#bags of plain buttons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stillmonsterz · 2 months

Text

GAM3 BO1

pairing: heeseung x reader

genre: smut

summary: reclusive gamer heeseung offers you the chance to live in a decent place in exchange for your companionship.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, dubcon, somnophilia, jerking off, exhibitionism, coercion, humiliation, anal sex

word count: 3.7k

The man you’re looking at in this coffee shop does not look like he could pay rent anywhere, let alone cover most of yours. He looks like he should be scrolling imageboards in his mother’s basement as he dines on high-fructose corn syrup. His eyes have bags, his skin is pale and sallow, his overgrown bangs reach below his eyebrows, and he’s so thin that the sleeves of his button-up hang from his arms. He peeks at you under his eyelashes, smiling shyly.

“You seem like a good fit,” he says quietly, fiddling with the handle of his mug of coffee. “And like I said, all you would have to do is clean up, do the laundry…make sure the place isn’t a complete pigsty.” He laughs softly. “God knows I’m awful at that.”

“Well, I can do that,” you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. “I still don’t understand why you’re being so generous. I mean, you could just get a maid. It’d cost you less money, too.” You don’t mention that the apartment is ridiculously nice for the pittance he would let you pay for it, and it’s in a choice location in the city. When you saw the ad for it on the roommate app you had downloaded, you had thought it was a scam. But then, you were so desperate that you were willing to fall for a scam. As it turns out, the apartment is real – he had sent you a video of it at your behest – and the owner was definitely real.

Heeseung – Heeseung Lee, a single computer programmer that had come into an undisclosed yet presumably exorbitant amount of wealth following his parents’ passing – laughs again, a self-conscious chuckle that quickly dies in his throat. “Well, to be honest with you…I just get lonely. I mean, my work is all online, and I don’t have many, uh, friends. I sort of just stay at home and play…” Heeseung’s voice becomes hushed. “play video games. It’s sort of pathetic.”

“Nothing pathetic about that,” you say quickly. He’s so earnest, it tugs at your heartstrings. “I think this could be a great arrangement.”

Heeseung looks up at you, and his eyes are shining. He smiles at you, tilting his head. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You smile as well. “And I’m a pretty good companion, if I do say so myself.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker down, lingering below your collar for a full five seconds before he looks back up at you. “You know, I think you’ll be a great companion for me.”

Your first week living in his apartment is relatively peaceful. Relatively is the operative word. Your room is comfortable, stocked with plain furniture. Heeseung gives you carte blanche to decorate it as you wish, which is nice. Cleaning up after him is a simple affair, too. He deposits his dirty dishes and takeout containers outside of his door at regular intervals – 6 pm, when he wakes up and orders something, 8 pm, when he remembers to eat something, and 2 am, when he needs a snack to keep him going. You got home from work at 5, so it wasn’t hard to accommodate him. He exclusively eats Doordash, which saddens you a bit. When you made pasta for yourself one day, you decided to knock on his door and offer him a bowl of it. His eyes had widened, like you had offered him a plate of solid gold.

“Really?” he’d said, receiving the bowl.

“Yeah, of course.” You had smiled at him sympathetically; it was really so easy to please him.

Heeseung had grinned at you. “Thank you, thank you.” He had taken a large bite of it and closed his eyes, nodding and pointing at the bowl. “You’re so good at cooking, wow. Wow, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No really…you’re an angel. Like a domestic goddess.” Heeseung had looked you up and down. “You’re like a cute little maid.”

You laughed and walked away.

His eating habits were one thing, but some things he does mystify you. He refuses to let you inside of his room, blocking your view of the door. You can catch a whiff of stale air whenever the door is cracked even slightly, which piques your interest. “It’s just really messy in here,” he’d tell you nervously. Heeseung only really comes out of his room to play Overwatch on the Smart TV in the living room. Other than that, he asks you periodically to bring him things when you get home from work.

There’s also one other issue: you swear your panties are going missing. Your favourite pair of panties has vanished, as well as a pair you generally wear when you’re on your period. You take care of all the laundry (including Heeseung’s own filthy boxers), so it’s impossible that you could have misplaced them. You don’t push anything, though.

Today is weird, though. When you get home, there’s a medium-sized package outside of the door. It has Heeseung’s name on it, so you bring it to his door and knock. “Heeseung, there’s something for you.”

Heeseung cracks the door open, his hair having grown even longer in the week you had been here. “Oh, no,” he says, pointing with a bony finger, “that’s for you.”

“Aw, Heeseung,” you say with a wide smile. “You got me something?”

Heeseung grins at you and shrugs. “It’s the least I can do. You do so much for me…I hope you like it.”

You excitedly open the package, but your smile drops when you see its contents: a cheaply-made maid outfit with spaghetti straps, white lace trim, and a skirt that would cover your panties and little else. “You…want me to wear this?”

“Yes,” Heeseung says, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “Come on, it’s just a dress. No one else will see.”

You sigh. He practically lets you live here for free, so you might as well play along. “What, you want me to wear it right now?”

Heeseung nods so vigorously you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his skinny little neck. You turn away to head to your room to change, but Heeseung’s grip on your shoulder tightens. “No. Change here.”

You whip your head to face him. “What?”

His gaze is steely now, his previous shyness having seemingly dissipated. “Change in front of me.” Then, as though he had been momentarily possessed, his softness returns. “Please? I don’t ask you for a lot, right?”

You swallow your pride and put the maid outfit on the ground. First, you remove your hoodie, revealing your tank top. As you fold up your hoodie, you can see Heeseung’s hand furiously moving in his boxers, which causes you to freeze.

“Keep going,” he says hoarsely, leaning his head back. Dread pools inside of your gut as you continue to strip. Soft, strained moans spill from Heeseung’s lips as he watches you strip down to your underwear. When you put on the maid costume, he carefully adjusts the straps of your dress with his slick hands. “Very nice,” Heeseung says. “Turn around for me?”

You turn, and you can feel the cool air of the apartment hitting your ass- the dress is that short. “So good,” Heeseung whispers. “You can take it off now.”

Your hands fumble with the hem of your dress, but Heeseung laughs. “Not here,” he says, removing his hands from your shoulder. “In your room, silly. And after you’re done, bring the dress to me, okay?”

You’re too dazed to question his instructions, and you’re all but too happy to get out of the dress. After you’re done changing, you hand the maid outfit to him. He smiles and takes it without a word.

Things go by relatively smoothly after that, and you almost wonder if you made that incident up. The only thing that has changed about his behavior is that he comes to see you more. Not for long, only a few minutes per day. If you make cookies, he’ll ask if he can try some of the dough or try a cookie. If you’re doing the laundry, he’ll ask you about your day as you fold.

You’re currently on your hands and knees scrubbing a particularly obstinate white stain on his couch when you hear Heeseung’s voice behind you. “You know, you should wear leggings more often,” he says.

You don’t turn to look at him. “Yeah, why?”

“They make your ass look perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Of course, it looks best naked.”

You’re about to ask him how he would know how your ass looks naked before he’s already wandered off. About two minutes later, you can hear him in his room playing a low-grade pornography, his own moans mixing in with the fake screams of pleasure from the women. You put your headphones on and try to drown the sound out- even the sound of Heeseung calling your own name.

This goes on for a while, and it only gets worse. Now he leaves his door open so the sound of him jerking off echoes through the apartment. When you’re trying to sleep, you can hear the severely un-titillating sounds of the brother-con hentai he watches.

One day, you’re rummaging through your underwear drawer trying to find your comfortable, plain bra. You realize that it’s missing, and your anger reaches a boiling point. You stomp over to his room and knock on the door. “Heeseung,” you growl.

Heeseung opens the door nonchalantly and smiles. “Hi,” he says innocently, “could you clean my room for me?”

“Could I what? Heeseung, did you steal m-,”

“And could you wear this while you do it?” As if he had been expecting you, Heeseung walks over to his bed and hands you the maid outfit, your missing bra, and that pair of your favorite panties. All of them were coated in globs of cum in various stages of hardening, especially your panties.

“Heeseung!” You take a step back from him. “I’m not doing that, for fuck’s sake.”

Heeseung just smiles at you. “I think you should.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Either you wear this, or make you pay your share of the rent.” Heeseung leans towards you, and you can smell his fruity, sickly breath. “The choice is yours, of course.”

“You’re insane,” you say, leaning away from him.

“Whatever. Now get in the maid outfit.”

Tears well in your eyes as you head to your room to don the most humiliating outfit you’ve ever seen. When you put the bra and panties on, his cum oozes out of them and drips onto the floor. The maid outfit is sticky all over, and you shiver. You don’t even look yourself in the mirror before leaving your room to see Heeseung again. His hand is already wrapped around his dick by the time you walk out, his boxers resting around his ankles.

“Wait, wait,” Heeseung says, holding up his free hand. “Don’t walk to me. Crawl to me.”

The humiliation forces your head down as you sink to your hands and knees and crawl towards Heeseung. When he sees you at his feet, Heeseung smiles, still stroking his cock. “Such a cute little maid,” he says. “Now get up on your knees, come on. Be good.”

You prop yourself up on your knees, so that you’re level with his crotch. “Now,” he says softly, “open wide.”

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and Heeseung slides his cock into your mouth. When he does, he moans loudly, and he grabs at your hair. Heeseung fucks your mouth like it’s a pussy, and the musty state of his cock makes you gag the entire time. His balls slap against your face, and he keeps whimpering pathetically. His other hand reaches down and squeezes one tit after the other, and within no time he’s pulling his cock out of your mouth, tugging it hurriedly, and finishing all over your face. He tugs his boxers up to his waist again and sighs. “That was great,” he says, affectionately ruffling your hair. “Whenever you’re ready, you can come inside my room and tidy it up. I know it bothers you that I’m so messy…”

Your jaw is too sore to speak, and for a moment you just lie there on the floor in the hallway. None of it seems real, none of it makes sense to you. The worst part of it all is that you can feel wetness pooling in between your thighs, which makes you groan softly.

A little while later, Heeseung emerges from his room. He crouches down and strokes your hair. “You want me to get you something?” he asks soothingly. “Some water, juice?”

“Water would be nice.” You cough a few times. Heeseung gets up and comes back shortly with a bottle of water that he opens for you. You pull yourself up so that you’re sitting, legs crossed, and you drink the water while Heeseung pats your hair comfortingly. Once you calm down, you and Heeseung head inside of his room.

It’s disgusting, which is an understatement. The bed is unmade and piled with stained pillows, the floor is spattered with cum, his bookshelf is a horrid mishmash of coding textbooks and manga, his closet is filled with clothes, of which only half are on hangers. His desk area is relatively clean, but one of his three monitors is playing some filthy pornography. The other has Discord open, and the third has some weird game you don’t recognize open. Worst of all is the pocket pussy resting on his gaming chair.

You sigh. Seems like you have a lot of work to do.

Over the next few months, you start to realize that Heeseung is treating you like a pseudo-girlfriend. He changes your contract so that he pays for virtually all of the rent, as well as the groceries. He even gives you a hefty monthly allowance, enough that you can start building up your savings.

Of course, you doubt that a regular boyfriend would treat you the way Heeseung does. For one, ever since you cleaned his room the first time, he expects you to clean it every day while donning a humiliating outfit of his choosing. He likes to have you walk around in the apartment wearing striped microkinis, plaid skirts with black G-strings, nurse costumes, maid outfits, and an elaborate swimsuit cosplay of his favorite League of Legends character. He’ll watch you as you clean his room clad in whatever skimpy outfit he’s gifted you, commenting on your body. Other times, he’ll come up behind you as you’re in the kitchen or living room and grope your ass or tits before wandering back to his cave. That’s what he does on a regular basis.

Lately, he’s been fucking you. It started when you were eating a bowl of cereal before heading off to work. You had heard his room door creak open, then his dragging, lumbering footsteps.

“Good morning,” he had whispered, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You’ve got a little something…”

Before you could say anything, Heeseung had licked the tip of his finger and swiped up the bit of milk lingering by the corner of your mouth. He stuck his finger into his mouth, still hovering over you. Every time you took a bite of cereal, trying to finish up as quickly as you could, he would wipe your face and then suck the milk off of his fingers. His other hand rested on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly, until it slid down lower and lower. As he ran his thumb against the corner of your mouth, he slowly began groping your breasts. Heeseung pressed his lips against yours, both of his hands fondling you.

You had pulled your lips away. “Stop. I just ironed this shirt…”

“Sorry,” he had said, buttoning your shirt from behind. As soon as it was sufficiently open, he groped your tits directly, his lips on yours. He had a greedy, selfish way of kissing you; his tongue would slither down your throat, gagging you. Heeseung had unbuttoned the rest of your shirt, then he pushed your cereal to the side. He pushed you down onto the dining table, your chest pressing against the wood. You could feel his hands tugging your damp panties to the side.

“Such a nice pussy,” he had murmured. You heard him spit, then you felt cool fingers pumping themselves in and out of you. You bit your lip so you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan. Heeseung only prepped you just enough to get you wet, then he stuffed himself inside of you, inch by inch.

Your hands curled, desperately trying to find any purchase. It had been a long time since you had anything inside of you, and you welcomed the pleasure. But you couldn’t let Heeseung know that.

His gnarled fingernails dug into your soft flesh as he pounded away at you. He wasn’t particularly vocal, only making soft moans of pleasure. Sometimes, he would drag himself out of you, then slam back inside. He smacked your ass. “Just look at that shit jiggle,” he said breathlessly. “I want to try that out next…”

With that, he had slid his fingers into your tight hole, and you couldn’t hold back a gasp. Heeseung pumped his fingers in and out of the band of muscle, widening it. You had never taken anything up your ass before, and your toes curled in fear and anticipation.

You felt him slip out of your pussy, and the painful stretch of his cock opening your asshole replaced the pleasure you had previously felt. Heeseung groaned as he fucked your ass raw, only the precum that had dribbled from his cock for lube. Fortunately, he didn’t last, pumping your ass full with hot cum before pulling out of you. “Your pussy is definitely better,” he had muttered before walking away. While you rested against the table, trying to recollect yourself, you heard him booting up another game of League of Legends. With a palpable sense of shame, you finished yourself off right there as your cheek pressed against the table, your fingers wildly swirling against your engorged clit. You came with a shudder, then you darted into the bathroom to clean yourself up and go to work.

He never fucked your ass again, but your pussy and mouth were fair game for him. Whenever he sees you now, wearing the outfits he picks for you, he shoves his fingers down your throat. Once your throat is pliant and his fingers are coated in your spit, he either make you blow him or he fingers you wherever you are, his other hand stroking all over your body. Then he goes back into his room while you’re there, dripping wet. Heeseung likes having you wet all the time, so he can fuck you at his convenience.

Like right now, he was playing another game of Overwatch, hunched over his controller and eyes laser-focused on the screen. You were on your hands and knees, pushing yourself back and forth on his dick. This time, he had made you wear a cow-print bikini, complete with a bell; every time you fucked yourself on his cock, it would jingle.

“Fuck,” Heeseung says, voice ragged, “my team’s Tracer is so shit at kiting. It’s such a basic concept.”

“That really sucks,” you say through gritted teeth.

Heeseung reaches his hand out and touches your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your lips. “You’re such a good listener,” he coos, lazily thrusting as he removes his hand and continues playing his game. He soon stops moving, and you have to pick up his slack, rocking yourself as fast as you can so he can cum and be done with it. “Ah, stop going so fast,” Heeseung says, lightly slapping your ass. “I want to sync my nut up for when I use my ultimate.”

As you heed his instructions, you squeeze your eyes shut and tell yourself that homelessness is a far worse prospect than this, homelessness is bad, you wouldn’t like a homeless shelter.

It wasn’t like he didn’t jerk off anymore, either. He did, maybe even more than before he started using you. Heeseung liked to spread his legs, milk his cock right in front of you, then lick up the cum off of the couch while he told you to play with yourself. Whenever you got close to cumming, he would tell you to stop and do some task for him. Then, when you were scrubbing the dishes or wiping down his desk, he would plunge his cock into you and fuck you until you were twitching and crying out. Other times, he would make you sit in his room with him. He would sit you on his lap while he watched some degenerate hentai, and he would make you jerk him off while he fondled your tits and rubbed your clit.

Once, you went to bed early because you had a hard day at work. Your dream is odd; you’re running from a ghost in a dilapidated mansion. You can’t see it, but you can feel its presence. Then you feel it catch you, its hands wrapping around your waist, your tits. The ghost rubs your body slowly, almost tenderly, and you can feel its hardness pressing against your ass as you’re suspended in the air.

When you open your eyes, you realize that it wasn’t a dream, not quite. There is a hand that has slipped under your shirt, caressing your chest, and another hand on your waist. And someone is humping you, whimpering as he does. Quite belatedly, you realize that your pajama pants have been pulled down.

“Heeseung?” you whisper sleepily.

“Shh,” he says, “just go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be done soon.”

You’re too tired from everything to fight it, so your eyes flutter shut. Heeseung slowly thrusts into you, almost like he doesn’t want to wake you, and you smile slightly at the sentiment. He fucks you lazily and slowly, and only speeds up when he’s about to cum. He cums inside of you and uses his fingers to push his seed back up.

“Thanks for letting me do that,” he whispers before leaving you alone.

As you’re drifting to sleep again, you can hear him telling someone to, “Fucking stop camping.”

This is still better than being homeless.

#heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enha smut #enhypen smut #a fic by rubyreduji partially inspired this!

1K notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 30 days

Text

Injured X

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: You go back to ballet

Alexia doesn't know whether to be proud or horrified.

You've not even been out of the hospital for three days before she receives a text from Jenni saying that you're going back to ballet - by your own accord.

Alexia has been invited too and she fusses in front of the mirror, tugging at her outfit as she stares.

There's an extra training session tonight, taking penalties, and while Alexia would usually attend, she finds herself staring in her mirror as she contemplates putting her hair up or leaving it loose.

Olga leans by the door, Jaume on her hip. "You are seeing Bambi," She chides," Not going to a business meeting. A suit is not needed."

Alexia tugs at her blazer sleeve. Her slacks aren't buttoned up quite yet and her shirt isn't as crisp as it could be. "Are you sure?"

"Comfortable, Ale," Olga says," A t-shirt and some trackies. Jeans if you must but it's just a ballet class. You're not meeting investors. Change."

Alexia huffs but does as she's told, swapping her slacks for some Barcelona-issued tracksuit bottoms along with her white button-down for a plain t-shirt. Her blazer is taken from her in favour of a lightweight jacket and she's pushed out of the door in her trainers before she can contemplate other shoe options.

She's early for your ballet practice and she can hear you before you and Jenni even turn the corner.

You're talking animatedly to her, your little hand tight in hers as she looks down at you. Jenni's smiling at you, a big beaming smile that falls like a lance through Alexia's chest as she watches Jenni hang off your every word.

You stop in front of her, eyes wide as you shuffle a little closer like you're wary of her. "Hi, Mami."

Alexia smiles. "Hi, Bambi."

You very slowly shuffle even closer, looking like you're going to bolt back to the safety Jenni offers you before your little arms are wrapped around Alexia's legs in a hug.

Alexia's hand very gently runs through your unbound hair as you peer up at her with those same wide eyes.

"Come on, Bambi," Jenni calls and you immediately scamper back to her side," You've still got to change your shoes and gets your hair done. Inside, come on."

Jenni holds the door open for you and you hurry in, finding a place at a bench already crammed with parents and children as you begin to pull off your shoes.

"How is she?" Alexia asks.

"Sleepy," Jenni answers," Still a little emotional. She cried when I told her she should take another day off from ballet so here we are." She rummages around in the bag on her back. "Bambi, feet please."

You place one foot on Jenni's bent knee as she slips on your ballet flat before swapping to do the other. "When I'm eleven or twelve," You tell Mami," I can wear fancy pointe shoes and go up to tippy-toe!"

"Only if you keep practising," Jenni reminds you as she moves around the back to scrape your hair into a bun. Her hand skims your upper back and you flinch and Jenni notices instantly, freezing her movements until you fully relax again.

She doesn't touch your back again as she makes sure all of your hair is tied back in a bun.

"Alright," She says and you twist around to face her, turning your back on Mami as Ma-Jenni cups your face," What's the most important thing?"

"Having fun."

"That's right. Have fun. Turn on your listening ears and try your hardest."

You nod.

"And if you feel sleepy or tired you tell the teacher right away and they'll come and get me, understand?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

The door to the studio opens as students come out and your group goes in. You move with the crowd before stopping and turning around again.

You run back to Jenni, giving her a big hug before being released. You make an aborted movement to go again but stop yourself. In a few light steps, you're standing in front of Alexia.

"I'm going in now, Mami," You say," Bye-bye."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bambi," Alexia says," I'll be right here with Jenni when you come out."

You frown, head tilted to the side in confusion. "Why? Today's always penalty practice. You always go to penalty practice."

"Well, today, I'm at ballet practice. I'm staying here."

You look up at her, trying to puzzle out if she's lying to you and Alexia takes the chance to very carefully pull you into a hug. You're tense and rigid for a moment before you're fully relaxed against her, bringing your own arms up for a hug of your own.

You pull away and Alexia lets you, even though she desperately wants to keep you with her. So, she settles on walking you to the door.

Jenni's there too, talking with your teacher.

"-Just out of hospital. She might be a little woozy today or tired. I'm just outside if she needs a break or something."

You slip into the studio and get lost in the crowd of other kids as Alexia takes a seat on the bench with Jenni and the other parents. It's a little awkward.

Jenni knows everyone, greeting people casually and answering their small talk while Alexia awkwardly sits there.

Usually, she uses the time you're in ballet to run a few errands before going into an extra training session. Usually, she'd already be in the car and gone, picking up the dry cleaning from the fancy place down the street or getting the groceries done even though she could get them delivered.

It's odd to be sitting here.

Sitting here with her ex, staring through the glass walls to watch your session.

It's clear to Alexia that some of these kids are just here to have fun. They're here because their parents signed them up for this. But not you.

Even now, at such a young age, Alexia can recognise her laser focus in you, from the way you very slightly change your positioning or how you're always staring at your teacher, not letting your eyes stray through the windows to where you know Alexia and Jenni are sitting.

Your only focus is on your ballet and Alexia can imagine a grown up version of you in her head, with a proper outfit and pointe shoes and hair in a bun you've done yourself. She can imagine you on a stage with a full orchestra accompanying your dancing.

Alexia blinks and that image of you is gone.

It's just the you now and the way a tiny sliver of your tongue sticks out as you shift your foot further outwards.

"She's so talented," One of the other mothers says to Jenni, who beams.

The praise goes straight to Jenni's chest like this woman has personally complimented her. Your talent is obvious even at this age and Jenni knows under the right guidance, you're going to be great.

Her heart swells with pride as she watches you.

Your teacher has to adjust everyone's positioning but not yours.

You're a little prodigy and Jenni's so proud of you.

You're still a little tired, still have a sore throat from the tube that had been stuck down it but you're powering through it. Jenni would have preferred you staying home with her but you had been adamant.

You've gotten that from Alexia.

Jenni's never seen that level of focus on anyone who wasn't a Putellas. She's even seen it on Alba on occasion. Putellas girls grab what they want and they don't let it go.

Jenni sneaks a glance at Alexia, whose eyes haven't strayed from your dancing.

She knows that if Alexia wants to keep you, if Alexia doesn't want to let Jenni raise you then she won't get you - even if she's the right choice. Even if Jenni puts everything into raising you, if Alexia wants to keep you then Jenni will never get you.

Even if Jenni begs and begs, Putellas girls don't let go of what they want.

If Alexia decides that she can give you a better life, if she clings and clings and clings then you'll never be in Jenni's arms again and she doesn't know if she can cope with that.

Her only hope is that Eli can talk sense into Alexia, that Eli can see that Jenni is the best choice for you, the best choice to support and shape you into who you're going to be as an adult.

They sit in silence for most of your session, only exchanging a few words before you're released to them.

You're panting from exertion and you look so drained. You raise your hands up when you get close to them and Alexia's the quickest one.

She picks you up and settles you on her hip with ease. It's been a long time since you've been so comfortable with that. You're not completely comfortable just yet but you relax more and more until you're like you used to be.

Jenni trails after the two of you.

"How was dance, Bambi?" She asks and you peak over Alexia's shoulder to beam at her.

"Good! Fun!"

"That's excellent!" Jenni says," Do your feet hurt?"

You give her a cheeky smile and nod. "Mama gives me foot massages when they hurt!" You say to Mami.

"That's-" Alexia gets cut off by a loud, familiar voice from across the street.

"No way!" The voice says," Is that my favourite ballerina? It looks like it is!"

"Mapi!" You kick a little bit for Alexia to put you down and she begins to lower you to the ground but Jenni plucks you straight from her.

Alexia's in a little bit of awe at the way Jenni so easily swaps your ballet pumps for your trainers with one hand. She does it so easily and so naturally that it leaves Alexia wondering if she'd practised this or if it came automatically.

Once your outside shoes are on, Jenni releases you.

Thankfully, Mapi (and Ingrid) have already crossed the street so you can get to them without getting hit by a car.

"Hi, Mapi!" You chirp as Mapi reaches around to untie your hair from its bun, leaving it to fall loose down your back.

"What?" Ingrid chuckles," No hi for me?"

You suddenly turn shy, rubbing the tip of your shoe in the ground as you refuse to make eye contact, cheeks going bright red. "Hi, Ingrid." You shuffle into her arms and Jenni laughs, patting Mapi on the back.

"Better watch out," Jenni says," Or Bambi might steal your girlfriend."

Mapi rolls her eyes. "Only if she's into women years older than her."

"Well, by the looks of her crush, she might."

Jenni's clearly teasing but it still sends a bolt of lightning down Alexia's spine. She can't imagine you finding a partner one day. She can't imagine what you would look for in a partner.

Someone your age, Alexia reckons. Maybe someone you met through ballet. Maybe someone that has no association with football. Probably someone from Barcelona.

She's not really sure she can imagine you with someone. She can imagine you on stage. She can imagine you dancing professionally. She can't imagine you dating anyone.

She can't imagine you dating someone and moving away. She can't imagine you moving away as an adult. She can't imagine you moving away now.

She knows that if she lets you go with Jenni then you're going to Mexico. She knows that you're leaving Spain.

Alexia also knows that she's a Putellas. She knows that a Putellas doesn't just roll over and take the punches. She knows that if she wants something (if she wants to keep you with her) then she'll have to hold it tightly and not let it go (let you go) no matter what someone else thinks or says.

You're a Putellas too.

You're not a Hermoso - at least not legally.

You have Alexia's hyper focus. You have Alexia's genes too.

That has to count for something.

You came from Alexia. You grew in Alexia's womb. Alexia endured hours of labour to have you.

That has to count for something, right?

Right?

Blood rushes through Alexia's ears as she looks down at you, at how shy you still look while you stare at Ingrid, the tips of your ears turning pink just like Alexia's do when she's feeling shy.

Jenni's time in Spain is running out every day but for everything of herself she can see in you, Alexia can still aspects of Jenni in you. From the way you giggle and the way you smile and the way you hug.

Everything that used to be Alexia, is slowly changing into Jenni and you seem none the wiser.

"Bambi," Alexia calls and you turn to look at her.

You seem a little confused at being spoken to so suddenly but you're still smiling. It doesn't dim in the slightest.

"We goin' home now, Mami?"

Jenni freezes, whatever she's been saying to Mapi stops in her throat. You haven't called Alexia's house 'home' since Jenni's been with you. You've only called Alba's place 'home'.

Jenni doesn't know what that means. She doesn't know if you mean Alexia's place or Alba's. She doesn't know if you know which one you mean either.

She hates that stupid smug look on Alexia's face.

A look that Alexia doesn't even know she's wearing. She beams from ear to ear at your words. She wants desperately to say yes, to bring you back into the little family that you're a firm part of, to bring you back home to your room full of trains.

But she keeps herself calm.

She knows that she can't just sweep you away like that.

She needs to remain calm.

"Not right now, Bambi," She says," Listen me and Jenni need to go and see your Abuela. Do you want to spend the rest of your day with Mapi and Ingrid?"

You look at Ingrid, cheeks still bright red as you nod. "Yes, please, Mami."

Jenni takes the reins after that, giving Mapi orders on how to look after you and how in an hour or so you have your midday nap and to make sure that you have somewhere soft and warm to rest your head. She lays off orders that even Alexia hasn't thought of like how you should have a glass of water with a hint of lemon because it always wakes you up after naptime and how they shouldn't touch you because you're a light sleeper and you really need the rest after your hospital stay.

You curl into Jenni's arms as she says goodbye to you. You go all limp and boneless and somewhere along the way, your little fist latches on the front of Alexia's shirt, pulling her into the hug too. Just like it was in the Before.

With Mapi rolling her eyes and Ingrid promising to take the best care of you, Alexia and Jenni are at Eli's house within the hour.

Alba is there too, an ever-present figure of disapproval as she leans against the doorframe. Everyone already knows Alba's vote on this matter.

Her position has never swayed and Alexia can't look her in the eyes.

Alba wants her sister out of your life. Permanently if she could help it but at least as your main caregiver if she couldn't get permanently.

She has never been swayed. She has never thought any different. She doesn't care if she has to fly to Mexico to see you. She doesn't care if you never step foot in Spain again.

Alba thinks that's a better alternative than having you with Alexia.

Jenni's position is clear too. She won't say it out loud but everyone knows her position. She wants you. She wants you like she needs air to breathe. She wants you with every cell in her body and she doesn't think Alexia and Olga's home is right for you. It's alright for you but it's not perfect and Jenni thinks she can make you the perfect home.

Alexia's vote is cast in her own favour too. She's acknowledged what she's done. She's fixing it. She's changing how she lives her life so it can be better suited to you and your schedule. She's proving to everyone that she can still be a mother to you. She's showing that she loves you just as much as she loves Jaume. She's making a family for herself, a family that you deserve to be a part of.

But everyone knows where the decision truly lies.

It lies with the woman sitting at the head of the table.

She is not a Putellas. She does not cling to what she wants and refuses to let it go.

Eli is a Segura. She looks at both sides. She weighs up have-beens and could-bes and makes her decisions on that. If she thinks something would do better out of her grip then she will let it go. She will let it thrive and grow away from her even if it means never seeing it again.

She looks at her daughter and then to the woman that could have been her daughter-in-law.

The debates had been going back and forth for hours now, words bouncing off the walls of her house as she sat there.

Alexia made her case.

Jennie made her case.

Alba threw in her own opinions.

Then, Eli spoke.

She spoke for a long while and everyone hung on her every word.

"I cannot force you to do what you do not want to, Ale," Eli says at the end," She is your daughter. You have all the rights to her. Her future is in your hands right now-"

"Mama!" Alba cuts in," You can't be serious?! We all know what Alexia will choose! You cannot let her do this!"

"I cannot force your sister to do anything," Eli says," She is an adult and she holds all of Bambi's rights. None of us can force her to do anything." Her eyes flick back to her eldest. "But think about this carefully, Alexia. Do not make this decision with your heart. Make it with your head. Do what is best for Bambi."

Eli's words come back to Alexia a few days later at the park.

You and Jenni have met her, Olga and Jaume there.

Jaume is now strong enough to hold his own head up and crawl around, exploring the world with his hands and mouth.

He sits on the grass with Olga settled on the picnic blanket. He's crawling around, playing on the slight incline and Olga lets him, keeping half an eye on him and the other on her book.

You and Jenni are in the playground, playing on the slide. You're getting stronger and stronger every day. Your throat and voice are no longer scratchy and you've been given the all-clear from the doctor.

You're holding the new train that Jenni got you to celebrate getting out of the hospital. The usual train store has closed down now but Jenni managed to find another one. It ended up just you and her. You weren't sure that you wanted Mami to come with you. You turn your head a little to look at her.

Alexia sits on a bench, equal distance away from both you and Jaume, able to swivel her head around to see both of you.

Jaume tries to stick a flower in his mouth that Olga promptly confiscates.

You erupt into a fit of giggles as Jenni tickles your tummy.

Jaume tugs his shoes off.

You duck under the climbing frame.

Jaume babbles and claps.

You shriek with laughter when Jenni catches up to you.

Then the bubble bursts and all of the convincing Alexia has done to herself bursts. Every time she tells herself that she can make this work. Every time she tells herself that the decision she has made is the right one.

It's all ruined now.

Jaume tumbles down the incline. It's not a far fall for an adult but it's enough to shock a scream and tears from him. Olga's by his side instantly.

You fall off the slide. You land as a little heap on the ground and it's not a far fall either but you still cry as Jenni picks you up.

Both of you are hysterical, sobbing your eyes out and looking close to a breakdown.

"Ale!"

"Alexia!"

Alexia stands.

She looks between both situations and emotions she's never felt before surge through her system.

Jaume, her little football player.

You, her little ballerina.

Alexia must have glanced between you both countless time in the two seconds it takes her to react.

Her feet move on their own accord, carrying her towards one of her children.

The decision she previously made has changed. Alexia knows that nothing will be the same anymore.

The decision, this time, is permanent.

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

836 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 months

Text

Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore #yandere gojo

2K notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 7 months

Text

For The Record

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: You have a surprise for your best-friend Steve.

Word count: 1,647

Warnings: Language, NSFW, creampie, vaginal sex, slight choking, slight breeding kink if you squint, and fluff.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

A/N: Just a filthy little thing that I’ve been nurturing for a few days. No point to it, just showing Stevie some love! Haven’t written anything this lengthy in a while, but I hope y’all enjoy? ;P 💕❤️🥰♥️

Steve. Steve-fucking-Harrington. The heart of your group with a head of hair (that you’d washed, brushed, picked monster guts out of, and pulled, one too many times), a comforting smile that reminded you of Summer’s fading sunsets that give way to fall colors. All copper, rust, orange, mossy caramels swirling together, deep browns that look like cinnamon (smells like the gum he chews, or the breath spray he carries in his back pocket), sometimes even red in how his cheeks tinge on cold days, the way he makes your body warm. To his protective - fighter mode, like a crafted out of the finest marble guardian-angelic-god.

You’d worship at his temple. All day. Every single day.

His mouth has been in as many places as his hands. He knows every scar, just as much as he’s aware of spots, in which kissing you will cause goosebumps to electrify, sparking themselves known across your skin, or where his fingers will cause that high pitched whine to come from between your lips. You can’t really fathom that it’s been happening, especially for how long. There’s been no talk of labels, what anything means, it’s just been two friends crossing a line and fucking one another on it. You don’t know what you would’ve done, had it not been for Steve-the-hair-Harrington, King Steve, your extra heartbeat, your best-friend, your everything.

And that’s what led you to your current predicament, your planned leap of faith. Wrapped in a maroon colored mini gift bag, you had placed the packet. Steve arrived not long after, movies and pizza balanced in his massive hands, keys dangling from the middle finger of his left hand, a cheesy grin pressing into that beautiful mouth. “Hey, honey,” he had said. “Really missed you today, you know that?”

You’d taken in his appearance of dark Levi’s and a black belt, his signature Nike’s, and a low dipped white v-neck that he’d thrown a plain blue button over, leaving it open, his gold chain visible, nestled in that patch of chest hair. Salivating more at him than the food, it took you a second to help him inside.

You ate in avid chatter, watched one of the lamest, but most comforting horror films Steve could find on the shelves (that no one rented but he knew you’d appreciate), whilst being tucked beneath his bicep, warmed at his side. That’s when you’d retrieved the gift off your coffee table, his palm rubbing circles across your spine, kneading tension until you returned to your position. You handed him the bag and his bushy brows had pinched together, an adorable confusion clear. “For me? What did I do?”

“Just open it, Harrington. Before my nerves make me take it back.”

He cradled the parcel protectively, a pout forming as his watch strapped wrist dips inside. “No way, no how. Nope, not now.”

“Steve…” you laughed lightly, suddenly swallowing as he pulled the packet out, trying to make sense of the name.

“Contraceptive? I don’t… Isn’t this birth control?” He shook the packet before planting it in his massive palm.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, choking you like a vice, preventing you from answering in a full sentence.

“Yeah.”

“So, it’s yours? Why did you wrap it up and give it to me?”

“There’s a few missing already, Steve. I just wanted to get used to them before… Before I told you.”

“Told me, what?” He still looked puzzled, seeking out where you’d opened the package and taken a few tablets.

“That I just wanna use these from now on. Nothing else. If you, if that’s okay with you...?” You had felt the sharp claws of the butterflies, threatening to demolish your remaining courage. But this was Steve, you needed to remember that.

It took him a few moments, but then his pupils expanded within the enriching mossy flecks of his irises, at a rapid pace. His tongue licked at the five o’clock shadow above his upper lip. His voice, you’ll never forget how it sounded. Honey-hot and hoarse, raspy with bitten want, raw fucking desire. You’d clenched your thighs together, tongue eager to lick him… every-fucking-where — the burn of it felt on the muscle’s tip.

“Isn’t that something you do with a boyfriend, though? Not casual sex with a good friend, one of your best-friends?”

And you nod, vision swimming with shapes. Had you messed up? Fuck it. “It is.” Is what you’d responded with, taking the packet from him and tossing it with the bag back onto the table. The movie was rolling credits in the background and you were watching Steve’s dotted jugular as he swallowed, showcasing those tendons, all the way up to that stubble bitten jawline, dotted with freckles and moles.

“And who is your boyfriend, honey?” He had to hear you say it. If it’s what he thought it was, or you’d simply break his heart and move on to this guy. Could he really believe in a good thing again?

You leapt off that faithful precipice, years and feelings following, eyes locking, gaze unrelenting. “I was hoping it would be you.”

He was obviously choked up, orbs alight with mirth and excitement, among other things. “Funny that you mention that, because I’ve been hoping for the exact same thing.”And he’d fallen into your arms, seizing you with a kiss, noses nudging, tongues eager and messy. Clothes couldn’t come off fast enough.

The king sized condom lays unopened on your plush blush rug. Having fallen out of Steve’s wallet, that had also tumbled from his jean pocket in haste. Everything was out of control in the best possible way. You could’ve sworn you died a few minutes prior and came back as immortal — able to see through particles that floated on the air, hear cars, horns, music from houses all across town, smell the leaves that clung to the trees, damp with rain water and Autumn air. Your eyes roll back, perspiration damp behind the backs of your knees, where he’s got his current pinching grip, the fat of your thighs pressed into your tits, squishing them.

You realize in the moment, that you truly loathe condoms. Because this? Feeling that wet pre-cum smear down his shaft and around your opening as he pushed himself into you without a barrier for the first time, it was an indescribable experience. Each ridge, every vein, so hot, soft, and fucking, soaking wet. You aren’t sure where he ends and you begin. It hurts like hell, aches in the deepest parts of you, a place you know that he could easily put a child if you slipped up on your only remaining protection.

That thought makes you tighten around him, cream spilling out and further slicking back the curls gathered at his base. He drops your thighs, sweat-slick pelvis smashing into yours, stimulating your swollen clit. His chest hair scrapes against your pebbled nipples, making you arch your back and your toes curl, legs locking around his lower waist. He whines, palm coming up to grasp at your breast, calloused thumb strumming around your areola. “God, honey, your fucking nipples were made for my mouth to suck on.”

And he’s descending, his lips closing over one, tongue flicking and stimulating. You cry out, hand fisting into his honey streaked, chestnut locks. His shoulders work and bend, the dips and freckles and moles visible, glittering with the salt of sweat, his gold chain swaying out from his hairy chest and back again when he stops, nose bumping yours, hot breath on your mouth. “This pussy was made for my cock.”

And holy hell, his vocalizing focus doesn’t cease. “Who took your virginity, honey?” You both know it wasn’t him. But you are well aware what he’s getting at, and as he gives a harsh snap, those full and fat balls smacking your slick ass, you lose further coherency. “That’s right,” he’s speaking again. “They don’t matter, but I do.”

You weren’t aware that you could make the noises that you are. Only able to speak once Steve’s tugging himself and pulling out, stringing from your cunt to his shaft, a squelch echoing. You both groan, emptiness already jumpstarted. You plead for him. “Please, Stevie, need you! Put it back in —“

“Say it, say you’re just a hole for me to fill. That you’re only mine, baby.”

“I… Fuck! Stevie, all my holes are only yours, I’m only yours!”

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, before his jaw drops open and he whimpers. His hand leaves your breast and slides across your sternum, your collarbone, and settles at your neck. You nod to encourage, and those defined digits wrap around your throat.

“Tell me you love these big hands, sweetheart. Because they’re for you. They belong to you!”

“Want them all over me, Steve. All the time. Can’t get enough of you.”

He’s holding firm to his cock, stroking and teasing. You lick your lips as you stare at it, drooling. Reaching down, you tap his wrist (his arm, all muscles and tendons, thick and available to trace with your tongue), as he presses the thick red head into your clit, smearing the combination of you two all around. You mewl in appreciation, legs stretching so far apart that your muscles protest. He’s speaking next, panting out, “Like that? Hey, look at me. He grabs your chin, thumb tugging down your bottom lip. “Like. That?”

Your lip releases with a plop.

“Yes, yes! Don’t stop, Steve, never wanna not feel you again, baby boy!”

“That’s a good girl, that’s my girl.” He circles your sore opening and slips back inside with a loud, wet ease. You bite back the burning pain, welcoming the damp tears of pleasure along your lashes.

Your manicured nails cling to his back, his chest gliding along yours, heartbeat to hammering heartbeat. It’s frantic whispers and begging cries. And when he’s close to coming, you find his cheek with one hand, holding. “For the record, you’ve never been casual to me, Steve Harrington.”

// Eat me paragraph //

2K notes · View notes

n30nwrites · 2 months

Text

Good Doggy (Shifter! TF141 x Male!Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist here

Warnings - Some awkwardness and staring

Updated; 3/5/2024 with more details

Beta Reader: @letmelickyoureyeballs whose saving my life right now.

You had to leave your job in the city for your own safety, to an abandoned house left by your aunt, who you were close to until she passed. It was a struggle to get there, most of your cousins wanted to burn it down, as did your father.

But in times like these, you needed it.

The car pulled up to the house, a Jeep that was filled to the brim with everything you could grab. Suitcases and trash bags filled with items. You didn't even have a bed, just some pillows and blankets. Maya would be by later and she would set up her own room. Thinking of her caused you to fiddle with the knife in your pocket, your thumb rubbing over the runes that were etched into the metal.

The house was nice. Large, you looked it up on Zillow because you could barely remember what it looked like. 4 beds, 3 baths, fully paid for.

And you would be alone in it.

The car was parked so that your trunk was facing the garage, opening it with a click of a button and dragging everything out. Quickly, avoiding your neighbors’ stares as they walked out. One neighbor in particular who didn't seem to stop even when you stared back at him.

A mohawk, buff thighs and arms, and his mouth was slightly opened as he kept staring. You stared back, glaring at him as every time you turned back in the car he was there.

Until he turned into air. Just a second and he was replaced by someone else, someone who was taller than him and with a mask that had a skull on it.

You had a mask on as well, but yours was a plain black medical mask. And Mohawk was back next to him, and both just stared.

You didn't like the staring, you escaped that city for a reason.

So you finished shoving all your stuff in the garage and locked your car, staring at them until the garage closed, where you could finally take a breath, taking the mask off as you relaxed in your closed-off house, all the doors locked and the windows covered.

You went to your future bedroom, your aunt's items were gone. All the furniture was taken when she died. In your cousin's words "You got the house, not her stuff" and you were fine with that. No pictures, no couches nor shelves, just plain purple walls. All appliances were gone as well. No fridge or stove, it was dead.

And Your cousins just burned it all. It was such a waste.

You were fine with it, it was almost comforting. Her spirit wasn't around anymore.

"I'm hungry..." you grumbled to yourself, grabbing your new phone and calling the closest pizza place.

"How is that even possible?" John Price was angry. He liked things to be planned to the very last detail. It kept him and his pack safe. Moving to this small town with a large forest was for safety, and now it could all be screwed up because of a new neighbor.

A new neighbor that was supposedly Soap's AND Ghost's mate.

Stupid fucking shifters.

He says that as if he isn't jealous. Part of moving here meant that they also had the ability to leave quickly if needed, and having an attachment like a mate, especially a human one, meant that Ghost and Soap wouldn't leave without you.

Whether they would force you or not would be your decision.

But it was all so stupid. Stupid enough that Price thought about killing you, for just a moment. And then he looked at Soap's lovestruck look and completely forgot that idea.

It was time for him to meet you. To actually see what the big deal was.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick wanted Soap to shut up. Ghost knew when to be quiet, and Gaz could appreciate that. But if he had to be reminded of how lonely he was one more time he was going to snap.

Of course the second in command and the lieutenant found their mate. Of course it had to be a human.

And Gaz wanted to be happy for his friends, of course he did but god did he wish it was him instead. He had always been so lonesome and just focused on finding this one person, but since he's left to live a (relatively) normal life, he's had no hope. It's just been him and the pack, and while they were great people, he couldn’t see himself marrying them.

He almost cringes thinking about it.

But Gaz shuts up instead as Soap goes on about this person who moved in right across from them. About how amazing they looked and what Soap spotted in their suitcases. He seemed obsessive over every detail and Gaz wished it was him.

But he grins and laughs and tells Soap "I can't wait to meet him" because that's what good friends do.

Alright so I know it's been a hot second, here me out. Things have gotten super stressful and I basically couldn't function for a few months but I'm gonna try to write some more so here's a new story I'm working on, IDK I like the idea of it and it's mainly for me more than anything so.

417 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

so i read somewhere that sometimes a better response to someone struggling with depression is warmth, rather than positivity and i was thinking if you’d be interested in writing a bau!reader x spencer pre-relationship or established relationship whichever u prefer!! where he comforts a depressed reader having a rougher couple of days & is very gentle and understanding and warm towards her 💘

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: depression

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 638 words

You’ve been completely useless through this whole case. You’d sat with the team during various briefings, gone along to view crime scenes and question witnesses, but your brain just wasn’t working hard enough to put anything together. Lately, the effort of cranking the gears is too much.

You’re considering leaving the rest of your paperwork for another day. You want to not be here so badly. You want your bed. You want to stop being a burden to the team that’s been carrying your dead weight for the past couple of days (and giving you increasingly inquisitive looks throughout that time), and to go home and sleep the weekend away.

It’s a testament to your fatigue that you smell the coffee before you hear Spencer approaching. Morgan would hand you your ass if he knew.

“Thanks,” you say, making an effort to smile at Spencer as he sets the plain ceramic mug on your desk. The coffee inside is barely brown, letting you know that he’s already loaded it down with cream and sugar the way you like.

“Seems like you might have a long night.” He leans back against your desk and braces his hands on either side of his hips, nodding towards your paperwork.

You shrug. “I don’t know, I’m thinking of leaving it for Monday. Strauss doesn’t need my report that badly.”

Spencer nods again. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” You blow gently on your coffee, wishing the aroma brought you the same sense of contentment it usually does. “Why?”

“You never let your paperwork sit overnight,” he says. “And you’re not eating as much, having trouble concentrating, looking tired all the time…” Spencer pauses, meeting your eyes. It’s an effort not to drop your gaze. He sounds like he’s been adding things up for a while. “Do you need anything?”

You smile again. It feels better this time, more genuine. “I’m just having a tough couple of days,” you tell him. “It happens to me sometimes, it’ll pass. But thank you.”

Spencer’s face smooths out and pinches all at once. For a profiler, he’s shockingly horrible at controlling his expressions. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to around your team. You read him plain as text: relief at having an identified problem, distress at the lack of an easy solution.

You know he means well, but you can’t stick around to bear the weight of any more disappointment.

“I think I’m going to head out,” you do your best to sound calm, reassuring, as you gather your bag from beneath your desk. “See you Monday, Spence.”

“Wait.” You pause, but then Spencer’s falling into step beside you, grabbing his bag to follow you to the exit. “Do you want to come over?”

You look at him, surprised. “To your place?”

He nods. “Yeah, there’s a marathon of the Jurassic Park movies on tonight. We could watch them and order pizza, or whatever you want.”

A little laugh startles out of you. The sensation feels odd and atavistic, like a bubble popping in your chest. “You like Jurassic Park?”

“I like talking about how unfeasible it is,” Spencer says, pressing the button on the elevator. “Did you know velociraptors were about the size of a large bird?”

“...I did not.”

“Probably because you watched Jurassic Park.” He smiles, and you can’t help but copy him. “Really, I’m not attached to the idea of watching them. We can do whatever you want.”

The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth, but Spencer glances down and you release it. “I’m not sure I can pass up the opportunity to witness that much berating,” you say. “How many are there?”

“Six, not including two short films or the animated series.”

“Will you hold it against me if I fall asleep?”

“Not at all.”

619 notes · View notes

baka-bakeneko · 4 months

Text

Body - Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader [NSFW]

tags: bodyguard Toji, bodyguard/damsel dynamics (if you squint), Toji is a bastard, brat/brat tamer dynamic, dry humping, a tad of CNC, wrap it before you tap it psa, rough fuck, dominant Toji, our little secret vibes

wc: 3.19k

synopsis: Toji gets hired to be a bodyguard for a bratty public princess.

a/n: thank you to @/yunonoai_ for singlehandedly fueling all my Toji imaginations into reality. This one for you, boo. and also u, anon that was asking for more toji content.

Toji repeated in his head brat, brat, brat every time he was in vicinity of you. Of course, public princess like you needed Daddy's protection. And Daddy paid a pretty penny for you.

Upon his first time meeting you, after effectively schmoozing your father for the position, Toji kept his eyes trained to yours while he dully scanned over you.

Toji bit back a scoff, bowed his neck to show respect in front of your father and introduced himself. He'd sat down after your father left with a kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the loft alone with him.

When the door shut, you rolled your eyes and undid the top buttons of your shirt and undid your hair. Toji quirked a brow, already assuming the worst.

In all honesty, Toji wished that your father had called it what it truly was: brat sitter. He followed behind you, carried your bags, listened to your girly gab with your friends about boys and sat with you in the car while you talked on the phone to your mother.

He wildly misunderstood the duties of this position. While he casually carried his gun attached to his hip, Toji hadn't gotten a sense of danger except for him being around you.

Whether or not you agreed with your father's need for protection, you had to commend Toji for being able to blend into the background. He was barely close to agreeable in anything you did, a grimacing pillar of stone close behind you. But he was intimidating, to say the least.

You remembered the look on your friend's faces when he sat behind you at lunch; his looming, plain glare piercing through them, leaving them quiet and nervous.

With a glance behind you, Toji raised an unamused brow then lowered his head to eat his meal.

"He's very..." one friend whispered at you.

"Big. And scary." The second one added.

You shrugged and resumed your meal. "That's what he's meant for."

He did exactly what your father ordered him to: to be your shadow. A phantom among your daily routine without a hitch. He was silent in the car afterwards, following you out of the car with your bags in his hold.

You retrieved your loft keys from your purse as the doorman opened the door for you two. Toji grumbled softly, dropping off the bags to an attendant while keeping in step with you to the elevator.

Just as the two of you made way into the elevator, Toji's earpiece sounded and he tapped it with his middle finger. "Sir?"

The formal introduction grated Toji's nerves, his teeth gritting while he listened to your father. He was quiet while his earpiece buzzed with information, wedging himself to the back wall of the elevator after pushing the button for your floor.

You stood near him, pulling out your phone to check your messages in the downtime. As the two of you stood, waiting for the elevator to close and go up, more tenants filed in.

Toji instinctively grabbed your elbow and pulled you before him, giving more space to the strangers that slowly filled the confined space.

"Yes sir, we're boarding the elevator now." Toji offered, turning his attention down at you then to the closing doors of the mechanism.

You glanced up at him, his hand now grasped at your elbow to keep you close. The elevator was soon cramped with strangers shoulder to shoulder and you stood close in front of Toji.

You shifted your footing, pulling your knees together to fit in Toji's wide stance. Toji glared down at you stepping closer to him.

Brat, brat, brat. He repeated in his head, even as your backside squished against his waist. He pursed a breath out, turning his head to listen to your father again.

"Take her inside when you get upstairs. I'd like to implement a short-term lockdown, just in case."

"Of course. How long?" Toji asked, ignoring you shifting against him again.

He attempted to flush his mind back to the pay, anything but the actual wedging of his soft cock between your cheeks.

Were you even wearing panties under this skirt? Toji cleared his throat and blinked hard, trying to rid his mind of that thought.

You wiggled in front of Toji, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Putting your phone back in your bag, you crossed your arms and stood tall before Toji.

His pecs felt directly behind your head, the heat of his body looming behind you. With a glance over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

Toji couldn't find a placement for his hands, unable to cross them like you had. He placed them on his hips, releasing a soft exhale above his head.

"Yes sir. Will do," Toji finished off his phone call with a double tap to his earpiece.

You turned your head over your shoulder and lowered your voice.

"What did my father have to say?"

Toji grit his teeth, leaning down to meet your ear with a whisper. "You're going to be on lockdown."

Toji's breath traveled down your spine, making you inhale sharply. Your arms crossed tighter over your chest, hiding the perk of your nipples.

You shifted your knees, which made your ass rub against Toji's cock again. He tilted his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the feeling of you against him.

Brat, brat, brat. Stupid brat. Spoiled little fucking brat. He bit at his inside lip, his hands gripping tighter at his hips. Toji couldn't pull his hips back any further, only let you lean against his cock.

An errant whimper escaped you, feeling your bodyguard's figure stiffen behind you. You flinched, tightening your cheeks only for Toji to clear his throat.

The doors one at a time, allowing small groups of people to filter out of the elevator. Toji glanced up at the corner of the elevator, noticing the security camera no doubt getting the full view of him practically dry humping his boss's daughter.

By the time that they reached your floor, Toji was adamant with pushing you off of him and out of the doors as quickly as possible. You couldn't blame him in the slightest; a moment longer in that situation and you would've faltered.

Toji had to admit that he would have folded, his natural beration of you in his head no longer aiding his disdain but his natural urges.

He kept his eyes level at the back of your head, following you down the hallway to your father's penthouse. Eyes up, Fushiguro. Goddamn it.

Even with his personal lashing, Toji couldn't help but falter his eyes down your spine and to your ass poured tight into your pencil skirt.

The slight slit between your thighs was highlighted with the flash of sensitive skin. He growled in his throat, straightening his back and returning his gaze to your head.

You felt Toji's eyes bore into the back of your skull, felt personally ogled and examined by this man. When you finally reached the door of your father's penthouse, you opened it and let your bodyguard follow you in.

Upon closing and locking the door, Toji's heavy hand slammed over your shoulder.

Your breath caught, feeling the man's massive stature over your back as his lips crept to behind your ear. Just as you felt his other hand slip up between your thighs from the slit of your skirt.

"Are you fucking wet for me right now?"

You whimpered softly, your body pressed against the heavy oak door. You willed yourself to ignore this man's question, even as his calloused fingers stroked up the sensitive insides of your thighs. His knuckles left no side of you in want, caressing up just to stop before your pussy.

You shut your eyes, holding your forehead to the door before Toji grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to look at him. His fingers weaved into the hair at the nape of your neck, offering a delicious sting down your back.

"You want to answer me, brat?" He seethed at your face, his teeth bared together.

Your chest curved out, the buttons of your shirt tempted to break open. Your hands went for Toji's at your skirt and neck respectively, earning another tug at your hair.

"Behave and answer me." Toji's scarred lips made their way to your ear even as his fingers slipped between your lips.

You crooned at his touch, feeling him swirl the wet he caused back and forth before retracting. Still, you didn't answer him as he found his own answer.

Toji scoffed, pulling his fingers from your skirt and holding them up for you to see. He tilted his soiled fingers in the afternoon light from the windows and clicked his tongue at the sight.

"Fucking knew it," Toji purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Why don't you tell me how you taste, hmm?"

You forced your lips together, folding them in to keep Toji's fingers out. Even though you'd been with him all day, you didn't trust the cleanliness.

"What if I don't want to?" you quipped, nipping out at Toji's digits when they approached your mouth.

His glare was unfazed by your defiance, knowing this was nothing new he expected. Toji shook his hand in your hair, loosening your fight against him.

"Fine," he bit, using his wet fingers to pluck your shirt buttons open. "Tell me then, brat, what'll happen when I force my cock in your mouth."

Your eyes flamed at the thought, your knees melting apart when Toji shook you to the floor. He was not one to ask for your permission, but he understood when you said 'stop' it'd be done.

There was no way that he'd actually risk his pay to fuck a spoiled brat. "Say you swear by my cock that you'll keep it secret."

You sneered up at Toji, knelt before the knot on his pants. "Fuck you."

He took a deep breath in and out, your venomous tone nothing against your seductive eyes. "You should work better on your delivery. And hide your want a bit harder."

His free hand had his thumb flatten against your lips, admiring how malleable and biteable they were. Toji would mark them last, pierce the soft skin with his teeth to make you bleed.

Thumb forcing between your lips, over your teeth, he hooked you towards him. The jut of your jaw made you straighten up, glaring at Toji. When you were right where he wanted, he pulled his thumb out and unceremoniously tugged his pants down to reveal his thick, at-attention cock.

It sprang before your face, practically kissing your nose with precum. Though your glare attempted to convey disgust, your pussy wetted further at the sight. His musk was natural, something expected from a man who only showered on days he worked.

The sweat from him was pungent, cloaked with cologne but was now heady before your face. Your mouth watered, repulsed with yourself.

"You can't hide that you want my cock." Toji said, grabbing the base of his erection and tapping his tip against your nose. "I'll let you kiss it if you beg."

Your teeth forced together, narrowing your eyes at your bodyguard. Toji grinned at your expense, shifting his angle to tap his cock against your pressed lips.

"Just like a brat to want me to force you." Toji pushed at the back of your neck, bringing you to kiss at the underside of his cock, dragging your lips down to his balls.

You moaned at the feeling of his dick skin hot and tight against your lips. His vein twitched against your mouth, giving way to his desire. Your nose was violated with the sting of his musk, only driving more wet out of you.

Toji groaned at the feeling of your lips against him, wanting to grind his cock over your mouth to climax. It was the very least he was willing.

"Give me something. God damn," he exasperated, pulling your soft lips away.

You hissed at his grip, giving him an arch of your chest in exchange. Your hand went for his wrist again, your other tugging at your skirt to hike it up.

"Oh," Toji said, his eyes wandering down your body until he caught sight of your bare pussy. "That's exactly what I wanted."

You purred softly, spreading your knees further apart by his agreeance. When he tilted his head to gain view of your wet lips, you slammed your knees together again.

A carnal growl rumbled from Toji's chest then, his teeth bared like a feral dog. "Brat."

He released your hair and sat on the couch in the room, grabbing hold of his cock and stroking. He shut his eyes, imagining anything else to get his mind off of you but was met with the mental roadblock of your ass, your lips.

You sat on the white marble floor, staring over at frustrated Toji. Even without him paying attention to you, he made you bothered. Your hand on your skirt hem dipped in to tease yourself, watching as Toji bitterly handled his cock.

Toji lolled his head side to side, trying to meddle through you but ultimately failing. Opening his eyes to you, he raised a brow at your efforts. He so badly wanted to force you down and take from you, but there was delicate game to be played.

Even when you met his gaze, your doey eyelashes fluttering in invitation, Toji remained sat on the couch handling his dick in softer strokes.

"Stop toying with me. If you want me, come sit on it."

His eyes narrowed on you, rolling his shoulders back as he toyed at the head of his cock. You pouted, sinking your fingers into your core.

Toji sneered, watching your fingers slowly pump into you. Your brows furrowed, pussy clenching as you hummed. He attempted to keep himself at his seat, though he felt taunted by your sounds.

"Brat." He barked. "Now. Get on my cock."

You squeaked, leaning forward on your fingers as you ran your other hand up your chest and to your neck. Fighting his want and your own felt nauseating, but you knew what it would mean to fuck your bodyguard.

Even without your father knowing, you'd know. And once it started, you weren't sure you could stop. To have his dick on command was exhilarating to some effect, but still you fought yourself.

Toji launched himself from the couch, crawling over to you before grabbing your knee and pulling your legs spread. He was tired of wasting time, he was exhaused by games.

"Tell me now. Yes or no?" He asked the softest he could. Toji's teeth were still grit, his scarred top lip quivering in a sneer.

His cock was hung precariously between your splayed thighs, your legs draped over his hips. You felt the heat of him against you, ready and willing.

You slipped your fingers out, vulgarly displaying your open pussy to him before pulling your skirt up to your stomach. Your throat parched, you nodded at him.

His sneer curled into a sinful grin, his hands gripping your hips as he angled his cock to your ready entrance. Without a second to ready yourself, he pushed into you.

Your hands fisted on the marble floor, wiggling your hips to accomodate his girth. Shaky breaths rattled your chest with Toji pushing further into you.

"So tight," Toji groaned, throwing his head back at the instant relief. "So wet."

You mewled at his words, shifting on his length. He raised up on his knees, effectively pulling your legs up and over yourself before he started slamming his cock down into you.

Audible cries escaped you, your body folded onto your shoulders. Hands flailing at his thighs for him to slow down, but he tore through you with a stamina that had you melting.

Sweat was instant, dotting your bra and hairline while Toji maintained his standard of put together. His hands gripped tighter into your thighs, effectively bruising them and ready to puncture them with his dirty nails.

You crooned out with each thrust, Toji becoming entranced in the chase of the high rather than your pleasure. He relished in your pulsating walls, your wet pussy sounding with each slap of his hips.

Your body became a whole from you, vibrating on the end of Toji's cock. You seethed when he fucked into you, whined when he pulled out and moaned when he spread you open around him.

He strung a long dip of spit from his bottom lip where your clit throbbed, ignored, and kept pumping. Lechery coursed through him, abandoning all pleasantries for the boss's daughter.

Lower back aching, you angled your hips to ease the weight of Toji's heavy hips jackhammering. With that, you found yourself clenching tighter around his cock.

Your breaths drew fast and layered, your chest choking your neck. "Shit, Toji, h-hold on, I'm gonna--"

Toji squeezed terminally hard at your thighs, piercing your skin as he tutted deep against your insides. A pained gasp escaped you, his mouth finding your bottom lip and nipping you raw.

The euphoria slammed into you, your stomach rolling. Mouth gaped, you tasted a tinge of blood on the tip of your tongue. Toji's dark glare bored into your watering eyes, taking in each minute tinge on your face.

"Easy little brat," Toji spat down at you, riding your velvety walls. "Daddy would die if he saw you sullied like this, huh?"

Dirty talk was never one of Toji's strong suits, especially with practical silver spoon princesses.

"Guess it'll be our little secret," Toji said, running his hands further to catch onto your skirt. He tore the fabric at the zipper lining down your back, exposing your blushing, sweaty skin to the apartment.

You whined, pulling in your bottom lip to aid the nip. Toji shut his eyes and staggered through his thrusts, jutting his hips hapzardly in and out until he finally pulled out and came.

His twitching cock rested against your spent pussy, marking your face and chest with his cum. He rolled his shoulders back with a satisfied huff, giving your plushy thighs another hard squeeze before dropping you to the floor.

Toji reeled back on his haunches, catching his breath and nursing his sensitive hard on back into his pants. He wasn't going to spare another look at you, knowing that if he did, he'd bend you over again.

You gasped at the ceiling, slowly regaining feeling in your toes before sitting up. You stretched your neck, grabbing your tattered skirt to clean up Toji's signature mess on you.

After a few moments of silence, Toji looked around the penthouse. Still intact as minutes before, no security cameras in sight.

He rounded his stature, returning to his hardened work demeanor. "Aren't you going to offer me some tea?" He asked, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed in disbelief at him, glaring at him from under your brows before you pushed your way onto your feet.

"Make it yourself."

#toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk #toji jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

592 notes · View notes

moralesluvr · 11 months

Note

omggg pls do miles 42 with a daughter (preferably a baby) !!🥺

daddy's little princess ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: husband!dad!earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: you come home from work to your two favorite people bonding with each other ♡ warnings: mentions of murder..pretty sure thats it ♡ a/n: anon don't play w me this is convincing me to have a baby ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOUR HUSBAND LOVED HIS TWO GIRLS more than anything. That being you, of course-- his wife, along with your beautiful daughter Aaliyah, who had just turned one a couple days ago. Ever since you had become pregnant and he asked you to marry him, he's only had a soft spot for you and your little one.

Today, unfortunately, your boss called you at six in the morning to inform you that you were needed in the courthouse immediately, for whatever reason. While your husband was out doing whatever 'gangster' stuff he pleased in your teenage years, you had went through college and bagged a couple degrees in forensics and law. Miles had stopped being the prowler when he found out that you were pregnant, the ultimate fear of putting his daughter in danger causing him to pick up a well-paying job that allowed him to work from home. So here he was, your little girl laying on his chest as he watched you get ready. He carefully sat up, slowly bouncing her on his shoulder so that she wouldn't wake. He whispered, "Do you have to go? Tell that lil boy that today was your day off."

You giggle, slipping on your work pants, "He isn't some 'lil boy', Miles, he's my boss. And I wish I could stay, but apparently it's a really important case and they need the best of the best."

"Oh, so you sayin' you that girl, hm?" He whispered, rubbing your daughter's back when he heard her coo. You giggled, slipping on a white button up and undoing the top three, a black blazer accenting the plain blouse. You grabbed your purse and keys and headed over to your husband and beautiful daughter, kissing her on her forehead, "I guess so. I should be back by three or four, depending on how many people this person decided to slaughter."

"If you ain't home by four, I'll be the one up in that courthouse." Miles warns, but his lips stretch into a smile as he gives you a quick kiss on the lips, "I love you. Be safe."

You nod, "You gonna be okay with Aaliyah? Lately she's been fussy."

"This is literally my daughter, remember?" Your husband remarks jokingly, "She'll be okay. I got her, hermosa."

"Mkay." You suck your teeth with uncertainty, "Love you both endlessly."

And with that, you were out the door.

For the first four hours that you were gone, everything was a breeze. Aaliyah would let out an occasional cry or whine when she was hungry or needed to be changed, but she didn't start really acting up until about one 'o clock, where she was screaming so loud, Miles was sure that she had damaged her vocal chords beyond repair. He tried everything he possibly could- playing with her, trying to put her to sleep, feeding her, and nothing was working.

Finally, he just sighed, picking her up and holding her up to his head. He bounced her, "What's the matter lil ma, huh? Why're you cryin'? Is it cause you miss mommy?"

That statement earns a cry.

"Yeah...I miss her too." He sighs, placing your daughter on his shoulders as he holds her hands with his own, making his way to the living room. He then sits down and places her next to him, "Okay, if you stop cryin', then we can have some ice cream and watch some of mommy's TV shows that she doesn't let us watch. I'll let you pick, but you can't tell, okay? How does that sound?"

He knows that realistically, your daughter can't make out half of what he's saying, but he finds it hilarious when Aaliyah gives him a nod, her cries slowly started to silence. He smiles and hurriedly runs to the kitchen to fix one bowl of small strawberry ice cream and one bowl of vanilla. He grabs a small spoon and runs over to your daughter, who's sucking on her tiny fists angrily. Miles eyes her, "No, baby, look- here's your ice cream."

He feeds her a spoonful and she immediately gives him a toothless grin, "Yummy!"

"It is, isn't it? It's bussin'. Can you say bussin'?"

He laughs when Aaliyah just gives him incoherent noises. He then turns on the TV and clicks 'Real Housewives'. Was it necessarily appropriate? No, but then again, the girl was one, so as long as it stopped her screeching, it was good to go.

Before the two of them knew it, you were home, walking through the front door and expecting your husband and baby girl to be up and rowdy. Instead, you saw Aaliyah resting on Miles' chest, his head hanging off of the couch's armrest. Two bowls of ice cream were completely empty with spoons inside of them, licked completely clean. The muffled sound of your favorite show played aloud. You smiled and kicked off your flats, grabbing a blanket from the linen closet as you slid next to your husband. You felt him wrap an arm around you sleepily, "Mami?"

"I'm here." You smiled, snuggling into your lover's side as your hand ghosted over your baby's thick hair. You heard Miles mumble against your ear, "I love you."

And you replied sweetly, eyelashes batting as you felt the opiate of sleep undertake you,

"I love you more."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022

1K notes · View notes

shadesslut · 7 months

Text

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 DAY 5

Knife/Blood Play

(a/n: Sorry for the late post! I'll try to catch up but I have a lot of schoolwork:/)

MINORS DNI

Pairing: (Gf!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Knife play, blood play, handjob, smut)

Main Masterlist

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

🦇

Ethan knew he was weird, he knew that. He knew he liked certain things people would avoid or be afraid of. Ethan knew his hobby wasn’t normal, and that he wasn’t normal.

It was Halloween night in New York, teens clad in werewolf and vampire masks. Ethan was hiding in plain sight. He wore his Ghostface attire as he rode on the elevator. His hands were bloody, and his mask splashed with red stains. No one batted an eye to him, it was just a costume right?

He knocked loudly with a clenched fist on the door. Y/N had invited him over tonight to have dinner and watch scary movies.

The door opened, creaking on its hinges as it did so. Y/N had a maroon button-up long sleeve, orange and black plaid shorts, and knee-high knitted socks.

“Nice costume,” she complimented him as she looked him up and down. He tilted his head down at her. She scoffed before stepping aside to let him in.

Ethan shut the door behind him, his fingers still twitching from earlier that night.

“You look good,” Ethan lowly said. She went back into her small kitchen, lifting a pot lid to check on the water.

“‘Good’?”

“Pretty.” Ethan corrected. “I’m hungry,”

She dryly chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m making potato soup.”

Ethan grabbed the bottom of his mask, sliding it off his head. Beads of sweat dripped from his hair to his forehead. He walked up behind her, his head hovering over her shoulder. “Not that kind of hungry,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her skin.

Her breath hitched, but she waved him off. “Not before we eat,” She told him.

He groaned, stepping backwards to lean on the counter.

“You wanna help me?” She asked. She ripped open a mesh bag of potatoes and began to wash them. Ethan watched her as her thumbs swiped across the potato skin under the water.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you start cooking the bacon?” She asked as she brought the clean potatoes to her cutting board. Ethan nodded, and he went for the fridge. The sound of a knife sharpening caused Ethan to jerk his head towards her. She swiped the knife’s blade with her fingers.

Oh fuck me. Ethan thought.

She grabbed one of the potatoes with her left hand, and she held the knife above it. She started at the end, piercing in the middle with the knife. She slightly slid the knife forwards, and then she went down the middle, cutting it in half.

Ethan didn’t move, his hand freezing on the fridge handle. His eyes were focused on her hands as she cut. How could someone be so precise with a knife? So delicate with their movements? So careful? Ethan’s eyes watered barely, and his cock twitched in his pants. How would she handle cutting skin? Would she be as gentle as she was now?

She chopped perpendicularly of her previous cut, chopping the potato into cubes. She did a few more potatoes, and when she finished she slid them off with her knife into the boiling water.

Ethan tried to hold it back, but he accidentally let out a moan.

Her hands froze as she looked over to Ethan with wide eyes. His face instantly flushed under her gaze.

She lightly chucked, breaking the tension in the air. “You, you okay?” She asked, her voice lacing with concern. Ethan nodded.

“Just been waiting for you all night,” he half-lied. She smiled sweetly. “Can I ask a weird question?”

“Go ahead,”

“Promise you won’t judge?”

“I promise.”

Ethan took a breath, and he decided to just go for it. “Can you give me a handjob?”

She stared at him for a moment, before doubling over in a laughing fit. “Ethan, that's not bad, and yes, yes I can.” She smirked.

Ethan gulped.

“Can you also hold the knife up to my throat?”

Her laughing stopped. She stared at him for a moment, searching for any sign of sarcasm. “What?” She asked once she realized he wasn’t making a joke.

“I just think it’d be hot? You know, like how you think it’s hot when I choke you?”

“What if I accidentally cut you?”

He shrugged his shoulders in response. The water boiling was the only noise filling the room. He couldn’t be serious right? Obviously, he was making some kind of joke with her.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it-”

“I’ll do it.” She cut him off. His eyes flicked up to hers as they widened.

He tried to hold back a smile. “Really?” He asked, hopefully. She slowly nodded, and she walked towards the sink to wash the knife. Ethan swallowed nervously as his hands stimmed in excitement.

She turned around with the knife in her hand as she tried it with a rag. “Take off your clothes.” She demanded. Ethan’s movements stuttered at first, his hands shaking as he bent down to reach the end of his robe. Swiftly, he raised it over his head along with his shirt. Y/N slowly walked towards him, tossing the rag to the ground. Ethan’s smile widened as he watched her fingertip trace the end of the knife, all the way to the tip.

“You’re so hot,” Ethan moaned. Y/N smiled. She set the knife down on the counter before unzipping Ethan’s pants. Ethan slid the jeans down, not caring about them as they dropped to his ankles.

Knife back in her hand, she carefully dragged the tip of the knife near his v-line. She made sure to not press as hard to avoid cutting him. What she didn’t know was that Ethan begged her to cut him in his head.

She tilted her head up at Ethan and parted her lips. Ethan slightly bent down for her, giving her access to kiss him. Their kiss was slow, but heated. The knife was now pressed flat against Ethan’s stomach, and her other hand reached in his boxers.

He moaned into the kiss, his cold hand grasping his cock.

“You’re such a fucking loser,” she whispered, making Ethan’s cock twitch in her hand. “Getting off by me holding a knife to your skin. You’re disgusting.”

Ethan’s eyes shut, a whine coming from his lips. Her hand slowly slid up his cock, her grip tightening as it moved. She dragged the knife up over his belly button, up to his chest. Ethan shivered looking down as he watched the knife get closer to his chin.

“Mm fuck,” Ethan moaned softly. His chest rose up and down, slighting pressing against the knife. Her hand quickened as she twisted it up and down on his shaft. Precum spilled down her thumb, lubing up the rest of him. She lifted the knife up to his neck, and Ethan’s eyes widened. Never had he ever been this turned on in his nineteen years of living. His hips jerked up, and his hand tightly gripped at her hip.

“Y/N, please,”

He snaked his hand around her ass, firmly groping. She flinched at the touch, causing the knife to press against Ethan’s neck. The knife punctured some of his skin, barely, and a few drops of blood dripped down his neck. Ethan felt himself get closer and closer to the edge.

She finally saw the blood drip down, and she instantly stopped all her movements. “Shit! Are you okay?” She asked with concern, moving to grab a towel. Ethan’s grip tightened on her, pulling her back to him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.” He spoke lowly as his eyes darkened. She gulped and nodded in response. He let out a sigh of relief as she started to jerk him off again. Her grip on the knife wasn’t as sturdy as before, but Ethan didn’t care.

Ethan swiped two fingers shakily across the blood, catching it onto his skin. He smeared it across his lips, and pulled Y/N closer to him. He came in her hand as he smashed his lips onto hers. She dropped the knife, it clattering onto the floor. Her hands came up to grip his face, his cum sticking to his cheek.

His blood smudged against her face, staining her lips and chin. Harshly, he bit on her bottom lip, causing her to squeal in pain. Blood trickled from her lip, and Ethan sucked it all up.

She pulled away, applying pressure to her lip with her fingers.

Ethan panted as he stared hungrily down at her.

“That was,” she trailed off, shame bubbling inside of her.

“Fucking hot.”

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ghostface x reader #ethan kirsch #kinktober #shadeskinktober #ethan landry smut #smut #knifeplay #bloodplay

757 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 5 months

Note

Heyy! Hope all is well!

Can I request Jason with a Shy! Reader but freaky reader? She prefers not to socialize with others that much BUT WHEN ITS JUST HER AND JASON ALL ALONE??

She’s quite literally snatching the soul from his body (got him seeing stars and the Lazarus pit all over again)

Of course, remember to take care of yourself!

-🥔 anon

This inspired me to do a little something based off a trope. The trope being “well-read girls know how to do it well.” This isn’t completely freaky, but you go for a ride. That’s all that matters.

Not fully smutty, but not sfw by any means.

—

Time Written - 1:16 a.m

You were the epitome of bookshop attendee when he visited a new said corner store one day, wearing cute blue light glasses as you typed away at your computer, nursing a warm latte from the next door cafe.

The prime example of cheesy first time meeting via you unable to reach a book you wanted off what Jason accidentally assumed was a horror shelf category. A unique, interesting read Jason politely snatched for you, taking in your thankful, flustered smile as fingertips brushed against eachother.

One of the most interesting compliments Jason got about his relationship with you had come from Barbara at first, who said he was an incredibly lucky guy to find someone so sweet and good natured.

Dick wasn’t aware Jason even had a girlfriend until Babs brought it up around eight months into the relationship, when you and Jason were certain it was getting quite serious.

He met you twice when coming over into your shared living space, greeting you with simple handshakes and minor conversation, though nothing note worthy. Dick thought you were awkward, plain and simple, cute to look at for sure though.

He didn’t know you were Jason’s type, though he never really put thought to what he looked for in a woman. A why, little bookworm introvert going for Red Hood?

Why didn’t he think of that sooner?

He’d never seen Jason sport such a goofy smile on his face every time he saw the two of you talking together on the side. Whatever made the broody man happy was all that mattered.

You met Bruce Wayne when he insisted Jason brought his mysterious plus one to the approaching gala that very Friday night.

A grand room full of high class people flaunting their wealth wasn’t in your list of experiences you wanted to have, and Jason didn’t blame you. All you could muster was an hour of full face makeup, pretty hair and an expensive dress to meet the main man himself, forming some small, respective conversation before murmuring to Jason that you wanted to leave.

He was glad you asked, he wanted to go home the second the two of you arrived.

Coming home to a quiet, calm environment was always something the two of you looked forward to. Just a safe space where you could be yourselves around one another, caring little for any judgements the universe threw at you.

Jason lounged on the couch back in the respective privacy of your shared apartment, his dress shirt opened a few buttons with his coat draped over the kitchen chair. His disinterested gaze was stuck on the television, mindlessly flipping through channels as he waited for his turn for the shower.

“Last night wasn’t too much for ya, was it?” Jason expressed with concern after he hears the bathroom door open down the short hallway.

“Believe me, old man always wants me to go to those parties. Hate it every damn time.” He turns his head, eyes slightly widening at your approach towards the couch. You were out of that gorgeous dress, your body comfortable in one of his old shirts. You could wear trash bags or a damn potato sack and pull it off like one of those magazine cover models.

With a blush coating those pretty cheeks, your body blocks his view from the television, bare feet softly scooting against soft carpet. Bracing your hands along the couch, you then proceeded to sit yourself ontop of Jason’s lap, nestling your knees along the cushions.

You held a certain giddiness about you as if you’ve drank a few glasses of champagne, though no alcohol touched your lips the entire hour you were at the event.

He emits a soft grunt, his right arm wrapping around your back in order to hold you close. He can’t help but smile up at you, taking in the sweet scent of your body wash and lotion.

“Something you want, pretty girl?” He casually asks, his voice soft and husky with a hint of that playful tone he reserves only for you.

In response, your hands spread out along his chest, trailing down the maroon fabric of his pressed shirt, fiddling with some loose buttons along his collar.

“You know what I want, Jason.”

“Do I?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

His voice grew a little more teasing now, knowing that look in your eye quite well. He knew what you wanted, but he liked when you vocalized it. He liked that in a woman, knowing exactly what she wants.

“Enlighten me.”

You pout at first, pursing those supple lips before your teasing fingers proceed do undo one of his shirt buttons. Then another, and another.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks again, moving his hand down from the small of your back to your hip, rubbing along the smooth skin.

“You know what I want, Jay,” You insist, proceeding to grow bold enough to shift your hips a bit, slowly rocking once against his lap.

Jason lets out a low noise from the gesture, taking a slow breath through his nose. You had on no shorts underneath your shirt, completely lacking those pretty, lacy panties you had worn under your dress. With the slightest movement, Jason could feel nothing but bare, soft skin, making the warm ache in his lower abdomen grow into a bright burn.

“You’re such a brat,” he mumbles, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “I swear.”

“A brat??” You nearly laugh, bracing both hands on his chest. “That’s meaaan.”

“Oh please,” Jason scoffs, his voice thick with amusement. “Don’t start with that whining, now. It’s not that mean.“

Without any warning, he hoists both of you up from the couch, keeping your legs secured around his waist.

A short surprise laugh left you as you scrabble to cling onto him, maintaining the short distance between the living room couch and the soft, unmade sheets of his bed.

“Why are you being so bratty, huh?” Jason questions after setting you down, catching those tits bounce under your shirt from the impact of your fall. He barely had time to catch sight of your eager little cunt before you purposely fold your legs, focused eyes watching your persistent fingers reach for his belt, eagerly unsecuring the buckle.

“Cause I can be,” You promptly sit up, not bothering to yank the loosened belt out of the loops.

“And you said it yourself. You like it.” You lustfully add, watching his teal eyes flutter closed, hearing the faint crunch of the sheets rustle in your ears as both his hands clutch fistfuls of fabric.

To further emphasize, you unfold your legs, promptly securing them beside his waist, further tempting him on such a sweet, irresistible offer.

Jason groans, tilting his head back a bit as he decides on his limited options. He was tired, wanting to take a hot shower and cuddle his sweetheart to rest.

On the other hand—

“I like a lot of things you do, princess. This just happens to be one of them.” His smile grows with his words as you lean up to kiss along his jaw, having him cradle your chin in between two fingers to properly kiss those rosy lips.

“You remind me of a little gremlin when you’re like this,” he murmurs. “Or just a greedy, spoiled little princess.”

“And you wanna fuck your princess, don’t you?” You tease, kissing him once more to spare a small nibble along his bottom lip, making him groan yet again in defeat.

Yes. He does want you, and you know damn well that you have him where you wanted him. There would be no way that he could say no to you.

And why isn’t he able to say ‘no’ to this girl? He should have a little more self-control than this.

His minor moment of being left speechless proved that, making him roll his eyes.

“You’re really are a little brat,” he laughs quietly, choosing to tease you regardless, looking forward to that quirk in your brow shortly after.

Realistically, if this was any other human being or meta monster of some kind, no way in heaven or hell would he get allow someone to willingly put him on his back. It’s a breach of vulnerability, of submission in his mind.

You weren’t anyone by any means, those soft hands grasping along his broad shoulders, using what strength you had to lean him onto the mattress space beside you, cushioning yourself once more on the gracious seat of his plush thighs once more.

Trust was a huge stability in this scenario, one built upon hours of heartfelt discussions on boundaries and healthy behaviors, sharing what the both of you liked and didn’t.

It was endearing to know he had your full trust to grow more comfortable, encased in each confident kiss you gave him while he reaches up to cradle your head, fingers deeply interlaced in locks of shower damp hair.

Jason’s hands slip up under your shirt as he holds you close, squeezing along your ass before pushing your hips down against himself, firmly rocking up against your sopping core to get a sweet whimper out of you.

His other hand worked under your shirt, squeezing along your tender breasts, pinching your nipples to draw out those eager little whines. A mere ounce of payback for your torturous actions.

“You know you could just ask, right?” He chided with a smirk, proceeding to do the work for you by unbuttoning his pants, hastily pulling the zipper down.

Your hands work to free his eager cock from his boxers, biting your bottom lip in excitement to feel his heavy girth in your palms.

Of course, there’s many chances you would have just been able to ask in this moment and in this position. You knew that.

Your middle finger trailed along the smooth tip, wiping off a fat bead of precum that came close to dripping down the side, bringing it to your mouth to graze it along the tip of your tongue.

“I know.”

Teasing him was just a whole lot more fun.

Raising your hips a bit, you rest yourself over the underside of his cock, rocking yourself back and forth. The sting of blunt nails soon irritated your hips, Jason’s impatience peeking through as he feels himself grow soaked with your juices. The tip bumping deliciously against your throbbing little clit.

He makes the tiniest noise as you take the reins, but it just fuels your desire to ‘ruin’ him even more. Once you had started, there’s not much of a chance he has to stay in control.

Important of all, out of all qualities he adored of you, he thrived on your incredibly sweet mouth, like fresh cherry juice seeping through warm, crystallized sugar crust holding in the compote.

Jason loved the tart bitterness of your sassy nature, your ability to talk back during those start moments where it mattered most.

He couldn’t ask for more, really.

His head cranes back, grunting in delicious euphoria of your wet walls perfectly clenching around his cock after mere minutes of torture, feeling like hours. You’ve never been so wet, needing more prep than this before he could even stuff himself halfway through your walls.

Your body accepted him easier, eagerly taking in every inch as you bounce yourself on his cock, squeezing your own breasts as you moan in complete ecstasy, feeling him kissing your sweet spot each time.

Jason could only marvel and admire the beauty above him, his own chest slowly heaving from the sight. The way your hips moved was like art, your back arching like a flower stalk in the breeze, your lips crying out the sweetest of music.

You were gorgeous, where Jason was impatient. There was little time before his hold on you reinforced, his legs bracing along the mattress before he takes the lead, moaning out himself as he thoroughly fucks the girl that got them into this mess. A constant staccato of clinking from his belt accompanied the relentless pounding of his heavy, full balls against your ass.

The rest of his shirt would be ripped open with broken buttons hanging by severed threads done by impatient hands. Manicured nails scratching across every scar down his chest, inventing new ones after every climax you had, his cum coating your gushy walls white.

His neck would be doused in love bites the size of rose petals, matching similar to the bruises that will show up around your waist come morning.

Jason Todd was incredibly fucking lucky indeed, since the second he unawaringly snatched a rather tasteful romance novel for you at the book store.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc #jason todd x reader smut #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd x #jason todd smut #I mean #it’s something yk

548 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 6 months

Text

Let the Sparks Fly

Find my Ghost masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck 1-4-1 challenge! I used thunderstorm/rain, power outage, neighbors, and forced proximity!

You meet one of your neighbors in the elevator, and a storm knocks out the power at the worst possible time. At least your neighbor is nice.

Warnings: Power outage, total darkness, brief moment of panic, swearing, soft Simon, brief jumpscare.

Simon Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2k

The rain had chosen the worst possible moment to come, getting you before you could get inside. Your groceries were undoubtedly wet as well now. But you were almost to your building, walking as close to buildings as possible in hopes that they’d help block some of the rain.

Someone ahead of you turned and opened the door to your building, and your foot caught the door before it could close. He paused, glancing back at you over one massive shoulder. You didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.

You’d only moved in a couple months ago, you hardly knew all your neighbors.

Offering him a shy smile, you shuffled inside with your groceries, shoes squeaking slightly against the floor. You eyed the stairs for a moment and then shook your head. Nope. No way. You were taking the lift.

The man got to the lift before you, stepping in and moving aside. He was big, taking up a good portion of the space, but you still stepped in next to him.

The button for your floor was already pushed.

Your heart clenched. Okay. No big deal. He just lived on the same floor. That was perfectly reasonable, really. Trying to be sneaky, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

Tall, broad. Black face mask, black beanie. Plain gray shirt and jeans. Seemingly paying you no attention at all, hands stuffed in his pockets.

The lift shuddered to a stop, and you tensed, hands gripping your bags tightly. You had just enough time to wonder if the lift had died (again).

The lights went out.

You froze. You’d never been overly scared of the dark. Cautious, yes. You’d suffered enough stubbed toes and barked shins to be aware of where you put your feet. But not usually scared.

This, though. This made you scared. Between the small space, the sudden darkness, and the stranger, you were scared.

Sudden light made you flinch, nails digging into your skin. But it was just the man’s phone, flashlight function on and pointed consciously down at the floor.

Oh. Of course. You didn’t have to stand here in the dark. Well, now you just felt foolish.

“You alright?” Dark eyes focused on you over the mask, though he kept his body half angled away from you, keeping the light from pointing directly at you.

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, shifting your weight and rolling your shoulders. “Think the lift died?”

He grunted softly, looking back down at his phone. A few moments of silence, then he shook his head. “Power’s down,” he murmured.

“Great,” you muttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Well. Might as well put your groceries down. No telling how long this would take. You set the bags against one wall, stretching out your fingers. “Suppose if worse comes to worst, I can always eat the ice cream.”

A soft huff of amusement caught your attention, and you looked at your quiet companion. He glanced at you before looking back down at his phone, big fingers nimble as he typed something. Even in the relatively tight confines of the lift, he kept to his own space, conscious in a way so few men were.

“How long do you think this will take?” You couldn’t help asking. You knew he had no idea, same as you. You just… had to ask. Had to do something with the almost-jittery feeling. You weren’t claustrophobic, never had been, but this situation still grated at your nerves.

His gaze lifted to you again, dark eyes assessing, before he shrugged one shoulder. (One rather giant shoulder, you realized. He truly was massive, which made his self-containment all the more impressive.) “Got somewhere you need to be?” His voice was low, a little rough. Pleasant.

You blew out a breath, letting it puff out your cheeks along the way. “Just laundry,” you admitted dryly. “Very exciting, you know.”

He chuffed, not quite laughter but something close to it. “Only if you spot rats.”

“In this basement? There’s more than one kind of rodent down there.” You made a face.

He raised one eyebrow at you, wordlessly inviting you to go on.

“There’s this guy that lives on the third floor,” you started, leaning back against the nearest wall. “He’s kind of a rat. Fortunately I don’t see him often.”

He nodded once, seemingly amused. “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he agreed, glancing back down at his phone. “Battery’s getting low.” The way his gaze flicked to you made you blink.

He was telling you specifically. So you had warning.

“Let me turn mine on.” You scrambled for a moment, fishing your phone out and flipping the flashlight on. His turned off a moment later. With a soft sigh, you gave up and sat on the floor. “Somehow all the stories about getting stuck places forget the sheer boredom aspect.”

He puffed out another not-quite laugh, crouching slowly across from you. Still careful to give you your space. “Lotta hurry up and wait,” he agreed blandly.

With a sigh, you gave up and started playing on your phone. There was nothing else to do, after all. The two of you were trapped until the power came back.

“How long have you lived here?” You chanced a glance up at him to find he’d sat down properly, back against the wall.

He shrugged, dark eyes once again focused on you, surgical mask obscuring most of his expression. “Why?”

“Haven’t seen you around before. Not that I know all the neighbors, or even everyone on our floor, I’m just curious.” You wrinkled your nose at yourself. Great conversational skills, there.

But he surprised you. “Not around often,” he offered, in lieu of an answer, apparently.

“Got it.” You forced yourself to straighten your back and shoulders, knowing from experience that you’d be sore later if you stayed slumped over. It had been nearly half an hour already, so you twisted a little to grab your groceries and check them.

The ice cream was definitely melting, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Actually, now that you thought about it, you were cold too. Still damp from the rain, stuck holding still in this enclosed space… Damn. You were gonna catch a cold from this.

“Melting?”

You blinked, jolting back to yourself at the question, and nodded with a wry smile. “Seems that way,” you agreed, looking at the carton regretfully. “You want some?”

He shook his head. “Keep it,” he urged you softly.

You poked the carton once more and huffed, giving up on it. You’d have to get more ice cream later. The shiver caught you by surprise, making you huff again.

“Alright?” The question was careful.

“Just cold,” you admitted wryly. “I’m fine. Not dying of boredom yet.”

He snorted softly, head tipping away from you again.

Time passed slowly, dripping by, interspersed with your shivering and very quiet swearing as you distracted yourself. Your ice cream was definitely never going to be the same after this. Fortunately everything else should be fine.

Unless you died of boredom first.

Your head jerked up suddenly, eyes wide as you fixed your gaze on your neighbor. He looked back at you, alert, almost wary.

“So I just realized how rude I’ve been,” you said, embarrassment creeping through your chest and up your neck. “Haven’t even introduced myself yet.” You gave him your name, fingers tapping anxiously against your phone.

He was silent for a long moment, still looking at you. Then he nodded, just once. “Simon.”

You nodded to him and looked back at your phone. The battery was getting low, and you didn’t want to run it down entirely, just in case. So you sighed softly, resigning yourself to suffering in the dark for a while.

“Have to turn off my light,” you warned him, waiting for the nod of acknowledgement to actually do it.

The darkness was total, almost heavy with how instant it was. You couldn’t see a single thing. You blinked rapidly, knowing it wouldn’t help, but still needing to anyway. Right. This was fine. No problem. No big deal. You closed your eyes, since you couldn’t see anyway, and focused on breathing. Though muffled, you could still hear the rain very faintly, the constant patter soothing.

Now if only you weren’t so damn cold.

Time was weird and slippery as you sat there in the dark, huddled into yourself. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed without checking your phone, which you tried not to do. It wouldn’t help or change anything.

“Doin’ alright?”

The soft question nearly made you jump. Your head turned a little towards him, though you couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

He paused, and something made you think he was weighing his words, rather than simply going silent. “Can practically hear you shivering, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well.” You clenched your jaw against another shiver, harder than before. “Not exactly warm in here.”

He huffed softly. Sudden light from him checking his phone made you blink, the light extra bright now. “Still working on getting power back,” he reported. “Going back up around the city, so it’s only a matter of time.”

You blew out a slow breath, oddly touched. Had he checked that just for you? “Right. Thanks.”

Silence and darkness fell between the two of you again, and you curled tighter in on yourself. You were tired and cold and you really just wanted to be in your flat by now. Even if the power was still off, at least you could change into dry clothes and wrap yourself in blankets.

The lights in the elevator flickered a few times before turning on properly. “Finally,” you muttered, pushing quickly up to your feet, leaving your groceries on the floor for the moment. You’d grab them when the elevator started moving again. You noticed Simon getting to his feet as well, a little more slowly.

The elevator groaned, an odd noise you’d never heard it make before. You tensed, eyes going wide, darting to Simon for some reason. He was just as still as you.

The elevator dropped. Just a few inches.

But it was enough to make you shriek, curling in on yourself. A moment later arms curled around you, helping steady you even as the elevator car jolted, and then stilled.

“‘S alright,” Simon murmured, quiet and soothing, though he didn’t let go of you. Your shaking wasn’t entirely from cold.

You breathed in raggedly, fingers curling into his shirt, still shaking. “What…?” You couldn’t even finish your question.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, still soft, still gentle. He didn’t release you, his body heat bleeding into you, the security of his arms lending you courage. The elevator had stopped again, the lights weak but on. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing.

The elevator started again, moving up, and you jumped. Simon didn’t say a word, just held you a little tighter. Normally, someone getting this close that you didn’t know would be alarming.

But it wasn’t. He wasn’t. You just felt… safe. And finally less cold.

“D’you want a cuppa tea?” you offered. Well. Blurted, more like. When he looked down at you, one eyebrow raised, embarrassment flushed hot up your chest and face. “Just tea! Really! I mean, I just got a new box, and you’ve been so nice, and I might still be a little bit freaked out right now and I’m rambling please tell me to stop–” You cut yourself off at his soft huff of laughter. This close, you could see the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“You need to warm up first,” he said, only releasing you when the doors opened. He scooped up your bags before you could and stepped out, you trailing in his wake.

“Right,” you muttered, chagrined. Of course he didn’t want to come hang out in your apartment. He hadn’t known you for long. Wow. Way to go, self.

“Which one’s yours?” He looked back at you, pausing in the hallway.

You considered him for a moment before you stepped in front of him, going to your door and unlocking it before you held out a hand for your groceries. “Thanks.”

He considered you for a long moment, not relinquishing your bags. Then he nodded once. “Give me ten minutes,” was all he said, bags changing hands before he strode down the hall.

You blinked after him. Ten minutes? Why…?

Oh. Oh.

He was saying yes!

…Shit you had to clean.

#141challenge #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #f!reader

492 notes · View notes

iced-nct · 6 months

Text

Greedy NJM

Pairing: CFO Na Jaemin x F Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Suggestive, occasional swear, jealous Jaemin Synopsis: Jaemin knew the second you walked into his office to interview for a sales role that he needed to hire you. Incredibly well spoken and driven, you reminded him a lot of himself in some ways. Except he didn’t want you for a sales position. Oh no. He wanted you as his personal assistant. Promptly after meeting with you, he let go of his current assistant to hire you for it instead. If Jaemin is going to be stuck at his desk for ten hours a day, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a pretty thing to stare at just outside his door. Maybe you’ll be able to tame the infamous office playboy.

a/n: just casually dipping in to drop a 4.5k Jaemin Apply Within fic that I have been working on for like years lmfao. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! I promise I'm going to be more active with my fics again!!!

Jaemin’s secretary blinked slowly at him, as if to process what she had just heard. “You are… firing me? Did I do something?”

“No, I just needed a change of scenery! And I’m not firing you, I am just relocating you to a different department” He chirped in response, his voice cheerful though his eyes were dark and expression firm.

Jaemin turned his back to her to head into his corner office, “oh. One more thing.” He turned, one palm pressed firmly against the door frame as he leaned back. “I need all your things moved by tonight. My new secretary starts tomorrow morning” He winked before slamming his door closed.

Today could not have been off to a worse start. First there was the hole in your favorite pair of stockings, then your coffee machine decided to have a meltdown, and finally you had missed the bus that would allow you extra time to grab coffee on the way to the office. As far as first day’s go, this was not your best. Having to settle for a pair of plain sheer black tights to wear under your skirt and ordering a taxi, knowing full well the extra money was well worth having time to grab a cup of coffee. You hurried out the door, laptop bag and purse in hand, just hoping as you hustled into the back of the cab that the day wouldn’t get any worse.

The line at the coffee shop was surprisingly not horrendous, it only took about 10 minutes before you were holding your iced coffee and making your way through the entrance to Neo Dream. Jaemin’s office was on the 20th floor, you remembered this from your interview. As you moved to get off on your floor a solid chest made contact with your cup, spilling coffee all down the front of yourself and the stark white dress shirt in front of you.

“I am so sorry! I was in such a rush, I should have paid better attention” You rambled, hoping that this stranger wouldn’t chew you out for such an accident.

“Miss Y/n?” You looked up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. “First day jitters?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, “I am very sorry Mr. Na. I will clean this up right away”

“Don’t bother, I will call the janitorial staff to clean up. We should get started with your tour, after we get changed” He tilted his head, indicating for you to follow.

The view from Jaemin’s office was stunning to say the least, the sun was almost up now but you could imagine the sunrises and sunsets that could be viewed from these windows.

“Yes, the view is lovely isn’t it?” You turned to find Jaemin, a sliver of his chest just barely exposed to you as he buttoned up a black dress shirt. “I apologize, I seem to have run out of women’s blouses, but I do have a knit sweater that may work” he jested while handing you a gray wool sweater.

It was clearly men’s, but this would have to make do for today. Just as you were about to slip the sweater on over your stained blouse a hand stopped you.

“If we don’t send these off to the drycleaners, the stain will set and ruin your shirt. I can’t have that, and I don’t want you to either. Just wear the sweater and I’ll send your shirt off with mine” His smile was charming, almost knee weakening.

“Oh okay… but is there somewhere else for me to change?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin’s eyes widened with realization “Yes, oh gosh I’m sorry, I will turn around. You let me know when you’re decent”

You turned your back to him and began unbuttoning the shirt. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin could make out the reflection of your chest in the window beside him. Not much could be seen, but the way the black lace of your bra held you had him wishing you allowed him to watch. Just as Jaemin’s dress pants started to get a little too tight for his liking, you cleared your throat, snapping him back from his thoughts.

“Thank you for the sweater! What should I get started with today?” You asked, whilst handing over your stained shirt.

“You can get started on unpacking your desk and setting yourself up. I have some afternoon meetings that I will be in today, so I doubt we will see eachother very much. Just answer the phone if it rings and book in meetings for this week” You nodded at the instructions and headed out, closing the door behind you.

You paused to lean on it, breathing slowly as the picture of that small sliver of Jaemin’s defined chest floated around in your head. In the office behind you, your boss sat down at his desk, taking all the effort in the world to not call you back in to help him deal with the situation beneath his desk right now.

Days had turned into weeks, and though nothing of note had happened after that first eventful morning. You had settled in wonderfully, making friends with people on the finance floor, accompanying Jaemin to the occasional meeting to take notes for him when he didn’t feel like it, and canceling meetings he had with Mark just because it was funny to watch them squabble. There was lots of extra chatter throughout the office as everyone buzzed with excitement for the first annual company gala. A newer finance colleague had asked you to the gala a few days ago, and you had gladly accepted, assuming that it was a friendly gesture from one newbie to another. Excitement filled your chest as you thought about how much fun it would be to attend this company gala. The excitement was cut short however, when the door to Jaemin’s office swung open. Your boss stood there staring daggers at you, dread rushed in as you mentally went through every file you placed on his desk today, every meeting you had booked. What could you have possibly done wrong?

“Y/n. Come in here please.” Jaemin’s voice was deadly cold as he strode back towards his desk.

You slinked in, he gestured for you to close the door. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked, hesitating to turn around to face him.

“Have a seat, we’ll talk about it” He nodded to the chair in front of his desk for you to sit.

Despite sitting, the load on your shoulders felt ten times heavier under Jaemin’s stare. He slid a small pink envelope across the desk to you, your name scrawled in ink on the front.

“What is this?” He tapped the envelope with his middle finger.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen that before” You answered, and truthfully you hadn’t seen it before.

“It was in the files you brought me this morning, just tucked between some reports. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found out my trusted secretary is having an office romance with one of my junior finance employees” the smile that hung on Jaemin’s lips did not reach his eyes.

Your eyes widened “office romance? No no you’ve misunderstood. He just asked me to the gala last week, that's all. I have no idea what the letter is and I- wait. You opened it?”

The smile faded as he processed your words. Oh Jaemin would not have his secretary on the arm of anyone other than him, and he would make sure of that. Despite the other women around the office, who Jaemin had been making his way through, you managed to get under his skin in all the right ways.

“Sorry, I thought you knew” He started, propping his head up on his hands “secretaries are required to escort their managers to the gala. Mark’s rules” Jaemin grinned lazily.

“Oh! So I’ll still be working, right?” you thought about all the extra things you would need to prepare in this case, starting with a much bigger clutch to keep all Jaemin’s business cards in.

Jaemin smirked, “That’s correct Y/n. You have to be by my side all night. Make sure you let me know the color of your dress so I can plan my tie accordingly”

You nodded, your boss’ phone began to ring echoing throughout his large office. “I’ll bring you a swatch tomorrow morning” You spoke softly as you stood to leave the room.

Jaemin only nodded in response before picking up the phone “Mark!! How goes it over in-” His sentence cut off as the door shut behind you.

“What an odd day” you pondered while sifting through the hundreds of emails in your inbox. Mark had taken the liberty to have Haechan set up all Jaemin’s emails to duplicate so you had copies of important things as well. Unfortunately this also meant you got to see all the emails that lovestruck employees sent him without knowing you could see the confessions as well. After deleting what must have been the 20th email love note, you came across a thread that caught your eye. The email was from another female employee, detailing things she and Jaemin had done the previous night. From the sounds of it, you weren’t the only one engaging in an alleged “office romance”. There were quite a few more like that email, all talking about how they loved it when Jaemin did that “thing”. You weren’t sure what the “thing” was, but from the way he had these ladies begging for him via email correspondence you couldn’t help but be curious. It didn’t help that some had described certain acts in such detail, it was only natural that your head drifted away from work causing you to think about Jaemin’s head between your-

The thought was cut short by a loud thud from the elevator. Upon inspection you could see the finance junior who asked you to the gala had dropped a box of their belongings on the floor. The security guard who was with them helped gather their belongings back into the supply box before giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder. You thought about going over to ask what happened, but a ping from your inbox beat you to it. ‘I WAS WRONGLY FIRED BY NA JAEMIN” was the subject line, there was no body to the email. Just that one subject line that left chills down your spine. You glanced to your boss’ door then back to your computer screen, the email was sent to everyone on the finance floor. It wasn’t long before chatter began amongst your colleagues on the floor. Everyone was curious to know about their former colleague scorned, making incredibly obvious passes by the now barren desk that once housed the junior finance employee. Jaemin seemed unbothered by the office bustle, opting to send you a teams chat asking for you to accompany him out of the office for his suit fitting for the gala.

The interior of the store was full of mannequins decked out in name brand clothing that had your bank account near tears. Though you were only here to keep an eye on Jaemin’s emails and schedule for the day, he kept asking for your input on the suits he chose. The swatch you had at home would have to wait for another day, though he assured you it would be no hassle to have a tie ordered into the office in the correct color.

“Well? Does this make me seem intimidating enough?” He turned his head over his shoulder to ask you.

There was simply no denying the fact that Jaemin WORE the clothes, they did not wear him. He looked stunning in everything, so much so that you kept catching your mind slipping off to imagine the things he could do in the dressing room. Your eyes must’ve lingered for too long without speaking, as Jaemin chuffed a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, yes it looks great!” you smile warmly at him, just as another ping comes through on his work phone. An email from Mark asking about the firing of the finance colleague and why he is now receiving multiple emails from the distressed former employee.

Jaemin cocks his head, one brow raised in question “Something the matter?”

You lock the phone quickly and look up at where he stands on the pedestal for his fitting. “Just Mark asking about an employee who was fired earlier, apparently he is now receiving emails stating that he was wrongfully terminated.” You stare, waiting for a reaction from him that never comes.

“Ah yes, he was fraternizing with other employees. Can’t have my department become a cesspool now, can I?” His answer is cold as ice, his face revealing no indication of what he is thinking.

You can’t help but laugh at his reference, as if he hadn’t been sleeping with multiple employees from different departments. “What seems to be so funny, Y/n?”

“Oh, nothing. Just your cesspool reference was funny” You roll your eyes, not expecting him to continue prodding. But he does just that.

“And why, pray tell, is it funny? Is my finance department a joke to you?” His eyes narrow, the shop steward who was pinning the suit even stops momentarily to give you a glance.

You need a moment to collect your thoughts. To try and decide just where you should begin with this. “You know Haechan set up my email so that I get duplicates of all the emails sent to you, right?”

Jaemin nods thoughtfully, before his eyes widen in realization. “You get all my emails?”

You bob your head “every single one of them. Mark insisted it was set up that way so you can never say you just missed a meeting invite in your swaths of emails.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in frustration. “Y/n, what have you been seeing?” his foot tapping against the stained wood of the pedestal.

“Just the usual. Multiple emails from Mark about meetings, Renjun sending gala updates, Haechan providing timelines for software updates, Jeno sending memes that he has made instead of marketing campaigns, Jisung sending you meeting schedules with investors for the week, Chenle sending selfies mostly.” You shrug, pleased with your answer.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” His tone is tense and his eyes are fixed on you, gluing you to the spot on the bench.

“Finance employees sending you updated reports too. Oh! And just the casual love confession, or excruciatingly detailed emails from your lovers” You smirk at him.

“I see.” Jaemin steps down, shooing the shop steward away as he strides towards you, “and tell me, Y/n. Do you read all of those excruciatingly detailed emails?” He leans down slightly, your faces mere inches apart.

You wet your lips, noticing Jaemin’s eyes flick down to your mouth before coming back up to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

He straightens back to his full height, now towering over where you sat. “Interesting indeed” he mutters before turning back to the shop employee to continue with his fitting.

The next morning you had a large iced americano sitting on the edge of your desk for your boss, along with the fabric swatch. It was odd, seldom did you beat Jaemin to the office. But today you felt extra jittery, especially after how hot his eyes had felt on you yesterday during his fitting. In fact, it was a shock that you managed to get a few hours of sleep. You had tossed and turned all night, thoughts of Jaemin taking you in the dressing room after your conversation had taken your mind hostage. A few times throughout the night you had awoken in a cold sweat, finally deciding to just get up at 5am instead of trying to get a few more hours of rest. That was how you ended up at your desk at 6:30, a large cup of tea clutched in your hands as you sifted through more meeting invites and emails.

“Good morning Y/n. You’re awfully early.” Jaemin smiled warmly, a glint of something else shone in his eyes.

You gestured lazily to the cup of coffee on the edge of your desk “That’s for you, the swatch too”

His smile dropped as he stared at the coffee and the swatch “your dress is red?”

“Yes” you nodded before adding “I hope that’s alright”

“That will be just fine, I just so happen to have a tie that I think is the same color.” Jaemin fixed a tight smile before heading into his office and closing the door.

A few hours later a gorgeous intern from accounting came by, stopping at your desk “I have an appointment with Mr. Na” She smiled.

“Sure, just a moment” you returned her smile while getting up to knock on your boss’ door.

“Send her in.” Jaemin said through the thick oak door before you could even let him know his one o’clock was here.

She left an hour later, hair messier than it was when she arrived and her stockings had noticeable runs down both legs. All you could do was cock a brow as she breezed past with her blush stained cheeks. ‘I’m sure I’ll get an email about that later’ you thought, mentally rolling your eyes. Moments later your boss appeared at his door, fixing his tie nonchalantly.

“Y/n, take the rest of the day off before the gala tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight, alright?” His voice was cold and detached, much like it had been at the store.

“Sure, thank you. I will see you then” It was no use putting up a fight. And it was certainly no use to ask him what had been on the tip of your tongue since yesterday. All you wanted was to know why that employee had been fired, and if their claim had any merit.

True to his word, Jaemin arrived at 7 on the dot. A swanky black car pulled up outside, the driver meeting you by the door for you to get in. After the door was shut you noticed Jaemin’s eyes fixated on you, suddenly the tight red dress you opted for felt all too revealing.

He licked his lips slowly before speaking “I get the feeling there’s something you want to ask me, Y/n?”

“Why did you fire that employee that asked me out and gave me that letter?” You asked, Jaemin just stared at you in shock, clearly not expecting that to be the question.

“I- well. He had falsified a few reports so I was going to let him go anyway, but…” He trailed off, turning to look out the window instead of at you. “I thought you were going to ask about the escort from earlier”

You nearly choked on your own breath “Escort? I thought she was from accounting!”

Jaemin hung his head in defeat “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was never good at processing things. Instead of thinking though the issue I jumped straight to numbness, and I apologize”

You simply could not believe your ears, you had figured that’s what was going on. But somehow it still took you by surprise. “Wait, why are you telling me all this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“When I interviewed you for that sales role, I had such bad thoughts. I decided to tell you I needed an assistant instead. But I had one already. I fired her to give you the role. I just wanted that pretty little ass outside my office. I wanted to rub it in everyone’s faces that I had the hottest secretary. But then you got that letter, and I noticed you starting to get a little too much attention than I liked. And I didn’t expect to like you this much and-” He rambled on before stopping abruptly to look at you.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall “two people lost their jobs because of me?” Your voice felt raw.

“Technically only one, the other guy was getting fired for fraud anyway. It was just a coincidence. And I didn’t fire my former secretary, I relocated her to another department. That was poor phrasing on my end” Jaemin reached for your hands, you foolishly let him hold on.

This was an enormous pill to swallow. “So let me get this straight.” You squeezed Jaemin’s hands. “You removed your secretary, hired me because you think I’m hot, got jealous when I was getting attention, forced me to be your date for this gala, and then hired an escort to take out your frustrations instead of just coming clean and talking to me?”

“That’s about it, yeah” Jaemin nodded enthusiastically.

“I quit.” You pulled your hands back to your lap.

Jaemin’s smile fell, his eyes showing the panic he was feeling. “No, no you can’t quit. Who’s going to read my emails to me and copy down all the meeting notes that I don’t feel like doing?”

You shrugged “I’m not sure, Jaemin. I just know it won’t be me.”

The timing was lovely as the car had pulled up to the venue, the driver was already opening the door to help you out. Jaemin clutched your hand desperately. “Please, Y/n. Please just give me the night to make things right.”

You brushed him off “I will accompany you tonight, but tomorrow morning I will be packing my things. I’m sorry”

Jaemin led the way into the gala, his shoulders slumped in defeat. To anyone else, you were sure he looked angry, but you knew the truth. The first hour of the gala was spent greeting fellow colleagues and investors. You stopped to chat with Renjun, praising him for how incredible the party turned out, to which he agreed with a small smile and flushed cheeks.

“He’s into the party planner he hired” Jaemin leaned down to whisper in your ear.

The sudden closeness took you by surprise, but you couldn’t help but slightly lean back into his chest. The countless champagne flutes did not help the situation, no matter how much you wanted to not be around Jaemin right now, your other desires had taken over. Jaemin’s hand was placed firmly on your hip, holding you in place.

“I think it’s time we get you home sweetheart” He spoke softly, looking around to find the nearest exit.

You could only nod, agreeing that it was in fact time to head home. Jaemin kept his grip on your hip as he escorted you through the crowds of people, stopping only once to whisper something to Mark before continuing to the exit. Just as it had been when you arrived, Jaemin’s car and driver were stationed out front. The car door was already open for you two to get in, he helped you into the car and you slumped against him.

Sun had streamed in through the large windows of your bedroom bright and early. You cursed yourself for not remembering to shut the curtains before getting into bed last night. Wait, you didn’t have curtains, or the luxurious silk bedding, or a king sized bed. Realization hit you, Jaemin must’ve taken you home. But when you looked over to the other side of the bed you found it still untouched. You were thankfully still in your dress from last night.

After gathering up some courage and taking the Advil that was conveniently left on the nightstand you took off down the hallway of the apartment. On the couch you found your boss, drinking a cup of coffee while leisurely flipping through reports.

“Good morning sleepy girl” He cooed at you.

You squinted back at him “lest you not forget, I quit last night. And you upset me.”

“I recall. I also recall you chirping at me in the car that you wanted me to bring you here and ‘do the things from the emails’ to you” He chuckled, blush crept across your cheeks.

“I am very sorry. I will head out now.” You started towards the door.

“Y/n. Wait.” Jaemin rose from his place on the sofa, his long strides reaching you quickly. “Now that it’s not a conflict of interest, I was wondering if you would allow me to take you on a date?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “A date? Jaemin, you only hired me because you thought I was hot! I’m so pissed off at you! I thought I had merit, I thought I was good at my job!” You were stopped short by Jaemin’s lips on yours.

The kiss seemed to have surprised you both. Both of you stood in shock, just staring at each other.

“You are” His voice was soft.

“I am what?” Your brows furrowed.

“Good at your job. Mark requested we send you off to another department that needs a manager. I said no, because I need you to keep me organized. I have never made it to so many meetings!” He grinned at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Could I move to a different department to be a manager?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin breathed a sigh of relief “Yes, you absolutely can. I can always bring back my old secretary in your place”

“Then I will.” You beamed happily.

“You will what? Move departments?” Jaemin’s hands squeezed your shoulders in anticipation.

“Well yes obviously.” you rolled your eyes. “But also, I’ll let you take me out.”

Jaemin pulled you into another kiss, this one much less abrupt than the last. His lips were soft against yours, and his hands worked their way down your body. Your fingers combed through his hair, stopping occasionally to tug slightly.

“Oh we have to stop. I still think about your first day when you had to change in my office.” He confessed.

You smirked at him, “That’s alright. I think about it too.”

“I’ll have the driver take you home and I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something red again. It looks stunning on you.” He kissed you one last time before sending you off.

The next week was a do over of your first day, but this time as a manager for partner relations. But instead of taking an Uber, you arrived with the CFO in his personal car.

“I’ll see you after work sweetheart. Let me know if I need to fire anyone for you” Jaemin winked before placing a kiss on your lips before exiting the elevator onto the finance floor.

“Ugh, you are so lucky” another employee in the office wined before exiting at the next stop.

The doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. The biggest grin plastered across your face as you thought aloud “Yeah, I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

#nct dream #nct #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #nct fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin angst

446 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 11 months

Note

happy 3k!! 🫶🏽

"grumbling" and "narrowed eyes" for carlos?

in my dream – cs55

Carlos tries his best to keep you from leaving him lonely.

auds here... title from this but i listened to this on loop while writing (1d girls unite!!!! i was a true blue zayn girl!!!!!)

“That is my shirt.”

You stare at the buttons you’ve been nipping at, realizing a tad too late that it is Carlos’ polo, a plain white one similar to yours, which is somewhere else on the floor. Caught, you turn and find your boyfriend half-awake, sleepy eyes staring at your half-dressed figure. Smiling at his drowsy expression, you roll your eyes.

He likes when you wake up before he does. He finds you on his chest, drawing idle patterns; in the shower, where he almost always joins you; or like today, getting dressed to leave before anybody spots you on his floor. But even in a rush, with your hair all fussed up and a bed mark across your face, he still feels he’s caught in a dream.

“Okay, mister.” You make quick work of unbuttoning the several bottom rows, exaggerating the movement so Carlos sees you’re not in some thick plot to steal his Hugo Boss shirt.

He squints. “And those are my hotel slippers.”

You laugh. “I’ll take them off, then. I was going to anyway, I don’t think they allow cloth slippers in the media pen.”

Dissatisfied, he presses on. “That’s also my bracelet.” He sits up, smiling mischievously, and heaves himself off to take both your wrists and drag you back to bed. “And my hair elastic.” He swipes his thumb over the bracelet and elastic on your left wrist.

“I doubt that,” you say, climbing atop his lap despite yourself. You have work, you have to sneak out before anyone sees and starts a flurry of nasty rumors—but he’s always been good at convincing you to stay. “Your new haircut means you can barely tie a loop around it.” You rake your fingers through his blunt-cut hair.

“Well,” he says, shrugging, “it’s true. And you cannot leave until you have given all these back.” He stamps a kiss onto your jaw. “Sí?” He moves lower, to your exposed collarbones, the area of skin left uncovered by his slouchy polo. He smiles into your skin, smelling faintly of your perfume mixed with his.

“Carlos,” you mutter, pushing lightly despite smiling. “I gotta go.”

He parts from you and narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’ll get fired,” you quip, buttoning two more. He reaches up to unbutton them and you gasp. “Carlos!”

“You still haven’t given back my…” he inspects your outfit to point out something “of his.” “…Shorts.”

“These are your shorts?” You tug on the hem of the denim that hugs your thighs, clearly not his.

“Fine. My panties.”

“Carlos.” You can’t help but laugh at his desperation, endeared by the fact that he needs you close by all the time. “If you’re into that, we can talk about it in bed tonight.”

“Your report can be about how good I am in bed,” he jokes, hugging you close. You kiss his head and clamber off, pulling your sandals on.

“As a journalist, I’m a firm believer in not spreading fake news,” you say, laughing as you grab your bag and escape the hotel room.

You fix your hair before leaving, still hearing him grumble with early onset separation anxiety on the other side of the door, which opens when you’re just two paces shy of it—

—and a hand comes through and yanks you in for one last kiss, sweet and yearning for more. “Good luck today,” he says. “I love you, miss reporter.”

“Good luck too,” you mumble into his lips, smiling. “Love you more, Carlito.”

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #carlos sainz #car #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

994 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 12 days

Text

141 Headcanons: Going Shopping

Grocery/Food Shopping

John Price loves being the one in charge of the buggy/shopping cart. He loves being the one pushing it, holding the list, and watching you walk ahead all pretty, plucking whatever you'd like to buy onto the cart. He also has a natural eye for deals and sales, and knows when something is actually for sale or when the shop is trying to lie to you.

Johnny MacTavish is a menace when he's shopping. With or without you, he's definitely straying from the list and the budget. He's definitely the type to go shopping while hungry and ends up getting too many snacks, or buys seasonal products that you don't need but that "will get rotated out" of the shop so he better buy them Now.

Kyle Garrick makes a whole day out of going shopping. He'll disappear while you're getting a cart and come back with Starbucks or a cold drink of some kind for you to sip on while you go along and buy whatever you need for the house. He's also very efficient, so he bags everything very well, heavy stuff on the bottom, light/fragile on top, and, especially, all the cold/frozen things together.

Simon Riley is too efficient. It's almost scary. He goes in and out of the shop in record time and doesn't even let himself be affected by sales, new products, limited-time-only displays... Nothing. He follows the list to a T and would rather go inside alone than have you follow him and slow him down. But that also makes him an ass and he'll definitely realize you forgot to add something to the list, but will STILL not stray from his 'route' to go get it. If you wanted it, you should've written it down.

VS.

Clothes' Shopping

John Price is of the opinion that all his clothes are fine and, therefore, he doesn't particularly need new ones. That being said, he does know all his sizes and measurements, and won't be opposed to getting news shoes or a new button-up every once in a while. He's also very much the type that'll give you his honest (and sometimes hurtful) opinion on the fit of the clothes you're trying on and sincerely suggest you try the size up/down.

Johnny MacTavish doesn't really like buying new clothes, though he can be convinced... if you promise him you'll go to a lingerie shop and pick out something sexy to wear just for him, he'll let you take him to Levi's or what have you to get him new clothes. That being said, he is the type who, when you're trying to find his size, will fuck off and disappear, only for you to find him by the till, looking at the male jewelry displays and analyzing all the chains and bracelets and cheap watches.

Kyle Garrick is a sweetheart to shop with. He has a good sense of what looks good and what doesn't, and knows the basic of 'big prints work well with small prints and with plain colours', even if he doesn't really wear much of either. He also knows about colour blocking, funnily enough. He loves when his sweetheart tries things out in the dressing rooms just for him.

Simon Riley is the worst person to go shopping with. Be it for yourself or for him. He hates waiting around as you skim the clothes' racks... He'd rather sit outside in the Husband Chair™️ until you're done. And if you try to drag him to a male clothing shop to buy him stuff? He'll complain the whole time about the price and the quality. "Why would I pay 15 quid for a t-shirt when I can put in an order and get 5 shirts from the Army for free, da'lin'?"

#ikea writes 💚#masterlist #headcanon #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #shopping headcanons #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #soap headcanons #ghost headcanons #price headcanons #gaz headcanons

227 notes · View notes

lemmetreatya · 11 months

Text

Maybe It’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k

content: no extreme warnings, modern au, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader commutes to work by train, reader knows basic spanish, hc that miguel speaks both irish and spanish — and that he’s irish on his father’s side (idk if this is correct or not), use of petnames, id say miguel is a bit ooc — but hes not — he just doesn’t have all that canon trauma going on sjsksk

FINALLY DID SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY FOR ONCE????? had to get back on my shit yktfv!!! also psa for the translations — i do not speak fluent spanish and not a lick of irish so please!! if there’s anything incorrect/needs changing, dont be afraid to tell me!! hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Your usual commute to work was barely ever eventful. It mostly consisted of you getting onto your train — hoping you’d get a seat — and feeling despondent every time you noticed no seats were available.

Which was expected: You had to use a busy train in order to get to work on time. Any earlier and you’d have to wonder around your office’s surroundings to waste time and any later would have you clocking in late.

This timed train was so much more convenient for pace but it just never granted you those graceful minutes to sit down.

But alas, you stuck with it, because what else was there to complain about? The trains weren’t too full so it didn’t mean you were squashed like packed sardines and it was relatively quiet due to most passengers being too mellow at this time of morning to make any lucrative noise.

“Sorry, Miss.”

At first, you ignored the deep sounding words, assuming they could have been for anyone. But then a soft tap bounced just over your thigh and so you looked down to see what the disturbance was.

Looking up at you was a man with focused eyes. He wore a plain black suit with matching trousers. His white shirt had two buttons undone and he wore no tie. You couldn’t help but noticed how tossled his hair was. Clearly he was on his way to some type of occupation.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asks.

“Oh! I…”

You lean off from the pole you were supporting yourself on and adjust your bag on your soldier. Maybe this man was pitying you because you looked tired. You honestly weren’t and were genuinely just being comfortable, but you guess your lax composure compelled this reaction from him.

“No. Sorry, I was just being lazy. I’m fine, you don’t need to give up your seat for me.”

You shake your head and deny his request but the man continually persists. He was already starting to get up from his seat.

“No, en serio, sit.” He moved his briefcase over with his foot. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you standing now, can we?”

And it’s not like you agreed; Flattery of any kind from a stranger was always met with caution, but concerning he was going out of his way to give you a seat, you guess it’d be rude to deny it.

“Oh…How kind.” You stagnantly laugh.

The man took your place from before, now standing over you as he held onto the pole. He placed his briefcase between his feet. As you finally sit down and change your bag from your arm to your lap, you look up at the man with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

He only smiles at you acutely before offering you a curt nod. That was the only interaction you had the whole ride before you got off at your stop and made your way to work.

The next time you see the man isn’t until two days after the first ordeal and towards the end of the week.

He sees you before you see him, regarding he boarded the train sometime before you, and instantly flags you over.

“Miss!”

Weirdly, his call made you smile, and you pot on over, not expecting much.

“You really don’t have to.” You try as he gets up and out of his seat. He’s however already shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly. I already told you why you do so I don’t wanna hear anymore complaining.”

With rolled lips, you nod as you meekly sit down. Having an abash austere about you, you struggle to look up at him as you speak.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“No need for thanks.”

You wait several seconds before looking up to give him a communal look of gratitude but you find he’s already looking down at you. You find difficultly baring his coarse stare and so you look back down at your lap.

Throughout the ride, you can’t help but notice how his leg kept innocently brushing against yours.

Once again, no more words were shared between you and like before, you get up and leave for your stop once it comes.

“You know how this goes.”

This is about the sixth time the man has offered his seat up for you, and quite frankly you do know how it goes, but it just never seems like a good enough reason to therefore take his seat.

“Señor.” You muse with a light smile as you board the train. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I really do. Come. Sit.”

The man is already out of the seat, hand widely displaying towards it — it’s yours.

Despite the seatless train, most people know by now not to sit in it’s stead. The man himself is tall and wide enough to deter anyone from trying, but most reoccurring passengers know the deal as well as you do.

As you take your seat, the man smiles down at you. His smiles have gotten a lot warmer over the various interactions. Per usual, he places his briefcase down near your feet and brush his knees with yours. You believe it’s going to be another wordless journey but the man opens his mouth, closes it, before saying:

“And please, call me Miguel.”

He jogs your knee with his, so you were aware it was you he was talking to, but you still looked up at him with a slight expression of confusion. For some reason, it was as if moths — the Night’s Butterfly — were flitting around within the neck of your stomach.

“Sorry?”

He sighs out of his nose. It was not out of annoyance, but as if he too was experiencing some emotions of nervousness. The man however had enough confidence to look down at you and attempt to gain your gaze.

“As opposed to señor, call me Miguel.”

Your mouth lets out a small ‘ah’.

“Miguel.” You repeat.

So his name was Miguel.

It suited him, and made slight sense concerning he seemed to know Spanish well, but even more so because it was as if he had metamorphosed right in front of you. It wasn’t a physical change, but being able to put a name to a face definitely altered your perception of him. It was as if he’d become more human.

With a soft hum, you look up at him with an inquisitive contort.

“Miguel.” You taste his name in his mouth once more. “Is that what you’d like me to call you or is that your actual, real, government name?”

The man’s expression was unreadable.

“Well, what do you think?”

You shrug, unsure why he’s asked the question, but you give your answer anyways.

“I’d think it’d be kinda stupid for you to give your government name to a stranger on the train. So I’m guessing it’s a nickname or at least a pseudo one.”

Miguel’s eyes clip towards the moving view behind you, before training back onto your face.

“Looks like I’m kinda stupid then.”

You pause, register what he’s said, and then let out a tinkling laugh as you shake your head meticulously. Miguel chuckles a few seconds after you, and he can’t help watching you as he does so.

There’s a pause.

“I’m not much of a stranger anymore though, right? We’re more acquaintances than anything.” He tries.

“But Miguel, you don’t even know my name.”

“Only because you haven’t told me.” He shrugs.

This is the most quick-fire that he’s ever been but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it.

“You want my government name or the pseudo one?” You muse.

“It’s only fair that you give me the government one.” He catches himself before adding more gently, “Only if you’re comfortable doing so and kinda stupid like me.”

Once again, you can’t help the smile that braces your mouth. You tell him your name, the government one, and Miguel knocks your knees together in concur.

“Ah. Hermosa nombre por una hermosa dama.” [1]

He says, and regardless of whether you understood or not, you knew what he was getting at. If his words didn’t convince you then it was the silky look of— admiration? That gave him away.

Your cheeks heated, and your head dipped. All you could force out was a humble Thank You.

“Where I’m from, we have this saying.”

Miguel angles his breakfast snacks in your direction and you wordlessly take a small handful.

Surprisingly, your usual train was a lot quieter this morning. Maybe it was due to school holidays season, but there was enough space for you and Miguel to both have a seat. Your journey so far had been non-stop chatter.

“Más í an ceann í, beidh a fhios ag do chroí sula ndéanann tú.” [2] He reprises wisely.

It wasn’t Spanish, and you knew Miguel spoke Irish (“That old bastard was only good for one thing.”), so the translation was pretty much lost on you.

“Is that so?” You say with a hum and a crunch.

Miguel is also crunching on some of his snack, palm covering his mouth as he chucks the small pebbles towards the back of his throat before he’s shaking his head.

“Nope, that was a complete fucking lie. No such saying exists like that, I just made it up on the spot.” Miguel leaves room for you to let out a burst of laughter. “But, if it was a saying, I’d live by it like it was gospel.”

Shaking your head, you finish the portion of snacks that were in your mouth before you reply.

“Maybe you should paten it then. Make sure no one else gets the chance in saying it’s the gospel they wrote.”

“Maybe I should patent it…” Miguel echoes to himself with a deep laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

The both of you lull into a comfortable silence. The sort of silence you could fall into with a long time friend who was low maintenance, or a family member who you tolerated sharing the living room space with. It was the type of stilling that didn’t require speech but welcomed it if it came. Mornings with Miguel were the calm before the inevitable storm and the small pick-me-up that pushed you out of bed.

But then as you pondered how he made you feel, you realise that you only knew Miguel within the context of your work commute. You’d only ever spoken to this man within the short time that you travelled to work; Never before, never after. Had you gotten just one train earlier or later — heck, one carriage — different that fateful day, it would have inevitably changed the course of your life and the starting foundation of the friendship (?).

Life truly was funny in how it dealt it’s cards.

“What does it mean anyways?” You ask with piqued interest.

Miguel makes a WTF face, a face he made often, before he’s scrunching up his packet of finished snacks and dumping it within the blue convenience store bag he had. You recognise that everything he’d purchased was in Spanish.

“What does what mean? Be more specific.”

“Your fake saying you lied about.”

Miguel turns his head to look at you, those deep insightful eyes of his analysing you, searching for something. You’re not sure if he found what he was looking for. Whether he did or not, you wouldn’t know.

The man only turns forwards again and snorts.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about it.” He concludes. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

________________________________

[1]: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady

[2]: If she’s the one, your heart will know before you do

#miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x black reader #atsv #atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099

848 notes · View notes