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microclown · 4 months

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I was rewatching s1e3 and something finally clicked for me..

Please forgive me if this seems obvious to you. It helps me to type out my thoughts, but I'm sure I'm just an idiot and no one else needs this explained to them, lol. That said - I was always slightly confused by the emotional weight of the holy water arc during the flashback sequence. Particularly I was confused by how angry Crowley got when Aziraphale referred to their relationship as fraternizing in the 1862 fight. I mean, "to associate or form a friendship with someone, especially when one is not supposed to" is exactly what they are doing, right? So why the 80 year breakup?

Crowley says he wants the holy water for if "it" all goes pear shaped. The phrasing is necessarily vague, and could mean lots of things. Since I know what he eventually uses it for, I was thinking about it in the context of Armageddon, or maybe more generally and vaguely about Crowley not always choosing to go along with Hell, and associating with Aziraphale. But there was not much reason for Crowley to already be thinking about Armageddon back then.

As we know from the full diary entry Neil posted, the timeline of the Edinburgh entry, and the cut bookshop opening scene, it seems like Crowley and Aziraphale were spending A LOT of time together by the 1800's. When Crowley is pulled back down to Hell in 1827, he learns that Hell is paying more attention to him than he'd previously thought. Crowley realizes at this point that spending so much time with Aziraphale is actively putting him in real danger. He recognizes that, and instead of breaking things off, or seeing Aziraphale less, he doubles down. If this relationship is dangerous, then he wants the tools to fight for it.

That's what I think I didn't get about the holy water request. It's not just general insurance, it's specifically insurance for if Hell finds out about him and Aziraphale. It's also a super vulnerable request because in making it, Crowley is openly acknowledging how important their relationship is to him. Aziraphale casually brings up the arrangement at the beginning of the conversation, and that's part of it, right? Because the whole basis of their relationship is the arrangement. It continues to be the pretense under which they meet, despite the relationship clearly having developed beyond that. And the arrangement, as Crowley proposed it in 537, is born out of convenience, and the assumption that Heaven and Hell would never notice anyway.

Crowley's request for insurance breaks that facade. He's acknowledging that it's not convenient, or safe, but he wants to do it anyway, despite the risk.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is not ready for the screen to be taken away so abruptly. To make it worse, he assumes Crowley wants the holy water as an escape, rather than a weapon. Suddenly he is confronted with both the danger their association poses, and the idea that Crowley might choose to take his own life. He can't imagine the guilt of being directly responsible for the latter.

I also think the strength of his own emotional response to the thought of losing Crowley catches Aziraphale off guard. He hasn't admitted to himself how much he actually cares, and it scares him. Worrying about Heaven is more comfortable and familiar, so he falls back on that and switches to "If they knew I'd been... fraternizing!"

But bringing up the threat of Heaven reads to Crowley as Aziraphale saying "You may be willing to put yourself at risk for the sake of our relationship, but I am not." The word choice of "fraternizing" comes off as a dismissive and demeaning way to describe a relationship that Crowley just admitted he would risk his life for.

It's an unintentionally deep cut when Crowley is already at his most vulnerable, and so he lashes out. As far as we've seen, this is possibly the first time Crowley has truly lashed out at Aziraphale. So yeah, 80 year breakup makes sense!

And what makes this so much worse is what happens next. Crowley reaches out again in 1941 with a dramatic gesture (rescuing Aziraphale from the Nazis, saving his books). It's clear they've missed each other. They don't discuss the fight, but it's there subtextually. Aziraphale, tentatively and thrillingly, refers to them as friends, for the first time ever. He tells Crowley that he trusts him.

And then, that very same night their worst fears are confirmed. Just when they've finally reconciled a fight over the dangers of their relationship, and just when Aziraphale has finally admitted that it is not a relationship of convenience, but genuine friendship, they are exposed. Crowley is going to face punishment from Hell, explicitly for being Aziraphale's "trusted confident", and he doesn't have insurance. If Aziraphale's trick hadn't succeeded, Crowley would have had no way to protect himself.

idk it just makes me feel things ok

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow

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zvdvdlvr · 3 months

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— I Love You

— 🧠 synopsis. A tough case leaves you in the more than willing arms of SSA Aaron Hotchner.

— 🧠 word count. 2,409

— 🧠 warnings. Foul language. Idiots to lovers. Friends to lovers. Weird plot. Possible jealous!Hotch.

Maybe it was the children that hadn’t been saved in time. Maybe it was the pitying glances from not only the team, but the police officers. Maybe, even, it was the way Aaron’s eyes flitted away any time y/n looked up.

No, y/n was mad. Angry, spiteful, defiant- any other synonyms for angry. The fact that the unsub had been completely fooled by y/n’s act until he had promptly decided he didn’t believe y/n’s promise to help in any way she could to lower his prison sentence. That’s the thing with schizophrenics: they’re extremely paranoid.

Y/n was so infuriated, she refused to talk- a habit that she had learned from childhood. If she didn’t say anything, she couldn’t get in trouble. It was a bad habit that y/n had eventually stopped by the time she went to college because the anger she kept inside of her without any kind of release would always find a way to rot her from the inside out.

So now, even on the flight home, y/n still hasn’t said more than two sentences in a row.

— 🧠

Aaron Hotchner was a man with excellent observation skills and the ability to adapt. He knew y/n’s habit of reserving herself to silence due to the amount of time they have worked together, but Aaron felt like something was different this time.

Instead of starting the pile of paperwork he already had, Aaron instead found himself watching y/n. She was always extremely sensitive to cases that dealt with kids, but this seem to hit home, adding to the fact that their unsub had blown his brains out within a five foot radius of y/n and the seven-year-old girl that had been the last victim.

When the team had gotten to the scene, they watched the little girl dissolve into y/n’s arms, brain matter and blood on the latter’s face. The look in y/n’s eyes when Derek had immediately rushed to the two of them was one of complete despair. Aaron watched, paralyzed, as you picked up the little girl and let her scream and wail near your ringing ears. You turned, pressing her head down so she wouldn’t look at the dead body and look Aaron dead in the eyes and took the child to the ambulance.

Something in your eyes had provoked worry in Aaron. Did you feel guilty? Were you not allowing yourself to break down when you needed to be strong for the little soul in your arms? Was there something you were trying to tell him?

“Hey,” Hotch murmured. He sat down as carefully as he could (which wasn’t too impressive seeing as it was 1 in the morning on a plane).

When you didn’t say anything, Hotch sighed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I need you to know you did what you had to do. What he did… that wasn’t on you, y/n.”

Then you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and Aaron felt his heart sink. “Oh, honey…” he whispered.

And then you were in his arms, crying, while trying not to wake up the others. “Hotch, I-“ you started, sniffling.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Aaron all but cooed, lightly carding his fingers through your hair. He knew you blamed yourself because that’s how you are. You always strive to do the best you possibly could, oftentimes resorting to neglecting yourself whenever you did something that you knew you could have done better or simply because you forgot.

“It’s all my fault, Aaron, I- I could have saved him but- I… I messed up and I- I don’t even know what I did! And that little girl…” you trailed off, another wave of tears threatening to overtake your ability to speak.

Aaron’s throat bobbed as he struggled to find the words to comfort the woman in his arms. Long ago had he resigned to simply being y/n’s boss/borderline friend because he accepted the fact that- as much as he hated to admit it- he was older, not your type, or just simply unattractive. But he would do theoretically anything you asked him to do even if it caused him heartbreak in the future.

“You saved that little girl, angel. *You* did. If you save one of them, you save all of them. Focus on the good, honey, not the bad. If you can do that then you can do anything, and believe me,” Aaron smiled, “I have no doubt in my mind you can do anything.”

Aaron held you and prayed to God that you didn’t hear how fast his heart was racing. He brushed your tears away and let you sleep on his shoulder, happy that he had hopefully gotten you out of your funk.

— 🧠

Later, Aaron woke up to Derek tapping his shoulder. “Do you want me to take our golden girl home?” Derek asked, with a softness to his voice that he had whenever he talked to you.

Blinking away the tiredness from his eyes, Aaron shook his head. “No. No, I got her. Tjank you, Derek, but you need to go home and get some rest.”

Derek nodded. “Get home safe,” he said to Hotch, a small smile in his face when he heard you sigh a little in you sleep and bury your head even further into Aaron’s neck.

Derek patted Aaron’s shoulder before taking his leave.

“Wake up, y/n,” Aaron murmured, heart swelling in his chest when he heard you mumble incoherent words.

Slinging his own go-bag and yours over his shoulders, Hotch helped you stand up.

“Hotch, lemme take my-“ you started, being cut off with a yawn.

“I got it, y/n,” Aaron chuckled. He let you slip your arm in his and all but lean on him as he made his way to his car.

When he got you settled into the passage seat, Aaron tossed the bags in the back and started the drive to your house.

“Aaron?” You asked, voice small.

He looked over at you. Despite the lack of light, Aaron watched you pick at your fingers. “Yeah?”

It took you a minute before saying something. You wanted to ask him why he kept calling you ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’. It’s not that you didn’t like it (you loved it), you just don’t think he could keep calling you that if he didn’t have any kind of attraction to you. You, though, you’ve been enamored with Aaron Hotchner since the day he shook your hand and offered you a job.

Similarly, you wanted to ask him what he did when he got lost in his own mind; when he himself couldn’t pull himself out of his thoughts.

So you settled on a breathless “Thank you”.

Silence reigned once more as Aaron tried to pick out the meaning of your thanks. Where you thanking him for driving you home? For letting you fall asleep on him? For… being one of the best friends you’d ever had in your life without saying it?

When Aaron carried your bag to the door as you unlocked the it, he wondered if there was another universe where he was taking you home every night, going to bed with you, waking up to Jack begging for pancakes with you, dropping Jack off at school with you, and then going to work with you. Maybe, Aaron thought, somewhere in another universe I’m watching the woman I love fall asleep with my child in her arms.

“Do you… need anything else?” Aaron asked, holding out y/n’s go-bag for her to take.

Aaron kicked himself. He felt like a school boy whenever you’re around, and the fact that he’s standing in front of you and your home isn’t really helping his nerves.

“Would you maybe want to, uh… stay? For tonight?” Y/n blurted. Aaron’s eyes must have widened because he saw y/n become flustered. “I- you know, just for tonight. I need a ride to work tomorrow anyway… You- You might as well just stay.”

“If you want me to-“

“Please?”

Aaron stepped into y/n’s house and immediately toed off his shoes. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“I’ll take it.” She accepted the bag and walked to her room.

Aaron walked around the kitchen. Your house was clean and colorful. You had quite a few photos of the sunset framed by your television, but there were a lot more candid shots of the BAU then of your family. Hm.

“Come here, A,” you called from your room (?).

Dutifully, Aaron followed the sound of your voice, pushing your door open slowly and entering your room. Where you sleep. Where you get dressed and undressed. Where you live.

You walked over to Aaron and handed him a little pile of clothes. “These should fit. I guessed your size. If those don’t fit I have more men’s clothes.”

“Why do you have men’s clothing?” Aaron asked, a smile toying at his lips.

“Brothers, boyfriends… they’re comfy,” y/n shrugged. “Does it matter, Aaron?”

Aaron watched you tilt your head, smirk widening.

“Just curious.” He defends himself poorly, red tinging his cheeks as he scratches his head.

“Bathroom’s right in there,” you say, pointing to the door attached to your room.

Aarom walks to your bathroom and shuts the door. He immediately releases a breath of air he hadn’t realize he had been holding. After turning on the lights, he changes into the clothes you gave him. Both owns smelled exactly like you, something that made Aaron smile.

He shut off the light and closed the door. “Thank you, y/n. I appreciate it.”

You looked up from your dresser. “You’d do the same for me. There’s nothing to thank me, Aaron.”

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked, approaching your figure.

“I don’t think you would want to see me walk around in just a bra and boxers, A,” y/n laughs.

The bluntness of your answers smacks Aaron in the face with a metal bar. “Boxers?” He finds himself asking.

You just laugh. “They’re comfortable.”

“You don’t have to change your sleeping routine for me,” Aaron says quietly, eyes looking directly into your own.

“Are you sure?”

“We’re just sleeping,” Aaron shrugs. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Your eyes flicker between your boss’s and suddenly your wondering how you got here. The line between boss/employee and more-than-friends/not-quite-dating was blurred and you didn’t even remember putting your thumb on how you felt about your boss.

“Okay,” you say slowly. You close the drawer, holding a sports bra and boxers. “I’m gonna go change and go to sleep… Do you want me to set up the couch or just sleep in the bed with me?”

“What do you want, y/n?”

You direct your gaze to the floor. “I don’t care, honestly.” You weren’t just gonna tell your crush you feel safer when his touch is what lulls you to sleep, that you’ve been in love with him since practically the beginning of time, that you wanted more than just a night (of PG activities!) with him.

“I hear your brain going 200 miles an hour over there, sweetheart. What’re you thinking?” Aaron teases.

“Will you hold me, Aaron?” You ask, urging yourself to look into his eyes. Moment of truth, you think, he’s either gonna laugh in my face or I’m gonna fall even deeper in love with my boss as we cuddle.

Aaron feels winded at your tiny voice. Yes, he wants to scream, yes! “Go get changed, honey. I’ll be right here.”

Then that smile is back and all Aaron wants to do his pick you up in his arms and kiss you, maybe spin you around the room. His heart swells in his chest again (it’s been doing that a lot lately, he notes) as you pat his arm in thanks as you pass him to head to your bathroom.

Aaron climbs into your bed, setting his essentials (badge, keys, gun, etc.,) on the nightstand.

You flip off the light switch and pad over to the bed and slip under the covers.

For what felt like a millennium, Aaron held his breath and waited.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something. It’s been on my mind and… just hear me out. Please. You don’t have to say anything back and I understand if-“ you babble.

“Take a breath, y/n,” Aaron soothes. “What’s up?”

“I’m in love with you, Aaron Benjamin Hotchner. Like, if I had to choose between you over breathing I would literally spend my last breath telling you how much I love you. You are always on my mind, Aaron, and it hurts because I can’t do anything about it. I know I’m not your type, I know I’m just your co-worker, I know you probably aren’t looking to date anyone, but I just… I want you to know,” you ramble, words tumbling out of your mouth like Reid when he get’s started on some random fact.

Aaron blinks, pupils widening. “Do you seriously think you’re ‘just a co-worker’ to me?”

You swallow. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I would let just anyone call me Aaron? How often to you see me taking out Morgan for coffee when he gets cranky? Do I almost always end up sitting by Emily on the flight home after a case? Do I call Spencer ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’?” Aaron asks quietly, hand resting on your cheek while he tucks a loc of hair under your ear so he can see your eyes better. “Jack loves you. I love you.” Aaron laughs at how comically large your eyes get.

“Jack loves me?” You ask.

Aaron laughs. “He loves you ‘to the moon and back’.”

“He loves that book, Aaron, don’t laugh at your baby boy,” you scold playfully.

“I outdo him though, because I love you to Saturn and back.”

You turn to the nightstand and shut the light off before turning back to face Aaron. “Will you hold me, Aaron? Please?”

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Aaron says, opening his arms to welcome you into him.

And then that’s when you know his words are true. His heart rate is definitely elevated, but so is yours. “Will you tell me you love me, again?”

Aaron, now lying on his back with you clinging onto him like a weighted blanket, complied. Carding his fingers through her hair, Aaron lulled her mind off to a quiet, safe place. “I love you, angel,” Aaron whispered, pressing a soft kiss to y/n’s forhead.

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mrsbarnesblog · 6 months

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new purchase

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You just got a new expensive lingerie set and decided to tease your mafia boss boyfriend with some sexy pictures.

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: modern setting, mafia boss bucky, established relationship, nude photos, dom bucky, smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, lingerie kink, hair-pulling, doggy style, butt slapping, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

Author's note: I'm back🥹 Tumblr blocked my account again, but thank God support replied and everything is fine now. put community labels if you don't want to end up like me lol. I'm returning to re-upload everything. thank you for the support💞💞

As soon as the message from you popped up on Bucky’s screen, he was no longer involved in the conversation with his people, who were reporting on the situation that got a few men killed.

No, now his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone. To the photo that you sent him, to be exact. You were standing in front of the mirror in the new blue lingerie set that Bucky definitely hadn't seen before.

“miss you, baby.”

Bucky took a deep breath, studying every little thing in the photo—from your half-hidden smile to the soft skin of your legs and stomach—and noticing the way your boobs were perfectly sitting in that almost see-through bra. Fuck, to be right now on top of you instead of sitting here was a dream. You knew what effect you had on him and that Bucky loved your expensive lingerie, but he couldn't just leave now, right? Controlling Brooklyn was not easy, especially when some brave idiots tried to threaten him.

“please, Jamie…”

Another text message with an attached picture appeared in front of him, and his pants immediately became much tighter. Now it was from another angle. You were on the bed on your hands and knees, your spine perfectly arched to show your round ass in just a little piece of fabric that shouldn’t even be considered underwear.

Flashbacks from all the times Bucky was holding your hips while thrusting into you from behind filled his head and he almost wanted to moan out loud. No, it was impossible to listen to whatever Peter was saying, especially when it was the first time you sent such photos.

“You better stay in this position, baby. I'm coming.” He typed quickly before suddenly getting up from his fancy leather chair, making the whole room go quiet.

“D-did I say something wrong, boss?” Peter’s face became white. Bucky probably looked really angry right now, but only because he couldn't touch you and bury himself in your heat at that exact moment.

“I didn't listen, Parker. I need to go; finish here without me. Steve, you're responsible.” Bucky took his jacket and stormed out of the room without another word.

***

You were walking around the bedroom in nervousness, as if it were your first time waiting for Bucky from work. But now something was different, though. You knew that he was busy, and you hated disturbing him, but after looking in the mirror at yourself for too long, you got so confident and bold that you decided to text him with photos, which you had never done before.

Your best friend Nat took you out shopping, but even though Bucky always gave you his card and told you to buy whatever you wanted, you never actually did it. Until you saw that unbelievably beautiful blue set. Bucky went crazy every time you had new pieces, but they weren’t as expensive as this one because you always bought them with your own money. Your friend basically shoved you into the changing room and convinced you that it cost every single penny, so you gave up and used Bucky’s black card.

The loud noise of the slammed door came from the first floor, and you knew that your boyfriend had come home. Fuck, it has been only 15 minutes since he messaged you, and he was already there.

You sat at the edge of the king-size bed, facing the door. And in just a few seconds, heavily breathing and slightly annoyed, Bucky stood in the door frame. If you hadn’t been dating him for almost a year now, you would’ve thought that he was angry, but the way he licked his lips and the look in his eyes while he was scanning your almost naked body told you otherwise.

“You’re such a fucking tease, babydoll. I had an important meeting, and you just had to send me those photos, huh?” Bucky grinned at you, taking off his expensive jacket and rolling up the sleeves of the white shirt. He took small steps toward you, but you were too focused on his tattooed and veiny forearms to notice it.

You blinked only when a soft but firm hand pressed under your chin, making you look Bucky in the eyes. The realization of how ridiculously wet you were hit you hard, and Bucky probably saw the way your cheeks blushed because his lips curled in a one-sided smirk.

“You’re looking like the sexiest thing on the planet, but you’re blushing. God, you’re amazing, baby.” His eyes slid down your body, covered in a thin lace, and you swore that his eyes darkened within a second.

“I just thought that I became wet by just looking at your hands.” Bucky growled at your words. He took both of your hands into his, silently asking you to stand up from the bed. "Sorry for bothering you at work, I just... I don’t know.”

“I don’t care about work as long as I can see my amazing girlfriend looking so incredible. Is this new? I know every single piece of clothing that you own; I’ve never seen this before.”

“Nat convinced me to buy this... from your card. I hope you don’t mind." Bucky chuckled at your words.

“I told you a million times to buy whatever you wanted. My money is your money, ‘key? Now spin for me.” He lifted your hand above your head, helping you to spin around and show him every little detail of your new purchase.

The bra, which perfectly lifted your boobs, so they seemed nice and round. Matching lacy blue thongs and a garter belt that was attached to the tights sat on your waist, showing every curve of your hips. There was nothing left for imagination. You looked so soft, delicious, and sexy, but those cute little flowers all over the fabric made Bucky want to destroy you.

“So pretty, goddammit. I need you right now.” He firmly grabbed one side of your face, connecting your lips in a hot and messy kiss, while the other hand trailed its way from your neck down to your soaking wet panties. “Still can’t believe that you’re mine. The most beautiful woman on the whole fuckin’ planet.” Bucky growled into your lips, refusing to let you go. “Is that all for me? Are you so wet because of your naighty little photos or from my hands? Tell me.” Two fingers run up and down your covered folds, making you moan into Bucky’s mouth from the stimulation.

“Both… Jamie, please. I need you.” You tried to grind your hips on his hand, but Bucky gripped your thigh and lowered his mouth onto your hot neck.

“‘M not gonna let you get off on my hand, not today. You teased me with those sexy pictures, so I think it would be fair if I just fucked you senseless. That’s what you asked me to do anyway, right?” You just eagerly nodded, hoping that Bucky would do anything. The heat in the lower half of your stomach was almost painful, and you felt awfully empty inside, squeezing around nothing with every kiss Bucky had left on your sensitive skin. “Should I bend you over the bed? Or maybe on the floor in front of the mirror so I could see how good you feel when I fuck you?” He asked mostly himself.

Bucky pulled away from you, admiring fresh red marks on your collarbones and neck and already knowing that you'd blame him in the morning before work. His lips were swollen and his hair was a mess, but you still bit your lip at how sexy and pretty he was. Lately, you didn’t spend much time together because of his job, and now you wanted to spend every second admiring and touching him.

“I don’t care, Buck. I just want you, I miss you.” Your hands flew to the collar of his shirt, opening every button until his tanned chest was on full display.

“Get on your knees and hands, doll.” Bucky mumbled, and you knew that he had lost all of his patience.

You lowered yourself on an expensive white rug and teasinly moved your ass from side to side, looking at Bucky through the mirror. His eyes stuck on your body, and he licked his lips once again. You saw the way his pants were barely holding the hardness behind them, and your mouth instantly started watering from that thought.

“Are you going to fuck me or keep starring at my ass?”

He smirked at your words and fell onto his knees behind you, slightly pushing his covered hips into yours and making you both moan.

“Oh, I am going to fuck you? Don’t worry about that, doll.” The sudden slap on your ass cheek made you loudly gasp; your mouth stayed slightly open as Bucky was massaging your burning cheek with one hand and unbuckling his pants with the other.

You felt the silky-soft skin of his cock between your legs when Bucky ran his length on your wet panties. “It’s too pretty, I don’t wanna take it off of you. ‘M just gonna push them to the side.” He took your underwear out of his way, lining the leaking tip with your wet entrance.

You couldn’t stay steel, so Bucky had to grab your hair, raise your head, and perfectly arch your back. You whined at the slight pain from his grip, but it soon turned into a loud mixture of a moan and Bucky’s name when he pushed inside of you.

It never failed to amaze both of you how perfect you were for each other. The sex was incredible every single time. Your body instantly adgasted for his size; your wet and soft folds gripped his cock firmly, as if your body didn’t want him ever to leave. Bucky honestly didn’t even remember the sex before you; at that time he thought it was nice, but since the first night with you, everything has become blurred, and he couldn't look at any other woman in a sexual way anymore.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck, James!” You cried, squeezing him harder and gripping the soft material under your hands.

“Holy shit, doll. Your pretty pussy ‘s taking me so well; she’s so greedy for my cock.” Bucky slapped your ass again at the same time as he bottomed out in you. You tried to stay focused on the reflection in the mirror, but that teasing little push of Bucky’s hips right into your g-spot made your eyes roll back. "What? You can’t handle it, baby? But that's what you asked for. You thought that you could just send me these things and not get fucked like a naughty little girl?” He chuckled, immediately increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“I just wanted you, J-Jamie, fuck!” You cried at another slap on your ass. Red hand prints were already visible, and you knew that it would be hard to sit the next day. “I need to cum, please…”

“Already drunk with my cock?” Bucky chuckled, slightly squeezing your hair in his hand, until you opened your hooded eyes and looked at him in the mirror. “Look at you, always so perfect for me.” His blue eyes studied your reflection. Your still covered in bra tits bounced every time he pushed his cock inside of you, and Bucky felt like he became even harder because of the fact that he couldn’t see you fully naked.

It felt like he wanted to split you in half with the power of his movements. Your skin slapped into each other, and the wet sounds of your pussy were almost too loud and inappropriate for you, but Bucky didn’t care. He moved fast and hard, mumbling praise words under his breath, which you barely understood, being too close to cum.

“Bucky, ‘m gonna cum… Please, let me cum, ‘m so close.” You loudly moaned when your body started trembling and your hands were almost too weak to hold you up.

“Do it, doll. I’m right behind you. Cover my cock in your cum.” Your mouth fell open, and your eyes instantly closed when you finally came, clenching around him. Bucky looked closely as your face expression changed—it was his favorite thing.

He pushed into your tight cunt a few more times before freezing as his own orgasm came. You moaned at the feeling of his hot seed feeling you from the inside.

“Just like that, doll. You did so well.” Bucky soothed the skin of your thigh and reddish cheek, finally loosening the grip on your hair. Your hands couldn’t hold you up anymore, and you collapsed on the soft rug with a muffled puff.

Bucky slightly chuckled, slipping out of you, and flipped over your exhausted body so you could face him. You both were flushed and slightly sweaty. Bucky brushed your hair from your face and lowered himself to catch your lips in a slow kiss. You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders until he fell on top of you.

“I’ll call Nat so she can take you shopping tomorrow. Use my black card and get yourself everything that you like, because now I want to see you in every possible shade and variation of lingerie, doll.” Bucky mumbled near your ear while his hands traced the soft skin of your ribs and stomach.

“I don’t want to spend your money, James.” You laughed.

“Then I’ll give my card to Nat, so she can spend it on you. Because I won’t leave you alone anymore, doll. You drive me crazy looking like this.” He started kissing your neck, going lower to your chest. You just sighted, knowing damn well that there’s no point in arguing and that your amazing boyfriend would find a way to make you buy more lingerie. “Are you ready for round two? Because I really wanna put those pretty tits in my mouth.”

Whatever you wanted to say died on your tongue with the first touch of Bucky’s wet tongue, and your brain went completely blank.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you

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danielslaw · 2 years

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there is a lot happening in my house right now and i don’t know how to explain it because it has been ongoing since i was 15 (and prior likely) but this is just frustrating.

#it involves almost 17 years #it involves my brother stealing and hurting my parents and me and using drugs #i live and let live you know but the way he used all types of drugs and takes no accountability #he hurt us all #and now he is angry because my parents had enough of his shit after years and are offering to help him with an apartment #can you believe his nerve #and he is throwing shit in their faces about being adopted #saying that sending him to rehab once was like torture they inflicted on him #i'm just tired #and he just treats me like i'm an idiot #like i'm an asshole for trying to stand up for my parents #it's soffocating because i have no outlet for this

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cryptotheism · 14 days

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sometimes you say something that makes me just brain meltingly furious and i go through typing out angry kvetching in your inbox and think "actually, am i being a tar pit rn? because i know if the answers yes im about to get dunked on like chump"

and then i go on with my life having not started bitchy discourse of my own pedantry. live laugh love as it were

I welcome discourse! As long as it is in good faith, and well-sourced!

Tbh, I get a bit mad when people treat me as "The Best and Only Source On Religious History." Its not fair to me! I'm just one tranny with a blog. I am particularly passionate about occult history, but passion does not equal veracity! My goal is to share and inspire my passions with others, not to be The Definitive Source.

Please remember that I am an idiot. Good-natured pedantry can make us all the wiser.

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froggibus · 11 months

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Mask Off - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW (w a sprinkle of hurt/comfort cause, cmon guys, it’s me)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: at a party at Stu’s, the last thing you’re expecting is for the masked killer to save you from the man who tried to assault you, or for him to take his turn right after

CW: SA, murder, blood, knives, violence, standard Ghostface stuff, breath play, knife play, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, blood kink?, hints of a mask kink, degradation, lots of dirty talk, reader is referred to as a slut/whore, they fuck next to a dead body, established relationship, soft! Stu, Ghostface reveal

guys I just watched Scream 6 and I am so soft for Stu rn idek why. i usually don’t write stuff like this but the Scream movies are some of my favorites (def not cause me and the final girl have the same name…definitely not) and I’ve had HARD ghostface brain rot lately so…here’s this lol

————

Sitting on the living room floor of your boyfriend’s house, half drunk and watching movies, everything feels right. Sure, there’s a psycho killer on the loose, and everyone in the house is technically breaking curfew, but you couldn’t care less. Even with Randy geeking out over the Jamie Lee horror movie playing on the tv, you can’t complain.

The guy next to you on the floor, a couple more beers in than you are, shuffles closer. You side eye him, but don’t say anything. You find yourself looking for Stu—you know how jealous he can get. But your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

You take a deep breath and another chug of your beer, hoping to calm the nerves that have found their way into your stomach. You don’t like the idea of your boyfriend being MIA when there’s a killer around.

Your nerves are shoved away when you feel a warm hand on your thigh. You turn to the guy next to you, who gives you a nod and a smirk.

He must be an idiot, or not well versed in the politics of Woodsboro Seniors, or else he would know that he’s in your boyfriend's house, trying to feel you up. You roll your eyes, finish chugging your drink, and head upstairs to try to find your boyfriend.

You don’t even hear the guy get up behind you.

You duck into Stu’s room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to go back downstairs, you fall backwards onto his bed and relax into the sheets. They smell like him, and the scent is so comforting, it’s almost enough to put you to sleep.

Almost.

The door opens and you sit up instantly, expecting to find your boyfriend but disappointed to see the guy from earlier.

“What do you want?” You squint at him.

“You disappeared on me, baby.”

“Look, I don’t even know who you are, and clearly you don’t know me, or else you would know that this is my boyfriend’s house. And believe me when I say he’s the jealous type.”

He sits down on the bed, and you shuffle to the other side, drawing your knees to your chest. He seems to take that as a challenge, smirking even wider.

“Your boyfriend never needs to know.”

“Get lost, dude.”

He’s on you in an instant, lips pressing against yours, body on top of yours. You shove him hard, but that only makes him lean in more. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The reality of your situation starts to set in, and you drive a knee into his groin.

He groans, pulling back and slapping you hard. He squeezes your face, eyes angry. “Listen, slut, hit me again and the killer on the loose is the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

You go to bite his finger but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses his hand down hard enough to keep you quiet, trailing his hand up your stomach. You squirm as his hand gets to your chest, still trying to deter him.

Just as he slips his hand up your shirt, you see the cloaked figure behind him. You let out a gasp that he takes as you enjoying what he’s doing.

You think it’s a prank, that someone is just trying to scare the people hooking up at the party. But the mask…the cloak…it’s all too real. And then you see the glint of silver and your blood runs cold.

You want to scream and run away, but at the same time, you want the man on top of you to suffer. You want to hear the knife sink into him and you want to see his blood come pouring out. And with the way he’s touching you, you would rather die than have to tell Stu what happened.

Not that he wouldn’t understand, but because you’re sure things would never be the same.

The guy doesn’t even notice the figure approaching, doesn’t even notice the way you’re almost crying into his palm. The figure, that the news has dubbed Ghostface, tilts his head at you.

You should be scared, you should be running, but you aren’t. Something about him, something about the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel almost safe. At least, safer than the guy currently forcing himself on you.

He pulls his arm back, revealing the sharpened knife once more, before driving it into the back of the man on top of you. He spasms, blood dripping out of his mouth and down your neck.

Ghostface doesn’t let up, though. He drives the knife in and out of him, penetrating his skin over and over and over. The sound of sharp metal against soft skin fills your ears, and warm blood covers you.

Finally, the man goes limp, and Ghostface practically throws him off of the bed. He crawls on top of you, replacing the dead man. His body is warm on yours, and he smells like blood and an almost familiar cologne.

He slides the flat end of the blade across your cheek, down your jaw and onto your throat. You suck in a breath, trying not to let your fear show. You can hear his breathing through the mask, and the feeling of the cold metal on your skin sends waves of arousal through you.

You should probably consult a therapist on that, given you survive.

He pulls the knife away from you, tucking it into his waistband. You squint. Isn’t he going to kill you?

He lifts up his hands, and for a second you think he’s going to strangle you. But no, he does something that surprises you even more. He removes the mask.

You gasp, covering your mouth in shock. You’re not sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t your boyfriend.

He tilts his head at you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, baby. I lost my temper.”

You nod slowly, the idea that Stu is the Ghostface killer not quite registering in your mind. He wipes blood off of your face, licking it off of his fingers. Something about the action is so erotic that it has you clenching your thighs.

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice comes out strained. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for—for the guy who assaulted you or for your shock or for seeing him without his mask.

He pushes the hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding and your clit throbbing.

His hand moves from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently. Stu was always fascinated with stuff like that—pain and breath play and knives. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t fascinate you, too.

He kisses you, lips hungrily devouring yours. You can taste blood, but you’re not sure if it’s from his face or yours. His hand slides down your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt and sliding his hand under it.

“Are you scared?” There’s a smirk on his lips, something dark in his eyes.

“A little,” you admit.

“Of me?”

“Not of you. Never of you.”

He just killed a man in front of you—on top of you—but you’ve never felt more safe. And that’s what scares you. Your own desires, your own fucked up thoughts and feelings.

“You know I’d never let anything hurt you,” he taps his fingers on your throat. “I would never hurt you. You’re mine, and mine alone.”

You tug him to you by the collar of his cloak, shoving your lips against his. He smiles against you, tightening his grip on your throat. Not enough to hurt, just enough so that you can feel the pressure.

He slides his hand into your pants, laughing at how wet your panties are. He rubs your clit through the fabric, moving his lips to suck and bite at your neck.

“D’you want me, baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please.”

He’s ripping your panties off and tugging his boxers down in an instant, pulling up his cloak just enough so that he has easy access. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick. He kisses you deeply just as he sinks his cock inside of you.

You never get used to the stretch, the delicious feeling of him moulding your walls to the shape of his cock.

He pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock going even deeper. You whine, throwing your head back. He laughs at your moans and keeps going, shoving into you at a brutal pace. You cry out in response, the moans falling out before you can stop them.

His hand clamps over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. Do you really want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Do you want someone to walk in on you fucking the killer like a whore?”

His words only make you wetter, pussy clenching tighter around him. It only eggs him on more, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he nears his high.

“Mm, I forgot you like being my slut,” he laughs in your ear, gasping whenever you clench around him. “Fucking me in the bed of the guy I just killed for you?”

You hate how much his words turn you on, hate how they only push you further towards your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bunching up the black fabric.

He slams harder into you and you know he’s close. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him in closer. He thrust a few more times, movements sloppier, before his cock twitches and you’re filled with hot cum.

The feeling of his cum pooling inside of you is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him.

He kisses your forehead, holding you closer to him. “As sexy as you look covered in blood, you should probably change.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay?”

You nod, rolling out of his arms and standing up on shaky legs. You’re covered in bed, your clothes absolutely soaked through. You head straight for the bathroom, soaking a cloth to wipe the blood from your skin.

“Y/n,” he knocks gently, “I left some of my clothes out here for you to change into. Go through the window and head through the basement door—I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

You change into his clothes, trying to ignore the light bruises on your throat and thighs. You love how his clothes fit on you, though. You love being claimed by him.

You do as he says, sneaking through the basement door and pretending like you were just bringing up another case of beer.

Randy turns his head to look at you, and for a minute you think that you’re caught. He’s going to say something about your disappearance and change of clothes.

Instead, he just shakes his head at you. “Where’ve you been? You missed Basic Instinct!”

An arm wraps around your shoulder, the familiar cream coloured sweater draping over you. “She was just helping me get more beer,” Stu shrugs.

Randy makes a face, but says nothing. He turns back to the tv, and Stu takes that as an opportunity to kiss your neck. “Just so you know,” his voice is barely a whisper in your ear, “I’m keeping the mask on next time.”

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kumawaii · 3 months

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MY LITTLE LOSER | LHS

cw - yandere behavior, obsession, setups, masturbation (m), oral sex (f), nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

loser!heeseung who would rather be at home alone playing games than at any frat party his only two friends invite him to. who is always the top of any class he’s in. who values books more than superficial conversation. who has no interest in anything that doesn’t have any real substance. who is just a tiny bit obsessed with the pretty girl in his english class.

you had never noticed loser!heeseung until your friend pointed out his staring. when you two first lock eyes, he’s quick to look away with a blush crawling up his neck. it’s cute — he’s cute. now it’s you who can’t stop staring. you start to wonder how you’ve never noticed him before. he’s your exact type.

the fleeting moment replays in loser!heeseung’s head for countless nights. he fucks his hand to the thought of you looking over your shoulder and biting your lip. he imagines how pretty you would look with his cock inside you, how hot your moans would be. it’s what pushes him over the edge and has him staining his lower abdomen with sticky cum. his chest rises and falls heavily as he slowly starts to concoct a plan to make his biggest fantasy come true.

it’s not easy. there’s so many flies around you, all vying for your attention. loser!heeseung can only watch from the sidelines and wait to make his move. getting rid of the guy who always sits next to you in your calculus class is easier than expected. one anonymous tip to the professor about how he passes his tests makes him disappear within a day. the idiot who always flirts with you at the gym is an easy fix since he has a girlfriend who just happens to catch him in the act.

but maybe the biggest and most pesky fly around is the guy who claims to be your friend. this guy thinks he’s slick, keeping his arm around you constantly to ward off any men who try to approach you. it’s not easy to get rid of him because it seems like the guy has nothing better to do other than to follow you around like a lost puppy. but loser!heeseung has a plan to cut him out of your life once and for all.

“isn’t that the guy who always stares at you?”

you look over to where your friend is nodding her head, jaw dropping a bit when you see it is in fact the quiet guy in your english class. he looks different without his hoodie and his fluffy hair swept out of his eyes. the attraction you initially felt increases a tenfold. loser!heeseung doesn’t seem to notice you, but that doesn’t stop you from getting some liquid courage in you before going up to talk to him.

the night progresses as a fun memory. the little loner in your class is actually really cool and funny. your small crush grows throughout the night, and it’s a pity that you two get separated when you suggest getting more drinks. you pout, looking around the crowded kitchen desperately.

meanwhile, loser!heeseung finds himself hanging with the last pesky fly he’s been meaning to get rid of. your friend is sizing him up, clearly bothered that he’s had your attention all night. luckily for him (and his plan), he has a short fuse. all it takes is one comment about how good you look to set him off.

“you must be fucking crazy if you think y/n actually likes you.” his voice is full of venom and jealousy, eyes blazing with anger. “she could never like a freak like you.”

loser!heeseung doesn’t respond. he just hides his smirk as an angry exclamation of the idiot’s name cuts through the tense silence. he turns around, face full of panic when he sees you standing behind him. your expression is full of anger and disappointment as you rush up to him and demand what his problem is. for some reason, the idiot doesn’t immediately apologize and instead tries to justify himself.

you’re not having it. why you ever thought you could call an asshole like him your friend is beyond you. it’s upsetting and disappointing, and you’ve had enough. you brush past him and take loser!heeseung’s hand. a sick thrill goes through him as you tug him along without an explanation. he’s more than willing to follow you, but not before throwing a smug smirk over his shoulder.

just as loser!heeseung thought, you’re the sweetest person ever. as you look at him with watery eyes and apologize for something that’s not your fault, he confirms it, and as his tongue circles your throbbing clit he definitely confirms it. your soft thighs are shaking around his head, hands threaded through his hair. your moans are hot and pretty, just like he imagined. it’s what has him grinding his hard cock into the mattress as he licks and sucks on your puffy bud.

“f-fuck!” you cry out, grinding your cunt into his mouth. “seungie!”

loser!heeseung groans into your pussy when he hears you use that cute nickname so easily like you’ve known each other for a long time. he doesn’t mind, though. actually, he really, really loves it. it’s what has him making out with your wet lips until you’re cumming on his tongue. your back arches and the grip on his hair becomes painful, but he takes it all and laps up every drop of your orgasm.

you’re panting when heeseung sits up. he looks so hot naked with his huge cock twitching and aching to be inside you. licking your lips, you make grabby hands at him. his smile is pretty as he takes you in his arms and sits you on his thighs. your bratty whine is stifled by his lips. he shoves his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself as his cock teases your entrance. you card your hands through his hair moaning into his mouth while desperately whining into his mouth.

his lips are addicting, and you don’t know which of your lips you prefer to have his mouth on. when he pulls away, loser!heeseung caresses your face and asks if you’re ready for his cock. his tenderness makes you drip with more arousal as you moan out a needy yes.

heeseung lifts you a bit and slowly eases his cock into you until you’re fully sitting on it. you toss your head back with a loud moan. he’s so thick and big that you can feel him in your stomach. already addicted to the stretch his dick provides, you start to grind into him. his large hands grip and squeeze your ass to help you fuck his cock

“god damn, baby. you’re so fucking tight.” his groan is guttural and makes you tighten around him.

you cry out when his weeping tip finds a spot that has you creaming all over him. loser!heeseung groans lowly. the squelching sound coming from your pussy is driving him crazy because he can hear and feel how wet you are. and all for him.

“feels so good.” you moan as his dick drags against your gummy walls. “fuck, seungie. you’re so big.”

heeseung isn’t vain, but he’s eating up your words. he gives your ass a harsh slap before moving his hands up to you hips to bounce you on his cock. somehow the angle feels deeper this way. you toss your head back with a filthy moan of his name, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching. his cock is hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

loser!heeseung becomes feral at the sight of your bouncing tits. he takes one of your hard nipples into his mouth, groaning against the soft flesh as he nips and sucks at the taut bud. you’re already so far gone that all it takes is his attention to your nipple to push you over the edge.

“heeseung!” you squeal as your orgasm rips through you.

he lets your nipple go with a loud pop and slams you onto your back. heeseung starts to pound into you at a feral pace, thoroughly fucking you through your orgasm. you’re fucked out, but when you still tilt your head up to silently ask for a kiss. it’s what triggers his own orgasm. he moans into your mouth as he releases ropes of his thick cum inside you.

loser!heeseung’s thrusts are slow and tender as he fucks his cum deeper into you. that’s how you two stay for a while, with his cock acting as a plug for his cum. you lay on his bed, making out like you don’t want to be desperate even for a second.

being with you is absolute heaven. even as you’re sleeping in his arms, heeseung’s never felt happier. he glances at your phone when you get a text from the idiot he thought would’ve been smart enough to stay away. it’s a message begging to talk and asking to explain things. loser!heeseung scoffs quietly before sending a response saying that you want nothing to do with him anymore. he then puts the phone on do not disturb and tosses it to the side.

you’re pulled closer to his naked chest. now that loser!heeseung has you all to himself, he’s never letting you go.

#kumawaii.exe #midnight.hourz #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen fic #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines

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inkdrinkerworld · 3 months

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Dealer!remus and autistic!reader’s relationship starts off so rocky guys let me tell you!!! Angst to fluff

Remus doesn’t fully get that he can’t just say things- like he’s got to be deliberate and conscious of the words he uses and his tone.

He’s never had to do that before so it’s weird and it’s hard to learn and he slips up sometimes.

One of your biggest arguments happens when he’s frustrated and you’re just trying to help.

You’d seen him so sullen and moody on James’ story so you decided to do for him, what you do for yourself.

You baked.

But then you realized you’re not at the stage where you know his absolute favourite type of cookie so you go a little all out.

You bake chocolate chip biscoff cookies. Chocolate chip toffee cookies, regular chocolate chip and brown butter chocolate chip.

You set them in a cute box and you text Remus that you’re coming to see him. You’re thinking everything’s going to go well, you’re gonna drop the cookies off for him, maybe he’s going to tell you what’s bugging him- maybe not; either way he won’t be alone.

Except you get there and immediately you feel like you’re inconveniencing him.

Try as you might not to take it personally, it’s really hard because he seems particularly peeved at you.

“Why are you here?” His tone is sharp and jagged and it winds you a little.

“I brought you cookies to cheer you up. Saw that you weren’t yourself on James’ story,” you keep your tone even, light- a practiced thing from your days of dealing with people that didn’t quite get you.

“Why would that cheer me up?” At this point everything’s going downhill fast and you try to salvage what little is left of your deflated cheeriness and open up the box to display the array of cookies.

Remus at the same time waves his hand and the box goes pitching across his living room floor and he explodes.

You can’t remember the last time someone had yelled at you like that and honestly, it hurt more coming from Remus who was so normally relaxed and chilled.

You don’t even tell him goodbye, you just clean up all the mess while he’s cursing and yelling and then leave.

What’s twists the bloodied blade in the wound is that he doesn’t even try to stop you or reach out to you for three days.

By which point you’ve already gone mostly nonverbal and you’re in no mood to entertain or fake a personality for the sake of your friends when you do see them.

Remus stops at your house after you ignore three invitations to his place.

“Dove, I know you’re at home. Can you open the door please?” His voice is muffled through the hard wood of the door and you have half a kind to leave it shut- he’d been mean, he’d said things that were very hurtful now that you’ve actually processed what he’s said fully.

You don’t know if you can stand to see him. Then he knocks again, “I want to look at you when I apologise, sweet girl. Please open the door.” And the wholesale remorse in his tone shakes your core and you cave.

He steps inside with a box and three tulips. “I figured I’d have had to do it face to face for it to really mean anything and because I realized I was an absolute prick to you when you just came over to help.”

You don’t even hum. Usually, when he was nice Remus- as you’ve differentiated in your head - you’d be able to look him in the eyes every couple of words, but right now you just look over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have yelled or sworn at you like that. It wasn’t cool and I never want to speak to you like that- ever. I was an idiot and I just want to make up for it.”

There’s about a minute where Remus thinks he’s just fucked every single bit of progress you’ve both made with each other and then you let out a big breath.

“You can’t say things that you don’t mean just because you’re upset. What you said really hurt my feelings and I don’t like feeling the way you made me feel when you were that angry. If we continue to be friends you can’t do that because it makes it hard for me to trust you and find what you’re saying believable.”

Your voice is hoarse and crackly from lack of use and Remus feels even worse. “I’ll do better, I swear. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you- it’ll never be, but I am sorry that I did.”

You nod once, succinct and definitive. Remus holds out the box to you, showing a puzzle you’d been eyeing for a while.

“Can we build it together?” He asks softly, an ebb of vulnerability given away as you catch his eyes.

“Okay, but we have to do corners first, then work our way in.” Remus nods, his other hand holding the flowers for you. The tulips are a pristine white.

“The lady at the shop said they’re good for conveying apologies.”

You smile a little, “These ones are also for condolences.” Remus shakes his head,

“Not this time,” he watches you put them in a vase of water. “Also, ‘if we continue to be friends’, thought we were a little closer than friends, sweet girl?”

He relishes in the way you bite your lip to hide your grin as you take the puzzle box from him and set it up on your coffee table.

“Well I wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not.”

Remus says very seriously as he sits opposite you at the coffee table, ducking down so he can catch your eyes as you take out the numbered bags. “I’m always acknowledging it, we’re more than friends dove. When everything’s not so fucked, I’ll take you out and do it with pink and red lilies.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin angst #dealer!remus lupin #dealer!remus #tism🤝

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lo-vearchive · 10 months

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Forgive Me

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female! reader

Summary: After an argument at work with your boss Miguel O’Hara you quit your job at Alchemex in anger. Luckily your boss’ AI talks some sense into him and sends him your way to beg for forgiveness. Read Part Two: here

Word Count: 2340 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel begging for forgiveness, 18+ (minors DNI), no explicit smut, but things do get spicy at the end, breastplay, questionable Spanish

Note: Not proofread. Did get carried away a little, but I just love angst and men begging. Take it up with the duolingo owl if you don’t like my Spanish (i tried :((). Feedback is appreciated because this may be the most I have ever written on Tumblr. Have fun, horndogs.

You rush into Miguel’s office at Alchemex on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you call out, heaving. “I need to speak to you.”

If Miguel found the use of his last name odd, he didn’t react. He sat hunched over his desk, clattering away on his keyboard. His wide shoulders obstructed the view of the screen, but you could tell he was working away at something important. Everything Miguel did seemed to be a matter of life or death recently and that left you with no time to discuss the nature of your relationship. You were stuck somewhere between more than colleagues but less than romantic partners, and now you wanted more than just the stolen looks and accidental lingering touches.

When he didn’t answer you called out again, wary of the listening ears at your workplace. “Mr. O’Hara?”

He let out a sigh with his back still turned to you. “What is it?”

You clear your throat to brace yourself against his cold tone. “It’s about something a bit more personal, sir. I would feel much better if we could speak with the door closed—”

“No quiero hablar contigo,” (I don’t want to speak to you) he cut you off. “I have a deadline to meet. Come back later.”

“This is important,” you insisted, glancing behind you at the ajar door to his office. “I just need some clarity about where things are going. Our interactions are messing with my head and that’s impacting my performance. I just need an answer.”

Miguel scoffed and continued typing away. “Helping you with your little feelings isn’t my priority. Go find something else to do. I’m busy.”

Irritation flooded through your body. Usually you could tolerate his hot-and-cold behaviour, but your patience was wearing thin. You hated his unwillingness to ever say what he truly felt, and you were tired of being in limbo. “You can’t just dismiss me like I’m some child. Miguel—”

“— No me hables—” (Don’t talk to me)

“No, I am going to talk, and you are going to listen or whatever is going on between us will end right now!”

He slammed his hands on his desk and the entire room shook on impact. He turned around and stalked towards you until he stood, looming over you. His red eyes reflected the anger in yours. He ran a large hand through his dark, dishevelled hair and spoke in a hushed, stern voice. “You are embarrassing yourself. Do I have to remind you that I’m your boss and this is your workplace? Let go of whatever fantasies you have got cooking in your head and get to work.”

You felt as if someone had slapped you in the face. Your cheeks felt hot, and your eyes began to sting. You felt like an idiot and then you felt angry for feeling that way as Miguel stood in front of you with sunken eyes and a stoic face.

A smirk played on his lips. “Calladita estás más guapa.” (You look prettier when you’re quiet)

You didn’t need advanced Spanish skills to understand what he meant. “F-Fuck you,” you choked through a constricting throat. “You’re an asshole. I quit.”

You stormed out of the office, hiding the tears that had begun leaking out. Avoiding the pitiful gazes of your colleagues, you grabbed your purse off the reception desk, threw your nametag aside and left the building.

Once Miguel was alone in his office, his bravado faded away. “Fuck,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “Lyla, give me a visual on her.”

Lyla puffed into his sight with her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her played a video of your name tag being tugged off your coat lapel and landing in the garbage. Your palms rubbed furiously against your eyes as you made your way to the elevator and away from him. “Shit,” he cursed again. “I messed up . . . ”

“Messed up?” Lyla echoed, incredulity laced in her voice. “You broke her heart! Matter of fact, I can show you precisely where you shattered it!”

She rewinded the visual to a few minutes back. Miguel’s stomach dropped as he saw her lips tremble as she held her head up, listening to the knives launching out of his mouth. Lyla shook her head as you’re the image of your crestfallen face faded away. “You better fix this,” she warned.

“I know, I know,” he exhaled loudly. “Send me her location. I need to go fix this.”

*******************************************************************************************

You sat in your bed with red eyes and a spicy chicken burrito bowl, scrolling through a job-hunting website. Miguel would have told you that the take-out place you ordered from wasn’t authentic Mexican food, but he would also dismiss your existence in the same sentence, so you decided to not put any weight behind his words. Yet you couldn’t deny that his behaviour today hurt you deeply. You kept replaying your past interactions to see if you had imagined a connection where there was none.

It had been six months since you started working at Alchemex. Everyone had warned you about Miguel and his brashness towards his past secretaries. You used to walk on eggshells around him, minimizing the space you took, and trying your hardest to not bring any undue attention to yourself. It wasn’t long until you figure out he was Spider-Man, you were always perceptive, especially of him. Somewhere along the line, the nine-to-fives turned to nine-to-midnight and then those turned into overnight stays at his office, working alongside him to research anomalies with Lyla.

At first, it was just innocent touches at the small of your back to move you out of his way in the cramped office. Then came the lingering touches on your arms as he hunched over behind you, helping you navigate some code written on his computer screen. You could vividly recall the night when you couldn’t reach a box of files on the top shelf of his filing case. Miguel had scooped you up effortlessly with an arm underneath your buttocks. His warm breath hit your stomach as he asked, “Did you get it?” You were thankful that he didn’t see the bright flush on your cheeks as he lowered you back onto the ground. You were even more thankful when he didn’t step away.

But none of that mattered anymore. He was an asshole and you had quit your job. You shoved a spoonful of rice in your mouth and pushed away the memories. The sun began to set, painting your room orange and slowly that too faded away. You sat in the darkness, contemplating hitting up your friends for a night out when you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise. From the corner of your eye, you saw a shadowy figure peering inside your bedroom from the fire escape. You let out a loud scream, scrambling away with the bowl in your hand.

The figure held up its hand in surrender. “It’s me! It’s me!” a familiar voice called out.

“Miguel?”

The figure nodded and the mask around its face disappeared to reveal his face. “Let me in,” he said, pressing his hand against the glass. “I need to speak to you.”

You set the bowl down on a nearby table and walked towards the fire escape with your arms crossed over your chest. “Pero no quiero hablar contigo,” (but I don’t want to speak to you) you replied, throwing his words right back to him. “You need to leave.”

He sighed and shook his head. Holding his wrist out, he let out a string of web and pulled the door back slightly. “No!” you shrieked as he slipped in through the gap. “I won’t get my safety deposit back!”

He crossed the space between us in long strides and grabbed my arms. “I will fix it,” he promised, “but I need you to listen to me first.”

You eyed him with a neutral expression, trying your hardest to control your thundering heart. “I am so, so sorry,” he said with his big brown eyes boring into yours. “I was an idiot for how I behaved. Please don’t quit. I need you.”

You pursed your lips and looked away.

“Mírame,” (look at me) he whispered, moving his hands up to your neck. His thumb turned your chin softly back to him.

“You were right,” he continued, rubbing his thumb softly across your jawline. “There is something here and it scares me. I acted like a coward today when you, my sweet, brave girl brought it up. Please don’t leave me behind.”

“You made me feel like I was an idiot,” you mumbled, fighting back tears, and looking anywhere but him. “Made me feel as if I was imagining things. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want to forgive you.”

His large hands moved to cup your face. He inched closer until the material of his suit slightly skimmed the surface of your tank top. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Forgive me.”

“No.”

his cool minty breath gently fanned your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Forgive me,” he repeated and moved his face lower to the crook of your neck.

“No— ung.”

He pressed his lips gently against the sensitive skin on your neck. “Forgive me.”

You raised your forearms and pressed them into his chest, attempting to push him away, but Miguel didn’t move an inch. His arms moved to your back, caging you in his embrace. “Not fair!” you cried.

He tipped your head back with his nose and slid his lips across the expanse of your throat. You bit your lips harshly to prevent the sounds of pleasure from escaping your throat. Your chest rose and fell harshly as his lips sucked away sensually. He moved his mouth and connected it with a spot that made your legs go numb. Miguel’s hands caught you before you could slip away. He hoisted you up and on instinct, you wrapped your legs around him for support. He walked you both backwards and gently laid you down on your mattress.

Leaning over you, he opened his mouth to speak but the light from your laptop screen caught his attention. “You’re already looking for jobs?” he pouted, fisting the sheet around your head. “You can’t leave me behind, baby. What am I supposed to do without you?”

You scoffed. “Whatever you were doing before. You can find someone else to be mean to.”

He grunted and dipped down to your throat once again. “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”

He kissed you again and your hand flew to his dark locks in surprise. He groaned as you tugged on it. “You can pull my hair and be mean to me too,” he mumbled against your throat. “Just please forgive me and give us a chance.”

You wrapped your hand around his neck. “Everyone at work heard us argue.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “It was my fault, and I won’t ever do it again.”

“People will talk,” you tried to reason, playing with the ends of his locks. “You are my boss.”

He pulled back to meet your eyes. His hair stuck out in different places and made you giggle. “Oh, yeah? Just your boss?”

“Yeah, what else— mmph!”

His mouth is on yours and it leaves you confused. Every touch of his in the past has been fleeting but this time Miguel won’t let this kiss end. His tongue parts your mouth and finds yours as his hand coaxes your jaw open. You let out a satisfied hum as he brushes your hair away from your face and neck and angles your face up. You had always imagined what kissing him would feel like, but nothing compared to this. You both lay in bed, fully dressed, but Miguel kissed you like he was already inside of you.

He pulled away and you groan, chasing his lips. “Wait, wait, wait, does this mean you forgive me?”

You rolled your eyes and exhaled harshly. “Miggy, you’re in my bed and on top of me. Of course, I forgive you.”

“Good,” he grinned.

His hand moves to your throat and then down the laced edge of your tank top. He inhales you deeply. “You smell so good. Every time you walked by my desk, I would get hard from a whiff,” he muttered to himself. “Thought it was your perfume, but now I know that it’s just you, your scent . . . I wonder if its stronger when I . . . can I?”

You were too preoccupied with feelings of disbelief to understand what he was saying, but you knew you felt safe in his arms. You nodded enthusiastically. Miguel hooked a finger into my tank top and gently pulled it down. He lets out a deep groan as your peaked nipples emerge from behind the fabric. “I know this is fast, but God, I could just . . .”

He wrapped his large hand around a breast. You let out a whimper as his touch makes your cunt clench around nothing. He moves your nipple in the space between his fingers and gives it a tug. “Miggy,” you gasp, gripping his hair. “You do this to all your secretaries?”

He shook his head as he continued to play with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingertips. “Only you, baby. I only ever want you.”

His warm mouth wrapped around a nipple as your legs wrap around him tighter. He sucks away at one breast while his hand plays with the other.

“Miguel!” you cry out at the sensation.

The side of your thigh begins to vibrate. It takes you a moment for you to navigate through the haze of pleasure to realize his cell phone is ringing. You reach into his suit pocket and pull out his phone. The words ‘Tyler Stone, CEO’ shine brightly on the screen.

You let out laugh which turns into moan. “Your boss is calling.”

Without stopping his ministrations, he tugs the phone out of your hand and chucks it aside on the bed. “Can’t talk now,” he mumbled around your breast. “I have my mouth full.”

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