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loganlermanstanaccount · 10 months

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Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

Text

Shot Through The Heart II

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: The story of your love

A camera pans down from the treeline to focus on an unassuming house on an unassuming street in an unassuming part of Barcelona. It zooms in to the front door, swinging open and investigates the hallway - passing by a collection of family photos, a World Cup medal framed along with a bow and arrow mounted above a doorway.

It turns sharply to the left to an open plan lounge that borders a kitchen.

An interviewer is sitting in an armchair facing you and Alexia, snuggled on the sofa.

"You caused quite a stir," The interviewer says," When you both posted on Instagram. I guess my first question is, how did it begin?"

Alexia chuckles. "We shared a garden. It was one of those old gardens where the end of it shared a fence with the neighbour behind you. I kicked my football over it."

"And I shot it, pinned it to the fence and everything."

"I climbed that same fence to get it back. And we just stared at each other. Then, I burst into tears."

●～●～●～●～

The girl who just climbed over your fence stared at you.

You stared back, brows pulled together in confusion.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she pointed an accusing finger at you. "What did you do to my ball?!"

You pointed to where your arrow had pinned it to the fence. "I shot it." You put your hands on your hips. "You shouldn't kick balls over my fence if you don't want them shot!"

The girl burst into tears, sobbing hysterically and you jolted in shock. You glanced back at your house in worry before you frantically unpinned the ball from the fence.

"Sorry! Sorry!" You said, holding the ball out to her," Stop crying! Look! Here! Take your stupid ball!" You threw it at her.

She caught it, turning it over in her hand as it began to very slightly deflate. She pointed at your bow. "What's that?"

"It's my bow," You replied, before puffing out your chest," I'm an archer."

"I'm a footballer."

"Cool."

"You bow's kind of cool too."

"I'm y/n."

"Alexia."

●～●～●～●～

"So not the best first meeting," The interviewer jokes.

You shake you head. "Not the best but we ended up getting on after that. Our Papas had to knock down the fence and replace it with a door so we didn't have to keep climbing to see each other."

"I think your dad still has the scar," Alexia replies and you roll your eyes.

"It all worked out though. We attended the same schools, sat together in class, ate together at lunch. We walked home together too."

"And was it difficult to find time to hang out together while you were both training?"

Alexia thinks back to it and shakes her head. "We would walk home together after school and our mamas would take it in turns to drive each of us to practice."

"La Masia was closer so Alexia always got out first but I finished earlier so we would get driven back home with each other too."

"Sometimes we'd have sleepovers."

The interviewer smiles. "And when did your romantic relationship start?"

"We were sixteen. Alexia asked me."

●～●～●～●～

Alexia was late. You weren't entirely sure why but she was. You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot impatiently. You couldn't stay long, you had a competition that your Papa was taking you to - you had gotten the rest of the day off school.

The canteen was filling up with students and you glanced at the clock again. You sighed, checking your phone. No messages from Alexia.

It wasn't like her to ghost you like this but you just assumed she had been asked to stay back after class.

You shouldered your bag, ready to make your way to reception to sign out and wait for your father to pull up, when a body crashed into yours.

Alexia curled around you, head in your neck. You felt her grinning.

"You're late," You informed her," I have to get going."

She retreated from your embrace, lacing your fingers together and walked with you to reception. She waited as you signed out and joined you outside when you went for your Papa to arrive.

You could feel her staring at your side profile, not looking away.

"What?"

"You're so pretty."

You rolled your eyes. "You're pretty too, Alexia."

She shook her head in annoyance as if trying to gather her thoughts. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "Date me."

●～●～●～●～

The interviewer laughs. "So, not much of a question then."

You laugh too. "I knew what she meant. It was a no brainer to say yes."

"I wanted to take her to the movies," Alexia says," But my Mama told me that if I wanted to go, I had to take Alba so we just ended up in the park."

"We spent hours there, though," You continue," And we ended up at this cute little café that we always go back to. It was run by this cute old couple that had been together for years. They're gone now but their son took over."

"We used to sit there all the time and do our homework when we didn't have practice. He watched us grow up. We get free doughnuts when we go there now."

Your hands draw circles on Alexia's arms as you hum, watching the interviewer lap up all the information.

"And, obviously, Alexia you ended up at Barca but y/n...You went to South Korea?"

You laugh at her shock. "Yeah, Korea's pretty damned good at archery. In fact, my trainer when I was younger came from there originally so he recommended I head over. I mean, I've trained all around the world for archery but the Koreans are dedicated. They're extremely good and I'm honoured that I got the chance to try and keep up with them."

"And how did the long distance work? Was it difficult?"

●～●～●～●～

Alexia's offseason never lasts really long. Between club duties and country duties, she was always on the pitch.

Your schedule was a bit more lenient, allowing you to train anywhere you wanted although you mainly stayed in Korea. You flew to France a few times a year, a brief two-month stay in the US, a couple of weeks in Spain and then back to Korea again.

It was rare that she had this kind of time off so, there you were, waiting at Incheon airport for the love of your life to get through the doors.

She crashed into you as soon as she spotted you. You held her tight, nose buried into her hair as you breathed her in.

"I missed you, amor," She said.

"Not as much as I missed you," You replied.

You pulled back, taking her cheeks in your hands and pulling her in for a long, sweet kiss - trying to put all of your longing and love into it.

"I missed you," You said again as you took Alexia's hand in your own while your other grabbed her bags.

You brought her back to your apartment, dumping the suitcase in the lounge before turning to look at Alexia. It wasn't the first time she had been in your apartment but she still marvelled over it like it was.

Her hands ghosted over the pictures of her mantelpiece - particularly the one with you and her at school, grinning at the camera like two crazy people. Your bow leaned up against the tv and a medal hung from a hook attached to a magnet on your fridge.

"I watched this competition," She said as she poked the medal," I couldn't understand anything the commentators were saying but you looked really good in your uniform."

You sent her a lopsided smile. "You think I looked good?"

"Hmm." She sauntered over, her hands coming to rest in your back pockets. "Very good. Made me a little upset that I wasn't there to congratulate you." She raised a brow and your throat bobbed.

"Well..." You said, glancing at the clock - you had a reservation at your favourite barbeque place soon," You scored a fantastic goal last week. I...I think I'd like to congratulate you too."

Alexia gave you a wolfish smile. "Good..." She turned around. "Bedroom still in the same place?"

●～●～●～●～

"We made it work," Alexia says.

"I earned a lot of air miles," You boast," I'm still cashing them in." You grin lazily. "Our trip to Greece was bought off those miles."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "She'll tell anyone who listens about that but it's true. We spent a lot of time flying out to see each other whenever we could. I think we saw each other more than we saw our parents."

You laugh, resting your head on Alexia's shoulder. "I think I once told my parents not to fly out to see me because you were already on the plane."

"And, obviously, one of you proposed. How did that happen?"

"I proposed."

●～●～●～●～

It was a beautiful night. Not too hot. Not too cold. You'd made sure of it, comparing the weather forecast for days before selecting the one you wanted.

You took her out on a walk. You bought her lunch.

Every time she smiled at you, your heart fluttered and you had to look away. You wanted to spring the question each time but you had planned this. You didn't want to ruin it.

"Not that I'm complaining," Alexia said as she followed you onto the balcony of the fancy hotel room you had rented," But what gives? Was there something special today? Something I've forgotten about?"

"Can't I just do something nice for you?"

"You've been doing a lot of nice things. A walk. Lunch. A shopping spree. Dinner and now a hotel room. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me."

You grinned at her. "Is it working?"

"You don't need to seduce me," She said," I don't keep you around for just the sex."

You scoff in jest, a dramatic hand on your heart. "But you keep me around partly for the sex? Alexia!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "You know I keep you around because I love you."

"I should hope so," You said. Your hand dipped into your pocket and dropped to one knee. "Because otherwise, this would be really embarrassing."

●～●～●～●～

"We got married within the month," Alexia says," We eloped. I don't even think we told our parents we even got engaged."

"Your Mama grabbed me by the ear and yelled at me for hours," You laugh, rubbing your ear in phantom pain," I think she thought that I could have stopped you from dragging me to that courthouse."

"I..." Alexia's face glows red as she speaks. "I just didn't want to wait. In all honesty, for us, it already felt like we were married, we'd been together for so many years that getting the marriage certificate signed seemed like just the final checkbox. I didn't need a big wedding or anything. We love each other. What more needed to be done?"

"Her mother still holds it against me."

"Mama is being dramatic." Alexia rolls her eyes. "She got to hold her little party for us."

"We snuck a way for that too," You say to the interviewer," For someone that didn't want a wedding, she was very eager to get to the honeymoon."

"We bought that on her air miles too."

Everyone in the room laughs at that.

"So, childhood sweethearts," The interviewer summarises.

"Childhood sweethearts," You confirm. Alexia moves a bit closer to you, leaning her head on your shoulder after pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"And, now you're living together in Barcelona. Is it a big adjustment after so many years of long distance?"

"It's a good adjustment," Alexia says," It feels good to finally be in the same place as each other, permanently."

"She likes that I get the groceries," You joke.

"Oh, yes," She says with a grin," It's what I keep her around for."

You stick your tongue out.

So does she.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso community #woso fanfics #woso

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pingnova · 10 months

Text

I met a quiet old man while browsing the plant books and accessories at the trading post this spring who asked what I was looking for. Most white people came to look at the jewelry and the expensive woolen blankets, so I guess it was a little unusual how closely I was examining all of the books on plants.

I held up a deck of native plant playing cards and said I was a forager, looking for more guides on local plants. He nodded thoughtfully and said there was a lot of medicine in wild plants. I smiled awkwardly, not sure why he was talking to me. But I reciprocated: "What are you looking for?"

He said he wasn't sure. He pointed to a few books on flowers, not necessarily edible vegetables. "They're beautiful," he said unsurely.

I nodded to encourage him. "Plants aren't just for eating, they're for appreciating too. We need beauty and nutrition."

Now he smiled, mostly hidden by his mustache, and told me he had a community garden plot he had tended for the past thirty years. Wow, what dedication.

Abruptly he says he has one year to live. He's at the trading post to find parting gifts for his son and grandchildren. He says this all very calmly, he's clearly been preparing for some time. And I stare at him because he seems so well and I've just met him. The idea of him dead is disturbing and shameful.

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I think this year I'll fill it with flowers."

He says it so warmly. I remember he was talking about his beloved community garden patch. I'm filled with heaviness and disbelief that he is soon dying and here wasting time talking to some random about growing flowers. But I manage to stammer something.

"It can't all be vegetables. Soft and beautiful things are important too. Especially in hard times."

Now he fully turns to smile at me. Again in my shock I think he's too content. Shouldn't he be raging? Crying, screaming, anything? But his mustache is white, he mentioned an adult son and grandkids, he seems well enough now and reasonably confident in his plan for a full season of flower gardening. Rapid-fire I conclude he's already done all of this and doesn't need it from me. Right now he's just discussing how important and sacred plants are with a likeminded young stranger.

He finally says, "Flowers are a soft landing after a long battle."

I choke out some kind of agreement so I don't accidentally cry. I wish him some kind of luck and awkwardly crabwalk away. I'm not really the king of social interaction even when its not emotionally loaded.

I bought my cards and books on vegetables and looked at the lone few on flowers he had been perusing. I'm in my twenties and don't plan on dying anytime soon, but how much time do I spend being as fast, efficient, and artless as possible in order to "survive" when that survival is never even in question. I have anxiety, I have ptsd, I'm an activist. All necessary and inescapable works of life. But this man had a season to live, death certain, and wanted to spend it growing flowers.

I went back to the register with a small book on flowers. When I'm hunting a forest to learn the native vegetables, I no longer ignore the blooms. If the battle is long, I want to grow flowers too.

#i think abt that man all the time 😭🥺#personal

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dilfprayers · 4 months

Text

21st Birthday.

realdad!leon kennedy x afab!reader based off of an ask i did a few days ago for @misscimi tw; incest topics (dad x daughter), alcohol abuse, dubcon , piss, virginity loss, manipulation + more

word vomit ??? yip yap type of thing that turned into a fic (?) so may be typos MAYBE? i dont know!! also ive been heavily brainrotting abt icky dad leon,..ugh

You were excited to turn 21. Everyone always made it a big deal and told you it'll be amazing being able to finally drink and do many other events that required you to be 21 anyways, which you hated. You went on years planning out what to do but when it finally came to that day, which was today, you sat there quietly in the house spacing out. Hours going by and you mainly sat there on the couch, quiet and alone.

That wasn't until the door crept open, your father suddenly walking in with a few bags. He glanced to the living room with a smirk, approaching you as you laid there. He did however admire you, how tight your shirt was to your upper body n' how those shorts were short enough to get a peek of your panties.

He knew better than to indulge in those thoughts but ever since you had had turned 19, he always had his eyes on you. Wanting you.

"Hey hun, what's got you in the dumps? Shouldn't you be celebrating the special day?"

He sits down carefully beside you, a quiet 'hmph' leaving his throat once he sits down. He leaned back, tilting his head with the bags still in his hands. You looked over at him before loudly sighing, slouching back into the couch.

"I don't know..My friends cancelled on coming over - Mom is always busy...And well you-"

You pause, looking at him. He looked puzzled, tilting his head as he leans in a bit closer to you.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

He cuts you off halfway, smiling at you before putting the bags down; gently setting his hand down on your bare thigh, rubbing at it in a comforting manner.

"I was able to get off work early anyways, I didn't want my lovely daughter to be on her own for her 21st birthday."

You smile, glancing down at his hand that rubbed along your thigh. He always had a comforting charm, you loved it.

"Well.. I guess. But, I really wanted to go out and get drinks. I always wanted to get the drinking experience. Aside from the whole vomiting and losing your absolute mind— It seems cool. But I sound stupid for that don't I?"

His eyes lightened up when you said that. Almost like a lightbulb clicked in his mind - Surely he wasn't thinking of getting you drunk, taking full advantage of you - Making you do things you don't wanna do. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he pats your thigh and leans back.

"Nah, I get you.. That's why I got you a little surprise."

He pulled some drinks from the bags, glancing at you as he saw the shock on your face. He really thought about you and your 21st birthday — Knowing you wanted to drink? You were beyond happy now. And the thought of your first drink would be with your father.. You were living in the moment.

He figured you were too shocked to speak so he handled the drinks, popping the cap off of one of the bottles then handled it over to you with a warm smile.

"Happy 21st birthday."

Sluggish, you were wobbling in your seat..Shit, how many drinks were there? You don't even remember. You just know you kept blanking out, hearing loud ringing sometimes as you crawled over to Leon, laying across his lap.

"Sweetie, y'okay?.."

You hear his concerned tone but only let out a low, "mmm..." noise, feeling all woozy. You felt like shit in all honesty but for him, it was a good thing. He planned this all along, get you drunk off your ass and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Poor baby.. Here, I got you. Just relax for me.."

He picks you up off his lap and holds you in his arms, walking off to his bedroom before kicking the door shut. He already had an erection, sick fuck had so many possibilities and thoughts in his head.. It was to the point he could feels his cock pressed up against the fabric of his boxers and pants, oozing crazily with precum.

He fucking wanted you. And wanted you now.

Afterall, It was his second part of his birthday gift, you should be happy right?..

You groan quietly as he sets you down to the bed, slowly sitting down beside you soon after as he watches your vulnerable state. Your body aching from whatever was going on in your head and stomach - Eyes halfway shut too. You could hear something being rustled with.. A belt?.. Pants? You didn't really know nor care as you shifted on the bed, comfortable from how the pillows and comforter made you sink into a whole different headspace. You were quiet, only breathing heavily. You wanted nothing more than to just sleep but that'd soon be disrupted. You just didn't know it yet.

Leon, on the other hand, had already had his pants off and his boxers, needily stroking his cock from the mere sight of you.

"Fuck.. You've grown into a lovely woman, you know that?.."

He mutters, as if you could hear him but you didn't. He bites down on his lip, pushing past his limits. He slowly moved himself over you, pulling your shorts down and saw your bright panties. Beautiful pair too.. He groans lowly, brushing his fingers along your crotch but pauses, noticing you shifting around again before staring directly at him.

"Mh-..Wha...H..huh? Dad..What's going on?.."

You mumble, feeling your legs spread open cause of him and felt a pit deep down in your stomach. You thought this was some kind of fucked up dream, not realizing it was real.

"D..daddy?.."

Your voice cracks, seeing him stare directly at you - But him hearing your innocent words through your drunken state made his cock throb. He knew you couldn't comprehend shit that was going on.. All you could assume was this being some kind of bad dream you couldn't wake up from. With him knowing that, it turned him on more.

"Shh, shh... I want to love you and make you feel good tonight. Isn't that what fathers do?"

He murmurs, brushing your panties again until he feels something warm — Or rather, hot. You weren't aware but out of fear and confusion, you felt yourself wetting your panties with the pee you held in for hours ever since you started drinking earlier. His eyes were widened, seeing the liquid damp up your panties and pour down along the sheets, staining it.

But even still, it left him beyond turned on. More than he should've been.

You weren't entirely sure what had happened for a couple minutes but you just know you gained some kind of consciousness the second he pushed his cock deep into you, keeping himself balls deep before he rutted himself in and out of you, brushing his thumb along your throbbing clit. You scratched at him, screamed and all but he knew how to make you slowly accept the fact he was raping you while you were drunk and half asleep. You didn't exactly think your father out to be some kind of rapist or sick fuck, but here he was, not only using you but also using your piss as 'lube'.. And not to mention - blood too. This was your first time. And your first time was from your dad taking advantage of you.

The thought nearly made you hurl but as time went on, you did actually start feeling good. He ensured of that so you could calm down. He never moved his thumb away from your clit, moving it in circular motions as he knew it was becoming raw and more sensitive. He could tell it was fucking with you cause of how much tighter you'd get.

"Feeling good yet? You want daddy to keep fucking you? Show you more about being an adult? Mm...?"

His cock plunged into you, way deeper at this point since you were naturally getting wet from his actions. It didn't help either that you wanted this to originally stop but the influence of alcohol and the pleasure he offered was driving you insane. You couldn't think straight before cause of the drinks but now it was way worse.

"Please... Please..- M..more.."

You whined to him, legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. His gaze down at you was darkened and he knew he enjoyed

"More? You don't even have to ask."

He leans in, his lips catching yours into a tender kiss while he now places his hands along your legs, spreading them out more with his tight grasp before going to town on you. The bed creaked and both of your moans and groans made a symphony within the room.

"Shiiit...G..gonna..Cum..."

He mutters into the kiss, feeling his cock throbbing within you. Your walls squeezed at his cock needily, but as a natural reaction again. Your body knew what it wanted. His cum.

But you couldn't do that.. The risk of him getting you pregnant was high but you weren't even thinking straight, you couldn't pull him off nor tell him. Actually, you didn't even want to.

"Daddy's gonna fuck a baby into me...~"

You babble out, lips still mushed against his as your tongues lock together for a bit till he pulls back, slipping his cock out of you to flip you on your stomach. He spanks your ass, grinning.

"Watch your language, I'm still your father you know."

He teases but knew damn well hearing those words slip out from you made him harder. He fucking loved it. At some point afterwards, he got into a better position before pushing his cock back into you. His cock throbbed some more before he rocked his hips along yours while he was towered over you. Seeing you in such a fucked up state, fighting the two separate sides in your head from what was wrong or right was arousing. Your slightly concerned face, wondering if this was you truly wanted. Or how your pussy clenched around his cock, wanting to milk him dry of his cum. Your body was rejecting your moral thoughts at this point.

The thoughts he had and also seeing you slowly come apart for him became overwhelming, but he enjoyed the hell out of it to the point he pushed himself deeper into you again, as he leans down, grunting in your ear. He finally came inside of you, no verbal warning what-so-ever.

You could feel it too, his warm pumps of cum flooding your insides - Giving you butterflies. He slightly rode out his orgasm before pausing, keeping his cock plunged deep into your sticky and wet, messy pussy.

"That was my birthday gift for you.."

He mutters, gently resting his chest on your back as he gently kisses along your cheek. You were all used up for the night, even more drowsy and at some point you closed your eyes and rested there beneath him while his cock remained inside of you.

Maybe being 21 isn't so bad after all...

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #realdad!leon #dad!leon kennedy #🕍 — detowrites

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nvoirs · 1 year

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Disclaimers: Cowgirl, missionary, !F recieving, public sex basically, !F gets ate out.

It had been almost a week since you and Leon had rescued Ashley from the psychotic cult, los illuminados, in rural Spain.

You both had made it back in one piece, even if you were both infected by the las plagas virus at some point during your journey through spain.

The president was absolutely delighted to know that the two of you had secured his daughter safely and brought her back home. In honour of doing so he had arranged a large fancy dinner party celebrating the both of yours accomplishments.

You were very appreciative you'll admit that but you weren't really a party person even if this was a formal one where of course everyone will behave.

Being a introverted person that kept to yourself you'd say you we're the complete opposite of Mr Kennedy here. He loved the attention, and his humour made people like him even more so.

Ever since he'd lent you his jacket back before you came home because it was super cold that night, you've been thinking about him. His jacket was still slung over your shoulders when he told you he could keep it. But you tried to protest, trying to explain to him that you had plenty of jackets to wear. He said he didn't want to hear it, and that it could also serve as a reminder of what you and him had been through. Thinking about that, you we're very sure that you did not want anything to remind you of that horrible place.

But it was leon. You'd admit you had feelings for him, and they had blossomed more during your mission in spain. You had no idea if he felt the same, because he flirts with everyone no different, just the same.

So when you had come to this supposed dinner party you had decided, you were going to wear his jacket and see if it elicited any reactions in him. You topped it on top of your dress that you wore, as you walked to your assigned sit next to him.

Leon's glance was indeed glued to you, or most likely his jacket. Oh, he did not expect that. It was kind of turning him on which wasn't a good sign being in public and all. His thoughts errupted his wants to stop this, and he imagined images of you underneath his figure. Wearing only his jacket, and getting absolutely wrecked by him.

"Please.. fuck me harder, i want it!" Your dreamself in leon's mind cried out.

leon however was snapped out of his refreshing dream of you when you excused yourself to use the restroom. Now was his chance. His chance to ask you privately if you felt the same as he did.

A few minutes after you had disappeared through the foyer trecking to the restroom. Leon also excused himself and decided to wait outside in the foyer for you.

When you came out from the restroom, you nearly tripped and fell from the shock you had from leon standing there.

"Fuck! Leon! What we're you doing?" You held your chest, hearing the thumping of your heart.

"I'm just stood here, what on earth do you mean?" Leon grinned, leaning his hand against the wall you stood you're ground on.

"I mean why are you here? Shouldn't you be entertaining the president or something?" You sighed pinching your nose, to be honest you were getting a little hot and bothered that he was so close to your face. The rapid beating of your little lovesick heart proved evidence for this.

"Yeah you're right I guess, but why're you wearing my jacket hm?" smirking, leon looked at your face that contorted in embarassment. Cute.

"Are you just being stupid or do you actually have amnesia? You told me to keep it" you shot back.

"That's right.. most people wouldn't wear it to a fancy place like this though.." he trailed of. He wanted to ask you, he wanted to ask you if you liked him. No, if you loved him.

"I'm just wearing it to cover my shoulders, c'mon leon stop being a douche and get back there" you gestured to the party down past the foyer.

"Kinda wanna see you in that jacket.. on it's own"

He finished looking into your eyes searching for any discomfort, anything that would make him put a stop to this all.

Your cheeks were dusted pink, you were flattered. You thought that maybe leon returned your passionate feeling towards him. You wanted to try something.

You yanked him by the belt forcefully, and collided your lips against his. He began to encourage the kiss. His right hand cupped your small face deepening the kiss, while his left slithered around your waist hugging it tightly.

Kisses in sync, it felt light and airy. But then it became something far darker and more lustful.

You pulled back, inhaling deeply. You'd done it, you kissed him first. You stared at him, but as your glance got lower you saw something quite.. humorous.

His hard on was streching against the fabric of his dress pants. You giggled, putting your hands on your hips.

"Oh? What's that there Mr Kennedy"

"Not quite sure myself, better fix it soon you brat" he looked at you with a venomous gaze.

Oh it's on. You grabbed leon by the arm making sure nobody saw the pair of you, entering the lavish restroom, probably the cleanest you'd ever seen, tugging him along to the very end stall which happened to be the most spacious, perfect for the lewd things you had planned.

"What are you-" you shushed leon, forcing him to sit on the ground, undoing his belt rapidly. You threw his belt to the ground, you could feel your panties becoming wet your clit ached for some contact.

"Strip." You commanded leon, pulling at his shirt.

"Sorry, but following a women's lead just isn't-" you sat directly on his lap, right on where he needed you most.

"Well this women isn't going to help you with your little problem then, is she?" You moved around slightly, causing leon to groan grabbing your hips to still you.

"Fuck, didn't know you'd be such a whore" leon pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

"Oh leon, I'm a lot more then that." Trailing your small hands across his broad back and chest. finding a precious spot on his neck you closed in and began to give him the love he deserved. You bit into his skin, sucking on it lightly swirling your tongue before pulling back.

The love bite stood out, telling all that he was yours and only yours. He moaned deeply, extremely turning you on.

"Fuck, I wanna touch you to baby" leon tugged at your dress. You admired the artwork of angry red hickeys you'd blossomed onto his rough skin.

"You wanna touch me hm?" You stood up, your hands squeezing his shoulders teasingly.

"Fuck yeah, sit on my face now." He demanded. It made you light hearted and giddy knowing that he was finally yours for the taking.

You hitched up your dress, brandishing the cute little thong you were wearing.

"You were wearing that this whole time? You knew this was gonna happen hm?" Leon smirked at your proud form.

"Well i wasn't entirely sure Kennedy, but i'm glad it worked out" sighing in relief once you slid of the thong, your wet as fuck pussy being exposed to the crisp air.

"C'mere" leon grabbed you by the butt, squeezing it in the process. He leaned against the wall, as you lowered your pussy onto his lovestruck face. You felt his nose poking you and you moaned, you started gyrating your hips against his pretty face. "Ohh leon yes!" You whined, but gasped when he grabbed you stopping you from moving anymore stopping your build up.

"Not so fast baby, your doing all the work" he planted your pussy back onto his face, and you let him get to work. His tongue worked wonders, as he licked stripes up and down your pussy folds. He sucked on your clit, the lewd slurping noises adding to the intensity. You let out a high pitched moan. "yeah i wanna here you cry like that, say my name baby"

He was devouring your cunt, making you lose all the sanity you had built up. You grabbed his golden hair, gripping at the roots. He began to rub your clit in fast little circles, quadrupling the pleasure instantly. Arching your back upwards, you cried out as you felt your climax approaching rapidly.

"Ah fuck leon! I'm gonna-"

Before you could finish you came gushing all over his face, but he continued to lick it up like icing on a cake. you gasped, become overstimulated extremely fast you were already approaching your second orgasm when he pulled away.

"What the fuck? why'd you stop" you hissed from the loss of contact.

"You can't cum again unless you help me with my little problem" chuckling he beckoned you over to his lap.

Swaying your hips slightly you sauntered your way over to him, plopping yourself straight onto his hard on. you felt it poking you, it was rock hard by now pretty painful to your guessing.

"What can I do to make you feel better Mr Kennedy?" smirking, you brushed his wild strands of hair out of his pretty face.

"I want you to fucking ride me right here right now" he groaned, feeling the weight of your bare pussy on his cock.

"I didn't know you were into cowgirls" you purred, you got of of him and began to pull down his underwear. his cock sprung free, and you looked at its oh so delicious tip. it was completely covered in his precum, the tip a blushed colour that had you humming with satisfaction.

"Now let your cowgirl ride you." you grinned, lowering your ass as your pussy came in contact with his cock. you slowly slid down on him, making him groan.

"Fuck your so tight, god damn" he could feel you wrapped around him, squeezing onto him for dear life. he pulled the top of your dress down, exposing your tits as you moved up and down in fast little motions.

"Fuck no bra either?" he moaned, licking his lips before grabbing one of your breasts licking and kissing the delicate bud. to far gone into the pleasure his cock was giving you, you struggled to respond your chest heaving up and down. the wet noises that your cunt made as you bounced on his cock were music to his ears. heavenly he could say, grabbing your other nipple and twiddling it with his rough padded thumb.

He admired you struggling to take his cock, the cute little bump his cock made indenting your stomach. "ah leon.. you feel so.. so good!" you managed to cry out. this made leon snap, grabbing you by the hips he began slamming you up and down. Up and down his cock making you squeal and mewl begging for more. you were his own personal toy, his little cocksleeve he could use whenever he god damn well pleased.

"Yeh, you like that you slut?" Leon could tell you were close to releasing, removing one hand of the bruising grip of your hips he spanked your ass it slowly changing to a bright ruddy red. it stung but pleasure coursed through your whole body while he gave you the most exquisite pounding of your life.

You released all over Leon's stomach, the opaque liquid glistening. "shit, that was hot" he flipped you in reverse, so he was on top. pinning you to the cool tiles, he started to drill into you. he chuckled when he saw your euphoric face, babbling you managed to speak up. "gosh I love you, I really do!" face tinged pink from this 'workout' you started leaving thin scratch marks across Leon's back.

"What was that angel? I didn't hear you"

"I said I love you!" you practically yelled it, Leon clamped a big hand over your mouth. didn't want the whole fucking world knowing you guys were fucking in the restroom next door.

"Your my favourite.. you know that?" Leon questioned you, his hips beginning to slow and stutter.

"M-mine to!"

"I'm your favourite to?" staring at you nodding fast, he let out a guttural groan before releasing deep inside you.

Collapsing in your hold, he hugged your form.

"That was the best I've ever had" you sighed, embracing him back.

"The best sex? Oh sweetheart there's so much more I could do." Still inside of you, Leon pecked your cheek.

"Did you really mean that you love me?" His serious face made you laugh.

"Leon! Of course I've liked you for the longest time.. but I didn't know how to say" he stroked your hair, finally pulling out of you.

"Well that makes two of us.. and I love you to" his warm skin contacted with yours making you feel at home.

"So why don't we get the hell out of here, make an excuse that your sick or something" you suggested.

"Great plan.. your gonna be the sick one though, got to be the gentleman you know?" he winked, you returned a gleeful smile holding him dearly close.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil smut #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #re x reader #resident evil 4 #re4make #re4 leon #re4 leon smut

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 8 months

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Opinions on owning pet parrots? I'm doing a degree in animal welfare and have pretty much come to the conclusion that the smaller species are fine if you can provide what they need but the larger birds like the greys, outside of being rescues, shouldn't be pets at all.

Okaaaaaaaay so time to make everyone mad at me again I guess

parrots have been human companion animals for longer than Judaism has been around, so, I don't think we can just say "it's wrong" and force everyone to stop doing a thing that's been done for that long. Like, this isn't a human randomly taking home a tiger, this is a long going process with many species of parrots now being near-domesticated in the strictest sense of the term

Parrot ownership is in fact ancient in many "tropical" areas and the idea that it's a new thing is... white supremacy! what a shock!

in the United States (I am not talking about other countries, just my own), literally no companion parrots are wild caught anymore. They're bred. Bred as companions. If we were to outlaw larger parrot ownership, many birds would be without a home, and that's morally reprehensible

in fact, the kind of backlash against parrot ownership that's risen up in the past decade has directly led to a shelter crisis. most shelters are overfilled and overstressed, which is a *lot* worse for the birds in many cases than home ownership

parrots are pets that have extraordinarily high care needs. They are not good pets for everyone. but no pet is! Every single companion animal has its pluses and downsides, and many of them have many more downsides than pluses. Doesn't mean they shouldn't have a home.

There are some people who are actually able to take care of companion parrots, adequately, in their homes. First of all, we've learned a lot in the past few decades. Second of all, there are lifestyles that work well with even larger parrots and their needs.

So, while the number of human beings on this planet who can adequately take care of large parrots is extremely small, it is not zero. Which means if someone thinks they can take care of a bird well, and has the space and resources and time, then they should be allowed to, if that's what they wish

Because birds in the USA are bred as companions, the vast majority of said parrots would be unhappy in any situation that doesn't involve close contact with humans. Admittedly, all my parrots are "small" (whatever that means), but I know for a fact that if you took them away from our home they would be significantly worse off, because they're bonded to us. That's how this whole flocking thing works

Also, our most recent rescues, who had been stuck in a shelter for 15 years, are definitely happier now getting more individual attention and space. Shelters are supposed to be temporary places for most birds, not permanent homes, because they can't get the adequate level of care and attention that they need.

also, I'll point out that being pets has allowed many parrot species to have thriving populations that are not threatened by climate change, which is something to their benefit. given. you know. climate change. not that pet ownership is conservation, but, it's not that far removed from it - the axolotl population owes a lot to both pet ownership and zoo captivity, for example.

like, it's a spectrum, right? And it doesn't really go along with size, at the end of the day. There are tons of extremely neurotic and high needs small parrots, and many larger ones that are exceptionally chill. So while the vast majority of humans on this planet should not have a parrot, that's not all of them; and while the number that can handle higher maintenance ones is even smaller, its not zero. And I think, given the fact that we have all of these captive bred birds in the states at least, it's not a good idea to tell people that there is no way to ethically practice husbandry with them.

and I'm not the kind of person who assumes I know everything about someone's life in order to tell them "no you shouldn't bring home that cockatoo", so I'm not going to. In fact, I give everyone on the internet the benefit of the doubt if they have a parrot unless a) that parrot shows signs of distress (like plucking) or b) there is clearly something wrong going on (like someone's smoking weed around their bird)

so, no, there's no commonly kept (and thus domestically captive bred) bird I think is a bad pet for every single human on the planet. And it's not my business whether a particular individual should or should not have a particular bird.

#parrots #pet parrots #birds #aviculture #parrot husbandry

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kindestegg · 1 year

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"Maybe if I ask her real nice, I won't have to turn her into a puppet!"

So... this line has been puzzling me for a WHILE because it feels like it goes against the idea Collector's go-to default is to just puppet-ify everything.

UNTIL someone in a server I was a part of pointed out that hey, doesn't it seem like Collector is also actively trying to nudge King to play something else? That they're tired of this game?

And I thought about the capture the flag game suggestion.

"What if we switch it up? We could play capture the flag! Us versus... everyone on the Isles!"

Okay, aside from the obvious commentary that Collector sees himself and King against the world (which is. another thing. I need to write up on *biting down on my arm*), it's interesting this implies the people would probably not be puppets anymore, since you'd probably need people who are conscious to actively play in the game, and the whole "people breathing on the moon" discussion doesn't seem like it would happen if they were considering the people as puppets.

It's also worth noting that Collector turning Lilith and Hooty into puppets happens immediately after King tells him The Owl House Game is like playing pretend...

And also, after Collector asks King what role he gets to play, and King presumably tells him, he uh, does this...

Which I'm guessing means he was pretty happy to hear he's going to be the main character. And then immediately after...

... Do you think there's a possibility Collector's go-to isn't in fact to just capture people as puppets, but interpreted this immediately from King's talk of the Owl House Game?

He also lashes out at King for criticizing him over turning Terra into a puppet, claiming he's just "playing pretend".

And considering how, from King's talk with Eda and Lilith, he's only losing his fear of making Collector mad NOW...

It's possible most of this was born out of a misunderstanding. Collector interpreted the game as having "lots of players" as puppets, the whole Isles as King put it, and King was too scared to tell him that wasn't it. No wonder Collector lashes out when told not to do so, to him it makes no sense because this is how the game is played in his view.

If he's getting tired of this game though, it also explains why he suggested not turning Eda into a puppet first, why he wanted to play something that would keep people free from such a spell, and even why he seemed slightly disappointed that he ended up turning Terra into a puppet too by the end, which is another sentient playmate lost, even if she made him angry.

So... if all of this could have been avoided if King had told Collector that this game shouldn't entail turning people into puppets, I think I have a hunch of the narrative purpose of all this.

It's telling the truth. King has to tell the truth. That there was no Owl House game, that he made it all up, that he was a scared kid desperate to save the people he loved and the Isles and that yes, he did use Collector.

King wasn't in the wrong for lying of course, because it was this or losing everything he loves. But things have been regardless severely more complicated because of this lie.

And I suspect he knows this, as he says he wants to talk to Collector to solve things. Maybe this talking is him telling the truth after all. He does say this directly after communicating that he's losing his fear of making Collector mad. Maybe he's finally gotten courage to confess the truth.

It's also worth noting again that Collector... doesn't care that King is lying about some things? He barely reacts with anger or shock at him talking to Eda and Lilith and seeing that they're keeping this as secret from him, he only cares when it sounds like King might want to hurt him.

It sounds silly when you put it this way, but the biggest obstacle keeping their relationship from fully realizing and them resolving things is just a misunderstanding. King wrongfully believing Collector might hurt him and Collector wrongfully believing King is happy playing pretend with him.

Once they actually talk this out, they can finally resolve things.

... the only problem is that I think if King approaches Collector saying he wants to tell him something now...

Collector might just think it has to do with King getting rid of him, and things might turn for the worst.

#the owl house #toh spoilers #toh analysis #toh theory #the collector #toh collector #king clawthorne #commander's orders

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romantichomicide95 · 9 months

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Prompt 65 with megumi?

megumi fushiguro

drabble prompt #65: “i think i might be in love with you.”

notes: megumi fluff is my favorite thing to write, also having him say “can i kiss you” all awkwardly. it’s like my signature for him and mutual pining i’m not sorry

Textbooks were spread out across your bed, side table littered with snacks and tea. The afternoon sunlight was filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. You watched as Megumi’s eyes narrowed with focus, his nose in a book.

"Hey, can you explain this math problem to me? I’m struggling here." you asked, your brows furrowed studying the equations laid out before you.

Megumi looked up from his books, turning to face you. "Sure, no problem." You grabbed your books and leaned closer to him, pointing out the problems you were having troubles with. His dark eyes remained focused as he tried to help explain it to the best of his abilities.

This, however, proved difficult for him as your close proximity was making his heart do jumping jacks in his chest. The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, and Megumi found it difficult to concentrate on anything but the softness of your voice and the way your eyes lit up when you finally understood a concept.

Megumi couldn't deny the growing feeling inside him, the warmth that spread through his chest whenever you smiled or brushed against his arm. He had never felt this way before. What was this feeling? Why did he crumble to dust every time he saw the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, or heard the sweet melody of your laughter?

Lost in his own thoughts, Megumi barely realized that you had stopped studying and were now just talking about random things. He listened attentively, but his mind was preoccupied with the realization that had suddenly hit him. The realization of why he felt like pudding anytime you were around.

Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Megumi took a deep breath and blurted out, "I think I might be in love with you."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden confession. His face sunk as he watched the way your face scrunched up in confusion. It’s wasn’t because you were upset, it certainly wasn’t because you didn’t feel the same way. That burning anxious feeling in your chest every time he was around you made sure you knew that. No, it was because you couldn’t believe the words you’d just heard. You were in grade a, certifiable shock.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just... I just now realized and…fuck. I’m sorry." Megumi looked down in defeat, his eyes scanning everywhere but you, as the pink color dusting his cheeks grew deeper and deeper.

You stared at Megumi, wide-eyed, the realization still sinking in. The silence stretched between you, both of you trying to process the the moment. Finally, once realization started to seep in, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Megumi, you don't have to apologize. You just, caught me off guard. I, well I’ve been in love with you for like…practically since we met.”

Megumi's eyes widened, finally meeting your gaze as a mix of disbelief and relief washed over him. He looked at you, his usual calm facade cracking slightly, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. "You... you have?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah," you let out a soft chuckle. “I thought it was kind of obvious.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me.” He says, shaking his head, "I can't believe I didn't notice."

You reached out, cupping his cheek gently. “Well I guess it was obvious to everyone except you than.” you say with a chuckle.

Megumi's smile grew wider and he leaned into your touch. "Well, I uh- I'm glad you feel the same way."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of excitement. “I’m glad to Megumi.”

Megumi nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "Can I-uh…can I kiss you?”he asks awkwardly.

You smile at Megumi's nervous question, feeling your heart race. As if there could be any other answer besides yes. You lean in closer, closing the distance between you, and gently brush your lips against his, savoring the softness of his lips on yours. An electric current surges through your body as your lips come together. His lips feel warm and velvety and you can’t believe you haven’t done this sooner.

His hands find their place on the small of your back, pulling you closer and time seems to stand still as the world around you fades away.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other. Smiles on both of your puffy swollen lips as you speak, “Yes, Megumi. You can definitely kiss me."

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader fluff #fushiguro x reader

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fishsticksloser · 6 months

Text

Crush Pt 2

Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst (once again just Donnie's feelings), comfort, fluff, human!reader inferred, swearing, NO TCEST

A/N: The requested part 2. I have so many Donnie requests right now, trying to space them out... I'm gonna go watch the FNAF movie today!!!

Previous | Next

Donnie sits in his lab, fingers strumming against the desk. He stares at the pile of parts you'd managed to find for him. The newest one made his head spin, it could only be found in the Hidden City, this meant you went down to find it for him. You probably had to go to a bunch of places to get one in such good condition.

But you couldn't possibly have a crush on him. His brothers were imagining it.

Leo pointed out that you started wearing purple. Which of course Donnie noticed, but he tried to say that maybe you just liked it. Raph followed up with saying that you hardly ever wore purple before now.

"Its a sign" So Mikey and Leo said.

Donnie wasn't buying it.

Mikey pointed out that you were wearing lighter purples which are associated with with light-hearted, romantic feelings. He also brought attention to the fact that Donnie also started wearing lighter purples. Which Donnie quickly turned attention away from.

⋆｡ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ﾟ｡⋆

"Why won't you even consider that they might actually have a crush on you?" Leo asks as he lounges in Donnie's lab while he works.

"It's simply out of the question." Donnie answers, as it that was a good enough answer. He looked at his twin for a moment, seeing the look on Leo's face. "I have hardly any redeeming qualities. The ones I do... Probably shouldn't be considered."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Leo sits up and frowns at Donnie. He rolls his chair over to Donnie, ready to give him a talking to. "You realize that you're actually likeable, right? We just joke around about each other."

"Sure, sure." Donnie rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Unfortunately, Leo managed to keep him from turning, making Donnie face him. Donnie huffs and glares at Leo. "Just like the time you made sure I was taken by bats so I 'didn't ruin another mission'? Or reprogramming Shelldon to prove that my inventions suck?"

"Okay, that last one I admit was a bit far..." Leo sighs, looking at his twin with pleading eyes. "But you're my best friend, my twin. I wouldn't be sitting silently in your lab if I didn't like you, you know how hard it is for me to sit still and be quiet." Donnie smiles a little at Leo's last statement, letting out a weak snort, which makes Leo continue more passionately. "You're the opposite of me. In almost every way, but that's what makes us work. Sure I'm charismatic and insanely attractive... But you're mysterious, stoic, and fucking genius."

"And those are redeeming qualities?" Donnie asks, genuinely wanting to know. Did those things pull you to be attracted to him? Were those qualities really attractive?

"Absolutely!" Leo says, shaking Donnie a little. But then Leo stops to think for a second. "Well... They might think you hate them now."

"What?" Donnie replies, eyes wide. "Why? Did I do something?" He's panicking now. He had to fix this. He had to finally admit that you might maybe have a crush on him.

"You have been pretty... Guarded lately. You've been kind of blunt and mean to them, we've-"

Donnie stands up and rushes out of the lab quickly to resolve the issue. He quickly went to your place, not even knocking. He slipped in through the window, seeing you cooking dinner.

"You think I hate you?" Donnie asks softly, making you jump.

"I should really put a lock on the window..." You laugh anxiously. Donnie frowns at you for avoiding his question. "I didn't think it was out of the question."

"I'm sorry, that was never my intention." He murmurs, moving closer to you. You stare at him, a little shocked. He's apologizing? And sounds sincere? "I've been... Fighting my emotions. I guess I didn't realize I was taking it out on you."

"I don't understand..." You reply, brows furrowed as you look up at him. The look in his eyes is much different, softer than they had been recently.

"My brothers say you have a crush on me?" Donnie asks like he's wanting reassurance, wanting confirmation that these rumors where in fact true. You nod, even more confused. "I've been... Fighting with believing that... And with understanding how I feel about you."

You stare at him still, finally the pieces click. "Oh..." You whisper in realization, adverting your gaze for a moment to collect yourself. "So that's what Leo's text meant..." Donnie cocked his head a little before you showed the text.

Mayday! Donnie is about to explode emotionally!

Donnie rolls his eyes at his brother's text, but then looks at you. "So... What does this mean for us?" He questions quietly.

"I would like to... Figure this out with you, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"Sounds intriguing... I'm in."

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rollinouttahere-writes · 6 months

Note

Shanks rocks up to Lucky and Buggy’s wedding

Interacts with Lucky for like a minute: “you know what, this is nice, real nice, how about instead of it being your wedding (to buggy) it becomes mine”

Got inspired, did a little drabble

Frankly, this whole situation was embarrassing. Not only had you stupidly promised your hand in marriage to a god damn clown, you had now allowed yourself to be captured by said clown. Ashamed was not a strong enough word for how you felt.

Luckily for you, you'd been able to afford yourself some time away from what is regrettably your fiance by insisting that it was traditional for the bride and groom to not see each other right before the wedding. Admittedly, you didn't care much about it, you just wanted to give yourself some time alone and a chance to escape.

This was made difficult thanks to you being stuffed in a wedding gown by a very nervous seamstress that you're 99% sure was here against her will and being locked in the dressing room once she was finished. You weren't about to give up, though. Maybe you could squeeze yourself out of the window?

The escape attempt was shot down almost immediately by a knock at your door. Without waiting for an answer, whoever it was unlocked it and let themselves in. You'd assumed it was Buggy being unable to wait to see you in the wedding gown, but instead a red haired man came in. You can't help but wonder if he's lost, his clothing looks far too casual to be wedding attire.

His smile was warm and he held out a hand to you, "It's nice to finally meet you! I never thought I'd see the day where Buggy got married."

You had no idea who this man was, but politely returned the handshake regardless. His hand was rough and calloused, he most certainly didn't lead a leisurely lifestyle. The sooner you could end this interaction and send him on his way, the sooner you could make a run for it. You laughed awkwardly, "Yeah, I never thought I'd see the day either."

The man raised a brow at your response, but didn't comment on how forced it sounded. You attempted to pull your hand away when the handshake went on for longer than you deemed necessary, but his grip was too tight. It wasn't until you pulled again, harder this time, that he realized what he was doing and let go.

Even he seemed a little startled by his own actions. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled, "Sorry about that, my crew and I were up all night getting ready for the wedding when we caught word of it. I guess I'm a little more tired than I realized." His eyes gave you a once over, fully taking in the gown you were wearing, "Oh, and you look lovely by the way, I can see why he's in such a rush to get a ring on your finger."

"Oh, thank you, that's so kind of you," your voice was borderline monotone. "Also it's fine, don't worry about it." His excuse made sense. With how many people there were that would happily end Buggy if it meant even a slightly improved chance at being with you, the wedding was rushed to say the least. You're pretty sure Buggy was actively hunting down someone to officiate the union as you spoke.

You honestly hadn't expected to see any guests here beyond Buggy's own crew, which again raised the question of: Who are you talking to?

Might as well sate your curiosity and ask, "So... Are you a friend of his?"

His brows raised and his eyes widened slightly. Were you supposed to know who he was already? Oops. He spoke up before you could wrack your brain for clues as to who he was, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he didn't mention me, he's always been a bit... Moody. I'm Shanks, we grew up together."

Your jaw hit the floor. Shanks? THE Shanks??? The guy that Luffy couldn't shut up about?!

"Y-Y-You're the guy that gave Luffy his hat!" You pointed at him with a shaky hand as all decorum and manners went out the window from the shock of knowing who you were talking to.

Shanks laughed loudly, "The one and only. How is that kid anyway? Seems like he's still getting himself into trouble just like the old days."

"Calling what he gets up to 'trouble' is putting it mildly," that boy can't take two steps onto an island without toppling a government. "He's great though, especially after rescuing Ace."

"I was relieved to see him get out of there safely, too. It's still a bit hard to believe that Buggy is the one who pulled it off, though."

Ah. Yeah. It was hard to believe for you, too. And even more difficult to accept just what that meant for you. You deflated as you were violently reminded of your current situation, "Yeah, I can't believe it either."

"Is everything alright? You don't seem very excited about the wedding," Shanks narrowed his eyes at you, scrutinizing your face for any hints as to why you were acting this way.

You weren't sure if confiding in him was a good idea. He clearly held a level of fondness for Buggy, so it was debatable if he would want to help you escape or keep you here. But... It's not like you had much to lose at this point.

"It's, uh, kind of a funny story. You see, I might've said something along the lines of 'if you save Ace, I will marry you', but like, I didn't think he'd actually be able to do it. So now I'm kinda stuck in this mess where he thinks I really meant it, but I didn't, and we're getting married in like ten minutes give or take and I don't know what to do?" You can only hope that your hastily thrown together explanation not only makes sense, but also earns you some sympathy.

Shanks lips were pursed as he stared down at you, "I did find it odd that your door was locked from the outside."

Hope sparked in your heart. In a fit of desperation, you threw yourself at Shanks and held onto him while looking into his eyes pleadingly, "Please, if you can just get me out of this room, I will really owe you one!" You're sure that the Straw Hats can't be far behind. If you can just get to the shore, they'll likely be there and ready to save you.

His hand rested on your back to keep you steady. Then, it started to gently glide up and down the exposed skin, which felt distinctly not like it was for your comfort. Horror seeped into your very core as you saw an all too familiar gleam in his eyes.

No, please, no. This can't be happening again.

"It would be a shame to let this dress go to waste... Maybe we can continue this on the Red Force? How does that sound?"

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and you saw an absolutely enraged Buggy standing in the entryway. "What are you doing here?! Get away from my wife!"

"But you aren't married yet, she could still be anybody's wife," Shanks tone was teasing but the look in his eyes was anything but.

That set Buggy off and in an instant he was throwing knives right at Shanks who dodged them with ease. You were shoved off to the side as Buggy kept trying and failing to land a hit on Shanks. While the red haired pirate was trying to engage in some witty banter, the clown was having none of it and just shrieked various insults at him.

Using the chaos of the altercation, you quietly slipped out of the room and made a run for it. There wasn't a chance in hell that you were going to stick around to see who won that fight. Because either way, you would be losing.

#lucky break #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #shanks #humanoid606

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loupy-mongoose · 7 months

Text

After giving their emotions a moment to level out, Randy stepped into his vanished daughter’s room. Nothing seemed in disarray, so he knew she hadn’t struggled against a captor.

Then, he spotted it. On the desk in the corner.

A note.

He picked it up and read it aloud, struggling to keep his growing dread at bay.

"Mom and Dad I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it this way. But I wanted to know Nico in full, and I know if I told you what I was planning, you'd either stop me or come with me. Daddy, I know you're afraid of him, and I fear if you knew the past he told me, you would only fear him more. I trust he's not as dangerous as you think he is, but just in case, I'm going alone. I don't want him to hurt any of you if he really IS dangerous. I love you all, and I WILL see you later. Love Lavender."

Both parents went silent as they separately mulled it over. Randy fought to silence each possible outcome as it popped up in his mind. Trying to reach a point of rational thought. Anger and fear ravaged his every fiber.

Akoya spoke up first. How... How do we know where she went? She never told us where Nico lives...

An idea suddenly crossed Randy's mind. He turned, preparing to return to their bedroom, when pain shot through his legs.

Hrrgh!!

The shock sent him stumbling, but before he could fall he felt his weight disappear. He sighed as he was lifted to his feet beside Akoya. Nice catch.

The white-haired woman supported him with her arm. Anytime~ There was a chuckle in her voice despite the circumstances.

More carefully, they headed to their room.

All at once Randy reached for his phone and psychically pulled his cane to him, internally grumbling at his legs' mean trick. He sat on their bed, pulling up his phone's search history.

He knew that Lav had been using it, which was not uncommon. But maybe there was a clue...

...Stars?

She'd looked up star charts?

And maps...

And...

...Fuji?

He tapped on links shown to have been used. He read the articles they led him to.

His next words were spoken quietly. I think I know where she went...

Kanto.

Specifically...

Lavender Town.

Randy selected a shirt out of the closet. Amidst his fears and feelings, he noted that it was a turtleneck. Huh. Guess the cold season is here. He slipped it on.

That, or I'm grasping for some comfort...

He then pulled on a pair of pants, before leaving the privacy of the closet and approaching the Mews chatting on the bed.

At his approach, Akoya turned to face him, concern lighting her eyes.

She watched as he bustled around the room, making heavy use of his cane, looking for little things he might need and gathering them by a duffle bag on the bed.

She floated toward him. Randy...

He didn't look at her. Mhm?

Love... She moved so that she was in front of him. Please, slow down.

She transformed into her human form, but he began to move around her.

I know you're scared for her, but we have to trust that she can handle herself. She's not a helpless child.

He turned to her sharply, startling her. I'm going after her, Akoya. With or without help.

She clenched her fists, pushing back against her own fears to speak her mind. Of course! I don't expect you not to! And I don't expect you to do it alone. But we can't rush into it. We have to know what we're doing. What about the twins? Are we leaving them with Persim? Do we take them? Is Persim coming? Which would mean Rosemary too!

He throws some items into the bag ...Whatever gets us moving fastest. I'm not willing to take the chance that Lav is.

Akoya grabs his hand, losing her internal battle for control. I know! But Randall, the last time you acted rashly, it ended in disaster!

At this, Randy freezes. Akoya flinched. She never meant to use his worst experience against him, but at least she had his attention...

And if I recall... you did the exact same thing to me.

He stood still, shivering from his warring emotions. I-I know... I know... I.. I just... He started sobbing. Every little thing... that could go wrong... I can't get it out of my head... She could run out of energy, or lose control, and drown, o-or get attacked, or e-even if she does make it and meet him, he could be manipulating her!

She hughed him tightly as he melted down in her arms, punctuating his words with sniffles and sobs.

Why else would she go to meet him without telling us...?

He must have convinced her to...

R-right?

...

We can't know that. Not until we find her.

But... Just...

Take a moment to breathe... Okay?

He took a deep breath.

...Okay...

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

Happy birthday to me, have some distressed Lindens. XD

I apologize that the last portion switched from Randy's POV to Akoya's. Normally I try to avoid doing that, but I felt it flowed well enough this time. X3

#Linden Roots #Art #comic #writing #BLH #By Lavender's Hand #Full

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month

Text

I done did it again, y'all.

Suspicious Minds: Part 1

A/N: I watched the movie Argylle and was hit with some insane inspiration and I just couldn't control it. So, please enjoy the first part of this modern AU spy!Elvis x reader fic. I really wanted this to be a one-shot, but I hit 5k words at what I think is the halfway point and had to split it. I'm really excited to write part 2 for this one...

@ccab You know I love you so much. Thank you for screaming about this with me.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, this is intense, gun violence, espionage, cussing, an erection, masturbation (female), kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I hope that's everything

Word count: ~5.5k

You adjust your glasses and look back at the computer screen. Your mom is always on you about not staring at a screen in the dark. She's convinced you'll ruin your eyesight, but it's not going to get any better, so why worry? Instead, you focus in again and go back to the hacking you've been working on for the past twelve hours. When you get in this mode, you don't sleep. For you it's like a game. You have a mission and you won't stop until you manage to finish it. You mainly do contract work for government agencies, cracking encryptions and writing code to secure against other hackers. But this was a private contract for a company you didn't recognize. Still, the money was unbelievable, so you took the job just as seriously, put on your EDM music, and got to work.

Now, 12 hours later, you throw your hands in the air in celebration. You finally got to what you were trying to get to. Your assignment is to download what you found onto a flash drive and deliver it to a lock box. But instead, you decide to take a peek at what you've uncovered.

It's maps. But they're maps with what look like targets and information that you're pretty sure you shouldn't see. This appears to be information that is vital to national security. You've done this kind of work before, but never for a private contract. You start to wonder if you should give it to the people who have asked for it. The flash drive blinks red to indicate that all of the information is saved. You eject it and hold it in your hand. Then, you set it on your desk and head to bed. It's 3am and the sunrise will be here before you know it.

******

You wake up with a hand on your mouth and scream into his palm.

"Sh sh sh... I'm the good guy. You're okay, honey, hush." You stop screaming mostly out of shock and he takes his hand off of you slowly.

"Who the fuck-" He puts his hand back over your mouth. Your eyes meet his blue ones and he's shockingly reassuring.

"My name is Elvis. I'm here to protect you. So please stop making noise." His southern drawl is comforting, for some reason. He moves his hand off of your mouth again. You whisper.

"Protect me from what? Or whom, I guess?"

"Where is the flash drive?"

"What?" Just then you hear your front door bust open.

"Goddamnit." He stands up away from your bed and you sit up frantically. "Get dressed, but don't make any noise."

He walks into the living room and you slide out of bed to the floor and crawl over to your closet. You grab some jeans and a bra and get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can, purposely ignoring the sounds of the struggle coming from the living room. But when you hear what sounds like a silenced gunshot, you gasp and run to the doorway. Elvis turns to you, having just shot a man who lays on your carpet bleeding.

"Go back in your room!" The other guy grabs him and punches him in the face, causing him to drop the gun. They trade hits back and forth and you watch. At one point, Elvis kicks the gun and it slides over and hits your feet. The other guy gets him in a headlock and he hollers to you.

"Throw me the gun!"

"The what?" You're so in shock that you can't understand the words he's saying.

"The gun! At your feet!" You look down and see it there, but your brain has a hard time making sense of what's happening. "Just pick it up and throw it to me!"

You pick up the gun and hold it in your hand. You've never held a gun before. It's heavier than you expected.

"Honey, throw it!" You look up at Elvis and he's struggling with the guy wrapped around his neck. You toss it gently and it lands about a foot away from him. He shakes his head at you and then grunts, throwing the guy over him onto the floor. You gasp as he grabs the gun and shoots the guy in the head. As the blood spreads over your floor, you inhale sharply and start to pass out. Elvis catches you and shakes you.

"Not yet, baby. Where is the flash drive?"

"The what?"

"The flash drive! With the information you downloaded from earlier!"

"Oh! It's on my desk." You walk to it and grab it, holding it up for him to see. He snatches it away from you.

"We need to hide this somewhere they'll never expect. Go get your dildo."

"My what?!"

"Your dildo, I'm going to-"

"I do not have one of those."

"Yes, you do. It's pink."

"How do you-"

"Not important! Go get it!" You purse your lips and run to your nightstand.

"It's a vibrator, not a dildo."

"Okay, whatever. Lemme have it." You hand it to him and he opens the end, dumping the batteries on the ground. He slides the flash drive into it and then closes it again.

"Wait... will I get it back?" He walks to you and put his hand on your cheek.

"Honey, stick with me long enough and you won't need it anymore." You blush. He's unimaginably attractive, but you try to ignore what he just said. "Pack a bag. We need to go."

You grab a duffel bag and throw some clothes and toiletries in it as fast as possible. Before you zip it up, he tosses the vibrator in the top and lets you close it.

"Wait. Why should I trust you?" He stops and turns back to face you, running his hand through his black hair in exasperation.

"Honey, I just killed two guys to protect you. You really need to ask that?" You shrug your shoulders and look up at him.

"I don't know you." He grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

"My name is Elvis Presley. I'm an agent for the good guys. I'm here to take care of you and make sure no harm comes to you or that flash drive of information you collected. I promise you can trust me. Now, we need to go. Are you coming?"

You look into his face for half a second and then nod. You're not sure where this is going or even how you got here, but you have no choice other than to trust this man.

You run down the stairs of your apartment building with him close behind you. He puts his hand on the small of your back and practically pushes you toward his car. When you get to it, your mouth drops open. It's a 1970 Stutz Blackhawk.

"Isn't this a little conspicuous?" You ask as you slide into the passenger seat. He gets in and closes the door, starting it up.

"It's too conspicuous. No one would ever think it's mine. What kind of spy drives a car like this?"

"Are you James Bond?" He laughs as he pulls out onto the street.

"No. Bond is British." You think it's interesting that that's what he chooses to prove his difference. Like everything else about them is the same. You look out the window as buildings flash by. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon and it hits you that you've only had a couple of hours of sleep.

"Where are we going?" You ask sleepily, yawning.

"Somewhere safe. But we won't be there for a while. You can go to sleep." You shake your head and try to stay alert.

"No. I'm okay." But you're not. Not at all.

"Honey, this is going to be a long road. You should rest while you can. I won't let anything happen to you." He reaches out and pats your knee softly. You look down at his hand. It's an unexpectedly kind gesture. The exhaustion sets in and you decide to trust that you're safe with him, for now at least. You lean your head against the window and close your eyes, sleep setting in before you have time to think of anything else.

******

You wake up and stretch. That was the strangest dream. It feels like you're on a couch though. You don't remember it, but you must've fallen asleep in the living room after finishing your work.

"You're awake."

You sit up suddenly. It wasn't a dream. He's real. You look around the room and try to figure out where you are, but your surroundings are completely unfamiliar.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. Are you hungry?" The smell of bacon makes your stomach growl.

"Yes."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I made some peanut butter and banana sandwiches, if you want one." You frown.

"Why do I smell bacon?" A wide smile spreads across his face and a boyish charm shines through that you didn't expect from a hot shot agent.

"C'mere." You walk to the table and he sets a plate in front of you. On it is a sandwich with peanut butter, bananas, and bacon. You wrinkle your nose. "Just try it before you make that face."

You cautiously take a bite. It's better than you expected. Much better. You look up at him surprised and he holds his hands out.

"See! It's good!"

"It really is." He sits down next to you and you both eat your sandwiches. After a few more bites, a thought comes to you. "How did I get in here?"

"I carried you." He says it matter-of-factly like it's something he does all the time.

"Oh. What time is it?" You look around the room for a clock and realize for the first time that you don't have your phone. You must've left it in your apartment.

"It's a little after 2pm. You slept for a while."

The conversation continues and you make small talk. Once you finish eating, you work together to clean up the kitchen and then settle on the couch. It's very small, so you have to sit pretty close together. He turns on the TV and you spend the bulk of the afternoon there. For dinner, he orders a pizza and you sit together and eat awkwardly again. The evening passes in front of the TV and before you know it, it's time for bed. He stands up and walks from room to room.

"I'll be damned." He shakes his head frustratedly.

"What?"

"There's only one goddamn bed in this house. I'll have to sleep on the couch." You both look over at the tiny couch. It's essentially a love seat, so there's no way he will fit on there comfortably.

"Or I could?"

"No, you need to be in the bed behind a door, in case someone comes in during the night." You swallow deeply. That prospect is terrifying.

"O-okay, then. Goodnight..." He nods and you take your bag into the room with the bed. Once you have your pajamas on, you settle into the bed and the reality of your situation hits you. It's like the adrenaline from the day wears off and it becomes clear to you just how scary things are right now. The tears gather in your eyes and then start to slide down your face. Will your life ever go back to normal? What happens if these guys catch up to you? Before you know it, you're crying pretty hard, holding yourself and trying to breathe.

Elvis sits on the couch in the living room and tries not to hear you crying. He's been assigned to protect plenty of women, but there's something about you that makes him a little crazy. He shouldn't even think about what he's considering right now. Still, he considers it as the sounds of you crying come from the bedroom. It's torture for him to know how scared and alone you must be in there. He lays back on the little couch and tries to get comfortable.

"Goddamnit."

You're in the bed with tears on your cheeks when you hear the door open. You sit up quickly and see Elvis in the doorway.

"You alright?"

"No. Why the fuck would I be alright?! My life is literally in shambles. And I'm stuck here with..."

"With me?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean... I'm scared. And I have no one." He sits down next to you on the bed. He almost whispers.

"You have me." You look up at him and he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb. You're not sure why he's being so sweet to you, but it's exactly what you need right now.

"Will you... will you stay with me?" He clears his throat and pulls his hand back.

"Oh... you know..."

"Never mind. It's okay." You look down at your hands in your lap and try to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Yes. I'll stay in here with you. It's probably better that I stay close to protect you anyway. And there won't be any sleeping on that couch. The bed is the better option." You look up at him and nod.

Yes, he's sleeping with you because the couch is too small. Not because he can't stop wondering what it would feel like to wrap his arms around you. You lay down and he lays down next to you without touching you. You reach over and turn the lamp off.

"Well, goodnight." He looks over at you in the dark.

"Goodnight, Elvis."

You both lay there silently trying to fall asleep. It takes a while, but eventually you drift off.

******

In the morning, you wake up with your back pressed against him and his arm around you. You don't think anything of it really until you feel him. He has a massive erection and it's currently pushing up against you. You start to giggle uncontrollably and your movement wakes him up.

"What's going on? Why are you laughing?"

"Y-you..." You get out in between giggles. "I can feel you..."

"Fucking hell." He rolls away from you quickly, but it's even more obvious when he's on his back. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry."

He sits up on the edge of the bed facing away from you.

"I'm sorry. I just... it's morning... God..." You're laughing so hard that you can hardly breathe. He stands up and walks quickly to the door, muttering as he goes. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He leaves you in the room laughing and hoping that he doesn't sleep on the couch.

The day passes slowly and awkwardly with the two of you eating sandwiches and watching TV again. Around noon, you decide to take a shower.

"I'm not sure that's smart."

"Why not?"

"I can't protect you if I can't see you." You roll your eyes.

"I've been fine this whole time. I think I'll be okay for a twenty minute shower." He thinks for a minute.

"Leave the door cracked."

"What? No!" He sighs, exasperated.

"I won't look. I'll just be able to hear you and get in fast if anything happens. Otherwise, no shower."

"Okay, fine."

You leave the door cracked and get into the shower, looking in the mirror to make sure he isn't watching. He's nowhere to be found, so you relax and let the hot water wash over you. It feels so good running down your skin, cutting hot pathways on your shoulders and thighs. Suddenly, a thought wriggles its way into your brain and won't go away. You imagine him in the shower with you, pressed up against your back. What you felt this morning is hard to ignore and you wonder what he looks like without his clothes on. You think about his hands running over your body and before you know it, it's not the shower making you wet. You peek in the mirror again to make sure Elvis is still not looking. When you're satisfied he's not there, your hand slides down the front of your abdomen until your fingers find your clit. You begin to make circles and think about his mouth. He has a beautiful mouth and the thought of it pressed to you as his tongue makes circles on you just about drives you wild. You slide a finger into yourself and pump it in and out as you continue to rub over and around your sensitive bud. Then, you imagine him on top of you, slamming his cock into you and without thinking, you moan.

"Elvis..." You say it quietly, but it's loud enough for him to hear it with the door cracked. He stands just outside and looks in the mirror to make sure you're okay. He can see the outline of your body through the foggy glass shower door. That's when he realizes what you're doing and swallows hard. When you cum, hard, on your own hand and say his name again, he almost loses it.

He cannot be having these thoughts about you. Sure, he's had sex with girls on missions before, it's practically his trademark, but something about this feels different. He doesn't want to fuck you. He wants to make love to you. And that thought terrifies him. He peels himself away from the door and goes to sit back on the couch. His erection is back, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he tries to think of anything else to make it go away. He's dying to go into the other bathroom and do exactly what you just did, but he can't leave you alone. Instead, he tucks himself up under his belt quickly when he hears the water turn off.

"FUCK." He hits the couch next to him and then sits with his head in his hands. This cannot be happening.

"Are you okay?" He looks up at you quickly, standing there with your hair wet.

"Mhmmm. Yep, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You think to yourself that he looks like he's about to cry.

"Well I am. Let's just... watch TV, okay?"

"Okay..." You sit down on the couch next to him and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV. What you don't know is that Elvis is in misery being so close to you without touching you. And what he doesn't know is that you want him to touch you more than anything in the world.

******

Finally, evening comes and you start to get hungry.

"What's for dinner?"

"Well. I'm kind of a one-trick pony in the kitchen. I don't think you want another sandwich." He seems to have relaxed after whatever happened earlier.

"I can cook."

"Or we can just go get something."

"No, I'd like to cook for you. As a thank you for protecting me." He tries not to give himself away by how he looks at you, but the tension between you is palpable. "Can we go to the store? Is that allowed?"

"Yes, that should be fine. If they knew where we were we'd know it by now."

You get back into the Blackhawk and make your way to the grocery store. You're in a small town away from where you live, so there's only one store. Elvis stays close to you as you wander the aisles for what you need to make dinner. You also grab some essentials. He's not sure how long you'll have to be at the house, so you get food to keep you sustained for at least a few days. Once you've gotten everything you need and checked out, you make your way back to the house and get to work in the kitchen.

He watches as you move around gracefully and longs to put his arms around you. You notice him staring and decide he needs a task.

"Get over here and chop something."

"Yes ma'am." He salutes you jokingly and you set him up with some peppers.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother. She was an amazing cook. I spent summers with her when I was a kid, so she was able to teach me."

"That's nice."

"What was your family like? Or can't you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't." You nod. It makes sense that he can't divulge any personal secrets. But he just can't seem to tell you no. "Fuck it. I was very close to my mother growing up. There were a lot of times when it was just me, her, and the shirts on our backs. My father worked a lot. And then she died when I was 23. I had just joined the army."

He gets very quiet and looks down at the vegetables he's chopping intentionally. You walk over and put your hand on his arm gently. The contact makes his heart jump.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He looks down into your face, his eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth momentarily. It takes everything in him not to lean down and kiss you.

"Thank you. Anyway I joined the military and was recruited by... who I work for now... and the rest is history."

Finally, the food is ready and you sit down to eat together again. He's impressed by your culinary skills and spends the next few minutes gushing about how good dinner is. The conversation continues and you talk about everything and nothing. Somehow, you make your way around to talking about music.

"Here's a fun question: what do you like better, singing or dancing?" He asks you as the meal comes to a conclusion.

"I'm not much of a singer, but I also don't dance, so I'm not sure how to answer that question." You respond and he laughs.

"You don't dance?"

"Well, I never really have before. Haven't had much opportunity. I was too big of a nerd to go to high school dances and in college I pretty much kept to myself."

"Then, it's not that you don't dance, you just haven't yet. We need to fix that." You're surprised by his enthusiasm, but he's eager for an excuse to touch you. He turns on the radio and finds a station with a good song.

"Really, it's okay. I don't really want to dance."

"C'mon, it's not hard." He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. You both breathe deeply and he takes your hand in his. He moves you around the room effortlessly and your embarrassment melts away. The feeling of his arm around you is enough to distract you from anything. He dips you and spins you and before you know it you're both laughing. Eventually the song ends and he holds you close to him and looks down into your face. The next song is a slow one, so he begins to sway gently.

"See, dancing's not so bad."

"No, it's fun with you." You look up at him and his eyes flick down to your lips. He wants to kiss you. You can tell. And you want to let him.

He slowly leans forward, hovering above your mouth with your noses touching. It seems like he's trying to decide something. Eventually, he moves the slightest bit forward and presses his soft lips to yours. The kiss is a sweet one, and he kisses you again like this several times. The fourth time he kisses you, though, he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. By this point you've stopped dancing and both of your arms are around his neck, with both of his around your waist. The heat between you picks up as your mouths move together in a rhythm.

Suddenly, he stops and pulls away from you. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

"Y/n, I can't. I can't do this."

"Oh... okay..."

"I'm sorry. You should go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Okay. I'm sorry if I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's me." You nod your head and walk away from him to the bedroom. After closing the door, you change into your sleeping t-shirt and crawl under the covers. The bed seems lonely without him.

In the living room, he paces back and forth, sitting down periodically. He's going through everything in his mind and trying to convince himself that there's nothing there for you. That he can reasonably fuck you and then move on like he always has. But these thoughts are invaded by other ones: the sound of your laugh, the softness of your smile, the grace with which you moved around the kitchen, and your voice saying his name in the shower. He's never been so frustrated by a woman. He starts to get a little angry. What is it about you anyway? Who are you to come into his life and interrupt it like this? He has a job to do. You're the one being all distracting and unprofessional. He needs to set you straight. You need to know that this is completely inappropriate.

You're almost asleep when the door opens dramatically. You sit up on the side of the bed and Elvis stomps over to you and sits next to you.

"You know why I can't do this, right?" He asks aggressively. You're not sure where this anger is coming from.

"Yeah, it's your job-"

"It is my job! My job is to protect you, not... this... whatever this is..." He gestures frantically to the space between you.

"Elvis, I'm not sure why you're yelling at me." He yells even louder.

"Because! You're making me feel things I don't want to feel!" He looks at you desperately, chest heaving. Your heart is pounding.

"I'm-"

His lips crash into yours with a feverish need. Everything he's just said goes out the window as his hands run over your body and he kisses down your neck. You whimper and he groans with the intense passion. He pulls your t-shirt up over your head and off, tossing it to the side. One hand immediately goes to your breast while his mouth explores the opposite nipple. Your hands are in his hair as he works, your head thrown back in pleasure. The sensation of his lips on your breast is exquisite and you moan as he lightly pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your fingers go to the buttons on his shirt and you fumble with them for a while before he just rips it open and lets you push it backwards off of his shoulders.

He lays you down on the bed surprisingly gently and kisses down your stomach. The only thing separating you from him is your white cotton panties. He sits up on his knees, erection stretching the fabric of his pants, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. His eyes search yours for permission and you nod slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He pulls your panties down your legs and off and then presses his lips to your ankle. Pushing your legs open, he drags his finger up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Can I make you feel good, baby?" He asks as he makes circles on you.

"God, yes, Elvis, please." You whine as he settles between your legs. He starts by pushing his tongue into you and then licking up either side of your sensitive bud. You need him to touch the right spot with his tongue so badly it almost hurts. Your legs shake with desire and he hovers about an inch away from you. You feel his breath on you and it feels like you might die with how close he is. Then, he very softly flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck! Elvis, please!"

Your back arches and your hips buck as you practically beg him. He continues to flick your clit with his tongue, though, adding a little more pressure each time. With each flick of his tongue, the blood rushes to your core and you feel your climax building. Finally, when you're about to scream and your orgasm is just seconds away, he dives in fully, licking your pussy with the entirety of his tongue.

"OH FUCK, ELVIS!" Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train, setting off fireworks all over your body as the pulsating waves of pleasure crash into you. He licks you through your release until you come back down to earth. Then, he sits up and wipes his face with his hand.

"I want- no, I need to make love to you. Please let me make love to you." You sit up and unbutton his pants, pushing them down to free his cock. He grunts as you take him in your hand and pump him, gently moving his foreskin back and forth.

"What are you waiting for?" You whisper. He moans deep in his throat and leans forward on top of you, kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Holding himself in one hand, he teases your clit with his tip and then lines up with your entrance. He begins to push into you slowly, giving your body a chance to adjust to his size. You feel every inch of his cock as he enters you and it fills you up perfectly. Once he's pushed into you fully, he slides almost all the way out and with a slow, deep roll of his hips fills you again. He continues to thrust into you, slow and deep, over and over. His rhythm is steady, his pace dramatic and soulful. You begin to moan softly each time his hips meet yours and he grunts in reply. There's something overwhelmingly sexy about how he's taking his time, filling you, pulling back, and then slowly filling you again. Sweat drips down his face, gathers on his chest, and wets his hair on his brow, matching your own. The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He reaches down to hold one of your hips, thrusting somehow even deeper than he already was. With every pump, his dick rubs against your g-spot and the slow pace has you dancing on the edge of another orgasm. Just when you think the lovemaking can't get any sweeter, he leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. Then he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. All the while, he's still sliding in and out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Goddamnit, baby. You feel so good." He kisses you again and his pace speeds up the slightest bit. Every time your hips meet, it feels like the next thrust will send you over the edge.

Without pulling out, he rolls over on his side and brings you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He goes back to thrusting, increasing his speed, but not changing the depth of his strokes. Your eyes meet and his blue ones search yours for something. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you hope he finds it.

"Y/n, I- FUCK." He's interrupted when the coil of his orgasm snaps and he cums hard inside you, closing his eyes and shuddering against you. His release pushes you over the edge and you tumble into oblivion with him, pulsing and fluttering around him. He presses his forehead to yours again as he pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out of you. Kissing your lips, he rolls over on his back and pulls you onto his chest.

"What were you going to say?"

"Hmm?"

"Right before you came. You were saying something."

"Oh, it was nothing." He thinks to himself that it absolutely was not nothing, but he was probably just caught up in the moment. It doesn't need saying now.

You nod and snuggle into him, hoping he doesn't try to go sleep on the couch. He doesn't, thankfully. He stays right there in the bed with you. He knows it's stupid and inappropriate, but he no longer cares. Maybe you'll be stuck together in the safe house for a long, long time. This is his last thought before you both drift off to sleep.

******

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the feeling of Elvis wrapped around you, both of you still naked. You're just about to revel in the closeness and daydream about what you'll do stuck in the safe house today, but Elvis sits straight up in bed.

"What-?"

"Shh, honey, hush." He says it quietly and you start to get scared. "Someone's in the house."

He jumps out of the bed and grabs his pants, pulling them on without buttoning them, and gets his gun from the nightstand. You don't even remember him putting it there.

"Get dressed, quickly and quietly." You nod and slide out of the bed, gathering your clothing and slipping it on silently. He positions you so that you can't be seen from the door and then opens it, gun in hand.

"Ah, Agent Presley. You're awake."

******

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