parroting what you had told him to say so he could pretend to be someone you knew from your day job.

“You’re a scientist?”

Miguel paused, confused by the question until he realized she was talking about his...physique. Her eyes not very subtly giving him the up and down. “I...work out when I’m stressed.”

The corners of the woman's mouth briefly turned down in a 'hmph' before returning to their normal position, “Must be hella stressed.”

There was the pitter patter of feet, making Miguel glance past the woman as Vada came to the door. It was almost comical how small she was compared to him, the top of her head barely making it to his hip. The pig tails that were meant to be on top of her head were lopsided, one still in tact while one sagged sideways, and there was a wet spot on her t-shirt. Is that...drool?

“She woke up from a nap about ten minutes ago,” the woman seemed to pick up on his confusion. She knelt down beside Vada, the two hugging goodbye, “Are you okay going with him back to your apartment?” she asked the toddler.

Vada bit her lip in thought, looking back at Miguel as if to stare him down....or rather up. “Hmmm...yeah. Bye Aunt Harrie,” Vada responds in a neutral tone, stepping through the doorway with a backpack almost as big as her slung over one shoulder.

Miguel exchanged pleasantries with her aunt before the three parted ways. He easily tugged the backpack off her shoulder and followed the little girl down the hallway. She seemed to know the way home, their destination only a few floors up. The rickety elavator opened for them and Miguel stepped in, stopping the doors from closing at the last minute when he saw Vada had yet to get in.

She...just stood there. Staring at him. Is she scared? Toddlers can get irrational fears, maybe the elevator freaks her out? Then she wouldn’t be looking at that instead of staring at me? “Are you coming?” he finally asked, meeting her gaze when she looks back up at him.

“You have to say superhero jump.” Well that was blunt.

“¿Perdóname?”

“Huh?”

Miguel cleared his throat, “I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Mama always says ‘superhero jump!’ and then I do a reeeally big jump from here to there,” Vada talks with her hands, pointing at her feet and then the elevator.

That’s ridiculous, was what Miguel was going to say before he stopped himself, sighing. “Superhero jump.”

“You have to say it in a happy voice.”

“Superhero jump~,” Miguel’s voice raised an octave in mock enthusiasm, but it seemed to do the trick as Vada did her bathetic jump over the elevator gap. “...Wow, good job.”

“Thank you,” she said proudly as she stood on her tip toes to hit the button for their floor.

The rest of the short trip was uneventful. Miguel did give Vada a sideways glance when she didn’t request he say ‘superhero jump’ when they got out, calling her actions inconsistent in his head. Like he wasn’t referring to a toddler. When he opened the door to the apartment, Vada was off. She started by running into the living room, stuttering to a stop before going to her mother’s room, then her own and even the bathroom.

Finally she stopped back in the living room where Miguel waited, “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s working, I’m watching you, remember?”

Vada’s nose scrunched at that, “I want Mama.”

“I’m sure you do, but you’ll just have to wait.”

The toddler’s foot stomped defiantly, “I want Mama now!”

“Vada,” Miguel huffed, squatting to be level with her. “Cálmate, your mother will be home in a couple hours. You’re a big girl right? You can wait,” Vada glared at him, but it was hard to take a three year old’s anger seriously when she looked cute expressing it. She then gasped dramatically, cheeks puffing out as she held the breath, little hands covering her nose and mouth. There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at one another.

What was she-oh. Oh.

“Stop that, throwing a tantrum isn’t gonna change my answer,” Miguel said a bit more firmly, making sure to be somewhat gentle still. She didn’t budge. “Vada, ay coño, that’s enough.¿Quieres desmayarte?” Do you want to pass out?

He reached a hand out to grab her, maybe jostle some sense into her, but didn’t get the chance as she erupted into giggle when his hand grazed her side. Miguel was confused at first before realization hit, “Are you ticklish?” he teased.

Vada giggled again, her bad mood seeming to fade away almost instantly, “Noooo~,” she cooed.

Miguel scoffed, the corners of his mouth turning up, “Alright, you’re not ticklish, but come on. I’m sure you don’t want to just stare at each other until your mom comes home. There’s gotta be something you want to do? Maybe play? What do you and your mom do for fun?”

The afternoon went by surprisingly fast. Vada was...quite the little firecracker. Very much her mother’s daughter. Not only did she look like a carbon copy of her mom, but she had the same mannerisms. The way her nose scrunched when she was displeased with something he said, the way she bit her bottom lip when thinking hard about something, it was like he was babysitting a tinier version of you.

Vada played him like a fiddle, getting him to play pretend with her little toys, even convincing him to do different voices for each of the dolls she had assigned to him. Miguel was just glad no one else was around to witness this, he’d be spending the rest of his life threatening them to keep quiet. He became very aware of the drama at Vada’s preschool, the little girl filling him in on all the latest gossip, to which Miguel was listening to with an embarrassing amount of intrigue.

“...now Becca isn’t talking to Daina because Daina laid next to Teddy during nap time,” Vada rambles on, absentmindedly rolling a toy truck across the floor.

“Uh huh, because Becca like likes Teddy,” Miguel affirms, his deep, monotone voice a stark contrast to hers. He sat next to her on the ground, watching Vada as she continued to play, while detangling the hair of one of her dolls with a tiny, plastic brush.

“Yup! And then Becca got mad and pushed Daina into the sandpit, so now Becca can’t play outside for pickup.”

“Tch! Puta...” Miguel mutters the phrase without even registering it, catching himself when he realizes how invested he’s gotten in petty gossip. A child’s petty gossip, no less. Domínese, O’Hara...

“Puta.”

Miguel’s eyes widen, looking back at Vada. Did she just.. “Don’t say that word.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bad word.”

“Nuh-uh, my mommy knows all the bad words and she's never said that one.”

“It is.”

“Poooootaaaaah~” Vada enunciates, giggling at how annoyed Miguel gets when she says it. Before Miguel can scold her once more, the clicking of the front door alerts them of your arrival, both Vada and Miguel’s head snapping to watch as you come in and shut the door behind you.

It had been a more difficult mission than you had anticipated. The Sandman from your earth was reeking havoc in another dimension. Seemed like an easy fix, until you discovered there was another Sandman from a different universe also in the mix. After some sloppy web work, a little assistance from the spider of that universe and a few bruised ribs, you had them captured and returned to HQ to be sent back to their respective earths. The damage to your body was minimal, for someone with superhuman abilities, a good night’s rest would have you back to normal.

The door had hardly been shut when the familiar tapping of Vada’s feet on the hardwood approaches you. And as usual, you crouch down to accept her embrace, this time wincing slightly as her little body collides into yours, your toddler oblivious to the injuries you had sustained. She wastes no time talking your ear off, telling you how her day was at Aunt Harrie’s and her evening with Miguel.

Miguel, speaking of, stood in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room to watch the interaction unfold. You don’t see it, but the sight of you watching as Vada eagerly chatters brings a smile to his face, just a small one, as he admired the relationship between mother and daughter. When you glance his way, he averts his gaze to the ground and clears his throat stiffly.

“Well, sweet girl, it sounds like you had a busy day,” you say, looking back at your daughter. She’s beaming at you, a sight that always warms your heart no matter how many times you see it. “Come on, let’s get dinner started.” Vada moves like someone who’s never eaten, bolting to the kitchen counter and crawling onto one of the bar stools.

“Can Miggy have dinner too?” she asks, fidgetting excitedly in her seat. The question makes you pause, stopping just as you were about to fill an empty pot with water. After hemming and hawing for a moment, Vada decides to turn her attention to the man in question, “Can you, Miggy? Can you?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, jaw set as he thinks of what to say, Vada waiting with bated breath. “Well...”

“It’s fine.” You finally find your voice again.

Miguel turns his attention to you now, “It is?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” you shrug simply, “that is if you want to stay for dinner.” Miguel purses his lips as he thinks over your offer and you try not to chuckle at the sight.

“...What are you making?”

“Boxed Mac n Cheese.”

He scoffs, “That doesn’t sound very-”

“Mac n Cheese is my favorite!” Vada chimes in, “Mama always gets the one’s shaped like unicorns and rainbows cuz they taste better.”

Her words make Miguel pause again, finally letting out a deep breath through his nose, “Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”

You smile mischievously, “We’re happy to have you, ‘Miggy~.’”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Dinner with you and your daughter was surprisingly pleasant. Miguel didn’t say much as he shoved the cheap pasta and cheese down his throat, watching you interact with your daughter. It was domestic, almost peaceful. Afterward Miguel offers to do the dishes while you put Vada down for the night. He excuses himself once done, thanking you for the meal and making sure to leave out the part that, for dinner being a cheap box of mac n cheese, it was the best meal he had had in a long time.

Tags:

@l0sert0wn @deputy-videogamer @arctic4life @sasaleleselfships @autismsupermusicalassassin @snert-bees @qundadedingle11 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @fangirlreice7 @mouse-teagreat @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @yellieeeee @thesrtuggleisveryreal @escherichiacolli @sweeteaacorner @marvelouslovely-barnes @meeom @candlewitch-cryptic @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @melovetitties @ilovemycat6808 @vegas-writing-den @pippethealien @shibble @mommyhange1 @chiikasevennn @pokhouu @jenniferdixon05207 @m0sscr3ates @momos-peaches @insanelycrazyanddelusional @miggyoharaswife @justtnat @imliquidesmooth @thedevillovesflowers @mvc2019 @starrynightnight @risinglightmoon @charming4u @whitetearx @blueparadisecollection16s @idontknowwhatimgoinghere @ziyahshinez @migueloharaslxt @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @viriexo @futuristicpandakid @louderfortheback @tomhollandisabae @itzsab @blue-pears-blog @geraskier-thots @saintskully @johnny-pie @keenzinemugstudent @rizahawkeye1380 @realalpacorn @prettylittlebrowngirl @leahnicole1219 @fandom-ash

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara headcannon #reader insert #close enounters of the spiderkind #miguel o'hara x single mother!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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The Quiet Ones 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I slept for like ten hours and it was fucking wild.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You watch the long needle slide out from under your skin. You don’t feel it much. That man, Lloyd, loops the tube around the IV bag stand. You sit in the bed still, disoriented and dull. You can feel the tension buzzing off of him, as if he’s holding himself back. That scares you more than anything he’s done.

Before you can say or do anything, your stomach growls. The tumble is painful as your insides squeeze violently. He looks at you and takes your hand, tugging you towards the edge as he snickers.

“Hungry, jellybean?” He teases, “come on. I’ll make you a nice omelet.” He pulls until you shimmy across the bed. You turn your legs out and can’t help but use his strength to stand. He’s patient as he easily hauls you up. “You okay, babykins? I could carry you. Like before.”

“N-no,” you try to wiggle your hand free but his grip is unbreakable. He squeezes and you quit your resistance.

“You might be a bit groggy, that’s normal. The smoke, the meds--”

“Meds?”

“Well, I slipped a bit extra in the bag,” he shrugs as he glances over at the IV, “just so you could sleep.”

You look at him, your horror burning from your eyes. He grins proudly and swings your arm, turning to lead you to the door. You take short steps, muscles stiff and achy, shoulders wracked from sleeping on your back. You look down at yourself and shudder; at least you’re still wearing your own clothes.

“I’ve been doing cooking classes. I can do a florentine that will blow your tits off,” he boasts as he angles you through the door.

The hall is airy and echoey. The house must be huge. You get that sense easily. You don’t need to go around and count the rooms. He takes you down the long hallway and you stop at the top of a set of stairs. They bend in the middle but more corning, there’s a large space between each. They’re polished to a shine and look slippery as the morning reflects off of them.

“Just a step at a time,” he goads as you latch onto the railing.

You put a foot down and grip both him and the railing. Another tide of wooziness comes over you. It could be what he gave you or your days of restriction, but it’s too much. The world is too much.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos as you take a second step down.

This is strange. It reminds you of a movie you watched as a kid with a maze and twisting and turning walkways and a taunting villain. You’ve awoken in his trap and you see no escape in sight.

You slip on the third and let out a squeak as you feel yourself falling. He’s quick to catch you, scooping you up easily even in the narrow space. He lifts you and continues down swiftly, bringing you onto flat ground. You murmur and rub your head as you feel his heartbeat against your arm.

You feel a tickle in your hair and hear him take a deep breath. Is he smelling you? You repress a shiver at the thought as your eyes struggle to focus on the shapes all around you.

He carries you into another room, a kitchen, as spacious and sleek as any other part of the strange house. A white marble counter lines two walls and wraps around into full C, marking off the cooking space. On the other side, there’s glass table in an abstract, asymmetric shape with metal frame chairs around it. The whole place is out of one of those design magazines. All impractical at the expense of aesthetic.

He sits you in one of the chairs, it’s just a rigid as you expect. He stays bent, holding you by the shoulders until your hold yourself up. He drags his hands down your arms as he reluctantly pulls away. You flutter your lashes and rub your eye sockets, trying to block out your reality.

“My sleepy bean,” he beams and plants a kiss on the top of your head. “So how about it? Eggs florentine? Or are you in the mood for something a bit sweeter? I’ve perfected my crepes.”

You grumble and drop your hands slowly, crossing your arms as a chill rolls through you. You feel it pricking in your chest and across your skin. You’re not wearing a bra and your tee shirt is thin. You keep your arms locked.

You listen to him moving around. You don’t know what to do. You’re too weak to do anything. Even if you could get on the other side of the walls, you have no idea where you are. Where help could be.

You rock as your fear bubbles up. Why is he doing this? Why does he think you want him? Why you? Of all people. You mind your business, you keep your head down, eyes to yourself... you don’t deserve this.

You glance over at him as he starts to hum. Your lip quivers as you watch his shoulders blades stretch the fabric of his shirt. He’s a bit ridiculous in a full set of satin pajamas, the dark black speckled with a subtle grey leopard print. He’s too much.

You turn your head straight and let it hang. You resign yourself to helplessness. You have to be logical about this. You can’t spark his suspicion to soon. You have to wait for a window and then... figure that out, you guess. You don’t like uncertainty. You have a routine and you keep to it. That’s what keeps you safe. Or so you thought.

“...wise men say, only fools rush in...” he sings softly and you wince. The lyrics of the Elvis ballad make your skin crawl. He’s actually deranged. You don’t know him, you're strangers.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know tree nuts are a no go,” he chimes as he whisks, turning to you with a broad smile.

You blink at him. How does he know that?

“Don’t think you’ll be needing any but I also got penicillin on the no go list and the latex thing... there’s alternatives,” he chuckles and you furrow your brow. “How’s that ticker doing? You been taking lots of iron?”

Your body hollows out. How much does he know about you? How? You can guess he’s snooped around your medical records. Obviously, he’s a man with criminalistic leanings. Is this even his house? Has he taken you to a fortress he commandeered by force? Is there some terrified family bound in the basement? Is there a basement?

He continues to futz around the kitchen as you curl your shoulders down and chew on your lips. Speaking of your heart, it’s beating again, racing, almost painfully. You’re a mouse trapped in the corner by the feline with his bristly whiskers.

Your eyes wander over to the large windows and you stare out at the curated landscape. The property is beautiful and lush. You imagine a whole team maintains the perfectly trimmed hedges and colourful blooms. The stone mosaic pathway and the leafy archway over a bench. It’s like a dream, more so, a twisted nightmare painted in hues of fantasy.

A plate clinks down before you and a sweet aroma brings you back inside. You face forward as Lloyd steps back on his heel, watching you with anticipation. You look at him then the plate. He pulls out a chair and plops himself down, planting his elbow as he cups his chin and watches.

“Let me know what you think,” he insists.

You take a breath and unlock your arms. Slowly, you drag them apart and take the thick butter knife and long fork. The cutlery feels too big for your small hands. You lean forward as the drizzle of dark syrup across the rolled crepe lures you in. Your stomach roars noisily and he giggles.

“Aw, you must be starving,” he muses, “please eat, baby, I don’t want you to ever go hungry again.”

You exhale through a ripple of disgust. You cut into the thin crepe and into the filling. Slice off the end of the roll and scoop it up with the filling. You carefully open your mouth around the fork and take a bite. Your eyes flit up to meet Lloyd’s as his gaze sticks on you. There are flames in his blue irises.

You pull your mouth off the fork in embarrassment as he hums. He’s a weird, weird man. All of this is weird. Surreal.

You look down at the butter knife and contemplate the gold cutlery. It’s heavy, it would hurt if you used the handle to give him a conk, but the blade is too dull to do much. It can slice through a crepe but wouldn’t do much on meat and bone. You don’t think you could do it, either. The thought of hurting others is just unnatural.

“Is it good? Tried my own combination,” he explains happily, “dark chocolate syrup, not too much sugar, some softened cream cheese in the middle with black cherry jam.”

You swallow and look around for something to wipe your lips. Short of a napkin, you lick your lip and clamp them together. He shifts in his chair, an act that makes you feel uncomfortable.

“Good,” you croak.

“Oh, wait,” he stands suddenly, “your coffee. Oopsie.”

He struts away and your stomach mulches the single bite greedily. As much as you want to be stubborn, you’re so hungry. And it’s delicious. It’s better than your usual flavourless fare. You could gobble it all down in a second but you won’t. You carefully cut out another bite as he returns with a tall mug.

He puts the cup down by your plate. You gulp down a forkful and set down the cutlery. You consider the mug before you take it, the white porcelain marked with the golden outline of a rose above the letter ‘Mrs.’. He has another in his hands, black but with a bowtie above ‘Mr.’. What the hell?

“Colombian dark roast. A little less caffeine so your heart won’t mind so much,” he says.

You nod and take the cup. The thought of coffee is enough to override your agitation. You take a sip and hold back a sigh. It’s good. You hate all of this but it’s all so good. You put the cup back and return your attention to the crepes. You pause and glance up at him. He doesn’t have a plate, just his cup.

“Oh, jellybean, you’re so sweet,” he smirks, “I gotta keep my protein up. I’ll have some eggs and a shake soon. Right now, you just worry about you.”

You dip your chin down and focus on eating. Small bites. You don’t want to seem too greedy. You don’t want him to see how much you need this. Does he know everything? Of course, he was watching but did he know the days you spent feeling as if your stomach was eating itself?

He pushes his hair back, trying to tidy the long strands as he watches you, “we’ll get washed up after breakfast. Then you can get settled in and relax. I’ll take care of everything else, alright? You just need to get all dolled up when the time comes,” he explains as he drags his fingertip around the tabletop, “not that you need to do very much.”

You just chew. What can you say or do? This man is straight up crazy. Not only are you his prisoner, he’s been stalking you. It doesn’t matter when it started, look where it’s ended. No, this can’t be the end.

“What’s...” you speak before you can think. You shake your head and smother your question with another bite.

“What? Go on, sugar lips, ask me anything? You wanna know my favourite colour? My favourite song?” His cheeks tint pink as he plays with a button on his pajamas.

You clear your throat and put down the fork and knife, “what’s going on... later?”

He tilts his head curiously.

“The... dress and... doll up?” You repeat his words flatly.

“That’s a surprise,” he trills as if it should be obvious. “Don’t wanna spoil it, do we?”

“I guess,” you sit back and fold your hands in your lap.

“You don’t gotta think about anything, sweet cheeks. You leave the thinking to me. I’m gonna take care of you,” he avows as his hand stretches across the front of his satin shirt. “You just gotta be you.”

You feel his gaze bearing down on you. You peek up to find his eyes slipping down and you feel them centre on your tee shirt, your nipples poking against the cotton. You hunch your shoulders and cross your arms again.

“How’s the coffee, jelly bean? You like it?” He tears his attention from your chest.

“Good, thank you,” you murmur.

“Ugh, I love hearing your voice,” he puts his coffee down and reaches between his legs. You blanch as he drags his chair closer as he lifts himself. He puts his hand on your knee, stroking with his thumb, “will you call me ‘honey’?”

You stare at him. Your cheek draw tight and your lips flatten. You want to shake off his touch and scream but that foggy glaze in his eyes deters you. This man is wild.

“Okay, er,” you gulp tightly and cough, “honey.”

He hums into a sigh and his hand slips higher on your leg before trail back down, “oh,” he shakes his shoulders, “that tingles. Do it again.”

You fight not to let your true emotion blaze through. You hug yourself tighter and bite down before you can muster the word, “honey.”

“Oh, baby, that’s nice,” he winks and sits back, eyes grazing up and down your body, “you cold? You’re all twisted up like a pretzel.”

You nod. It's an excuse you’ll gladly take.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, jellybean?” He stands suddenly and you notice the way he tugs on the waistband of his pants. You turn your head, blurring your vision so everything around you is vague.

He rushes off and you wait. You don’t know what else to do. You’re still too weak to make a move. Whatever he gave you is potent. Or maybe, you’re just too scared to do more than shrink and surrender.

He returns with a fluffy purple robe in his hands. He comes around the back of your chair and you lean forward to let him drape it around you. He curls his hands over your shoulders and bends over you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You need more coffee, baby cakes?” He asks as he kneads your shoulders.

“Still working on it,” you pull away from him and grab the cup, “thank you...” you let the words dangle in the silence, tension piquing, “honey.”

He sighs and draws away with a tickle up your neck, “mmm, isn’t this wonderful?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #the quiet ones #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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lume-nosity · 1 year

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an: this is a reupload!! (copy and paste pain) because for some reason my original post wasn’t showing up on the tags?? even my own??? if this doesn’t show up again i’m just gonna leave it as is. also the og’s who saw the post before i took it down are the real ones <3 anyways, requests are closed but i took this as a suggestion because i wanted to do it. when i saw this in my inbox i felt productive/determined to fulfill this ask so you're welcome /Ih and holy shit 2k+ notes on part one you guys are crazy thank you so much i'm so glad you liked it!! you take care of yourself as well dear anon <3

‘i've got my eye on you.’ (pt. 2)

prompt: what would they do if they saw their s/o in an uncomfortable situation

characters: itto, diluc, zhongli, ayato, tartaglia, thoma, kaeya

style: fluff, much fluff

notes: not proofread, lowercase intended, possibly ooc because i used character demos/teasers/ a few voicelines as references, gender neutral reader, the smaller text is whispering, no dialogue/use for [name], kuki shinobu mention in itto's part, how tf do you write zhongli and kaeya, petnames: beloved, treasure, love, swearing, blood mention in tartaglia's part, tartaglia getting a little violent, got lazy while writing the last few portions

reblogs are appreciated!

itto

"HEYYYY THERE YOU ARE!! so uh, are these guys bothering you?"

"huh, so they are. hey! hey, no worries! ill getcha outta here. i'm THE arataki numero uno they’re dealing with."

"hey, so, you're making my lovely super amazing wonderful partner uncomfortable and i would absolutely LOVE it if you leave em alone."

"oh wait, they're already gone. OHHHH did i scare them?? HAHAHAAA, man, that was great. totally worth the scare. anyways! want to have an onikabuto battle? yeah? OKAY! come on, come on, come on!!! i know the best spot to find them. but just so you know, i will beat you this time!"

let me tell you itto's was a lot of fun to write. i don't have to write too seriously!!!

he was looking for you actually, to have a little onikabuto battle since he's determined to win. (despite the many losses he has under his belt)

but seeing you look so uneasy from afar, yeah no he's not having it. ran towards you at mach 20.

one simple glance at him, those creeps are running to their mothers. the best part was that itto was confused as to why they've run off but he assumed it was because of him.

well, he's half right, because what really scared them off was kuki shinobu's shadow quite literally appeared out of nowhere next to you and itto. mvp! you guys weren't aware of her presence, because after they ran off, she just walked away. stealthy. like a boss.

i find it canon that if itto has a s/o shinobu would do anything in her power to keep those two away from trouble/danger. it's her job as deputy leader of the arataki gang, right?

diluc

"look, i'm not interested in small talk, but i'll get straight to the point. if you wish to make things simple for the both of us, see yourselves out. i won't ask again."

"what am i going to do about it? well, wouldn't you like to know." (casually readies his claymore)

"what a bunch of imbeciles. *sigh* i apologize for not arriving here sooner, i'll escort you home."

"you. want to stay with me? alright, i'll arrange a room for you at the winery right away. no? ah. i see. then i suppose my bed would big enough for the two of us to sleep on. are you satisfied with that? good. now let's go."

he isn't the darknight hero for nothing

like the gentleman he is, he was going to accompany you until you get home safely and then exchange goodbyes.

but no, you wanted to stay with him for the night. he has many rooms for the guests to use, but when you in particular suggested to sleep with him in his room, he of course doesn't mind since it's you.

should it be anyone else, it'll be an immediate no. so be glad you get to have this privilege from the guy because he loves you and is willing to do anything for you

zhongli

"pardon the intrusion, but i believe now's the time for the both of us to take our leave. please excuse us."

"it'd be wise for you to not place your indelicate hands onto my beloved. lest you'll see a rather.. grotesque, outcome."

"my dear, are you alright? ... how did i find you, you may ask? oh, please do not underestimate me. i'm far more than what meets the eye."

"we are sharing a contract, after all. to live and cherish life with one another until the end of time, to be safe, filled with tenderness and warmth within our hearts, and to not have anyone interfere that great deal of a bond. for you are my greatest treasure."

rip my brain for having to push zhongli's portion out because it clearly cannot comprehend this man's vocabulary.

you and him are to follow a contract, yes. but it's similar to a confession, if that makes sense?

basically zhongli was the one to confess to you first with his built-in thesaurus (to which you accepted of course if you like him too) and then have you and him sign' this sort of contract as a promise to stick with one another for as long as life can allow it. and by sign...

it's a kiss. to seal the contract :)

ayato

"a pity. hm? yes, i am 'the head of the kamisato clan. but your concerns about my reputation is irrelevant."

"you're harassing my lover, and if i catch you doing this unsightly act once again, then i'm afraid i'll have to resort to something that'll make you wish you've never been born."

"ah, my words were too harsh? nonsense, it was vitally necessary. at least it'd driven them away. well, i guess there are benefits for someone of high status."

"come now, i'll have my staff cook you something to your liking. you are my lover, so they'll be sure to suit your needs. you needn't worry."

fun fact: i've never finished ayato's story quest so i was writing this blind (with the help of some voicelines/demos/teasers, this goes along with the rest of the men on this list)

originally, you two were going on a nightly stroll since he was free but were stopped by a group of creeps. however, ayato handled the matter in his way.

in his head, those creeps are a waste of time and mere bugs because, well, they are. and pathetic, because they immediately recognize him for his high status and they all shrank in his presence. which made things easier for ayato. he made a small threat, and then they zoomed.

afterwards, he wanted to bring you home for dinner instead. continuing to stay out after that ordeal was not an option in his book.

what a good man

tartaglia

"wow, you all are quite bold. daring to do that while i'm here? hah, how risky. i'm actually impressed, by how wrong of a move you've just played."

"say, wouldn't you guys be interested for a sparring session? i'll be delighted to fight you all at the same time to enhance my combative capabilities. no? are you sure? okay, the offer's still on the table you know. and don't think i'm letting you all off so easily."

"love, are you alright? did they hurt you? if they did then i'll be sure to give them the same pain as they did to you. but worse. hm? no? okay, if you insist."

"moving on, let's go home shall we? the more i think about those creeps, the more i'm itching to grab my blades and hunt them down. oh! no, it's nothing. let's move, wouldn't want to stay out for too long."

we all know that he'll definitely end them

the thing is, he was right next to you when it happened and it's almost as if those asshats were blind!!!

blinded by his beauty ig

well, those assholes should sleep with one eye open every night now that tartaglia has seen them.

thoma

"excuse me, my partner and i are in a hurry. we have important business to attend to and we wouldn't want to be late."

"we won't take up the rest of your time, so please, if you'll excuse us."

"phew, that was rough. i didn't like how they were treating you, so i wanted to help you out. oh nonono, there's no need to thank me! as your boyfriend, it's my job to make sure that you're safe and happy at all times!"

"to get your mind off of what happened, i'll cook dinner for you tonight. any preferences? favorites? recipes? ill be sure to write them down!"

thoma based

instead of staying and insulting them, he just makes up an excuse to leave! it saves less time!!

..which shunned the creeps to bits. because you see, to me, people who are as kindhearted as thoma are equivalent to sunshine. and by sunshine i mean blindingly bright.

too nice and polite to the point the creeps are blind and deaf, you get what i mean?

kaeya

"well, well, well, how amusing of you all to act in such a way while i'm here. clearly you weren't cautious about your surroundings nor able to understand the differences between common courtesy and disrespect."

"how do i think so? from what you were displaying a few seconds ago, there's an obvious answer to that. it's allill written in your face. uneasiness. just like my partner."

"run along now, before your feet will run cold."

"ah, please, spare me the thanks. i only did what i had to do. as long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me. now then, allow me to treat you to dinner. it's all on me~"

honestly i got very lost in writing kaya's portion despite listening to his voicelines for like 2-3 times :,)

but, what i can conclude from this is that he'll be the sly bro he usually is with people

except in here, it's a bit different. his words are like that of a snake, wrapping around its prey.

makes sense, because kaeya doesn't stand people who make his s/o uncomfortable. if he scares them off or anything, then so be it. anything to keep you safe.

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