#Or only a few more days to let me know that your older art is available to use!

[honeybeedrabble]

Kinktober Day 13: Size - Tutor!Miguel x AFAB!Reader 🎃

can you tell i hate my math class this sem ?? :D

CW: unspecified age gap (reader is in college miguel is in grad school), trauma inducing stats vocabulary, piv (unprotected don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), mean miguel, harsh grabbing, fingering (kinda), finger sucking, general size difference.

18+ MDNI

It was getting late, you and your roommates Machi and Gale having dinner with you. You huffed, slumping in the chair you sat on.

“This is such bullshit, I’ve been stuck on this problem for like half an hour already. Nothing’s clicking.” You pushed your dinner aside and looked at Gale for reassurance. She tilted her head at you with a raised brow.

“Girl, you know damn well I’m not getting it either. Just call it quits for tonight, it's not due for another two days.” She said, sipping a chilled can of coke. 

“Oh, come on. Neither of us are understanding this shit. I mean, this symbol looks like a backwards three! I miss when math used to just have numbers,” you complained, squinting at the statistics homework in front of you.

“That looks ridiculous,” Machi laughed. “Never have I been more glad to be an arts major.” She said, getting up to put her dish away. 

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just visit the tutoring lab? I think they’re still open.” Gale said, grabbing your dish and following Machi to the sink. 

“Really?” You asked, checking your watch. 8 pm. 

“Hey, we pay thousands of dollars in tuition, okay? If they can’t stay open or help when students need it what's the point in taking all that money from us?” Gale shrugged. You sighed, standing up from your chair. 

“Well, I guess I better get moving if I want to make it to the tutoring center before 10. Let me know if you guys need anything while I’m out.” You grabbed your keys and left the apartment after grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes back on. 

_____________________________________________________

You arrived at the building, glass doors sliding open as you walked through them, the cold air conditioning giving you goosebumps. You walked over to the sign in sheet, looking through available tutors for the next hour or so. 

“Crap…” You sighed, looking through the sheets. It seemed like you needed an appointment before hand, at least electronically. 

There was the sound of laughter down the hall, you turned your head towards the sound. There was a much larger man along with a guy who seemed about your age. You recognized the shorter individual from your statistics class. 

“Well, I’m glad we could get your problem figured out.” The tall man said, a big hand patting the younger guy's back heavily. 

“Yeah, it only took us all night.” More laughter. 

“Hey, if its due in two days all night is nothing.” The tall, tanned man said. He was massive, you could practically see his muscles bulging underneath his white buttoned shirt. His chocolate hair slicked back, a few strands messily framing his face. You were in a trance when his almost red eyes met yours. You felt your face flush. 

“U-Uh, Hey! You’re in my statistics class arent you?” You asked the shorter guy, desperately avoiding the older mans gaze. The shorter guy said your name questioningly, you nodded. 

“Yeah, thats me.” You said, clutching your bag tighter. “So… you got help with the homework?” You asked, motioning to the taller man.

“Oh yeah, this is Miguel.” He said, patting Miguels back. 

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You said, grabbing his large hand and shaking it. You felt your palms become sweatier, his hand practically enveloping yours. “I didn’t see your name under the statistics sign up sheet.” You said, voice almost trembling. 

“Well as a grad student my major is scientific research so that's why I’m not under statistics.” He said, a slight smirk across his face, his grip on your hand becoming tighter. 

“O-oh,” you said softly. 

“But I use statistics in almost everything I do, so I can help out with any problems you’ve got if you need it.” 

“Miguel’s not a bad tutor, it only took us so long to finish cause I haven’t shown up to class in weeks.” Your classmate laughed. “I’ve got to get out of here but thanks for your help, man.” He waved before walking out the sliding doors into the dark night. 

You and Miguel turned to each other, you suddenly felt very nervous. 

“So… Would you… tutor me?” You asked, rubbing your arms for warmth. 

“Well, it's not quite 10 yet and I don’t have any other sign-ups, so why not?” He shrugged, walking down the hall with you following after him. 

You two walked down the hall, reaching a small study room at the end of it. 

“This is the room I reserved for the night, so don’t worry about anyone coming in here super late and trying to steal it from us.” He said, opening it up for you to walk through. 

You walked into the room, a table with a few chairs in the center with a whiteboard behind it. It seemed fine to you as you walked in, sitting down on a chair, slightly taken aback when it rolled underneath your weight. You looked down and noticed wheels at the feet of the chair. You looked up again when you heard the door shut, Miguel locking it behind him. 

_______________________________________________

“And that's why your z score is going to be 20.99. Does that make sense?” He asked. You were fucked. 

The whole time you were supposed to be paying attention you were completely distracted by his being. He sat next to you, his large frame practically caging you in between him and the desk. He was everywhere, and if you weren’t staring directly at the paper, you were scared you were going to faint. You nodded, eyes looking down at the problem, refusing to tear away from the mathematical mess you made. 

“Yeah…”

“Then tell me how you got it.” He said, deep voice rumbling in his big chest. 

“Well, first you uh…” You circled a random number in the world problem then looked up at him with helpless eyes. He raised a brow. 

“You start with the standard deviation?” He asked, clearly unamused. 

“Well… You definitely use it somewhere…” You said half joking. Miguel was still unamused. He sighed deeply, throwing his head into his hand. 

“I’ll explain it one more time, okay?” He said, grabbing the pencil from your hand. His hand brushed against yours and held your pencil as if it were a toothpick to him. “So, we’ve identified the mew, right?” He asked, underlining the foreign symbol. 

“Yeah…” You said, asking yourself what the fuck is a mew? 

You were determined to stay focused but that man made it difficult. You turned to look at him while his eyes were fixed onto the paper, scribbling out equations and typing into your calculator- which he also made look puny in his grasp. You watched him as he spoke, the way his soft lips moved as he talked, revealing sharp canines every now and then between words. You felt your face flush, entranced by his presence. You eyed his large shoulders, following them down to his massive arms. You looked back up at his face, admiring his features while he was so deep in thought. He looked down at you.

“So now we just divide and… hey?” he said almost harshly. “Are you paying attention?” He asked in a snarky tone. You felt your face drop. 

“I… um…”

“Distracted again?” He tossed the pencil onto the surface of the table, muscular arms crossing as he almost glared at you. 

“I’m sorry.” You felt exhausted, covering your face with your hands in defeat. You felt like crying. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on undressing me with your eyes and more focused on these problems, you’d understand this shit by now.” He grunted. You stilled, face buried deep into your palms before you peered at him through between your fingertips. 

“W…What?” You asked, looking at his almost red eyes. 

“I said what I said.” Miguel's voice was low, he grabbed your seat and pulled it towards him, the wheels moving you with ease. You felt your core tighten, as your face continued to burn hot, regardless of the air conditioning. 

Miguel's eyes practically violated you, staring deep past your own and into your soul before looking you up and down, clearly enjoying how you cowered. 

“That pretty little head not used to thinking this hard?” he asked low in your ear. You shuddered, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. “Pathetic.”

He grabbed your waist with his large hands, daring to crush you between his palms. He slowly stood up from his chair, face inches away from yours. You took that as invitation enough and crashed your lips into his, those soft lips felt even better than you imagined, a whimper escaping your lips as his grip increased. He pulled you off of the chair and slammed you onto the table, papers flying and pens scattering around you. You let out a grunt as the air escaped your lungs from the impact. 

“I’m taking time out of my night to try and teach you this shit and you can't even meet me halfway and try to learn it?” He huffs yanking down your frumpy sweats to your ankles. You kicked them off, laying on the table in your tight shirt and panties. 

“I-I’m sorry, you're just so-” he cut you off with two thick fingers plunging into your mouth, you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. He smirked, watching you drag your tongue around the knuckles of his fingers. 

“That ought to shut you up.” He ran a finger from his other hand to your clothed cunt, you moaned around his thick digits when he caressed your clit. Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding against his large hand. “Would you look at that? I didn’t know they accepted whores into this school.” Miguel hummed, voice smooth like honey and deep like an ocean. 

His single finger moved to where your pussy and thigh met, yanking aside your black cotton panties to reveal your wet cunt, which clenched around nothing at the sudden cold air. 

“Jesus… I bet you were thinking about this all night, huh?” Miguel teased, the calloused tip of his finger just barely grazing along your seeping hole, spreading the warm slick higher and higher up your folds until he could smear it along your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from behind his drooly fingers. 

“Needy, aren’t we?” Miguel withdrew his fingers from your mouth while his other hand unzipped his dress pants, the metal of his belt buckle clanking together as he pulled it out of its loops. The belt hit the floor with a small thud and with his drool-soaked fingers he freed his massive cock and ran the slippery fingers up and down his shaft. 

Miguel tore your underwear off of you, as if it was like taking a sticker off a piece of fruit. You felt yourself drip down your thighs, unsure whether or not it was okay to touch yourself while watching this Greek god of a man pleasure himself with your spit, watching your tense cunt beg him to stuff it. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, slipping his finger into his mouth and moaning long and deep when he tasted your sweet slick on his tongue. You nodded vigorously, grabbing one of your tits to entice him even further. “Why don’t you take that off while we’re ahead?” 

You quickly tossed off your shirt and bra, completely naked on the desk. Miguel softly laughed, watching how nicely you obeyed him. 

“You're too easy, y’know that?” With a few more pumps to his shaft, he harshly grabbed one of your thighs and spread your legs even further, admiring your wet pussy. 

The moan you two let out when he put his cock inside of you could've been heard by the whole building if it hadn't been well past 10 pm and everyone had gone for the day. His girthy member dared to split you in half, the sheer size of him was far too much to handle, especially all at one. We watched with pleasure as your breathy moans turned into agonized whimpers the further he drove into you. When he had finally gone balls deep inside of you, there was an obvious cock bulge deep inside of you as he stretched out your pussy wonderfully. 

“M-Miguel…” You sighed, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“Oh, so this can keep your attention but me slaving away on your homework can’t?” He smugly asked, pulling out before slamming into you with a grunt. You wailed, scratching the hard surface of the desk underneath you, crumpling stray pieces of scratch paper into your palm while arching your back. 

Miguel started at a rough pace, making room out of your tight pussy for his intimidating cock, juices slicking the shaft of his member, and sounds of your wet pussy gushing paired with the creaking of the table filled the room, moans, and mewls adding to euphonious music of your fucking. 

“So fucking tight… so fucking tiny… I bet I could fold you like a pretzel,” He said amusingly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing the fronts of them against your chest. You cried out loud, new depth being explored by his commanding dick while he used you for his pleasure. 

With his massive hands, he spread his fingers out, his thumbs on the backs of your thighs and his four fingers on the small of your back, grabbing onto you so he could bring you up and down on his deep thrusts. 

You were seeing stars at this point, scared your arousal would drip onto your homework papers and soil all the progress you’ve made. But it didn’t matter anymore when you threw your head back onto the table and shook in his hands, pussy clenching around his meaty cock and milking him for his own cum. 

“Ngh- What did I say? Easy…” He moaned, thrusting inside of you a few more times before he shot a huge load inside of your tiny pussy, cum leaking out between where your sexes met and rolling down your asscheeks. 

You lay there on the table, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Miguel watched entranced as your shared cum leaked out of you, finger fucking it back inside of you, wondering if it he could stuff it all back in. He quickly realized your overstimulated cunt couldn’t take it as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Sorry,” He said, removing his fingers. “Now uh… where were we?” He picked up the page of work, then his face dropped, looking at the splotch of cum that had spilled out on accident. 

“On second thoughts… you might want to turn this in online.”

Tag List: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Cloning - Kakashi x Reader

#atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #tutor!miguel o’hara #kinktober #shaggys bitches kinktober #kinktober 2023 #miguel o’hara x y/n #hot girls are bad at math #smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099

[frogchiro]

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #hybrid au #werewolf!könig #red riding hood au #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help. 

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots. 

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you. 

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him. 

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

 Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?” 

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side. 

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care. 

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match. 

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit. 

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her. 

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry. 

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it. 

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #bun's short fics

[bichachonacho]

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐌𝐞? [𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: older brother!Alhaitham x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, incest, loss of virginity, size kink, cockwarming, creampie.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Tommee Profitt feat. Jung Youth - Who's Gonna Stop Me

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Just let me be reborn as the younger sister of this divine man (っ˘ω˘ς )

art: @eriimyon

You've never even thought about the fact that girls your age should be interested in guys. Every time you heard your friends enthusiastically discussing the looks of your classmates, you felt so far away from it. Your gaze has never clung to men passing by, and your heart has never even been touched by sympathy for anyone. That's how it was until it came to your brother.

«Your brother is so sexy! Does he have a girlfriend?»

Is it true? Perhaps… the only man you've ever looked at has always been him. Since childhood, you have secretly admired the success of your older brother, not missing the opportunity to ask him to pull you up in your studies when he had a free minute. It could hardly be said that Alhaitham enjoyed spending time with you when you were a child. This man is too difficult to understand. This stoically indifferent expression on his face, the cold gazes of emerald eyes and a monotonous low voice are what have accompanied you since birth.

As soon as Alhaitham saw tears welling up in your innocent eyes, he instantly silently left your room, before getting a clear answer who made you cry. You didn't know where he went or what he was doing, but any of your problems were solved the very next day, which gave rise to this feeling of unconditional security when you looked at his tall figure and heard these quiet sighs and banal phrases uttered in a quiet indifferent tone only to dismiss your obsessive questions about what suddenly happened to the classmates who bullied you. A certain modesty of your older brother has planted in your heart the belief that, no matter how distant Alhaitham may seem, he cares about you in his own way and will never allow his little sister to cope with difficulties alone, even if you'll hardly ever be able to hear words of support from him.

And now, ten years later, you still look at Alhaitham with unspoken gratitude and adoration, despite the fact that his presence in your life is barely noticeable. You always sneak a peek into your brother's room when he's not at home, carefully examining the few things he left on the table. Everything that belongs to Alhaitham always arouses your genuine interest, although the entire contents of his room, perhaps, can be classified as essential items and mountains of books filling the shelves of tall cabinets. Every time your fingers slide over the numerous book spines, and your eyes memorize several titles in order to secretly read them. Maybe this way you can get closer to him — that's what you always thought.

But still, is your obsession with him really normal? This question has been in your head since the image of Alhaitham began to pop up in your thoughts more often when you were alone with yourself. Loving your older brother is absolutely normal, isn't it? And remembering how you once saw Alhaitham tired after work, throwing off his shirt and exposing his muscular back and broad shoulders in his room while you were passing by the ajar door is also normal. You only had a moment to capture in your memory the elastic muscles of his chest and the V-shaped line of his abs disappearing behind his lowered trousers, but it was more than enough to keep this image in your thoughts for several weeks.

«Your brother is so sexy...»

Is this the real reason why a blush now sticks to your cheeks when your eyes meet Alhaitham's gaze? Is this the reason why you're touching yourself so obscenely for the first time, replaying over and over in your memory what you probably shouldn't have seen? But you comfort yourself with the thought that men often strip to the waist and there is nothing indecent about it. You've already seen him in this form as a child, but why does it bother you so much now and seem so wrong?

You need to stop this.

You've spent hours watching guys your age, trying to awaken those emotions that should torment a girl's heart when looking at admittedly attractive members of the opposite sex, but you don't feel anything. Just boredom.

You've also never heard of Alhaitham having a relationship with anyone. Of course, if you had asked him a question, he would have replied that he is too busy or that he isn't interested, but then what about you? Are you also not interested in relationships, or is there another reason why you can't keep up a conversation with friends who are so immersed in matters of the heart that you don't understand? The answer seemed so close, somewhere on the surface. You only have to stretch out your hand and you'll see what you are trying so desperately not to notice.

Therefore, now you try not to make noise, sneaking back to Alhaitham's door when you hear him enter his room late at night, probably tired after a hard day's work. You need to look at him again, but your heart is so restless every time you even try to imagine how you start a conversation with him. Since when did it become so difficult for you to communicate with your own brother?

You peek cautiously through the half-open door, noticing Alhaitham lounging in an armchair with a book in his hand. His long fingers cling to his black tie, getting rid of the suffocating pressure on his neck in one light practiced movement. His lips are slightly parted as your brother sighs heavily, unbuttoning the top couple of buttons on his slightly rumpled shirt before leaning back in his chair.

Long eyelashes barely touch the skin of Alhaitham's face when he closes his eyes, combing the unruly strands of silver bangs with his palm. He's really handsome, you can't deny that. But you've seen enough men that you could call beautiful, but just looking at Alhaitham causes a thrill in your chest, the nature of which you are so desperate to understand.

— How long are you going to stand in the doorway? If you need anything, come in.

Your eyes widen with fright, and your muscles seem to turn to stone, not allowing you to move from your place, when you hurriedly shift your gaze from Alhaitham's chest slightly peeking out from under the cotton fabric to the emerald irises looking at you with slight irritation.

— I, uh… I'm sorry, I don't need anything! — you almost take off, ready to run back to your room, when you notice Alhaitham getting up from his chair, approaching your confused figure.

It all happened so fast. You didn't even have time to understand anything, as Alhaitham's big hand wrapped around your shoulder, forcing you to go inside, when you heard the slam of the door behind you, to which your back is now pressed. Your brother's free hand presses into the wooden surface, enclosing you between him and the door, while the fingers of his other hand cling to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning one by one and exposing the relief of Alhaitham's body right in front of your face.

— Wh-what are you doing?! — you turn away, blunting your gaze to the floor, trying to hide the way your cheeks instantly flushed when the pleasant scent of his perfume hit your nose.

— Huh? Isn't that what you were just looking at?

— I don't…

The words get stuck somewhere deep in your throat when Alhaitham's long fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding your hand to his chest. As soon as the pads touch your brother's skin, this aching pain comes back to your lower abdomen. He's so warm. You can feel the muscles tense under your touch, becoming even harder, you can feel his heart beating steadily, as if absolutely nothing unusual is happening right now. Alhaitham is calm, as always, carefully watching your funny reaction from his height. Your hand trembles in his grip, but your fingers lightly press on the elastic flesh, causing embarrassment to tingle the skin of your face even more.

— Do you think I don't notice the way you look at me? I always assumed that my sister was a diligent good girl, but what do I see now? — Alhaitham leans towards your ear, guiding your palm lower over his prominent abs as his hot breath touches your face. — Now you're just as spoiled as all adults.

His words make your stomach churn with fear. The way the pads of your fingers slide over every bump of his tense stomach, the way his lips are close to your face, the way Alhaitham's breathing becomes more ragged when your hand stops on the belt of his trousers, it seems so wrong, but for some reason you just stay silent, letting him do it to you. You can feel the heat rushing to the bottom of your stomach when Alhaitham guides your fingers to his groin. You've never touched anyone… there before. Even through the dense fabric, the warmth emanating from his dick touches your hand, which unconsciously wraps around the hard bulge, causing your heart to pound wildly, pulsating in your ears.

— H-Haitham, stop it, I don't understand what you want… — the volume of your voice drops to a whisper.

It's so damn hard. Your body heats up treacherously, and moisture begins to accumulate between your clenching thighs. You press against the door, trying to escape at least somewhere from the cage in which Alhaitham imprisoned you, but he sees how your legs are shaking and feels your pulse quicken, quietly grinning at how something your body tells him goes against the words that come unsteadily from your tongue.

— I don't remember teaching you to lie. Didn't you spy on me a few weeks ago because you wanted to? And that's what you came for today.

— No! I would never…

— You're too bad at hiding your desires for a girl who knows better than anyone that I'm observant enough. Can't any of your peers meet your needs, huh?

— How do you…

— I know everything I need to know. I even know you're still a virgin, but you still want me to fuck you. But it's reasonable.

— What are you talking about?! Is it okay to want something like this with own brother? — you pull your hand back, ostentatiously clenching your fingers into a fist and pulling away from Alhaitham's face, almost buried in the curve of your neck. Your brother straightens up, towering over you like a heavy shadow, now looking into your eyes, desperately trying not to break eye contact. What do you want to prove to him if your other hand is now nervously fiddling with the fabric of your nightgown, and your teeth are unconsciously biting your lower lip, trying hard to remain calm even when the fabric of your underwear is soaked with warm moisture?

— Yes, — your heart sank in your chest when you heard such a short and clear answer, uttered with a completely serious expression on your brother's face. — There's no one who knows you better than I do. It makes sense that you want your first time to be with me. Objectively, I think girls your age really find me attractive, so that doesn't raise any questions either. I don't understand why you're so puzzled, Y/N, given the fact that, obviously for both of us, you've wanted this for a long time, which means you've had time to weigh all the pros and cons since you came to me today.

His words sound like this… makes sense, but then why do you feel that your desires are so obscene? Is the problem that he's your brother? But Alhaitham is right, you spent almost every day of your life with him, shared your most intimate things with him, even if he wasn't interested, he was always there for you, and what's strange about the fact that you are... in love with him?

— I… I think I'm just confused… I need to be alone and think about this...

— There's no need for that.

The randomly scattered pieces of the puzzle finally came together in a clear picture. You can feel your brother's soft lips pressing against yours, the warmth of his palm sliding up your thigh, making its way under the fabric of your homemade shorts. And it doesn't seem wrong. It's so good. Finally, the warmth that your friends seemed to be talking about spread in your chest. When a loved one touches you, when he presses his lips to yours for the first time. Your body answered all the questions swarming in your head for you as your arms wrapped around Alhaitham's neck, deepening the kiss. So clumsily, but your tongue meets his, more insistently dominating your mouth. What an indescribable feeling.

It's so hot, it's so hard to breathe, but you want more when you pull your brother closer, and his knee settles so vulgarly between your legs, pressing into the heat of your crotch. You wanted to push Alhaitham away so as not to stain his trousers with the moisture that your shorts must have soaked through, but there was nothing you could do with how damn pleasant this friction feels caused by his knee pushing against your writhing body.

Alhaitham's fingertips hook into the waistband of your shorts, hastily sliding the soft fabric down your thighs until it crumples on the floor under your feet. A moan escapes from your chest, muffled by his lips, when you feel your toes lift off the floor, and your back presses harder against the door of your brother's room while he scoops you up in his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. A hard cock presses against your crotch through the fabric separating you from the hot flesh.

It's only when his lips finally leave yours that you realize what's going on. Alhaitham's green eyes seemed to look as clouded as yours. You've never seen him like this before. Although his face still didn't express a single emotion, something had clearly changed. Your brother is looking at you with a desire you've never seen in anyone's eyes. It's so strange, so unusual, but the only thing you know is that you like it. You like to feel desired, you like to feel his dick throbbing with another unobtrusive thrust between your legs spread for him, you like to hold on to Alhaitham's muscular shoulders like this while he hastily unbuttons the belt and zipper of his trousers, then pushing aside the lace fabric of your underwear.

The hot head of the cock slides up your slippery crotch, covering the base with sticky moisture. Even without looking down, you could feel with your own body how impressive Alhaitham's dick is. If it weren't for the intoxicating pleasure caused by the delicious friction of his throbbing erection, you'd probably be terrified even at the thought of him entering you. But there was another good reason for your calmness. You know your brother will never hurt you. Perhaps he was right again, as always. You only want him because no one will take care of you like Alhaitham is.

Your throat is bursting with moans that you are desperately trying to hold back so that your parents on the ground floor won't hear you, and it gets even harder when you feel Alhaitham's cock slowly begin to stretch you, sinking inch by inch into your warm insides.

— You're damn tight, Y/N. I'm even flattered that you saved yourself for me.

— Haitham, stop embarrassing me! — you whisper loudly, barely managing to cover your mouth with your hand when his hips meet your ass in one sharp thrust. It… hurts a little, but how perfectly his cock filled your insides. You can feel the blood pulsing in the veins running along the base of his hard organ while he remains motionless, causing your walls to involuntarily contract.

— Why are you confused by such simple facts? I find such emotions inappropriate when my cock is already inside you.

— Just… move… — you look away, tightening your arms around his neck.

— Hm-m? You got used to it so quickly, it's commendable, — you feel Alhaitham's dick pushing even harder into your cervix, which seemed impossible when he pressed his hips even tighter against yours.

It's so unusual to feel him so deep inside. His cock is so huge that it feels like he's forced all the organs in your body to make room. But it's so damn little. Your walls spasm around the hard flesh over and over again, wanting to feel more stimulation, which Alhaitham deprives you of just watching you squirm in his arms, and tears come to your eyes.

— Haitham! — you scream, digging your nails into the skin of the back of his head, when footsteps begin to be heard approaching the door.

— Y/N! Y/N, are you at your brother's?

Shit. As soon as you hear your mother's voice, your stomach twists painfully, and you freeze, holding your breath, casting a frightened look at Alhaitham.

The corners of your brother's lips turn up in a slight smile as he brings his index finger to his lips, motioning for you to be quiet.

«What the hell is that supposed to mean?!»

— Yes, mom, she's in my room.

You exhale with relief, seeming to understand what he meant, but your calm is instantly disrupted when Alhaitham's cock abruptly bursts out of your insides, then stretching and filling you to the limit again. Your eyes widen in mute shock as you press your palm tightly to your mouth, trying to swallow any sound that intends to escape from your throat. Your back is pressed against the door over and over again, the only barrier between the dirty sight that is happening in your brother's room from the eyes of an unsuspecting mother, while Alhaitham's hips slam into your ass with a soft thud at a rough impatient pace.

— Oh, then I'll come to you now!

Your brother is silent, not stopping for a second, further terrifying your poor pounding heart. You tremble, shaking your head in panic, trying to convey to Alhaitham without words what he himself should understand, but for some reason his lips stretch into an even wider smile when one of his palms moves to your crotch, and his fingers press on your clitoris, sending a treacherous wave through your body pleasure.

The moment it took your mother to get to the door seemed to last forever, while your lower abdomen was bursting with delicious spasms that you couldn't resist. Your back arches and your hips shake as the knot in your stomach unties. This orgasm isn't comparable to the ones you brought yourself to on your own. The heat settling in every cell of your body is so intoxicating that it seems as if you are about to lose consciousness. The walls of your vagina clenched so tightly around Alhaitham's cock, still not slowing down, that even he couldn't restrain the quiet moan that escaped from his lips while his fingers continued to massage the sensitive bundle of nerves, only prolonging this magical feeling that causes addiction.

The handle twitches, and you feel a slight pressure from the other side of the door.

— Haitham? Is your door closed?

Your mother's worried voice dispels the fog that has enveloped your consciousness.

— I'll be down in a minute, mom! Brother, n-gh… Helps me with the preparation for the test, — you needed all the self-control you had left so that at least your voice didn't tremble, sounding confident enough without arousing suspicion.

— Are you all right? You sound kind of upset...

— Yes, it's all right! Just wait for me downstairs!

It's unbearable. You are so sensitive, but your brother's cock continues to persistently penetrate you, touching all the right points in your insides to make you feel that heady heat rushing to the bottom of your stomach again, even when his hand, covered with your moisture, returns to your thigh. You can hear your mother muttering to herself before you hear soft, retreating footsteps in the hallway.

— What the fuck, Haitham?! — you snap back, weakly slapping your brother, who is apparently amused by your outburst, on the shoulders.

— You did a great job. It would be awkward if she insisted on coming in.

— Awkward?! D-damn it! — you no longer hold back your moans, desperately biting your lower lip to somehow muffle your sounds, when your hands cling to Alhaitham's neck again, gaining an even more careless and rude pace.

The door knocks softly under the pressure of erratic thrusts. Your brother's cock seemed to get even bigger and harder, stretching your tight walls almost painfully. For the first time, the soft sounds of Alhaitham's hoarse moans cut into your ears, which sound even more beautiful than you could have imagined in your dirtiest fantasies. His lips are open, and the muscles of his forearms are so sexually tense when he literally hammers you into the door, chasing his own orgasm. You don't know how it should feel, but you're sure that he's as close as you are, teetering on the edge of a high that seems to drive you crazy.

A second orgasm hits your poor body just when you feel something warm and sticky spreading in your insides, and Alhaitham's hips are pressed tightly against your ass, remaining almost motionless. He rests his head on your shoulder, exhaling heavily from his lungs as you both try to relive the intense pleasure spreading somewhere under your skin.

You barely come to your senses when you feel your brother's cock leaving your insides, and he gently lowers you to the floor, barely standing on your feet and instantly grabbing his arm to keep from losing your balance. Sticky drops of semen trickle down the inside of your thighs, and you watch in fascination as they settle on the floor, gradually coming out of a state of intoxication and digesting what just happened.

— So you need help with the test? — Alhaitham's voice sounds as cold and indifferent as usual again, as if nothing unusual has happened right now, as he takes off his shirt and slides his trousers down his muscular, seductive thighs. You give an awkward glance at his cock as he walks past, heading to the closet to change into his home clothes. How did he fit in you anyway…

— Very funny… — you adjust your underwear, awkwardly trying to pick up the cream drops from your feet before you see your brother handing you a napkin. — Thanks.

Alhaitham silently turns away, pulling a T-shirt over his magnificent body, and you are mesmerized by watching him now at a close distance, and not hiding behind the door of his room.

— Listen… You're going to move away from here, aren't you? Well, someday.

— Huh? Why do you ask? — your brother turns around, looking at you through slightly narrowed eyelids. — Yes. I've only stayed in this house to keep an eye on you sometimes, but I guess my help won't be needed anymore.

— Take me with you! — you grab the soft fabric of his T-shirt, looking up at Alhaitham with a pleading look.

— Ho-oh, I didn't think you didn't like to be here so much, — your brother crosses his arms over his chest, taking in your petite figure with an appraising glance. — What if I ever get into a relationship?

You're sulking, hastily pulling your hand away, about to just leave, when Alhaitham's big palm touches your jaw, pulling your face down for a kiss. Now your beloved brother's lips are touching yours not with the same desire that they touched the first time. Is he kissing you now… tenderly?

As soon as his lips leave yours, you feel your face turn red again when your gaze meets his cold aquamarine eyes.

— If that's what you want, I don't mind.

#headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut

[glowwithsophia]

The Subtle Art of Becoming "That Girl" in 2024 🌸✨

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Hello beautiful souls! It's me, Sophia. If you are new reader then

Hi! I’m Sophia and I want to empower women to prioritize their well-being while pursuing their dreams🌟

Today, I woke up feeling extra inspired by the #thatgirl aesthetic. You know her – she's the girl who embodies self-love, radiates positivity, and just seems to have her life beautifully organized. Personally, I believe, she's not just a trend; she's a movement towards becoming the best version of ourselves. And guess what? Becoming "that girl" isn't about perfection; it's about progress. It's about embracing the journey of self-improvement, self-care, and love. So, let's dive into a few ways you can bring a little bit of "that girl" magic into your everyday life:

1. Morning Rituals ✨

Start your day with purpose. Whether it's a morning skincare routine, meditation, or writing down your thoughts in a daily planner, find what centers you. If you have been following me for a while then you know how important this is. Remember, it's these small rituals that set the tone for a productive, positive day.

2. Self-Care Sundays 🛁

Dedicate time each week to pamper yourself. This could be a long bath, a skincare routine, or even a cozy evening with a book. It's all about showing yourself some love and appreciation.

I remember back in my childhood my older sister used to always have pamper sundays and I would always try and follow her footsteps however, back then your girl was as lazy as one can be...so zero exceptions. Be better than me girls and make the future you be proud.

3. Clean Girl Aesthetic 🌿

Embrace the clean girl aesthetic with a minimalist wardrobe, clean makeup looks, and a tidy space. A clutter-free environment not only looks good but also brings a sense of calm and order to your mind. Clean home = clean mind + remember clean body

4. Find Your Fitness Love 💕

Whether it's pink pilates, yoga, or a brisk walk in the park, find a physical activity that you love. It's not just about the physical benefits but the mental clarity and energy boost it brings.

5. Nourish to Flourish 🍓

Eating well is a form of self-respect. Fill your plate with colors, textures, and nutrients. It's not just about looking good, but feeling good from the inside out.

6. Learn and Grow 🌱

Embrace new hobbies, read more books, and challenge yourself to learn something new often. Growth is a huge part of becoming "that girl".

7. Stay Organized 📒

Invest in a good daily planner to keep track of your goals, appointments, and to-dos. There's something incredibly satisfying about ticking off tasks and staying on top of your game.

And here's a little secret for you: part of my "that girl" journey includes creating pieces that speak to my soul. I stumbled upon this adorable Etsy shop aka my Etsy Shop [GlowInGrow] that just screams self-care and love. My THAT GIRL planner is something that I did with love and my own hands. For me, it's not just a planner, it's my way of helping others because that's what being her is. Being her means she shares her secrets to help the rest of the girlies. MESSAGE ME FOR THE PROMO CODE *hint*

Also this planner has got you covered from setting your intentions and tracking your habits to planning your meals and self-care routines perfect for anyone looking to add that extra touch of mindfulness and beauty to their daily routine. It's subtle, but oh, so beautiful. 🌟

AND REMEMBER;

Becoming "that girl" isn't an overnight transformation. It's about making small, meaningful changes that align with who you are and who you aspire to be. Let's embrace this journey together, one step at a time. 💕

Last but not least, at the end of your journey of becoming that girl awaits the future who is The Girl!

Stay safe and stay hot...

With Love, Sophia

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#thatgirl #selflove #selfcare #dailyplanner #glowup #selfimprovement #softgirl #lovecore #thatgirl2024 #becomingher #That girl planner #that girl #that girl aesthetic #that girl routine #clean girl #daily planner #self love #self care #wonyoungism #becoming that girl #becoming her #self improvement #glow up #pink pilates princess #soft girl #that girl 2024

[throneofsmut]

Hi! Could I request a Cassian x shy reader fic where they’re going back and forth sharing their links with one another?

You Only Have To Ask

Cassian x Female Reader

A / N: I saw your other ask and know that you mean kinks instead links. Thank you for requesting, you’re the first one and I really want to improve my writing so thank you again for the idea. But like i said this is my first time so if you don’t like it i can try to rewrite it but i hope you enjoy.

Cassian and I we’re currently laying on the floor of the training rings on the House of Winds rooftop — chests heaving after sparring for hours — Cassian wearing a lopsided grin.

“Cauldron boil me, I never should’ve agreed to do this,” I groaned in between pants.

The General of the Night Court huffed a laugh before he turned his head to look at you. Hands behind your head, chest heaving, legs bent, hair messy and a sheen of sweat making you almost glow in the light of setting sun. You were beautiful.

Cassian and you had met almost six months ago at Rita’s after Feyre had finally convinced you to go out with the Inner Circle.

My older brother and his mate owned the bookstore that was part cafe and part flower shop, right next to her art studio. And they had recently welcomed a baby, their first, and asked if I could run the bookstore for a while.

Most of their customers knew who I was, but more than a few didn’t. And to my mortification, I would have to explain to them who I was and why I was running the place for the time being.

I was still wringing my hands, my face still embarrassingly red, after explaining to a rude customer that I wasn’t sure when my brother would return, when Feyre came in asking about them.

“Hello,” she looked around the shop, no doubt looking for my brother or his mate, “is Flynn not in today ? I haven’t seen him in a couple of days or Sera.”

I went to answer and to my chargin, I stuttered. Violently, if that was even a way to describe it, but to be completely honest it was the only way to describe it. Never in my life had I stuttered so bad.

In my defense, a new book was released so there was an influx of customers. Regulars and new, and I had always been shy towards everyone — except my brother and his mate — especially strangers.

Feyre gave me a patient look, letting out a shaky breath I opened my mouth to tell her about my brother and his mate, when he walked in. “Hey, bub, how’s business.” His voice booming through the small shop.

I visibly sagged in relief, “Thank the Mother’s tits.”

Flynn only laughed, “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad, bub,” he tried to reason.

The shop was closing in thirty minutes, so I told him he could close since I’d embarrassed myself enough for him today. He gave me an apologetic smile and chuckled, “Fair enough. We appreciate you,” he said sincerely.

I gave him a small smile and nodded my head, giving Feyre the same smile and a little wave goodbye and I made my way towards the door. I was almost free, when I heard Feyre, calling out for me. “Y/N ! Y/N! Y/N!”

I turned around, eyes wide. “Wait, I need to ask you something !”

“Uhm, alright ?”

“Flynn told me that your grandfather was Illyrian and that he made sure to train your mother to fight and to train you both too. But, he also said that he taught you different fighting styles.”

I shifted from one foot to the other, “Yeah, what about it ?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could come and train with us at the House of Wind. I would love to see—“

I rubbed the back of neck, “Us ?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. It would be Rhys, Cass, Az, Mor and me,” She explained, she looked so excited.

She wanted me to train with the Inner Cirlce. Me.

“Uhm, yeah. Sure, I guess.”

She pulled me into a bone crushing hug, “Thank the cauldron.” When she realized what she was doing she pulled away, “Sorry. Sorry. We’re all going out to Rita’s tonight, meet us there so you can get to know everyone.”

As soon as I walked into Rita’s Feyre rushed to greet me and everyone was so welcoming and nice. And I’m pretty sure Flynn had told Feyre about how shy I was and she had probably told the rest of the Inner Circle too. Not that I minded because it’s just who I am, I was always anxious around new people and in new places and got easily flustered or overwhelmed.

Yet, fighting had come naturally to me. My brother always said he could never understand that part of me, how I was so introverted, but fought in the fighting pits in the Illyrian Camps.

I don’t know how I did it either, I just did.

So when Rhys flew me up to the House of Wind the next day and I sparred with everyone they were all impressed to say the least. We had all agreed that I would spar with everyone until one of us got the other to tap. I got Feyre to tap in 30 seconds , Mor in two minutes, Rhys in seven, Az in ten and Cassian in twelve.

I had gotten the Lord of Bloodshed on the ground and we wrestled a bit before he tapped. I stood up first and when I looked down at him, offering a hand to help him up, the bond snapped into place.

For the both of us.

And I turned the same shade of red as his siphons when he just stared at me. After it first happened I was in shock and was thinking about rejecting it, because I was scared to say the least, but he gave me space to think.

Flynn told me I was blessed by the Mother for having found my mate and he was right, but I was just so hesitant. I didn’t even know the male and he was my mate. Unbeknownst to me he had immediately felt my feelings flow down the bond and sworn to himself to patiently court me.

We would take things slowly and at my own pace.

Which was how we’d gotten into sparring dates. We’d both felt more comfortable in the fighting ring so we made a bargain. We’d spar on the roof of the House of Wind while asking each other simple questions to get to know each other and then we’d talk about more intimate things after.

Your mate had gone quiet, turning to face him, you saw he was staring at you unabashedly and you blushed. It didn’t matter that it had been six months, he always made you blush. Whether he simply looked at you, said something or you just thought of him, you always did.

He always said that I looked pretty whenever I blushed because of him. That he loved that he could always make me flustered. And loved when I tore my gaze away because then he had an excuse to touch me, so he could grip my chin and make me meet his eyes.

Which is what was happening now.

He chuckled before his rough calloused hand was cupping the side of my face, turning me to face him, “You can’t hide from me, sweetheart,” he teased. My hands clenched around nothing as I felt butterflies in my belly and closed my eyes. Making my mate howl with laughter at my antics. “So you can kick my ass, but can’t look at me.” He said between laughs.

My voice came out meeker than I wanted, “Yup.” A small smile on my lips as the sound of his mirthful laughter.

I heard rustling and movement like he was standing up, but then he was kissing me. My soft lips parting as they met, his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip before exploring my mouth. Resting my hands on his bare tattooed chest, his hands sliding down, roving over my body, squeezing my tits firmly.

I moaned into his mouth as he did so and he squeezed harder before wrapping his hand around my throat.

Hesitatingly palming him through the pants of his fighting leathers, making a growl fall from his lips. The sound had me squeezing my thighs together for some type of friction.

Palming him again, this time more confidently, but he pulled back. Giving me a panty dropping grin as he shook his head at me. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Cassian hoisted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his hands held me up by my ass. Walking us back into the House of Wind and into his room.

Once we got to his room he sat on his huge bed — big enough to accommodate his large wings and then some — and kept me firmly seated on his lap. My eyes scanning his face and without realizing it I was smiling at him.

He grinned back, “What ?”

“Nothing,” I murmured quietly.

“Tell me.”

I sighed softly, “I— I really want to be with you but,” looking down at hands while I picked at my fingers. It was something I did whenever I was nervous or anxious.

Cassian looked down and saw that my left thumb was going to be picked raw soon and grabbed my hands, stopping me. He gave them a reassuring squeeze before bringing them up to his kiss swollen lips and kissed them.

Gold hazel eyes meet yours with a familiar warmth as he sent love down the bond, calming you.

“But… what ?” He questioned.

My voice was barely a whisper, “I don’t know what you like or want and I don’t— I don’t… ugh I don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I like. What I want, sweetheart?”

I didn’t say anything, only nodding my head for him to continue.

“Alright. I’ll tell you what I like and want,” he brushed my hair back, out of my face, “if you tell me what you like and what you want.”

My face felt like it was on fire, breath hitching, and Cass wore a smug smirk on his face at seeing the effect his words had on me.

I swallowed thickly, settling onto his lap to be more comfortable, “you first.”

His eyes darkened, “I like you, I want you. But what I really want is you on your knees, looking up at me with your big doe eyes as I fuck your mouth,” he swiped his thumb over my lips. “Until you’re crying and drooling because of me, is that alright with you ?”

My heart beat quickened, “Yes.”

“Good girl, now tell your mate what you want,” he ordered.

“I want you to be a “good boy” and let me ride you until you’re begging me to let you cum inside me,” I said quietly, looking at the swirls tattooed onto his chest.

He tilted my chin up and tutted, “Speak up, sweetheart.”

“I want you to be a “good boy” and let me ride you until you’re begging me to let you cum inside me,” I said louder this time, keeping my eyes locked on his.

His pupils dilated and I felt him harden beneath me at my words and thoughtlessly rubbed my clothed cunt on him. “I’ll do whatever you want, you only have to ask,” he promised. His voice rough with need.

“Promise ?”

“Promise. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I leaned forward to kiss him, silently letting him know I would do whatever he wanted too. Grinding down harder onto him as his hands gripped my ass and then he was pulling my shirt over my head along with my bra. Then he was swirling his tongue around my hardened nipple making me let out a sharp exhale before sucking on them harshly.

I let out a loud hiss when he nipped at them roughly, and pulled back, “Was I too rough ? Did I hurt you ?”

“No,” I breathed. “I love it when you’re rough, because even when you are rough there’s a gentleness to it. I don’t know how to explain, but it’s perfect. I just want you to always be touching me.”

His kissed me again while his large calloused hands gripped my hips. Moving me at the pace he wanted, making us both moan at the feeling. “I want you on all fours. So I can pull your hair and slap your ass raw. I want to see my handprint in the same color of red you are when I make you blush.”

I bit my lip so hard, that I tasted blood on my tongue, letting out a shaky breath, “I want you to call me your “perfect your little slut” while you spit in my mouth and fuck me until I can’t think. And when we’re done I want to be covered in you.”

Cassian throws his head back, screwing his eyes shut as he groans, “Gods, you’re gonna be the death of me.” A wet spot forming on his fighting leathers from our arousal.

“At least you’ll die a happy male.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #cassian acotar #cassian fanfic #cassian smut #cassian x reader #cassian general #cassian lord of bloodshed #batboys

[lazyjellyfish300]

DD pt 3 part 2 of 2

Fem reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber driver

This art was commissioned to accompany this chapter by the incredibly talented @/ejpuki on Instagram. Please go support the original artist!

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 1 , Part 4 , Part 5

Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...

TW: MINORS DNI, some blood, little.violence, suggestive content ,age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34), this one is a sad one, inspired by the original comic

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Over the next few days you two text back and forth and talk on the phone. You feel so happy and excited about this budding romance between you two. It's been so long since you felt safe enough to let yourself catch feelings for a guy. You flood his phone while he's at work. Miguel isn't used to someone texting him so often but it's kind of cute how you update him on every little thing that's happening in your day and he has to try not to burst out laughing in the break room at some of the Instagram reels you send him. 

Your text convo: 

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️) : Why tf would you send me a video of a banana cat with that sad music 😂😐🤨 and who is that white guy that's always randomly showing up at the end of videos with that whistle tune playing? 

You(amor ❤️): it's a meme babe you don't get it😂😂😂 it's supposed to be random, that's what makes it funny af. And that's Josh Hutcherson. You've never seen or read Hunger Games?! 

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): no, I haven't. Your sense of humor is a little broken I'm afraid. 🤨 You kids and your memes. 

You(amor ❤️): my sense of humor is just fine 😂LMAO you're only like 8 years older than me. 😂 we're watching it immediately! And we're going to Barnes and Noble to get you a copy. 😇 

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): hmmm fine.😌 When would you like to, cutie? ❤️

You(amor ❤️): This weekend please? ❤️❤️❤️

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): I'm so sorry, I'll have Gabi with me. But she'll be at her mom's next weekend. Can we do it then? ❤️ 

You(amor ❤️): that's okay I totally understand! ❤️ Yes please! I'm so excited ❤️ I miss you... 

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): perfect. I miss you more. ❤️

--------- 

Next Friday

Miguel drives to work, his heart like a dead weight in his chest and his mind racing with different scenarios on how he's going to tell his boss he's had enough. This isn't what he signed up for. The project he was overseeing at work was trying to create these "special abilities"in humans. One of the test subjects passed away this week and he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't messing with his head. He had nightmares about her. She couldn't have been older than 19. Her blue eyes frantic as she realized she might not make it off the lab table alive. Her horrified screams ringing in his eardrums. Miguel's fist clamped tighter around the steering wheel as he choked back a sob. He felt this was his burden to shoulder alone. He knew he was falling for you steadily now, and he didn't want you to go crazy worrying about him. He knows you love to try and fix people, a lot of times to your detriment and couldn't stand to see you in that position or live with the fact that he put you there. 

 He really didn't care for his boss, Tyler Stone either. Tyler Stone was the 6'3, blonde haired, blue eyed, egotistical vice president over Research and Development at Alchemax. He and the other higher ups just spent all day figuratively (and possibly literally) sucking each other off in boardroom meetings for the hard work everyone underneath them was doing. He was a businessman, not a scientist, and it became clear to Miguel that profit came first for him over scientific discovery and advancement, and his cronies shared the same philosophy. 

Miguel faced the man now, sitting in his office. Tyler sighed and walked over to his decanter set that sat in the corner of his office on top of a polished mahogany drink cabinet. 

"Care for some bourbon?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. 

"It pains me to hear that you're wanting to leave, it really does." Tyler says as he pours the bourbon in two short, square glasses. 

"I chose you because I believed you could handle it. Your track record doesn't lie, Miguel. You were top of your class at Columbia University. I've seen your research and read your thesis that you did with them. You know Dain was actually the one that submitted your nomination to me when I was looking for someone to promote?" Tyler hands the glass of bourbon to Miguel who murmurs a low thank you. 

"My point is, if you leave, I got no one to replace you, and that makes my job even more tough." Tyler takes a sip of his bourbon and makes a small face. "I'm going to bat for your little science project every time I meet with the board of directors. I'll be honest with you, they're ready to trim the fat." Tyler's blue eyes bore into Miguel's over the rim of his glass. "But I tell them that this process, is worth the wait. We won't have these superhuman abilities lined up for purchase on shelves tomorrow. But give or take a few years we will be the first to break 100 bil in quarterly revenue when we roll this out to the public.  My point is, I'm willing to do whatever I gotta do to keep this project afloat because I've ran the numbers, I've seen what guys like you and Dain can do. It's a worthwhile investment."

Miguel takes a sip of his bourbon and winces. Fuck it, he downs the rest of the whiskey, his throat on fire. He holds out his empty glass to Tyler who takes it and goes to refill it, his back turned to Miguel.

 "I'm sorry...." Miguel finally says. "I've made up my mind. I'm flattered that you think I'm the right person for this job, but I'm telling you, I don't want to be the guy who all of this is riding on anymore. I'm not gonna gamble if people's lives are the chips."

Tyler's face went dark and he started tapping the side of his glass, his back still turned to Miguel.

Since when did this fucker grow a conscience? He knows he wouldn't be doing this job if he wasn't getting paid for it either right? He'd given Miguel and his team resources that any group of scientists would give their left kidney for. It was thanks to him in those board meetings that those ungrateful bastards even still had a job. And now their hang up is human test subjects? 

Tyler handed Miguel back another glass and said nothing as he watched Miguel down it. Miguel winced again as he finished his liquor, throat still on fire and cheeks starting to flush. 

Tyler turned back around, looking at the now setting sun on the horizon. "I'm afraid I can't let you go." He said calmly. 

Miguel raised an eyebrow, then suddenly his face turned white when Tyler held up an empty vial of Rapture, his back still turned to him. Tyler spoke again, his back still facing Miguel. "Alchemax is the only distributor of Rapture. Leave if you want, but I'm going to have to be forced to let the board know and involve law enforcement when they realize one of their silly little scientists couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar and became a needy little addict." He took a long sip. 

"You're not gonna make me look like a weak little bitch in front of the whole board. I don't lose, Miguel. You're not gonna fuck this up for me." 

Enraged, Miguel shot up, shattering the shot glass in his hand, blood gushing out of his fingers. "You fucking piece of shit!" 

Tyler remained calm. "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead. I used your sign in to get this vial from the lab. The access history and empty vial next to my dead body will just deepen the hole you dug yourself. Either do as I say, or throw away your freedom right now and kill me before you even had a chance to see your little girl go to Prom." 

Miguel paused. This fucker was playing chess with him. Tyler took another sip. "It'd be a damn shame if you did. Especially about that new slutty girlfriend of yours. Did you even get to find out what her pussy feels like?"

That was it. Miguel threw his chair against the wall, the wooden legs splintering into the cabinet Tyler was leaning up against, a neutral expression on his prick face as he sipped more bourbon. 

Miguel turned and left the office, and slammed the door so hard the receptionist let out a small squeak of terror as Miguel tore down the hallway, rage seething out of his ears. 

  "Aaron?" Tyler asked in his cold expressionless voice. 

A short, balding man in his mid-thirties with green eyes and thick black rimmed glasses stepped out from behind a two way mirror in the corner of Tyler's office. 

"You rewrote the code in Machine A-2099 in sector 8, right?" 

"Yes boss." 

--------

You hummed happily as you lit a few of your favorite vanilla almond scented candles on your coffee table. You went all out with a smorgasbord of treats for your movie date night with Miguel including popcorn, gummy worms, Milk Duds, Pretzels, M&Ms, beef jerky, and root beer floats. As soon as you got off work, you cleaned the whole apartment top to bottom and put fresh sheets on the bed. You checked your phone anxiously.

Text convo: 

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): Good morning beautiful ❤️ how'd you sleep? Have a great day, I'll be at your apartment at 8 pm. 

You(amor ❤️): you just made my whole morning!🥰🥰 Good morning handsome! I slept great! I'm so looking forward to movie night tonight. I have a bunch of treats and goodies for us to snack on too. 😇

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): that sounds wonderful, baby. ❤️ Driving to work now, I'll text you when I get there but I'm not going to be able to talk much today. I have a meeting with the boss and a bunch of other stuff related to the project I'm overseeing. Just wanted to let you know not to worry ❤️ I'll call you at 6! 

6 pm came and went and you felt sick to your stomach. 

You(amor ❤️): Babe? Everything okay, I tried you twice. 

Nothing. 

You (amor ❤️): Miguel? It's 9 pm. Are you okay? Please just call or text me to let me know everything's okay...

It was now 10 pm. He wasn't coming. Your stomach lay in knots. You had called him 28 times with no answer.

What's happening? Is he cheating on me? Did he get into an accident? Is he dead on the side of the road while I'm hundreds of miles away and can't do anything?

He gets busy at work but he always, always checks in with you. You can't help but fight back tears at his untouched root beer float sitting next to yours. You knew going into this that you had to jump, knowing you were gonna fall and he might not be there to catch you. Well, here you were with a small dagger in your heart on what was supposed to be your second date. You couldn't help but let yourself get in your head. His rejection of you this time confirmed everything you feared about yourself. You laid down on the couch and sobbed quietly to sleep. 

------

That same night at Alchemax

Miguel's painful screams reverberated off the tiled floor of the genetics lab at Alchemax. The tall powerful man he was, was writhing on the floor in agony. It was as though his blood had turned to acid. His whole body felt on fire. Please God, if I'm supposed to die right now just take me already. He hadn't felt pain this intense ever before in his life. His eyes turned bloodshot, foaming at the mouth as his saliva bubbled and splurted out in incoherent gasps. 

Aside from his screams, the machine responsible for his pain let out a low beep. Miguel knew that a copy of his original DNA sample was logged into one of the gene altering machines that he set up when he was first put in charge of Tyler's superhuman project. He knew that as long as he had a drop of Rapture in him, he'd remain an addict defenseless against his new dependency Tyler forced on him. He had tried in vain to rewrite his current biology back to the original, but Tyler was one step ahead. Tyler knew nothing about science or how DNA worked, but it didn't take much to convince Miguel's bitter, jealous subordinate, Aaron Delgado to sabotage the machine. Very little was known about what type of effect that might have on a human, so there was a good chance he'd just die. Just what they wanted. Aaron and Tyler's smug faces entered the lab, watching Miguel suffer and taunting him, even pouring up another round of bourbon while they waited for the show to end. Yep, he'd be dead in just a few more minutes. They had an alibi and a cover up ready to go. They'd post his job opening by Monday and then they could pretend like this never happened. Miguel suddenly became still, his chest seeming to freeze in place, no longer rising and falling with his normal breathes. 

Gabriella, my little girl...I'm so sorry....I love you more than anything 

His eyes became glassy with tears. He was on his way to finding happiness with you too, only to have the rug pulled out from under him, now he was going to die here, alone. And those who killed him would never know justice behind their corporate wall of privilege and greed that would surely protect them. He uttered your name, his lips barely moving before his eyes fell closed and saw only black.. 

----

Pt 4 coming soon! Thanks for the support 🖤

@mysteris-things

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #Spotify

[sailor-aviator]

Two Birds: Chapter One

Two Birds: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Content Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of guilt, Gentlemen's club (off hours), Flirting, Handsy Bradley and Jake, Pet names, no use of y/n. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

A couple of weeks had passed, and you were now entering your third month of living in the city. Annie had been right, you had become fast friends after long nights spent gabbing about anything and everything, and late mornings after the previous night’s binge drinking. Your roommate was a fun, happy-go-lucky soul, and you loved her all the more for it.

Your job at one of the local bakeries near the heart of the city provided you with enough money for your portion of the rent, food, and enough to spend however you saw fit, a feat you still weren’t sure how you managed. Your boss was a lovely older woman in her mid-fifties who greeted you with a smile every morning as you clocked in for your shift. Thankfully, she preferred to do the early, early morning prep work herself along with her daughter, so you weren’t expected to walk through the doors until sometime around eight every morning.

You enjoyed the tediousness of the job, the routine giving you something to latch on to in the unfamiliarity of the big city. Annie had been coaching you diligently on how to navigate the never-ending, concrete streets and sprawling subways. Your Midwest manners were quickly stamped down by your burgeoning experience with the different crowds that inhabited the city.

“Don’t walk around at night by yourself if you can avoid it,” Annie had told you during your first week there, the two of you headed back to the apartment after you had decided to go out for dinner. “There are a bunch of crazies out here, Mousie. Me? I’m used to this place, but you got that air about you that just invites people to take advantage.”

You hummed, trotting a few paces to try and keep up with her much longer legs. She cast you a sideways glance with a grimace of an apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” she sighed, hands pushed into her pockets as she slowed slightly to give you a break. “You’ll perfect the art of the ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe before you know it, Mouse.”

And you liked to think that you had come along way in the few weeks you had spent in the city, perfecting your mean, scary face so that people wouldn’t approach you. Some still did, but the number had certainly decreased. Though, you still felt the nagging feeling of guilt every time you outright ignored someone, averting your eyes and hanging your head as you walked a little faster down the street.

Today was a day you, thankfully, had off. Though, you still rose early, your body already used to the schedule of the bakery, and as you stretched in bed, your mind wandered to the container of chocolate chip cookies that sat on the counter in the kitchen. A gift from your boss, albeit they were cookies that would have been thrown in the trash anyway due to their age of only two days.

You lay in bed for the next half hour, dozing as the light of the day streamed in past your curtains, illuminating your still plainly decorated room. Annie had offered to take you shopping for more decor, but you had insisted on earning your own money and paying for your own decor.

“It’s not like I don’t have the extra cash, babe,” she told you, lips pulled back into a grimace as she watched you flit about the apartment.

“I’m serious, Annie,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder at her as you set the mop to the side. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness either.”

“How is it taking advantage if I’m offering?” She muttered with a scoff. You had shot her a warning look before placing your hands on your hips.

“I need to prove to myself that I can do this,” you sighed, feeling your shoulders slump.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, giving you an understanding smile. “But if I give you gifts, you have to accept them. It’s a law or something.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, pulling a pillow close to your chest, one of Annie’s many “gifts” as she called them. Your eyes flickered open with a stifled yawn before you lazily rolled over on to your feet. You padded out the door and down the hall to your shared bathroom, Annie’s soft snores filtering out past her closed door. Her job often kept her up until the early morning hours, and there were days where you were headed off to work just as she was walking through the door.

You brushed your teeth and got ready for the rest of the day, settling on a pair of faded jeans, a plain, white t-shirt underneath a beige cardigan and a pair of simple sneakers. You didn’t have much planned for the day, but you had been meaning to check out one of the bookstores downtown. Your groceries were getting low too, and you knew you’d have to go and get more soon, adding a trip to the grocery store to your list of things to do that day. You settled on the couch with a cup of tea, inhaling the aromatic steam that wafted up towards you as you turned on the TV, the news popping up to greet you. A string of violent crimes plagued the city, but you had slowly become accustomed to that news as well during your time there.

Eventually, you grew bored with the news, choosing instead to turn on the latest crime documentary from Netflix, the serious tones of the detectives and witnesses filling the quiet, morning air and lulling you back to a place somewhere between sleep and awake.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of Annie’s door opening jolted you awake. You blinked, shuffling to sit up on the couch just as she trudged through the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking around blearily.

“Wha’ time’s it?” She asked, voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her face. Her hair was sticking up every which way, her eyes still ringed with the tinges of last night’s makeup. You knew she must have had a particularly late night.

“Uh,” you started, glancing at the clock above the stove, “just before noon.”

“Shit!” She hollered out, eyes growing wide and panicked as she turned to sprint back into her room. You heard a commotion from her room before footsteps sounded in the hall, leading to the bathroom where the shower creaked to life, the spray hitting the tub. You sighed, hoisting yourself up off the couch to rinse your mug out in the sink. The shower didn’t run long, and soon you heard the creak of the valves turning off, soft thuds and movement coming from behind the door. Annie burst out, drying her hair furiously as she padded into her room wearing nothing but the small towel wrapped around her.

“Cannot believe I overslept,” she griped, her door closed just enough to provide herself some privacy as you waited in the kitchen.

“It’s a bit early for you to head down to the club, isn’t it?” You asked, brow furrowing. Usually, Annie didn’t head in for another couple of hours, and you heard her let out a huff as she appeared back in the kitchen dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted black top and matching heels. Even running late, she still looked immaculate.

“Bosses want us there extra early today to try out some new routines,” she explained.

“Bosses?” You frowned. “I thought your boss was Reuben?”

“He is,” she assured you, digging through her purse to make sure her keys were still inside. “But the big bosses are coming in today.”

“Who are the big bosses?” You asked, leaning over the counter. She paused, pressing her lips firmly together before giving you an uncertain look.

“No one you wanna get involved with, Mousie,” she said finally. “I mean, they’re nice enough guys, but…”

She trailed off, and the implication wasn’t lost on you. You offered her a tight smile, glancing at the stovetop clock once more before waving her off.

“You better get going before you’re even more late,” you warned, nodding to the time. She cursed again, shouting a quick “thanks” over her shoulder as she sped out the apartment, the door slamming closed behind her. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes affectionately after her before grimacing at the apartment. Perhaps you would make it to that bookstore another time. For now, you settled on grabbing your own purse to go grocery shopping.

You had just made it back into the apartment when your phone buzzed. You settled the bags on top of the counter, your fingers aching with the strain of the multitude of bags before fishing your phone out of your bag. Annie’s name flashed across the top, and you quickly unlocked your phone before your eyes landed on the all too familiar words.

I forgot something at the apartment.

Could you grab it for me and bring it by the club pretty please? :(

You huffed out a laugh, typing out a quick response to let her know that of course you would bring whatever it was she forgot to the club for her.

You’re the best! Came her even quicker reply, and you just knew she had been pacing nervously backstage, biting her fingers in that terrible habit she had when she was nervous.

It’s a pair of silver heels and a hot pink boa. They should be on my desk chair. You can’t miss them!

You shook your head, noting how she herself missed them in her rush out the door this morning, but dutifully made your way to her room, pushing the door open as you stepped inside. Sure enough, the heels and the boa lay draped on top of the chair in question, and you quickly gathered them up in your arms to bring back into the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, firing off a quick reply.

I’ve gotta put groceries up really quick, but then I’ll head over. Give me about an hour?

Anything for you, Mouse! I owe you!

You laughed outright at that. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your roommate, and you often found yourself making the trip down to the club to bring her something she forgot. You set your phone down and made fairly quick work of the groceries, storing the bags underneath the sink for later use. You grabbed your things before grabbing the heels and the boa, pausing to grab the box of cookies that still sat on the counter before making your way out the door and locking it behind you.

It was about a twenty-minute train ride to the neighborhood where Annie worked, and you exited the subway with a squint as your eyes readjusted to the daylight. You walked a block south, coming upon the familiar, unassuming building with a sign that read “The Hard Deck” in a pretty, pink scrawl across the top of the entrance. A man dressed in all black stood by the door, his face mean and intimidating with eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. You grinned up at him as you approached, and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips as he caught sight of you.

“Hey Tony,” you greeted, wiggling your fingers with the hand that held the heels and the boa. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s better now that you’re here, Mouse,” he chuckled, relaxing his posture somewhat. “I take it Annie forgot something again?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes playfully. “Name a time she hasn’t, you know?”

He laughed at that, his head resting against the brick of the building as he rolled his shoulders out.

“She used to tear out of here like a bat from hell before you came to town, ya know,” he grinned. “Wonder what she’s gonna do when you’re not around anymore to spoil her like this.”

“Well,” you started, “hopefully that won’t be for a while yet. Now, do you want a cookie before the others eat them all?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, pushing off from the side of the building to peek into the box you held in your hand. He grabbed one, taking a bite and humming as you walked past him and into the building.

When you had first found yourself stepping into Annie’s work, you had been apprehensive, expecting a seedy, little hole in the wall with sticky floors and tacky decor. Instead, you were greeted with a clean, sultry business that Annie told you had earned a reputation of being the best in the city.

“It’s actually pretty classy,” she had told you when you first asked her about what she did for a living. “It’s a lot of high end clients that frequent there, and they tip pretty well too. It’s decent pay to begin with and the manager is a pretty good guy too.”

You had met Reuben on one of your first trips to the club, the handsome man not being at all what you expected from a manager. He was young, for one thing, hovering somewhere between mid-thirties and forty if you had to guess. He was dressed to the nines every time you saw him, a friendly smile always on his face as he greeted you. He was nowhere to be seen now as you strolled into the Hard Dark, voices filtering out from different areas of the large room and from backstage as your eyes swept the area.

There were no windows, the only lights coming from the artificial ones that hung overhead. The main color was black, a red carpet curving across the floor and red drapes hanging from off the walls with gold accents placed everywhere. It gave a feeling of old Hollywood, almost.

“There you are!”

You turned just as Annie rushed over to you, pulling you in for a tight hug. She pulled away, grabbing her heels and boa from you.

“You’re a lifesaver, Mousie!” She beamed, and you waved her off.

“I wasn’t doing much anyway,” you told her, shifting the box of cookies into your now free hand. “I brought the cookies too for everyone.”

“You’re so sweet, babe. Come hang out with us for a while,” she cooed, pulling you further towards the main stage. Familiar faces of the different staff greeted you as you walked through, several waving and others following you once they spotted the bright pink box in your hands. You often brought goodies from the bakery, making you an instant hit with the employees at the club.

“What did you bring for us today, Mouse?” Bryan, one of the bartenders called.

“Cookies!” You called back with a smile.

“You’re such a godsend, hun,” said Lindsey, one of the other dancers. “I never have time to go to this place before it closes.”

“One of the perks of being roomies with an employee there,” Annie grinned at her, swiping a cookie as you set the box down on the stage and opened the lid. Several others clambered toward the stage to snag a cookie before retreating and allowing the next wave in. You were so caught up in the conversations happening around you that you didn’t notice the figure come out from the back.

“What’s going on here?” A deep timber asked. You noticed Annie stiffen visibly beside you before turning your head to look at the newcomer. He was tall, brown hair curled against his forehead that pointed towards a pair of golden brown eyes. Scars littered the golden skin of his face, and you couldn’t help but notice the strong muscles that lay hidden beneath his dress shirt. Your lips twitched at the sight of the mustache that hung above his upper lip, but you quickly tamped it down as you took in the nervous faces around you. He swaggered over towards where you stood, the small crowd parting easily for him, and you had to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze.

“Shouldn’t you all be working?” He pointed out. His voice was light, playful even, but the underlying warning in his tone was palpable, and all but Annie and yourself hastened to get away. You swallowed slightly, shifting uneasily at the change in the atmosphere. Annie stood still next to you, not saying a word which was unlike her.

“And who might you be?” He asked, leaning against the stage with a smirk. “Think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours. You lookin’ for a job, hm?”

“She’s my roommate,” Annie replied before you could say anything. “She’s just stopping by to drop off a few things I forgot is all.”

“Is that so?” The man hummed, peeling his eyes away from you long enough to cast her an unreadable look before they shifted back to you. “So you’re the little mouse Reuben mentioned pops by from time to time, huh?”

“I guess,” you muttered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked anywhere but at him. You felt his smirk grow as he leaned into you, his nose almost brushing yours in the process. You squeaked at the sudden proximity, eyes widening as the smell of his cologne encircled you, the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and something woodsy ensnaring you as he spoke.

“My name’s Bradley, Mouse,” he murmured, lips curling into a sultry smile as he laced a finger through the loop of your jeans. “You gonna give me a taste?”

You had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about the cookies that still sat on the stage. Without thinking, you grabbed the box, bringing it between you and Bradley, putting some distance between the two of you enough so that you could try to scramble for a coherent thought.

“Here,” you squeaked. Bradley looked stunned for a second, brown eyes wide as he looked from you, down towards the box. There was a moment of still silence before he tossed his head back with a loud laugh, one that caused several people nearby to jump. He looked back at you with a wicked grin, taking the box from your hand and putting it back on the stage with an added chuckle. He grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him and bringing a hand up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his breath fanning over you.

“I might just have to keep you, honey,” he purred, eyes hooded as he drank you in. Your face warmed at the combination of his words and his hand around your waist that slowly started to wander.

“What are you doing, Rooster?”

You jumped at the new voice, turning your head with a gasp as your eyes landed on the stranger standing next to Reuben. His square jaw was clenched in what you could only assume was annoyance, narrowed, green eyes moving from Bradley down to you. His face softened slightly, brow arching as he took you in. You thought you saw his lips twitch in the hint of a smirk before neutrality settled over his features once more.

“Hey, Mouse!” Reuben greeted, his friendly demeanor almost unnerving. He acted as if you weren’t being held captive in the arms of a strange man, instead looking from you towards where Annie stood behind you. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

“Annie forgot something,” you offered weakly, breath still ragged from how close Bradley still held you.

“Rooster,” the blond man spoke up, his voice commanding attention, “you’re scaring the poor thing. Why don’t you let her go?”

Bradley grunted but let you go slowly, shooting you a wink as you backed up a couple of steps. The blond man stepped forward, hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive looking pants as a slow smirk crawled onto his lips.

“So you’re the little mouse we’ve heard so much about,” he drawled, stopping just in front of you. You shrugged, not saying anything as you averted your gaze. The man arched a brow at you, taking a hand out of his pocket to place a finger underneath your chin, lifting it so that you met his emerald gaze.

“Words, darlin’,” he purred, something twinkling in his gaze as you looked at him. You swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” you replied, earning a hum. The man’s finger traced along your jaw before his hand cupped the side of your neck gently, almost possessively.

“Good girl,” he praised, and something inside of you unexpectedly preened at the words. He leaned forward, the smell of patchouli and a hint of citrus hitting your nose at the movement. His lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, “my name is Jake.”

A shiver ran up your spine, and you felt his lips curl into a grin at your reaction.

“Shouldn’t we be getting back to business?” Bradley snapped, looking put out as Jake withdrew from you. The blond snorted with a roll of his eyes as he stepped back towards his companions.

“Since when do you give a shit?” He asked, the challenge hollow as he kept walking, Reuben quick to fall in line behind him. Bradley frowned as he watched Jake walk past, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His eyes looked back at you, lips curving in a thoughtful smile before shooting you a wink and following his two companions.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, Annie coming up behind you quickly.

“I am so sorry,” she cried, blue eyes big and sorrowful.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked with a snort, brushing your hands down your rumpled shirt. “They’re the ones who’ve never heard of personal space, apparently.”

“Babe, do you not realize who they are?” She asked, brow furrowing as she studied you, lips pursing as she shook her head.

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, placing a hand on her forehead as she sucked in a breath. “God, I’m so fucking stupid sometimes. How could I forget to tell you one of the most basic things?”

“Annie, what are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms as a sinking feeling came over you. Her eyes snapped open as she looked at you with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“There’s a lot more to this city than you realize,” she told you. “There are groups always grabbing for power and control of it, and right now there are two who are going head to head: the Daggers and the Harpies. You just met the two men who are in charge of the Dagger syndicate, Mouse: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. ”

Your heart sank, and your head involuntarily whipped around towards where the group of men walked off to. You spotted them sitting in one of the booths, Reuben talking animatedly about something or other, but your stomach did a flip as you realized that both Jake and Bradley were already looking at you. The blond arched a brow at you while the brunette waggled his fingers at you with a playful smirk. Annie followed your gaze, sighing before continuing.

“And it looks like you’ve gone and caught their eye.”

A/N: Thought we might take a quick break from talking about Angel!Jake and go back to Mafia!Jake and Mafia!Bradley, and they're finally here! What do we think of them from our first meeting? As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

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[deathmetalangel]

hi if your taking requests I’d like to request a mid 90s forth-grade x fem skater reader. I could be whatever tbh but she’s like really soft and nice. Idk you could do what ever you think is best <33

IN CHAINS, ENTOMBED (FOURTH GRADE X FEM!READER)

warnings: stevie has mommy issues, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, sad stevie, nothing else really it’s mostly fluff

“from the day you arrived, i’ve remained, by your side, in chains, entombed”

ahhh i just really love fourth grade. i might’ve went overboard a slight bit.

Their friend group was strange, anyone could see that. They varied in ages, most being juniors and seniors with two exceptions. And they drastically varied in personalities. Ray was the oldest and looked out for his friends like siblings, they were all he had. Fuckshit was rowdy and always down for a party to distract himself and stay entertained. Fourth Grade was more aloof, the others called it stupid, but Y/n preferred observant.

Y/n herself was the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, a heart made of gold that shone brightly wherever she went. Ruben was almost condescending at times, he always felt the need to prove himself to Ray and Fuckshit. And Stevie, he spiraled down a dark path for a long time. Until now, he finally returned to the sweet boy they met at first. So eager and just happy to have friends.

They had their squabbles sure, but nothing they’d ever let separate them. The closest out of everyone was easily Y/n and Fourth Grade. She was a senior, about a year older than he was. Yet they’d known each other for years. She’d lived on the nicer side of town, but their dads had been really good friends. Both worked at the DMV, but it’s where their moms worked that changed their living situations. Mrs. L/n was, to be quite honest a spoilt brat of a woman. She was heinous and cruel. Only supported by her husband and her trust fund. Which she spent most of pretty quickly during her college years. But it still kept the family going strong.

Y/n had a surprisingly good work ethic. She didn’t work at Motor like Fuckshit and Ray, but she did work with her uncle at his mechanic shop. It helps to fund her “passion project”. Which is just an old 67’ Mustang Shelby.

Said girl currently sits on the couch in the back of the skate shop, her feet propped up on Fourth Grade’s lap with a book placed in hers. Her beanie is slightly slipping from her head, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “College applications are stupid. They’re all the counselors at school talk about now. I get that they’re important, but I don’t even know If I wanna go to college.” She sighs before shutting the textbook.

Fourth Grade turns to look at her, his usual far off look replaced. She always has his full attention. It doesn’t matter what she’s talking about. He’s gonna listen if she’s the one saying it. “I dunno. You’re smart. College might be good.” Ruben looks at them from the other couch. He was more interested in them than what Fuckshit was rambling about next to him. He liked the way Fourth Grade looked at her. It was, for lack of better words, full of devotion. He never sees that at home.

“Yeah, but where would I even go? All of these colleges are expensive and far away. I wouldn’t wanna leave you or the guys.” Mostly him. “I think I wanna be a mechanic. Sounds stupid huh?” She brushes off her own words.

Fourth Grade shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid.” He mumbles off handedly. Like his words held no weight, what did they mean coming from someone as dumb as him? “I’ve seen your car, you’re good. You should do it.”

Yet his words meant the most to her. “You want to be a director right? You can go to college for that you know. A few colleges with fine arts programs reached out to me too. I think you’d do good.” He never really expected her to remember anything about what he wanted to do. Most of the guys assumed he just didn’t know or was too stupid to care. He pauses, they both think about the cost of it all. “I mean there’s scholarships and stuff. Next year I can help you look into it?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, sweet and genuine. Ruben liked the way she looked at him too. There was no doubt with her, she loved him. Fourth Grade feels himself growing flustered. Y/n tended to do that to him. It was like he was in middle school all over again. She was the one who taught him how to skate. Y/n was so patient and understanding, she still is.

Everyone’s attention is caught by the bell to the front door. It chimes letting them know someone is walking in. The someone was Stevie, the only one missing from the current hang out besides Ray who was helping his mom. He’s a mamas boy, but y/n won’t tell anyone where he’s at. The guys tend to tease. Stevie walks in the shop clearly aggravated. She hadn’t seen him this agitated since last summer.

“Hey Fuckshit can you and Ruben go get some Arizonas and snacks? It’s on me just take this twenty. I don’t feel like going.” She holds out the cash she grabbed from her pocket.

Fuckshit looks up at her and takes the cash. “Hm yeah sure. Only cause you treating ma. I’ll get some different flavors n shit. Come on Ruben let’s bounce.” He clearly didn’t see her true intentions as he walks past Stevie on his way out. Y/n sits up straight as Stevie finally comes over to them on the couch.

“Hey Stevie you okay? It’s just us,” He knew what she meant. Just her and Fourth Grade so he could say whatever he wanted judgment free. He bites down on his lip to stop it from quivering. His nose twitches, she picks up on his tells. Y/n places a gentle hand on Stevie’s arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just sit down, we can talk when you’re ready.”

Fourth Grade watches her tentatively. She was so gentle. Stevie sits down in between the teens before he places his head onto her lap. Y/n looks at Fourth Grade who was watching Stevie carefully. The boy had been through a lot in the time they were friends. He’d grown to care about him a lot. Y/n softly caresses the boys hair. Her best attempt at soothing him.

“My mom she just doesn’t get it anymore. She doesn’t get me anymore. She’s always with some guy, Ian says she used to be like that before I was born. But I thought she’d be better. She’s so preoccupied I never see her. And then she just bugs about stupid shit. I hate her sometimes.” He vents to the pair who don’t pity him, they are just there to console him.

Y/n sighs. “I get it. My moms flighty. Always in her own world. I’ve met your mom, and both times weren’t exactly pleasant or under great circumstances. But, I do think she cares. She loves you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel this way. She isn’t right to put more focus on someone other than you especially when you’re so young. However, she is still entitled to a love life Stevie.” He liked talking to her. She never judged him. Or scolded him. Just let him talk, and would advise him as best she could.

Y/n looks at Fourth Grade, her eyes flicking down to Stevie as if to tell him to say something. He can get that hint at least. “It’s hard for a mom to have a son. My moms weird with me sometimes, it’s different than her having a girl. Ya know? She’s probably just nervous because you’re getting big and growing up.” She smiles at him, his thoughtful answer was more than adequate. He blushes at her smile. She always did encourage him to be smarter than everyone thought he was.

“You and y/n aren’t weird with me. So why is she?” Y/n blushes slightly at the implications of what he was saying. “Y/n you don’t ignore me for Fourth Grade. And you’ve been like in love forever. So why does she ignore me for those guys she’s known for a few months?” Both teens almost were too embarrassed to answer.

Y/n tries to recover as best she can. “We’re a lot closer in age to you than she is Stevie. We know what it’s like to be your age. She doesn’t remember it quite as well. And me and Fourth Grade, we’re not- um. New relationships take more work. There’s a lot more of getting to know each other Stevie. That’s probably why.” She can’t even make eye contact with Fourth Grade who kind of just sits there trying to figure out what she’s saying.

They weren’t dating, but why didn’t she finish her sentence. Was he reading too much into her words? “Can I stay at your house tonight? And maybe Fourth Grade stay over too?”

Y/n smiles softly. She could never say no to Stevie. She gently wipes away a few stray tears from the boys face before responding. “Of course you can stay with me. I’d rather you stay over than be god knows where. And you’d have to ask Fourth Grade if he wants to have a little sleepover.”

Stevie looks up towards Fourth Grade who’s caught slightly off guard. “Can you come too? I like when you’re hanging out with us.”

“Sure kid.” They were really the only ones who actually treated Stevie like a kid. He wasn’t Sunburn the cool skater, he was Stevie the twelve year old. They didn’t infantilize him or belittle him, he was still an equal. But they made sure to remember he was still growing up. He didn’t have to be cool and drink or smoke. He was dorky and that was fine.

Stevie smiles before laying down on Y/n’s lap again. Her fingers gently play with his hair as he starts to fall asleep. Y/n hums a soft lullaby as he does. “He’s a good kid. It’s funny you act more like a mom than a friend to him sometimes.” Fourth Grade whispers while he watches the boy nap.

“I guess it’s just my big sister instincts. And what about you? I swear sometimes he comes to you with his problems more than me or Ray. Fourth Grade I like this girl what do I do? Fourth Grade I need help with a video project for school. Fourth Grade I’m mad at my friend again.” She laughs softly before looking back down at Stevie.

Fourth Grade laughs as well. He did often get tasked with helping Stevie, it was mostly with stuff he didn’t want to ask Y/n about. He cared a lot about what she thought of him. “He’s a bit confused, but he’s only got his mom and his brother. And his brother doesn’t seem like the brotherly type. We’re really the closest he’s got to older siblings. And only three of us are decent influences.” Fuckshit and Ruben were most definitely not good influences. In fact Y/n almost has a heart attack when she finds out Stevie is hanging out with only them.

“You parent him a lot Y/n. And you always manage to get me roped into it.” Fourth Grade chuckles softly. “No wonder he thinks we’re dating.” He mumbles the end. Afraid of the weight of his words.

Y/n pauses. “I mean, we do kind of act coupley. I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought we were dating. I don’t really care. I’m comfortable around you.” This was her way of putting the ball in his court. Fourth Grade pauses. He looks at her and just thinks. Jesus she had him whipped. Ever since he met her he’s been following her around like a puppy.

Yet, he really didn’t want it any other way. He liked being around her. Y/n was kind, but not ignorant in the slightest. She was intelligent and so fucking sweet. He fell more in love with her little by little, he was entombed by her very being. “You scare off any girls I might get, you know that right?”

She giggles. He wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t lying either. “Like you don’t scare off guys. ‘Don’t talk to her she’s with that tall lanky guy’. I hear pretty well you know.” Fourth Grade smiles.

“I mean if we’re ruining each others chances of ever dating someone, why don’t we just actually date?” Her eyes widen. She hadn’t actually expected him to be so up front. Fourth Grade never said anything this forward. He usually stuttered and rethought his words mid sentence.

She looks into his eyes. She could tell he was being genuine, perhaps that was what compelled his bluntness. “Are you asking me out Fourth Grade?”

He scratches the back of his neck almost awkwardly. “Uh-yeah. I mean. If you wanna.” And there was the Fourth Grade she knew. Y/n smiles before gently kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to.” She smiles before placing her head on his shoulder. Leaning onto him while Stevie napped comfortably in her lap. “I love you, you know. I have since we were kids.”

His face was almost bright red. Fourth Grade swallows hard. “Y-yeah? If I’m being honest you’ve had me since we met. Especially after you taught me to Ollie.”

She smiles at the memory. “I don’t think Fuckshit is coming back with my money.”

Fourth Grade wants to laugh, he quiets himself into a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t think so either. It’s okay though. We can just relax. Just us.”

Y/n mumbles something before slowly dozing off with her head still resting on his shoulder. Fourth Grade looks down at her, still in awe of the girl before him. He’d do anything for her. And he knew she’d do the same. That’s just how she was, the kind of person she was. The person he was so irreparably in love with. And by her side he’d remain.

#deathmetalangel #fourth grade x reader #mid 90s #mid90s x reader #mid90s imagine #mid90s fourth grade #fourth grade mid90s #mid90s fourth grade x reader #mid90s fluff #fourth grade x female reader

[rustedhearts]

knockin’ on heaven’s door (70s childhood bestfriend!steve x fem!reader)

summary: to celebrate the one-year-anniversary of the day you decided to be more than best friends, you go on a road trip through new england with steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ main masterlist

tags: short and fluffy, childhood best friends to lovers, casually-dominant steve (again)?, smut!

buy me a ko-fi! ♡

new england, november, 1978

"Babe, don't touch the stereo."

"Why not? You rig it, stud?"

Cheeks rosy and swollen hot, Steve grinned at the road ahead and reached with one hand to gently shove your approaching fingers away.

"You know it's the only car rule I have, honey," he defended, guiding your hand back to your denim lap.

Eyes rolling, you leaned your head back against the leather of the Pontiac passenger seat, doing your best to block out the obnoxious sound of Black Sabbath crackling through the stereo speakers. You didn't always find the band obnoxious—but when Steve had Master of Reality on repeat since its debut, and did nothing but brag about how many copies and how many different cover arts he owned...the songs got a little annoying.

"Do we have any Twinkies left?" you groaned, rolling toward the backseat over the headrest.

The car veered a little toward the left as Steve's eyes transferred to your ass, pushing against your Levi bellbottoms and angled toward his face. He resisted the urge to reach out and pop his hand across the fat of it, knowing it always made you shriek and flush and pretend you didn't enjoy it. He made sure to do it extra hard when he had you bent over the bed all alone, drooling into his sheets. He was thinking about asking you to move in together just so he could do it whenever he liked.

"You ate them back in Ohio—sit down."

You flopped back into your seat with a huff, a pout etched on your mouth but a glare set sternly in your eyes. "Don't boss me around, Steven."

Steve chuckled, tongue prodding the end of a sharp white incisor as he took his right hand off the wheel to reach over and squeeze your cheeks.

"But I'm older—and you look so cute all flustered and pouty."

You shoved his hand away by the wrist, feigning disdain—but the touch of his hand, callused from greasy work on the Pontiac and his new part-time position at the plant under his father had your insides squirming. Unbeknownst to him, you pondered over evenings spent kissing him hello after a long day at work, basking in the way he'd pull you in by the waist with a dirty, oiled hand. There was something so manly about him lately. He was no longer the boy you grew up with.

Falling in love could do that, you supposed.

The pair of you decided on a romantic road trip a few weeks ago. It was a late anniversary celebration—one year since your first kiss, followed by a few weeks of uncomfortable tip-toeing around blossoming romantic feelings, until ultimately crumbling and tumbling into an unspoken agreement to never look back on friendship, and only look forward to commitment. You wanted no one but each other, and there was no point in denying it any longer.

The road trip spanned the New England states, and the rest of the Midwest between Indiana and your final destination in Connecticut. The motels along the way were small and dingy, fly-infested and sticky, but Steve kept you safe in his arms. It felt good to get out of Indiana and be on your own. You felt like real adults, a real pair of lovers venturing out of their circle for life on the road.

Winstons thrown on the dash and shoved against the windshield, eight track spinning, leather soaked in nicotine and the vetiver musk of Steve's cologne—the Pontiac was your home that week.

But he could've at least packed a few more Twinkies.

"There’s some Slim Jims in the glove box, I think,” Steve mumbled, rubbing at his eye with the back of his knuckle.

The road fatigued him, but he refused to let you drive. The Pontiac was his pride and joy, and you tried not to let it irritate you that he didn’t even trust you with it. You, who had been there when his father handed him the keys, who was the first person to ride passenger when he got his license at sixteen. But Steve insisted that you looked better in the passenger. He could be a little old fashioned that way.

“You tired?” you asked as you rummaged through the glove box.

Steve shook out his hair, blinking rapidly at the road ahead. It was midday, sky chilled with pigeon grey clouds, casting shadows over the grey asphalt and bursts of orange and scarlet leaves flanking the road from high trees.

“M’ fine. Hand me a smoke, will you, honey?”

“Slim Jim first, sweetheart,” you drawled, mimicking his mumble.

Steve’s eyes rolled, though his mouth subsequently coiled into a grin. He loved when you teased him like you used to. His biggest worry when you finally decided to shift to dating was that you’d lose the playfulness your friendship always had. He didn’t want to lose that.

Luckily, the past year had been nothing but laughter and love. It sickened you a little to know how much you ached for Steve Harrington.

You peeled the plastic packaging on the dried jerky and shoved it in your mouth, reaching forward to the windshield where his crumpled Winstons were. You slid one from the box, plucking his silver Zippo, engraved with his initials (a Christmas gift a few years ago from yours truly), from the front pocket of his flannel. Brown and green, soft, a little faded from detergent powder. You had to fight the urge to shove your nose into his neck and sniff him like a dog. Later.

Steve tipped his chin out, lips parting with just enough room for the familiar cigarette. Once perched firmly in his mouth, you flicked the lighter open and singed the end. Steve closed his lips around the filter and sucked hard, popping them open to expel smoke from his nose.

“Thanks, baby,” he muttered around it, reaching over to smooth his hand over your thigh.

You leaned into it, watching the shape of his fingers overtake your leg. “Mhm.”

He felt over the denim of your jeans, sturdy but still worn. They were a few years old. He could remember the day you bought them at Sears, because he was there with you. Hours trailing the linoleum tile, head tipped back to watch the fluorescents buzz and whizz by, listening to the crank of receipts and ding of bells. You spent a good thirty minutes just in the denim, holding up options and popping in and out of the fitting room with different styles.

That was the first time he noticed how glorious the shape of your ass was.

Steve’s fingers wandered in his daydream, inching toward the apex of your thighs where the seam of your jeans pressed tight against your panties. You jolted, turning to see the cigarette puffing clouds over Steve’s nose.

“Hey,” you mused, watching his finger trace your zipper. “Whatcha doin’?”

Steve pulled his hand away, removing his cigarette to ash it in the crack of the open window. The way his neck craned, purpled vein protruding against soft and freckled ivory skin, made your mouth water. Your teeth tingled to bite.

“Nothing.”

You wanted to pull back his hand, guide it between your legs again and tell him he didn't have to stop. You didn't want him to stop. But his eyes were shuttering against the warm light peeking through tufts of clouds, lips puffing at his cigarette greedily—a sure sign of a sleepy Steve.

Reaching over, you smoothed your hand through the back of his hair, shaggy and soft and longer than it's ever been before—he tipped his head back an inch to lean into it.

"Come on," you cooed, finger twisting a silky lock into a limp curl. "Let's stop and get coffee."

✶ ✶

"Ugh," Steve grunted into an orange porcelain diner mug. "Fuck, I needed that."

You concealed a grin with the rim of your own mug, lifting it to your mouth to gulp down the warm stream of acidic brown liquid. You sweetened it with a pink sugar packet and a small vat of vanilla creamer, but it still doesn't taste like Steve's does. When he made it for you at home (still insistent upon bringing you a thermos after class), he poured as much sweetness as possible. Something sweet for my sweetheart. Such a sap.

"You hungry?" Steve asked, flipping over a laminated menu to check the lunch options.

You shrugged, mug clinking on the sticky tabletop. Steve eyed you carefully over it, assessing your sudden distance. He slipped a hand beneath the table and knocked it on your knee, settling it into a smooth glide across your thigh like he did in the car. You flashed him a bashful grin.

"Split some pancakes?" he suggested. You nodded.

The waitress came and went in a polyester flitter, and soon an opalescent plate of blueberry pancakes sat between your elbows, slowly sloughed off by pulls of metal fork prongs. Steve let you have a little more than him, noticing the way you waited for his bite to go before grabbing your own. Always so considerate, always so sweet.

"Did you ever think," you started, swallowing down a burst of warm fruit, "that we'd be here?"

Steve placed his fork down, licking remnants from his lips. "Where?"

You huffed, wiggling your fork through another bite. "You know..."

Steve did. He leaned forward on his arms, glancing around fleetingly before fixing you with a sly and half-cocked grin. "Like...makin' out and shit? Doin' the nasty?"

You giggled, eyes rolling. "Stop. You know, did you ever...think about it?"

Steve eased back against his side of the booth, arms slipping from the table into his lap. He rummaged through his jeans until he found his pack of smokes, poking one into his mouth to rest a moment. His eyes took on the vacancy of thought. You waited, overtaken by diner clinks and chatter. Your insides squeezed in anticipation.

"I don't know. I always thought you were beautiful. Always thought you were sweet and...knew you'd make some guy really happy, but...I guess I never thought it'd be me. Not really...Did you?"

With warmth pulsing in your cheeks, you tipped your gaze down to your lap and picked at the skin around your red-polished nail. Steve liked them red. He said it was his favorite color on you.

"I thought Nancy Wheeler was an absolute idiot for letting go of you," you murmured.

Peeking up through your lashes, you found Steve's smirk fading into a slow bite of his bottom lip. God, were you always so sexy when you talked about loving him?

Unlit cigarette dampened at the filter perched between his fingers, Steve leaned forward on his forearms again and cleared his throat. His eyes dashed around the diner once more before fixing on yours.

"Do you wanna get outta here?"

Blueberry and coffee on his breath. You wanted nothing more than for him to light that cigarette and watch him pull it away with that strong, working man's hand. You wanted nothing more than to have him tug you in by the belt loop like he did that first time you kissed in his driveway.

You lurched forward a little too fast. "Yes."

✶ ✶

The click of the motel door lock sent shivers down your back. The bags fell next, dropped with zippered clinks and heavy thuds. The keys clattered on the round wooden table near the curtained window, thrown from Steve’s hand. You fumbled to release your feet from their booted confines and watched with bleary eyes as Steve removed his own. He fiddled with the tiny tortoise buttons of his flannel, and you whipped your sweater over your head.

“Wait, wait,” he rushed, leaping forward and snatching your hands before you could unhook your bra.

Grinning, you went plaint in his hold and stepped a little closer. He let your hands slip from his, dropping back to your sides and giving him room to move. His palms swept over your waist, gliding up your spine until he found the soft band of your bra. He unhooked it with ease, dragging the dainty pink straps down your arms until it fell to the floor with a thud.

Once exposed, the warmth of his hands encompassed your breasts, pulling a small gasp from your throat. Head tipped up to admire the attentiveness of those hazel eyes, you nuzzled your nose into his jaw.

“You’re so warm,” you cooed, nose slipping down his throat.

A chuckle rumbled through him like thunder, reverberating into you. His thumbs swept over your nipples and gently pinched the peaks. Something between a giggle and a yelp squawked from your mouth, pulling another laugh from his chest. Steve’s head dropped into your neck, teeth nipping and mouth sucking at skin.

Your head fell back with a groan, hands clawing at his hair. For just a moment, you gave into the slow, teasing pleasure. Swaying in his arms, pressed half-naked against his body, letting every lick of his tongue against your flesh tingle through you like electric shocks.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Okay, wait, wait,” you moaned, tipping away from his mouth. “Just…can you…”

Steve scraped his teeth along the side of your throat and peppered quick kisses upward until he met your jaw. Once there, he pulled back and brought his hand to your jaw, holding it steady.

“What?” he whispered. “What d’ya need, baby?”

Rubbing your hand up and down his forearm, you made your eyes into those round, weepy shapes that made him coo and give into whatever you wanted. You’d been doing it for years—once used for cheeseburgers at football games and a bite of his last Twinkie, now used to coax him into giving you what you wanted without clothes.

But this time, Steve chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, don’t use those eyes on me. Tell me what you want, and maybe…I’ll give it to you.”

Lip jutting out, you pressed a firm kiss to his chin. “Maybe?”

Steve laughed, using his grip on your chin to pull your head down and plant his own kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, honey, you know you got me whenever…wherever you want.”

You pondered a moment, lips pursed shyly. He waited. He waited with bated breaths, taken shallowly through his nose, eyes trained on your still body. You took a small, socked step back across the plush pink carpet, toward the bed. It yipped against the impact of your thigh.

“Well, in that case…” You were quiet, and when you turned around and placed your knee on the mattress, Steve didn’t quite know where it was going.

But then your hand came down, pressing into the quilt. The other knee, dipping into the springs. Crawling, back arched and chin tucked over your shoulder to blink all bashful and sweet at the man staring in wonderment.

“I want you…like this.”

Steve whipped his belt off, silver buckle clinking with a thud on the floor. You could’ve sworn he ripped his zipper and popped the button with how fast his hands were moving, and soon he was fully nude and reaching for you as he maneuvered behind you against the bed.

His hands hooked into the waistband of your jeans, giving them one harsh tug and bouncing you in between. You giggled, doing your best to aid his hurried, eager movements. Your panties came next, a flash of pale pink fabric in his fist and then a speck on the floor.

"Fuck, hang on," he huffed, leaving you with a cool draft as he scrambled for his pants on the floor.

Steve pulled a brown leather wallet from the back pocket and whipped out a familiar plastic square, resuming his spot behind you just as swiftly. You kept your eyes trained on him over your shoulder as he rolled it on, as his shoulders pulled in and his swelling biceps strained as he attempted to keep his pulsing erection at bay. He needed to make you believe you didn't drive him absolutely insane. He had to have some sort of decency.

But with you, it was hard.

All he ever wanted to do was—

"Oh, fuuuuck." Dive in.

And once he was there, splitting you in two and bringing vibrancy to your flesh, rendering you mindless and stupid and so fucking beautiful—the world fell away. All Steve knew, all he wanted to feel: was you.

"Oh, God, Steve," you mewled, gripping the rough fabric of the bedspread in your fists like bracing for a rollercoaster.

Steve's hands took hold of the globes of your ass, feeling every ripple under his palms as his hips pistoned with vigor. Fucking you always had him feverish. It was though he lost all sense of himself, pouring every ounce of being into you. He had never given himself to another woman the way he gave himself to you.

Using your hips as leverage, Steve yanked you back into his pelvis, eliciting a broken yelp muffled by a mouthful of mattress. Burying your face into the bed, you fell pliant to his animalistic charge, barely conscious of his babbles behind you.

"Ooh, yeah, s' good, baby. Oh, fuck yeah. Oh, oh."

A heavy hand came sweeping down on your asscheek, cracking in a sharp snap of skin on skin. The impact had you shrieking and shivering, back contracting into a delirious series of arches and relaxations. Your legs were jelly and eyes bursts of white, and it hadn't even been five whole minutes.

He was just that good.

Steve snickered, out of breath but too cocky to let it slide. He tipped his head to watch your slickness gush down his cock, admiring the way you squeezed like a fleshy, gummy sleeve up and down, dripping with every prod.

"Aw, look at that. You love when I do that, don't you s-sweetheart—fuck, m' cumming."

It was like music to your ears. His mockery, his low grunts and groans, the raspy crispness to his voice when he was buried deep inside you. When he came, he crumbled. Shuddering into a halved version of himself, crouching close to you, hands like bad mufflers over your hips, mouth full of saliva and moans.

His forehead clung to the skin of your spine with shared exertion, breath hot across your back. He hummed mindlessly, floating in a half sleep lulled by your body.

"Gonna pull out," he mumbled a bit later, bracing your hips when his hands were steady enough.

You settled against the bed, catching your breath against harsh quilt fibers, watching through the blurry haze of your eyes as he moved through the room. Padding to the bathroom, the soft snap of used plastic, the metallic ping of heavy release hitting the bottom of the bin. The soft rush of water, the click of the rosy bathroom light snuffed out. Coolness between your legs, massaged with hands too gentle for the work they did. You groaned, soothed by his shushes and hums. The bathroom light stayed off when he went back in.

And when he returned, he tugged you close with an arm around your waist, sticky skin fused together like one beneath a sheet that didn't smell like home. Steve kissed your cheek, thumb rubbing into your rib.

"Get some rest," he whispered. "We'll be back on the road in a bit."

✶ ✶

You slept. And you slept on the road, too. Once tired of Twinkie complaints and chowing down on Slim Jim remnants, you somehow found your head in Steve's lap. Tipped over across the front seats, cheek pressed into his thigh, hair dripped over his jeans. He glanced down at you every few stoplights, taking a few moments to rub his hand on your cheek.

Welcome to Connecticut! whizzed by in the soft orange light of a Thursday sunset. Careful not to wake you, Steve leaned toward the windshield and swiped a smoke. He tapped the ashes into the road, careful not to let them flutter on your peaceful face. He smiled around a mouthful of sweet Winston smoke.

He was lucky to call his best friend the love of his life.

#rolly! #steve harrington #70s!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #king steve #steve stranger things #steve the hair harrington #stranger things

[lazycats-stuff]

batfam x male child reader who likes collecting buttons and random things but also likes stealing random weapons bc they look cool like steals knives from damien and has gotten his hands on jason’s funda few times

Thanks for the idea anon! Sorry this took a while and I may have taken it to another direction, so I still hope you like this.

Summary: (Y/N) is a magnet for weapons. Especially if they are the property of his older brothers.

Warnings: Weapons, (Y/N) always getting his hands on weapons, Bruce being stressed and tired.

Bruce didn't notice that (Y/N) had a liking towards weapons until the boy was 3. As any baby, he would want shiny and colorful things. It was only natural for babies. The boys knew that and always made sure to have something colorful on hand to entertain the boy.

But when he reached 3, he would seem to like weapons. Especially if it was from his brother's. (Y/N) would find a way to weapons, one way or another. The boys were sometimes careless and left weapons laying around, which scared the living lights out of Bruce more than one time.

Jason has even said that once (Y/N) grows up, he will be the most annoying Robin ever. And it's not like Bruce has started training him a little. Just in case something happens.

So, as fate would have, he was not gifted by a normal child, that likes baseball or some other sport or that likes something related to art. He got a kid that adores weapons. Almost a Damian 2.0.

Alfred would say he would grow out of it, he is just imitating his older brothers, but Bruce wasn't so sure. He really wasn't. So, to avoid such situations, Bruce told the boys to keep their weapons under lock and key. That was directed to Damian and Jason.

Now, the boy is 5 and... Bruce is even more stressed. (Y/N) is a magnet for weapons and he didn't start liking anything else. Bruce has tried. Baseball, drawing, collecting stamps, reading... But no... He has a 5th child who was in love with weapons.

So, the stress was now tripled.

Bruce got home from work, ready to go to bed and take a nap. He knew that (Y/N) would also like a nap, so he went to look for him. What he heard instead, made him regret coming home.

" (Y/N), give me back my knife! " Damian's voice rang out and it made him sigh. Not again.

He got ready as the footsteps got closer and closer. And once he saw (H/C) hair, he swooped him up, being careful of the knife.

" Papa! " (Y/N) exclaimed in surprise.

" (Y/N), what did we say about taking Damian's weapons? Especially his knifes? " Bruce asked, taking the knife and handing it back to Damian.

" Damian gave it to me. "

Bruce simply hummed and adjusted his youngest in his arms.

" (Y/N)… What did we say about taking blades? "

" That we shouldn't take them, but they are so pretty. Especially Damian's! " (Y/N) exclaimed, waving his arms around.

" I know, but they are also dangerous. "

(Y/N) pouted and simply leaned on Bruce's chest. He was slightly tired from all running around. Especially after stressing and getting Bruce some gray hairs.

" You tired bud? "

" Yes... Can you stay with me dad? "

Bruce smiled at him and nodded. He walked to his bedroom, before gently throwing his son on the bed. (Y/N) let out an oof, before giggling. Bruce quickly went to the bathroom and changed into some more comfortable clothes before snuggling his youngest son.

" Dad? "

" Yes bud? "

" Will I ever have blades? Like Damian and Jason? "

Bruce wanted to say no, you won't be surrounded by weapons, you will enjoy your life without them. And not damage my furniture.

" One day, when you get older. Your brothers will even teach you how to take care of them. "

" Really?! " (Y/N) asked, all excited.

" Yes. But for now, we can go to sleep. You did say that you are tired. "

(Y/N) didn't say anything, simply snuggling into Bruce's chest. Bruce put the covers higher and closed his eyes, making sure that his son was close to him.

Bruce sighed as he overlooked the preparations for the gala. Everything looked like perfect and more importantly, all the blades were... Somewhere safe, far away from (Y/N)'s reach. Not to mention they still had to monitor the young boy, hoping he wouldn't get his hands on any types of weapons. He doesn't want a headline in the news tomorrow.

" Okay guys, keep an eye on (Y/N). We can't have him running around with a blade in his hands. " Bruce said, tired.

Bruce got promises that there was going to be extra supervision over (Y/N). Maybe he will have a gala that won't be a disaster. For once... Bruce shook his head. Something is definitely going to go wrong tonight, something warranting a headline tomorrow.

Why does this always happen to him?

" Are you alright master Bruce? " Alfred asked, carrying the small bundle of joy that gives Bruce new gray hairs everyday.

" I have a feeling that something is going to go wrong Alfred. " Bruce said, opening his arms to take the young boy into his arms.

" Are we talking headline wrong master Bruce? "

" I don't want to say yes, but that's what I'm worried about. "

Bruce glanced down at the youngest, who was pouting.

" What's wrong bud? "

" I don't like this suit dad. "

Bruce adjusted him in his arms and gave him a kiss to the side of the head.

" I think there is an another reason, am I right? " Bruce smiled at his son.

(Y/N) had no access to blades for the whole day and was unhappy and grumpy. Bruce was proud of his boys for making sure that the blades were taken care of. Especially Damian and Jason.

(Y/N) didn't respond, simply looking away. Bruce chuckled at his son's behavior. He is a truly stubborn person.

" Oh don't be sad bud. "

Jason came into the room, wanting to hold (Y/N). Bruce gave him the toddler and Jason turned on his big brother magic.

" Don't be sad. " Jason said leaving the room. He knew Bruce wouldn't like to hear this.

" You know what we can do bud? " Jason asked waiting for the response. He got a shake of the head.

" We can sneak into Damian's room later and take a look at his blades, but, " Jason interrupted the excited child, " You need to be good tonight. No misbehaving. Now, give me a pinky promise. " Jason said, looping their pinkies together.

" Good. "

Now the only thing he needs is to let Damian know about the plan.

Bruce was suspicious of his youngest son. He was far too... Good. He wasn't creating chaos with the help of his brothers, so Bruce was confused and suspicious. He finished up a talk with one of his partners and looked for Jason. He knows Jason has something to do with this. He was the last one to talk with (Y/N) and he is behaving all of a sudden.

He found him at the table with food.

" Hey old man. "

" What did you say to (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, getting right to the point.

" What do you mean? " Jason asked, tilting his head to the right.

" Why is (Y/N) behaving? You are usually helping him with creating chaos around here. "

" I didn't do anything Bruce. " Jason said, leaving a frustrated Bruce behind.

He sighed as he turned to look at his son. He was with Damian and talking to Jon Kent. Speaking of the Kents, he needs to find Clark. Clark is (Y/N)'s favorite uncle and Clark will be able to talk to (Y/N) without making it sound suspicious.

" How's it going Bruce? " Clark asked.

" I don't know. (Y/N) is behaving well and I am suspicious. You need to use your uncle powers and talk to him. "

Clark chuckled at the uncle powers. He knew that (Y/N) loved him a lot.

" I will try to fish something out of him. "

" Thank you Clark. "

Clark got nothing. (Y/N) was either behaving because he wanted to or he was hiding something.

" Nothing Bruce. "

" What? " Bruce asked.

" Yup. He is either behaving well just because he wants to or he is hiding something. Nothing in between. "

" Oh (Y/N), what are you doing to me? "

He glanced at his son, now with Tim and Dick, who guarding him from the reporters who clearly wanted to talk to young boy.

The gala was over, there was no trouble and the boys went up to their rooms. Bruce talked with Clark for a bit, before escorting him out and going upstairs to his own room.

He stopped by Damian's once he heard Jason and some laughing that was far too child like. He opened the door and sighed. (Y/N) was on the carpet in the room, Damian sitting on his bed, looking amused. Jason was next to (Y/N) holding Damian's blades while (Y/N) was hypnotized by them.

" So this is the reason why he was behaving so well. " Bruce said.

(Y/N) didn't even react to Bruce being here.

" Okay, 15 more minutes then he is off to bed and we are off to patrol. Okay? " Bruce asked both of his sons.

They both nodded and Bruce went to the cave. He laughed to himself for a second, relishing in the fact that if (Y/N) wants to become a Robin, he will be the most annoying one.

#bruce wayne x child!male reader #batman x child!male reader #dc comics #dc x male reader #jason todd x male reader

[andydrysdalerogers]

Under the Hood 

Dark! Mechanic Steve Rogers x F!Reader 

A broken car, a handsome hero. Nothing but a spark between you. If only you knew... 

Song: Tainted Love by Soft Cell

Word Count: ~ 2.7K

Warning: 18+ only! SMUT!, drugging, dub-con, degradation, oral (f-receiving), dark! Steve Rogers 

Mood board by: @georgiapeach30513

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

A/N: This came from the mood board challenge game that @georgiapeach30513 hosted a few weeks ago. I spun the wheels and have been pushed out of my comfort zone. My spins were Mechanic Steve Rogers, degradation and drugging.  Please heed the warnings below.   

As this is an out of my comfort zone fic, feedback would be appreciated but being mean or rude comments will not be tolerated and you will be promptly blocked. 

Doing my normal taglist at the bottom. Please let me know if you want to be removed.

Main Master List

Climbing down the steps of your building, your smile is big as you look forward to your day. Being an art teacher was fun, especially with the younger children.  As you climbed in your vehicle, you couldn’t help but sigh. Today was going to be a great day.  

But then, your car wouldn’t start.  

“C’mon,” you muttered. Your smile fell. This was an older car for sure, but it wasn’t that old.  You got out and popped the hood. Not seeing anything out of place. You tossed your head back and sighed.  So much for it being a great day.  

“Need some help?” 

You jumped and whipped around to the voice behind you.  A man, a gorgeous man stood behind you, a rag wiping grease from his hands.  You eyed him, up and down.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, scruff around his chiseled jaw, white, dirty shirt that was fitted to a narrow waist and tone legs wrapped in jeans. Motorcycle boots finished the look and you managed to look back up at the Adonis standing in front of you.  You swallow, “my car won’t start.”  

“I can see that.  Can I look?” He smiled but you hesitated.  “My name is Steve and I work at the garage.”  He pointed to the garage, Barnes Automotive. It had been a staple in the neighborhood for years.  

“Sure.”  You stepped aside, smoothing out your dress as Steve ducked his head under the hood.  You chewed your lip as he fiddled with the engine.  

“Looks like there are a couple of problems, sweetheart. Gonna take a few weeks to repair.” He looked at you as he cleaned his hands.  

“No,” you whispered. Tears began to flood your eyes.  What were you going to do? You had to get to work and now you were stuck.  

“You ok?” 

“No,” you repeated, louder this time.  “I don’t know a lot of people in this town and I’m not sure how I’ll get to work and stuff.” You sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay.  

“Well, I can give you a ride,” Steve offered. “I’m at the garage early and I can step out to take you and pick you up. We’re neighbors after all.”  

“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”  

“My mama would whoop my ass if I left a lady all alone, stranded.  Promise, I don’t bite.” He smiled again and you melted. There was nothing wrong with accepting help.  “C’mon sweetheart, what do say?” 

And it started.  Every day, Steve would give you a ride in his classic black Mustang and pick you up every night. You would chat the five or so miles every day. He had coffee ready for you, once he learned of your preferences.  He was charming and sweet.  

And every day, you fell, more and more.  

Steve was falling in love.  

Well, to be honest, he had been in love with you for months.  When he first saw you, you were moving into the neighborhood.  You were beautiful, your hair swept up in a bun at the top of your head with a glitter headband that made him think you had a halo. Jean short that hugged your ass as your shirt was knotted at the waist. Just the sight of you made his dick twitch, your hair, skin, clothes, everything made his blood sing.  

“I need to know her,” he told his best friend, Bucky.  

Bucky whistled, “she is a dime. What’s your plan?” 

“Get to know her. However way I can.” Steve smirked and walked away, putting his plan into motion.  

About six weeks into the repairs, you needed a mental health day.  You sent a text to Steve to let him know that you were staying home.  

You: I’m sorry, I need a rest day, not going to work 

Steve: everything ok? 

You: yeah, I'm just needed a break. Going to veg on the couch 

You: I’ll miss your coffee tho 

You got no response to that last message.  Frowning, you went to make your own cup when there was a knock on the door.  Curious, you looked through the peephole and smiled.  “Steve, what are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t want you to miss your cup of coffee.” He held out the travel mug to you, the special one he bought especially after mixing up the cups once before.  

“Oh, you didn’t have to be so sweet,” you swooned. You took the cup and took a sip. “So good.”  

Steve grinned; “I added some cinnamon to the coffee.” 

“God, my own personal barista.” You gave him a big smile. “You want to come in?” 

“Sure, if that’s ok.”  

“It is. I’m just taking a me day today. Veg out, you know.”  

Steve frowned. “Veg out?” 

“Lay like broccoli.” You giggled.  “It's from a movie. Pretty Woman?” 

“Never seen it.”  

Your jaw dropped. “Steve! How could you have gone through life without seeing Pretty Woman. Rich guy meets hooker, and they make an arrangement to help him.  But before she gets paid, she falls in love.” You clutch your hands to your chest. “And then the guy chases after her to tell her he loves her too.”  

“Sweetheart, I’m a guy. We don’t watch movies like that.”  

“Well, you will today.” You took his hand and tugged him to the couch. You sat down next to him and pulled your blanket over your legs.  

“Sweetheart...” 

“Nope. I need to educate you.” You flipped on the movie and reached for your coffee to sip.  As the movie started, you snuggled closer to Steve, the warmth of his body drawing you in. The smell of the coffee, his cologne mixed with his natural scent was an aphrodisiac. You sighed when he put his arm around behind you.  

Steve ran his long fingers over your skin, fluttering along the now sensitive flesh on your arm. Suddenly, you wanted to be closer. You scooted right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder as he dropped his arm around your waist.  His fingers now played with the strip of flesh that was exposed from your shirt riding up.  

“Steve,” you whispered.  

“Yeah baby, this ok?” 

You turned your head up to look up at him. He could see your pupils were blown, desire and lust filled them that all he could see was black. He smirks as he trails his finger down your cheek and watches as your eyes close from the sensation. “Open them,” he growls. You blink your eyes open to see the positively feral look in his eyes. “Mine.” And he kisses you.  

It’s everything you didn’t expect but everything you dreamed of. His lips are soft, but they kiss you rough and needy. You’re needy. You shift or he shifts you, you’re not exactly sure but now you’re in his lap, straddling him, your hands on his face to hold him to you, his arms around your hips. You pulled back to breathe. “Steve,” you mumbled.  

“You like this, don’t you baby girl. Rubbing yourself on me like a little slut.” He pulled you back in and rocked your hips back and forth on his lap.  Your thin cotton shorts allowed him to feel how hot your pussy was, and it left nothing to the imagination.  The friction on your pussy from his erection pushing up through his jeans was mind-blowing.  

Desire flooded your blood, his words setting you on fire. “Fuck, Steve,” you moaned as your hips began to move on their own.  

“That’s it, grind on my cock. Fucking slut.” Steve assaulted your neck and shoulders, moving your shirt out of the way.  “Fuck this,” he yanked the shirt off of your body, grinning at the fact that you had no bra on. “God damn, these tits are just made to be sucked on.”  

“Yes, please,” you moaned. Your mind was spiraling; you’ve never been so turned on. It borderline hurt, the need to have Steve touch you, taste you, fill you.  God, you needed Steve to fuck you, like yesterday.  

Steve chuckles darkly at your neediness. “I’m going to destroy this pussy soon enough baby.” When you whined louder, he grinned. “You like that, don’t you, you dirty whore. You want me to wreck this body.” You nodded and Steve flipped you onto the couch, so he hovered on top. He rolled his hips against you, and you shuddered at his hard length pressing into you. “How long has it been, hmm?” 

You went silent, embarrassed at how long it had been since you had been with a man. Lust was overcoming your senses, but you resisted answering him.  

“It's been that long, huh?” Steve chuckled as he took a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched, relishing the feeling of his hot mouth on you.  

“S-steve, fuck, please!” 

“Oh, beg for me, slut, beg for what you want. Fucking brat can’t wait, can she? Maybe I’ll choke you on my cock so I can see your lips wrapped around me.”  You keened at the suggestion and Steve’s jaw dropped for a second before pulling himself off of you and moving you to your knees. “Open, fucking cock tease and choke on me.”  

You didn’t hesitate, wait, why didn’t you hesitate? Your mind was in a daze of lust and yearning.  

And Steve knew.  

He knew why you didn’t hesitate.  For once, John Walker had been proven useful. “Just a drop,” he said, “in her drink and she becomes putty in your hands.”  And the six weeks of spending time together in the car had put your guard down. So trusting, so innocent, so … his.  

The first touch of your lips on his cock was like lighting up his spine. “Fuck, that mouth is hot,” he moaned as you bobbed on the tip. You weren't sure if you could take all of Steve. He was the largest you had ever seen or been with. Steve threaded his hand into your hair and pushed you deeper onto him.  “I said to choke, you stupid slut. I want my dick to be imprinted on your throat.” His other hand grabbed at your neck and squeezed just enough to feel his cock. “That’s it, my little slut.”  

You gagged as his cock punched your throat. Tears mixed your saliva as you took as much of Steve as you could. The man was at least nine inches of solid, velveting man and just feeling every ridge made yor core tingle in delight.  

Before Steve could release, he pulled back. “No, I want to cum inside this pussy.” He lifted you off the floor and into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.  His cock was nestled in between you and you could feel it pulsing, wanting to release and fill you with his warmth. “I wanna watch my cum leak out of your gaping, stretched out hole so I can push it back into it.” You shuddered at his words. Steve chuckled.  You like that, hmm? He throws you on the bed and reaches for your sleep shorts.  Not even fighting me. Horny bitch. He rips the rest of your clothes away and you squeak at the force.  

He latches on to a nipple and your back arches as he bites and tugs on the peak. “St-st-steve,” you wail as he continues to lavish attention. 

“Beg for it, slut. Beg me to fuck you hard. Beg for my cock to fill you up and leave my seed I your womb, fucking cock drunk whore.” You cry as he sinks down as pulls your clit between his teeth. “Knew you were cock drunk when you can’t even beg.  Beg, dammit! Beg or I won’t give you want you want! God damn slut! Bet you just prance around like a goddam tease for all of the other guys in the neighborhood.  Bet you have a line so they can just use you.” His big hand covered your throat.  

This snaps you out of your daze, grabbing onto his wrist.  “No! No I don’t. I’m not a whore!” 

“Yes, you are, slut. Wasted no time letting me in here. Am I the first?” He scoffed.  “I doubt it.”  

“No! No! Just you, only you, Stevie, just you!” You cried as Steve held your throat tighter. “Only want you,” you whispered as the air flow began to dwindle.  

Steve felt your hand begin to loosen from his wrist and he let go of the pressure.  You gasped and he pushed hard into your tight heat. “Fuuuuuck,” he moaned, feeling you wrapped around him.  

You tried to make a noise at the intrusion, pain screaming through your body.  But your brain, well your brain enjoyed the pain. It wanted to Steve’s cock to wreck your body but had no idea why. You just needed him and the pain was worth the pleasure you were feeling now.  Steve withdrew and you whimpered at the slight loss.  He chuckled. “Needy cock slut.” He slammed back into you, and you found your voice, screaming.  

He kept the pace, pounding into you as his filthy words penetrating the air. His cock was so deep, you swore it was in your stomach at this point. His pubic hair was brushing along your clit, sending zings through your core, causing you to clench around him.  

“Oh fuck, this pussy is gripping me so tight. Wanna cum, slut? Use your words.”  

“Pl-please!” 

“Words, fucking cunt. Use. Your. WORDS!” He punctuated each word with a thrust into you.  

“Please let me cum!” You screamed as the pleasure was reaching its point.  

“CUM!” 

He roared as he pinched your clit.  

It was like lighting through you.  You pulsed and exploded, squeezing his cock so hard, he couldn’t move. “That’s it, fuck, Such a good little whore.” The tension in your body eased and you were pliant under Steve.  He continued to move, thrusting to meet his end. You cried out from oversensitivity.  

“Can’t,” you cried.  

“Oh yes you can.” Steve kissed you hard until you were bubbling underneath him, your body climbing again. “I need to fill this body with my cum. Fuck, gonna make you a mommy, little whore.”  

Why would he say that? You thanked God that you were on birth control but still his words, shit, his words were bringing your body to the brink again. “Steve,” you moaned.  

“Ready for another? Wanna be my cum drop, hmm? Let me fuck my baby into you?” Steve thrusted harder and harder. You cried out, his hips slamming into you. “That’s it, cum again. Let me fill this slutty pussy up.” One, two and you were gone, eyes rolling back as your body arched from the third explosive orgasm of the day.  “Fuck! Yes!” And with a thrust, Steve flooded your womb with his warmth.  He slowed his hips, dumping everything he had into you.  

He lay on top, his head in the crook of your neck, catching his breath.  You didn’t move and when he lifted his head, he smirked as he realized you were passed out under him. He pulled out and saw his cum starting to seep out. “Whoops, gotta keep the good stuff in there.”  He pushed his cum back into you.  

After grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you up, he went back to the living room and saw a couple of things had fallen from his jacket.  He saw the packet of pills, snorting at the thought of him switching out your birth control for the last few weeks. “A necessary evil,” he said to himself. Honestly, he wanted a family as soon as possible with you and hopefully this session took.  

The second item was more unusual, but it was the catalysis to start his dreams. The saying was that you just need a spark to start something wonderful. But really, you just needed a spark plug to get our engine going. Not that you were going to be going anywhere other than to his apartment to start your new life.  

He tsk at the thought. If only she knew to check under the hood more often. 

Ah well. Lesson learned. Future planned. Girl secured.   

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

#andy's shenanigans #Andy's dark place #Steve rogers #steve rogers smut #mechanic Steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans #under the hood #steve rogers one shot #chris evans fanfiction

[fictionallystable]

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, slight age gap, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Time Skips, Slight OOC Graves, Brother's Best Friend.

Words: 1,348 | Chapters: 1/5

Summary:

Your older brother is best friends with Phillip Graves, and you always tagged along on their adventures. As a teen, you hid a fervent crush on Phillip, but it ends in painful heartbreak for you after one tumultuous summer. Many years later, you and Phillip are shocked to re-encounter one another, this time with your hearts fluttering again. But the heartache and broken trust of the past cloud your vision of the man standing in front of you.

A/N: this is a long time coming collab between me and @orphancains, and we finally posted the first chapter. stay tuned for later chapters. can't promise we'll be posting all the chapter each week but we'll try to get it out soon as possible. that being said, enjoy. the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

Chapter 1: The Pool

You ignored the bead sweat trickling down your temple from sitting under the Texas summer sun. There were only a few weeks left of summer break before 7th grade, and you were trying to enjoy it at the park, despite the sun beating down on you. Even your older brother Matty and Phil had wanted to enjoy the day even if they’d both already graduated high school. The two played some light basketball while you sat nearby sketching. After playing for a while, the two of them strode over to you, checking in on you as you quietly concentrated in your sketchbook. 

“I don’t know,” you said to them both as you stared down at your sketch, “I don’t know if it’s worth submitting.”

Phil tsked and took a seat beside you on the grass. He patted your shoulder and furrowed his brow. “Come on. You’re probably one of the best artists I know out of everyone in this city. You’re twelve but you’re better than some of the people in school I know who always brag about their art. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matty sighed behind both of you. “It’s that our dad has been hounding her about focusing more on math next year. He wants her to be studying with a tutor for her pre-algebra class for this summer instead of this.” Your brother glanced away. “Or make friends…” he muttered quietly, but just enough for Phil to still hear.

Phil rolled his eyes. He was grateful to your dad for letting him linger in his home to hang out with Matty. The Graves family household, a few miles away from yours, was a little bigger, sure. But it was empty. With his parents always gone, his dad was either sending him texts from airports to check in on him every few days and his mom would mainly call him to say she couldn’t attend his football games and track meets because of another work conference. Matty and your parents were kind enough to feed him and sometimes let him sleep over. But he couldn’t help but want to sometimes roll his eyes at how much pressure he put on you and your brother.

“How is submitting a piece of art to a newspaper going to hurt her in pre-alegbra?” Phil looked at your brother unamused. “I don’t wanna be a dick, Matty, but your dad’s a—”

“I know, Phil,” your brother huffed. “You’ve told me before”

“It’s actually an art magazine. It’s MUSE magazine,” you cut in, wanting to stop talking about your dad. “They even said they’ll give us a scholarship, too, if we win. I mean, that’s gotta make dad happy, right?”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he listened to you. He thought about it and shot you a grin hoping it would cheer you up. He couldn’t help but want to see you happy, wanting to see you get the praise and love for your art that you truly deserved. “See?” He glanced quickly at Matty before turning back to you to say, “Yeah, exactly! That’s even more of a reason to submit— even if my advice alone should be enough.” At that, your brother snorted.

At this you turned to look at him, your lips pouting slightly. You still felt unsure about your idea, and he noticed.

“Listen, as soon as you hear back from that magazine, I wanna be the first to hear about it, you understand?” 

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “I will, but what if I lo—”

“Not, gonna happen. I know it won’t,” he stated firmly, as his warm eyes beamed down at you.

Your smile grew more as you leaned your shoulder against his arm. “Thanks, Phil.”

‘ Holyshit… ’ , you thought to yourself as you ran toward the Graves’ home one afternoon. Your parents always reprimanded you for swearing but who cares right now . You clutched tightly onto the new copy of MUSE magazine as your feet hit the pavement. ‘ I actually won !’ You hadn’t bothered to tell Matty or your parents. You wanted to tell Phil first, but he hadn’t come over to visit Matty today—usually Fridays were when they played video games together. You thought it was weird initially but thought nothing of it.

You knocked on the heavy, wooden door, pressed the doorbell multiple times, but he never came to the door. You were confused. ‘ Maybe he’s out back ? ’ , you thought as you trudged over to his backyard’s fence. You were surprised to see it was left slightly ajar, when usually you and Matty always had to wait for Phil to unlock it if you decided to visit his home. Slowly, you nudged the gated fence door open, expecting to see nothing more than the Graves family’s pool, some towering, old trees, and maybe some overgrown grass. But instead your jaw dropped.

By the shining blue pool, Phil had another girl’s hands entangled in his light brown hair. At first you were confused, but you felt your chest tightened when you realized his lips were moving against hers and that his own hands rested on her hips. He was shirtless, his body still drenched in the cool pool water and she wore a light pink bikini. Her own dark red hair was also wet clung to the skin on her pale shoulders. That’s when it hit you: Phil had a girlfriend you didn’t know about, and you’d just walked in on them making out.

You felt your heart stop when from over the girl’s shoulder, you saw Graves’ dark eyes flicker and briefly meet your own. You let out a small gasp, your eyes shifting away quickly. You quickly turned away and your hands clenched tightly around the magazine in your hand, not caring anymore if your artwork featured in it was crushed now. You felt your stomach jolt as you ran back home, fearing you were going to vomit midday in the middle of the street. The red hair. Phil shirtless. The pool. His hands on her hips. The shadows in his eyes. Was that a smirk you saw? Or had you imagined it? It all kept flashing in your head as you jogged back home. You felt like your own brain was torturing you with the images now. 

Back home, as you strode toward your room, your throat tightened. Your lips quivered and you felt the few tears still clinging to your eyes begin to slip through. Matty walked out of his room, about to ask you where you were, when he saw the distress etched on your face. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

You clenched your teeth as you felt the tears begin to flow freely now down your cheeks. You stepped into your room, but turned around to face him. “Nothing’s wrong!” you growled out, before shutting the door loudly in his face and twisting its lock. 

As night fell, you clung tightly to your pillow, your tears staining it as you cried. Your brother continued knocking on the door from time to time, calling your name out in frustration. But no matter what, he couldn’t coax you out of your room. You also didn’t know why you wouldn’t let Matty in. You didn’t even know why your heart broke so much when you saw Phil and that other girl. But from then on, your view of Phil had changed. You didn’t want to face him anymore, to be his brother’s stupid kid sister always lingering around because she had no friends of her own. You were a burden on him. He probably just wanted to hang out with Matty, not you. You wondered, how many times did he want to talk to him about girls or sex, or anything else, and he couldn’t because you were there? 

As you drifted off to sleep, eyes puffy from salty tears, you forgot about the crumpled magazine laying on the ground. Your thoughts only revolved around one idea: You were going to do Phil a favor and avoid him at all costs.

#cod x reader #phillip graves x reader #cod fanfic #phillip graves fanfic #phillip graves x you #phil graves x you #phil graves x reader #graves x reader #Authors Has Played Call of Duty

[kristenwell]

My Muse – Leo Valdez x Male!Apollo!Reader

(finals are over at last, Dobby is free 😭)

Part 2

Y/N looked at the sketch in his hands. As the son of the arts god he was naturally a very skilled artist. Lately only one person has been able to inspire him to draw: Leo Valdez.

The son of Hephaestus has managed to steal his heart even if he wasn’t the usual go-to crush for most people. Leo was short, scrawny, flirty and had an unusual sense of humor. Y/N couldn’t help but fall for the little rascal anyway.

The son of Apollo slowly finished his sketch of him. The drawing depicted him smiling with a hint of blush.

Just a few days ago his brother, Will Solace, caught him in the act. There was only so much privacy you can get while in your cabin.

Y/N felt a presence behind his shoulder but before he could close his sketchbook his older brother shoved his face in the drawing.

„I knew you have a crush on Leo but I had no idea it was this bad.“ Will shook his head and chuckled.

The younger male slammed his sketchbook shut with an embarassed look on his face. He pushed Will’s face away from his personal space.

„Would you stop grinning? I don’t like him like that, we’re just friends nothing more.“ He was aware that lying to him was futile. First, he’s a bad liar and second, the two brothers are way too close and both of them knew something was up.

Will raised his eyebrow and took a seat next to him.

„You should confess to him, you know? It’s really tiring watching you two simp for each other when you think no one’s looking. Give him the drawings, it would be romantic.“ He suggests.

„Uh, yeah and have him thinking I’m some sort of creep? Forget it.“ Y/N made his way over to his desktop and sighed. His brother was right, but confessing your feelings to your friend is easier said than done.

„I think he’s aware of that.“ Will let out a laugh. „but seriously, everyone knows you’re into each other besides you two.“

He noticed his little brother’s lack of answer.

„You’ll figure it out, bro, one way or another.“

Y/N shuddered at the memory, the last thing he needed was his nosy siblings‘ love advice (he loves them to death), if he wanted it he would’ve gone to the Aphrodite cabin.

He got up from his seat and started heading toward his cabin before a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

„Yo, wait up!“

He turned around just in time to see a certain short latino running his way. Leo stopped infront of him with a grin.

„Just the person I was looking for.“ He was slightly out of breath, seems he ran for a while before he reached him. His curly hair was messy and his clothes and face were stained with oil and dirt which fortunately failed to cover his pretty features.

„Looking for me? What do you need , Leo?“  Y/N observed the shorter male before him momentarily.

„I wanted to tell you that I’ve already fixed your bow that Will brought last night.“

„Did he now?“ The son of Apollo turned around to meet his brother’s devilish smirk. He had the audacity to smile innocently too. „of course he did.“

Y/N turned back to Leo and smiled at him awkwardly.

„Thank you, I don’t know what would I do without you.“ He chuckled nervously , he tried to think of something else to say but his brain was fried from Leo’s presence alone. So naturally he failed to catch his reply.

„-over to Bunker 9 when you’re finished, okay?“ He sent him a cute little smile.

Before Y/N could ask him he was already on his way to the Bunker.

In the evening

Leo was sitting at his table, his latest project has really been straining him. A sudden noise disrupted his concentration.

Swoosh

He turned around just in time to see a slip of paper near his door. He got up and approached it, picking it up. He examined the paper and turned it around: a very detailed portait of him.

Leo could feel his face heating up and a smile crept on his face. He went back to his table as he folded the drawing carefully.

Neither he nor Y/N were aware that they were now a part of a certain friend group’s plan to make them both confess.

#heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x male reader

[dross-the-fish]

I found myself thinking of Jekyll today and wondering if it causes him physical pain to have to fake a smile. To what extent is Henry Jekyll, pleasant doctor and sophisticated upperclass gentleman a painful mask he has to wear and does the discomfort ever feel physical?

I was at the local aquarium today (this is the perfect time of year to go because it's open but there are no tourists so it's never crowded and admission is cheap) hanging out and doodling on one of the benches while I watched the fish. I had on headphones to listen to an audio book and to provide a buffer between myself and anyone who might try to talk to me and I had been looking forward to relaxing for a couple of hours when a family walked up and the father waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. The minute they started asking me questions about what I was drawing I was filled with what I can only describe as intense dismay.

Obviously the family being present isn't in of itself an issue, it's a public aquarium, it's aimed at families and parts of the aquarium are geared specifically at children, but the family noticed me drawing and stopped to talk to me.

I reiterate that this was not something they did wrong, they were just being friendly, but I was really not prepared to have a conversation and I found the whole ordeal to be...well an ordeal. They were interested in what I was drawing (a sketch of Henry Jekyll because he's been on my mind off and on) and just the thought of having to explain who this character was, hoping they got it, and having to potentially explain why I was drawing him felt overwhelming.

And it was, they did not know who Henry Jekyll was, they were vaguely aware of Jekyll and Hyde but weren't the type of people to read classic literature and had never heard of the musical or actually seen for themselves any movies featuring the character. The mom commented that he looks like "a Disney villain from back in the 90s" which...fair assessment, I can't pretend I don't see why she would have thought that. The older kid was probably the most interested and wanted to see more of my drawings which made me really uncomfortable but I let him look through my sketchbook anyway because his parents kept saying he was interested in drawing and he loves art and I felt too anxious to say no.

I made small talk with the parents for a while, all the usual, "what's your name, where you from, what's your job?" (I hate those questions, they are usually the least interesting things about any people, myself included) and I wondered if this is what Henry does on a regular day. Has ordinary conversations with reasonably nice people and feel completely like a fish out of water the whole time. I felt pretty terrible about it too, I didn't have any hard feelings or resentment but the whole time I was thinking "Stop touching my things, go away, please fucking leave so I can get back to my audio book and my drawing. I just wanted to sit with the fish for a few hours because it's supposed to be quiet here this time of year."

No one ever seems to catch on that physically talking to people is an effort for me. I've gone my whole life and no one has ever noticed that I'm anxious or uncomfortable in situations where I have to speak out loud because I've gotten good at faking small talk and I know how to make my voice sound pleasant.

It's strange because I express myself easily enough in writing and I like messaging with people over text but the minute I have to be verbal with people I don't know I feel like I'm putting on an immense effort. I have to consciously choose a tone, figure out what words I want to say, be ready with an explanation in case I'm asked questions and I have to do all of it in real time on the spot. It feels like improve, like I'm constantly doing an improve routine and I know most people would say "Just be yourself!" But myself doesn't want to be doing this at all. Myself wants to be drawing and looking at fish. Even as a child I was never very social, I liked to doodle or daydream or build with my lego sets. I got reprimanded a lot for being too quiet. So I made myself more talkative and learned how to hold conversations. I learned to blend in but it's so tiring at times and I can swear when it's at its worst it feels almost physical. The discomfort becomes a suffocating "texture" on my skin and in my brain and I have to keep pretending like I don't notice it because every time I try to articulate how I feel people don't understand it. It's just not a thing they experience.

So I just keep "acting normal," and wonder if there's something wrong with me, like I'm operating on a different frequency from the people around me and I'm the only one on that frequency so other people don't even know it exists. It's...incredibly isolating at times. Even my partner doesn't seem to hear the world as loud as I do or experience the "texture" it's just a strange THING that I'm stuck with by myself. I wonder if it was the same for Henry Jekyll? Except instead being of too quiet he was too loud, too boisterous, threw tantrums, didn't know when to stop rambling about anatomy and weird gross medical facts. So he learned how to cover it and move through life pretending to be interested in everyone else but keenly aware they could never share his interests because his favorite subjects were too grisly and if he started talking about diseases he'd put everyone off. I head-canon Jekyll loves what he does, but he doesn't love it for reasons a doctor should, he doesn't care that much about healing the sick, he cares about conquering illnesses, he likes to learn about symptoms, he enjoys the disgusting viscera of his work. But he can't let on that this is what he enjoys about his work because that's not noble or heroic, it's something most people would find creepy of him. So he buries it and pretends he cares about curing the sick. He pretends he enjoys talking to people who don't know anything about who he is or what he does but they think they do because they are aware of doctors and understand that medicine exists. All the time he loathes it, it exhausts him and he can't even indulge in activities he enjoys to blow of steam because he enjoys things like brawling, doing drugs, and fucking. All things a man of his status shouldn't be seen doing. There's an image people associate with Henry Jekyll and it's an image he can't afford to tarnish...

but it's not really HIS image, it's just a buffer he keeps up to make himself more palatable. I wonder if that ever hurts him physically, if the mask ever feels like a "texture" muffling him.

there are times when I feel like it's no wonder he wasn't repulsed by Hyde when he first saw his reflection. Because I can only imagine by the time Hyde showed up he was already completely burnt out on being Jekyll.

#kind of a vent #kind of headcanon talk #jekyll and Hyde ponderings