#girls generation desktop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thestoryofusstan · 1 month

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request

#harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry #harry styles #boss!harry styles x reader #boss!harry styles #ceorry #ceo!harry styles #ceo!harry styles x reader

907 notes · View notes

partycatty · 3 months

Note

I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #marley writes ☆

277 notes · View notes

venusandsaturnsrings · 7 months

Note

inceltaru is so genius. kisses ur forehead. i have so many thoughts.

grinding against each other while he sits in his gaming chair, walking in on him watching some weird hentai anime, finding the nsfw manga he keeps in his bedside table.

ESPECIALLY. him thirsting over a chubby reader because his brain is too rotten from all the hentai with chubby girls hes consumed. jsut thinking about if he could ever get you to agree to recreate those nasty things with him

KISSES U BACK!! i can’t claim the idea of inceltaru as a whole (i stumbled across smthn abt him on twt like a year ago) but i’ve very much tailored him to match my preferences and how i see his character better!! when i first started writing him, it was bc there was no other content like it out there and if you want a job done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself y’know?? modern problems require modern solutions etc etc… ANYWAYS you’re a genius here this is for you MWAH!! >///<

if you asked Ajax his favourite genre of manga, he’d tell you something unassuming like slice of life or romance; he may even name some titles if pressed. he’s also a big fat liar with shelves of various adult materials, primarily centred around chubby girls and breeding. his computer has numerous tabs and folders dedicated to his favourite sites and videos unabashedly visible on his desktop. it’s not hard to come across something related to his perverted interests unless he’s chosen to stash it all away; he does this when you’re coming over.

to set the scene, it’s well into the evening and you’ve spent the day lounging in his house playing various games and chatting about mostly nonsense but he was still hanging onto every syllable that left your mouth. after drinking what you think was his fourth energy drink of the day, he went to the bathroom and you decided to poke around at the things he never let you touch. your first objective was the small shelves hidden behind a door under his bedside table. as quietly as possible, you opened it up only to be faced with a basket of… toys… and various mangas with covers featuring plump girls covered in certain substances. you were slack jawed. you had known Ajax was a bit of an oddball immediately upon meeting him from the way others talked about him and warnings your friends had given you but he was just so sweet and had a certain pathetic charm about him that you couldn’t resist. you just hadn’t quite expected these sorts of things to be amongst his collection of knick knacks.

unbeknownst to you he had reentered the room. Ajax cleared his throat and you whipped around only to be faced with the ginger sporting a half hard-on and a generous blush across his pretty face. he shifted slightly from foot to foot without making eye contact before speaking, though his voice cracked slightly.

“snooping around huh? i hadn’t quite… planned for you to see this sorta stuff so soon,” he paused as if thinking, “it’s only appropriate that you apologize, yeah? but i’m not sure that’ll cut it…” Ajax walked closer to you and bent down to be level with your face, his pupils blown wide and drool practically spilling out his mouth. “i can forgive you if you let me try out some of that stuff with you?”

he was nothing short of handsy for the rest of the night, flipping you through various positions but his hands never left your full hips for longer than a handful of seconds. Ajax practically had hearts in his eyes every time he blew his load straight against your cervix and made you whimper from the depth and feeling of fullness. his nervousity never quite left, fingertips trembling and brows furrowed, but the unsure nature of his movements was endearing in an odd way. it was a passing thought you couldn’t dwell on with the small vibrator held firmly to your clit at all times.

#cw: incel #blinks at u #i hope this is satisfactory T^T #my brain was melting only taru up there #inceltaru #incel childe #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #chit chats

224 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 27 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 374

Previously On...: You've realized this situation with Bucky and Jade can not go on. After checking the Tower's systems, the only thing you've found that Jade's been looking through is Bucky's old records.

A/N: Another shortie; sorry! I'm a Hudson River Girl, so I LOVE the Hudson River School, and Church is particularly close to my heart. This is the painting in question.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

You made your way back to your room, trying to decide what you wanted to do for dinner, and assuming you’d be on your own for it. By now, you and Bucky were supposed to be dining along the Hudson River, getting ready to drive out into the mountains for your stargazing. Instead, he’d be sitting at Jade’s bedside and you’d be wondering how much longer you were gonna put up with this shit, as Sam so eloquently put it.

When you entered your room, you gasped. Propped up against the foot of your bed was a canvas painting– Frederic Edwin Church’s Moonlight in the Tropics, from his Twilight in the Tropics series– with a red bow stuck to the corner. You’d been a fan of the Hudson River School of painting since the first time Tony took you to see an exhibition years ago, and Church was your favorite by far.

You slowly approached the canvas, almost afraid to get too near it. The last time it had gone up at auction, you knew it had fetched over $1.2 million. This had to be a reproduction. Tentatively, you reached out a hand and delicately traced a fingertip over the brushstrokes. If it was a reproduction, it was damned good.

You gently pried off the bow to find a note. In Tony’s messy scraw, you read:

‘I’m so sorry, Pocket. I never should have dragged your personal business in front of the team like that. I hope you can forgive me.

Tony.

PS- Yes, the it’s real deal’

You sighed and shook your head. Tony fucking Stark. You pulled out your phone.

>> You’re a fucking dumbass.

IronBossMan: Apology accepted, I take it?

>> You’re lucky you’re family.

IronBossMan: Yes, I am. Very much so.

>> How’s Rhodey?

IronBossMan: Good. Stable. Hasn’t woken up yet, but Banner’s hopeful for a full recovery.

>> Good. I’m glad.

IronBossMan: Me, too.

>> Goodnight, Boss.

IronBossMan: Goodnight, Kiddo.

You’d have to get the tools necessary to hang it up in the morning. For now, you propped it up on your desktop. Crawling onto your couch, you tucked your knees under your chin and held them to your chest while you stared at the painting. Not his most expensive apology, but far more meaningful to you than the Ferrari.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

111 notes · View notes

boredcoldandhungry · 1 month

Text

If there was one thing Nico was grateful for, it was his planning period. Everyday between teaching second period AP US history and fourth period art history he could reply to angry emails, indulge into his candy stash, grade, write angry emails, refill his water, and go to the bathroom.

He had somehow ended up with the same exact schedule from one term to the next. He followed his second period out to run some arrends around the school and was scared shitless when his room was occupied with about 10 freshman. Two things were frightening about this, A: he didn't have a class third period, B: he didn't teach freshman at all this term (he could tell they were freshman, they had the scared look in their eyes).

"Woah you guys can't be in here, get to class!" He urged, slamming his stack of copies onto his desk.

"Uhm, this is our class," one of the braver ones said, " aren't you Mr. -" she knit her eyebrows together and glared at her schedule, "Di Angelo-Solace?"

Nico took a deep breath. "What class do you guys think you're in?"

The same girl, they're leader apparently, responded. "Honors English 9?"

It took all Nico had in him to not point at the various historical posters on his walls and the whiteboard dedicated to Italian verbs. He in no way taught English.

He took a deep breath (again). "There are two Mr. Di Angelo-Solaces in this school. I teach history and Italian, the other one teaches english. Go upstairs to room 302. I'll call him and let you know you're all coming."

The leader of the bunch seemed confused, but not confused enough to ask questions. She quickly gathered her things and walked out the door, causing everyone else to follow her.

Nico sighed and sat down at his desk. He knew Will had his cell off during work hours so he reached to the hardly used landline on his desk and dialed Will's classroom.

"Hel-lo" a sing-songy voice responded.

Nico smiled at the voice, "Hi love, it's me, sorry to bother I know it's syllabus day."

"It's no prob, what's up?"

"Missing half your class?"

"Yup. Got em?"

"Yup I just sent them up. Throw them a solid and don't mark them tarty. My fault I wasn't in the room when they first came in. I think I also generally scared them."

"Okay, will do, love you."

''Love you too, hun."

Nico put the phone back in it's holder and gave a soft sigh, turning to his desktop and opening his email.

next part

#this is a soft launch #This is just a sneak peak of whats after daydreaming.#solangelo #fanfic #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #ao3 fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #solangelo fanfiction #the sun and the star #teacher au #teacher Nico #teacher will #teehee #I wrote this in half an hour so sorry if it's not the best #ik I should be working on the main fic ikik #if anyone remembers my ramble ab this au in one of my author notes on ao3 you're a real one #should I put this on ao3?

53 notes · View notes

alovesongtheywrote · 4 months

Note

Heyyyy I just read Nightmare Academia, and I LOOOOVE IT!!! You're such a talented writer!! 🩷🩷🩷

♥ Summary: I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the fic :D In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, your author presents you a series of vignettes about you and Reid sharing an office. In other words- you and Reid share an office. Shenanigans ensue.

♥ Warnings: none? that i'm aware of?

♥ A/N: heyyyyy, what's uppppp, it's meeee. sorry this fic took 20 years, lmao. finals hit, im sure you understand. ANYWAY, enjoy the chapter. it's like, 3,000 words, i hope that makes up for it lol

♥ Word Count: 3,336

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Working out of Spencer’s office was strange. It wasn’t difficult, as one might expect. You did not struggle to exist in the confines of that office- if anything, the opposite was true. Working with Spencer was easy. Being in his space and working by his side was as easy as breathing. Despite the pranks, the general bitchiness, and your lingering guilt after the stabbing incident, you and Spencer were a good team. You could put aside your feelings and get work done when it mattered.

It was all very fucking weird.

That said, when it didn’t matter, absolutely no constructive work could be completed within your office. By inviting you into his space, Spencer had unlocked a new universe of pranks for you. You knew the password to his computer. You had the key to every cabinet. Everything you could ever dream of stealing was within reach.

You behaved accordingly.

Where most normal laptop-havers set their desktop images to pictures of family, friends, and/or big-tittied anime girls, Spencer left his desktop image on the factory setting. It was the same default shit that came with any piece of new tech- but this hunk of metal and wire wasn’t new. He’d had it for years and it was still the same image. Boring. Blank. Impersonal and unrevealing. Honestly, you weren’t sure if Spencer knew he could change the image, but that didn’t really matter. Whether or not he knew, you would take the liberty of changing it for him.

You had to move quickly and strike carefully. Despite being a technophobe, Reid wasn’t the type to leave his shit lying around. You had to wait patiently for an opportunity, and when one arose, you had to make the most of it. Spencer Reid would not have a sweet image of capybaras in an onsen. He would not get a desktop image of sweet sleeping dogs. That motherfucker would not be on the receiving end of anything wholesome or sweet.

You picked an image in advance. You waited patiently- and when the window of opportunity finally swung open late one Tuesday afternoon?

You almost missed it. It wasn’t your fault. When Reid finally got up and left the room, you were a touch busy stealing one of the books off the shelf behind him. By the time you noticed he was gone, you’d already placed some horny chunks of text bound by a tasteful cover in its place.

You could hear his footsteps down the hall. You had to move quickly.

Every inch of your body seemed to crackle with a sort of electricity. Your heart pounded in your chest, urged by the knowledge that you could be caught any second. Your fingers raced over the keyboard as you found your chosen image.

When Reid returned to the room, you were back at the bookshelf, scanning the titles and pretending you hadn’t done anything wrong. It was kind of hard to do when you were staring your smutty novels in the face, but still, you managed.

Your teeth grazed your lip as Spencer stepped into the room. You could hear him place something on his desk, but you refused to look at him. His eyes burned holes in the side of your head, you could feel it-

“Here,” he reached out to you, paper cup in hand, “I got you a coffee.”

“What? How? Why?” You stuttered out, completely failing to hide your shock.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, “Coffee. With money. Because it’s late and you’ve been working all day. You know, the traditional thing to say in this situation is thank you.”

“I- Thank you,” you accepted the coffee, wrapping your hands around it tightly as if you could squeeze out your shame.

He smiled, smug and smarmy. Your shame immediately dissipated. This fucker deserved the cursed bullshit you’d set on his screen.

“You’re welcome, (L/N).”

He turned away from you, switching on his laptop and entering his password. You watched him, silently sipping on your coffee. It was perfect. He’d memorized your coffee order. Of fucking course he had. That didn’t mean anything, right? Spencer could memorize anything, it was all a part of the eidetic memory package. He probably memorized every coffee order of every person he’d ever stood behind in every coffee shop he’d ever been to. The fact that he knew your order meant-

“GOD-” Spencer pushed back from the desk, almost pushing his office chair right into your leg. You looked up, a grin crossing your lips as you saw what had caused his outburst.

A hydra-like creature with a long fleshy body, several long slender necks, and multiple Furby-style faces stared out at you from the glowing screen of Spencer’s computer.

It was the worst thing you could find, a terrible monster from the very depths of the internet- and it had the intended effect! Spencer glared at his screen with horror and confusion, his face contorted by whatever rush of emotion he felt upon seeing the cursed thing in front of him. A sense of euphoric joy spread through your body, burning away all the shame and confusion you felt.

“You really can’t act like an adult for two seconds, can you?”

“Apparently not. Thank you for the coffee?”

Whenever Spencer got on your nerves, you reorganized his files. You hid folder upon folder of paperwork in the wrong place. You switched files with other files on purpose. You didn’t re-label anything- you weren’t a monster- but you did create such a mess that Spencer had to stay late for a few nights. He didn’t mind, really. In messing up his files, you had made a little mystery for him to solve. He liked little mysteries.

Besides, on the nights he had to stay late, you stayed with him.

On the floor.

That wasn’t too uncommon, honestly. Reid’s office didn’t come with two desks- therefore, when one of you needed space, the other usually offered to take the floor as their dominion. Re-arranging files took lots and lots of space, hence, you often found yourself on the ground.

One such late night, you sprawled yourself across the floor and angled your head to get a better view of Reid’s sorting. His eyes darted across the page at a speed that some would call inhuman. (You wouldn’t call it inhuman. You would just call him a speedy boy.) As he flipped through the papers before him, those eyes of his turned to you.

“Hi!” you greeted, “How goes the search?”

“You know you don’t have to stay late, right?”

“I know! But I like watching you work. Besides, the floor is comfortable.”

“I doubt that,” Spencer said, turning back to his sorting, “If you ask me, you’re here because you feel guilty for making me stay late. I told you it’s fine, I-”

“Yeah, you like a paper trail, I know. But I promise, Reid, I do not feel guilty.”

“Then maybe you just enjoy my presence?” He looked back up at you, a shit-eating smirk painted on his face. You wanted to smack it off of him. Or maybe kiss it off of him? However, if you were to kiss it off of him, you would definitely do so with unnecessary aggression. Perhaps violence.

You let out an unconvincing laugh, “That’s ridiculous. Be less ridiculous, Reid.”

“I don’t think I’m being ridiculous. I think you’re in denial, (L/N).”

“Pft, denial. You’re silly. You’re a silly little guy,” you stood up, pulling yourself up and brushing yourself off. You didn’t notice the way Spencer’s eyes followed your every movement, didn’t catch his gaze lingering on the small patch of skin that revealed itself as your shirt rode up.

He almost snapped his neck when you turned back towards the desk. He couldn’t let you catch him staring the way he was.

“My dear, dear Spencer Reid, I do not stay with you because I feel bad for making you work late,” you placed your hands on the desk, “Nor do I stay because I enjoy your presence.”

You pulled yourself up onto the desk, perching atop it. This time, you noticed where Spencer’s gaze went and how it lingered on your thighs. You had never felt more powerful in your life. With a smirk, you reached out and placed two fingers beneath his chin, forcing him to look at you. He took a deep, nervous breath, and you could feel him breathe beneath your fingers.

“So why-” he choked, “Why do you stay here? Just to try and flirt with me?”

“No,” you said, objectively flirting with him, “My darling doctor, I stay here because the floor is really fucking comfortable. And I have work to do.”

His brows drew together as the cutest little pout crossed his face, “I don’t believe you. There’s no way it’s that simple, I am sure you have an ulterior motive.”

You did. You had several. You felt bad for making Spencer work late, and you enjoyed his presence, and above all else, you wanted to make sure he got home safe and un-stabbed. You weren’t gonna let Spencer know about that, though.

“Aw, pretty boy. If I have any ulterior motive, it’s that I get to watch you suffer,” you lied.

With a huff, Spencer pulled his face from your grip and returned his focus to the mess you had made for him. You smiled, but the grin on your face was nothing more than plastic, porcelain, fake material posing as real joy.

“I still don’t believe you.”

Fucker.

“If you want to live in a world of delusion, that’s your decision. All I can do is sit here and watch.”

He smirked, “Wow, (L/N). I never pegged you as a voyeur.”

You responded to his quip like any reasonable mature adult would- you made a little sound and swatted some of the papers off of his desk. Spencer just smiled and let his eyes move to a new paragraph.

You were going to kill that man. Not that night, nor the nights that followed, but you were sure. One of those mother fuckin nights, Reid would meet his end by your hand. Or maybe by your thighs.

Spencer Reid might’ve been a renowned doctor with multiple PhDs, but he still wasn’t smart enough to hide his property from your thieving gremlin hands. Before you had moved into his cozy little office, your acts of petty theft were limited to small things. Mugs, for example. Or books. Now, though, you had access to all his worldly possessions- or at least all the worldly possessions that he kept in his office.

You’d taken his keys a few times. The first time you’d done that, he practically kicked down the office door in a panic. He’d searched the office desperately, throwing papers around and checking every drawer, only stopping when he saw your smiling face.

The most recent time you took his keys, he’d just sighed and stared at you expectantly, his hand open and waiting. You were super tempted to lick him, but you held back. You just gave him back his keys.

Mugs, books, and keys weren’t the end of it, though. You stole chess pieces, office supplies, a desk lamp, and at one point, you nabbed one of Spencer’s fucking degrees. (It was just hanging on the wall, taunting you. You had to take it.)

Your favourite incident of theft, though, was a scarf. During the colder months, Spencer usually wore a purple scarf, but this one was different. He didn’t wear it as frequently- it was long, generally tan with stripes of orange, purple, and green. The wool that made it up was unbelievably soft beneath your fingers. You never wanted to let that scarf go. So you didn’t.

You took it.

And you kept it.

You were cold, your neck was scarfless, and he left a lovely soft scarf right in front of you for you to grab. So you grabbed it. And you wore it. And you looked hot. And you were hot- literally.

It was a good thing that you’d nabbed the scarf when you did. The very next day, the heating system that kept the campus warm during the colder months mysteriously broke down. You came into work expecting the usual warmth only to find that everything was fucking freezing. You were fortunate. You still had the scarf in your bag.

Without another thought, you wrapped it around your neck and curled up into a tiny ball behind the desk.

Spencer was not so fortunate. You see, dear reader, our sweet former FBI agent hadn’t realized his scarf had been kidnapped. Upon returning home the night before, he noted the lack of scarf and assumed that he’d left it in his office. That’s right. The man with the eidetic memory just assumed he’d forgotten something- not just something. The nerdy scarf that he’d spent months working on.

Please forgive him, he’s secretly like, half a himbo. A half himbo in disguise. A halfbo incognito. Anyway.

His assumption left him scarfless, and that morning, Spencer burst into the office, desperate and searching once more. And then, he saw you wearing his scarf. The Doctor Who scarf. The scarf he’d knit himself, the scarf that had spent hours and hours in his hands, that scarf wrapped around your neck. He froze. The panic he had felt in the moments before faded away to nothing.

No. Not nothing. It just faded to a different kind of panic. An, “Oh my god, my cute co-worker is wearing a scarf I made,” type of panic. A, “Holy shit, my mortal enemy is wearing something rope-like that I made around their neck what kind of day IS THIS,” type of panic.

An, “Oh god, oh man, my cute co-worker is wearing something I made around their neck to keep warm in the cold,” kind of panic.

Put another way, Spencer went from one kind of panic to several kinds of panic, all before you looked up from your paperwork to catch his wide-eyed gaze.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you said, reaching up to tuck the scarf tighter around your neck, as if you could hide it with such a simple gesture, “How are you?”

“I-” he stood there for a few moments, staring at you and willing the blush on his cheeks to stop burning. It didn’t. It burned harder. Finally, Spencer choked out something, “Is that my scarf?”

“Perhaps,” you drew out the word, curling further into the chair and away from Spencer, “Why?”

“Well, first and foremost, the temperature is thirteen degrees lower than normal-”

“Did you check the thermostat?” Your words were quiet, mumbled underneath your breath as an expression of genuine confusion rather than a petty, bitchy quip.

“Secondly, my scarf- my scarf that looks suspiciously similar to the one you’re wearing now- is missing. At first I thought I misplaced it, but then… well,” he gestured vaguely to you, to the fabric draped around your throat, “I managed to put the pieces together.”

You pulled back further. Spencer just rolled his eyes and stepped into the office. He slapped his hands down on the desk, letting a loud bang echo through the room. He smirked at the tiny squeak that escaped you. Fucker.

“Well?” you asked, voice quiet and hands tight around the scarf, “Care to share, profiler boy?”

He scoffed, though the smile on his lips was genuine, “It wasn’t that difficult. I came to work missing my scarf and the first thing I saw was my scarf wrapped around your neck.”

“Ah. The case solved itself,” you paused, biting the inside of your cheek. Another shiver ran through you, “I suppose you’ll want this back?”

Before you could move to remove the scarf, Spencer held up a hand to stop you, “Keep it. At least, for now. It’s cold, and I’ve got a sweater around here somewhere, and you-”

“Are a sweaterless bitch, yes, that’s an accurate take.”

Spencer choked and spluttered, his pink-toned cheeks burning an even darker red, “I- I wouldn’t put it like that-”

“That’s cool,” you shrugged, unfurling your body from the confines of the office chair, “I put it like that. I am a bitch sans-sweater. Sweaterless bitch.”

He put a hand up to his face, covering his eyes as he whispered a tiny little curse word. You just smirked, pulling the scarf tighter around your neck as you stretched your legs out beneath the desk.

Spencer was pretty sure he was going to combust at this point. You weren’t aware of this- but even so, you still managed to make his day harder.

“So, where did you get this? It’s soft as fuck, I want, like, fifteen of them.”

Somehow, Spencer managed to avoid choking again, “I, uh, I made that.”

The smile that crossed your lips was blinding, “No shit? Fuck. You’re more talented than I thought, Dr. Reid.”

“Thank you?” He paused, awkwardly shuffling into the room and setting up for the day, “So, do you watch Doctor Who?”

“Oh shit,” you looked down at the scarf as it cascaded down your body, “Is this a Doctor Who thing?”

“It’s a replica of the scarf worn by Tom Baker who portrayed the fourth doctor from 1974 to 1981. The original scarf was actually twenty feet long- the woman who made it wasn’t told how long the scarf needed to be, so she used all the yarn she was given. It was only shortened slightly for the show’s production, but overall, the end result was very well loved by- oh,” he cut himself off, “Sorry. I’ll-”

“Wait, why did you stop?”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m rambling? And I’m sure you have work to do? And you don’t watch the show, so-”

“Work? Work is boring. Give me the scarf lore.”

“The scarf lore for a show you don’t even watch?”

“Yes! Look, I’ve always taken a more Rocky Horror route when it comes to sci-fi, but I might have to get into Doctor Who because of this.”

“You should!” Spencer lit up, practically glowing with excitement as he took a seat on the desk, “Especially the newer stuff, I think you’d really like what Russell T Davies has to offer as a showrunner.”

“Do you?” you leaned forward, trying not to grin, trying not to show that you were just as excited as he was. You failed, “Tell me more, then.”

He did. The two of you whiled away that morning, ignoring the cold in exchange for an impromptu lecture about British television.

A few hallways away, Professor Belker (the head of the criminology department) sat at her desk. Before her, in two chairs, sat professors Peters and Evans.

“So…” Evans began, rubbing his arms as a weak defence against the cold.

“So,” Belker agreed. None of them needed to state what they were agreeing upon. Peters stated it anyway.

“Spencer and (Y/N) are fucking, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It’s practically a guarantee at this point. You don’t share an office with your mortal enemy unless you and that enemy are having… relations.”

“Wow, ‘mortal enemy.’ That’s intense, Belker,” Evans’ eyes got wide.

“It is. I’m quoting them directly,” Belker replied, her body weighed down in a way that told the other profs that she had heard that quote a million times.

“Well, it was a good move to shut the heat off. I saw (Y/N) with Spencer’s scarf, so…” Peters gave a large and unsubtle wink.

“I didn’t shut the heat off. I thought about it, but-”

“It couldn’t have been you, Belk,” Evans interrupted, “I saw the preliminary report. The power shut off in the middle of the night.”

“Huh. That’s odd.”

“Odd indeed.”

A few more hallways away, a book fell off one of the many shelves in your office. Your office. The haunted office. The ghost was getting her way, and lord help anyone who tried to stop her.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @currentfications, @ilse235, @emagen, @foolishwaitersblog if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

69 notes · View notes

runa-falls · 11 months

Text

cat and mouse - 3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: mention of alcohol and being inebriated, Miguel in normal clothes (yes this is a warning), friends vs. lovers type beat

a/n: this one might be a little frustrating fyi. also it might be a while for the next part to come out bc i'm having trouble figure out where i want this story to go.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.4k

part 1 part 2 part 4

masterlist

----

The villain's life isn’t too bad. Especially when you have friends. Well, a friend.

Really, it’s just like being unemployed, but you’re not living off of your life savings, you’re living off of someone else’s.

Maybe someone else’s else’s savings.

Ok fine, you’ll admit it. You haven’t actually done much crime at all. You’ve just been mooching off of Felicia like a girl with a sugar mama.

So what? It’s not your fault she’s the most generous criminal you’ve ever met. And technically, the money comes directly from other people’s accounts, so you are still acting as an accessory to a crime and that’s good enough for you.

So far, you’ve been treating these past few weeks like an extended vacation.

You’re still not used to your powers. It’s not as easy as thinking about something and it happens. It’s more like a feeling, something you have to pull from within. After the first few times of accidentally exploding someone’s Kia Soul and a breakfast sandwich that cost $12 (which is a crime in itself), you’ve been a little apprehensive about using your powers unless you really need them.

Thankfully, you have Felicia to teach you a few non-power-related moves just in case. You actually thought you’d never see her again after she left you on that roof. Even though she did say, “I’ll see you later,” you thought she was just being polite. But then you got a text for brunch a few days later.

Feli is not a villain, but she’s certainly not a hero either. She kinda just does what she wants when she feels like it. It’s inspiring, really.

You never told her about what happened that other night, not wanting to mention how Spider-Man mistook you for her. Or the fact that your shared a heated kiss with the hero. You’re supposed to be a bad-ass criminal, not some girl who fraternizes with superheroes like some sort of groupie. You do, however, tell her about how full-black suits aren’t your style and that you’re thinking about finally embracing your fiery locks.

She agrees adding, “We can’t show up in the same fit every time we’re committing a crime. We need to keep it fresh, give ‘em something to talk about.”

You were ready to go down to a fabric shop and stitch something quick together, but Feli adamantly convinced you that she would take care of it. Feli has this awesome AI assistant named Zee that does everything from ordering groceries to building her a new ultra-sleek motorcycle. You were told to tell Zee what you were looking for in your new suit since she’s also conveniently connected to an advanced fabricator.

“Hello, Ms. Hardy and Ms. Blaze.” You grumble at the AI’s use of your long-hated nickname, “How can I be of service?”

“Make her a new suit,” Feli commanded, “and make it quick, we have things to do today.” She sits at a desk, clicking idly through her large desktop. You peek over her shoulder, curious about what she’s working on. It’s a Pinterest board full of outfits and modern interior design ideas.

“Certainly. What are you looking for?” A holographic menu streams from the fabricating machine, showing you options for the size, fit, and design of the suit.

“Orange, maybe? And make it a little more breathable, I was sweating bullets in that other one.”

The menu scrolls around as you speak, showing you favorable color combinations and breathable fabrics and designs.

You tap on a fiery orange and black palette. It’s simple and makes sense. A few designs with your chosen colors pop up and you see the perfect one. It’s asymmetrical, leaving enough skin uncovered to ensure there’s a fair amount of ventilation for your extra-warm radioactive body heat. You click the ‘process’ button, and the machine starts right away. Estimated Time: 14 hrs and 27 minutes.

Feli stands up when she hears the rev of the machine working its magic. “Alright, darling, let’s get you up to my closet. We’re going to the club.”

—

Apparently, one of Feli’s associates owns the club we’re going to.

“He’s been asking about you, hearing about the power plant and all.” The limo he sent to her house is exquisite, offering expensive champagne and snacks. The windows are super tinted for privacy and the partition has been rolled up since you got in, so you can’t really tell where you’re headed. “I told him I’d bring you around the club sometime. That is if he lets us have some fun afterward.”

The club itself is quite packed. The building throbs with the heavy bass of electronic music that you can hear even through the heavy metal doors. There’s already a line that wraps around the block and it’s only 8 pm.

You carefully step out of the limo after Feli, trying not to trip in your borrowed heels. The bouncer instantly recognizes her and lets you pass, velvet rope pulled aside.

The sea of dancing bodies moves like a stop-motion film under the strobing lights as you walk right past the general area. You pass through a curtained entrance, walk up some stairs, and stop in front of the balcony area that overlooks the dance floor. VIP only, it says.

In the middle of the sitting area is a large bald man dressed in a proper suit, making him look like a frightening businessman. A large smile appears on his pale face when he spots your friend and he stands up to greet the two of you.

You can barely hear his voice over the loud music. “Felicia Hardy, wonderful to see you.” She offers her hand which he politely pecks.

She merely acknowledges him, “Fisk.”

He turns to you. “And you must be the famous, Blaze.” You don’t offer a hand and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Please, call me Wilson.”

You don’t spend too much time with him, both because he seemed pretty busy and Feli wanted to go downstairs as soon as possible. He asks you normal things like where you’re from and how you met Feli, but he was mostly curious about your powers and how you got them.

“A vat, hm? I’ve heard that one before.” It’s true. Vats of shit almost ensure the creation of new villains. “S’a miracle you didn’t die from that.”

—

Feli is a lot more talkative once you leave Fisk. Despite working for him, she doesn’t seem all that fond of him. “He’ll probably call you up if he ever needs your skillset. I’d recommend taking whatever job he offers, he usually compensates generously.”

“But how? I didn’t give him my number.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be in touch.”

She tells you to find a table while she gets some drinks. Apparently, the bar is open for her, another perk of working with Fisk. You feel like a wallflower as you wait for her, watching as people come and go to the dancefloor or bar. You sit at the high-top table, legs swinging idly to the beat of the music.

You’re almost shoved off your seat when someone bumps into you and you have to hold onto the table to keep your balance. “Oh, sorry,” You hear a familiar voice say over the pounding music.

“It’s ok.”

“Lava Girl,” You look over at the man, head having to tilt up to see his face. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” You barely recognize him as you’ve never seen him out of the suit before. He’s wearing a tight black short-sleeve that stretches nicely over his broad chest and dark wash jeans. Looking like any other civilian.

“Miguel!” His eyes wander over the short black dress you were borrowing from Felicia, briefly stopping over the length of your bare legs that are visible through the glass table.

“Always seem to be wearing something new when I see you.”

“Well, my friend has expensive taste.”

His brows furrow, “Friend? You’re here with someone?”

“Mhm.” Your eye catches on a head of silver hair, wandering through the crowds of loud and rowdy people. “Oh, just a sec. There she is.” You stand up to catch her attention and miraculously she spots you, flashing a smile as you wave your arms around like a lunatic.

Then she sees him and her soft smile stops. One of her perfectly tailored eyebrows raises as she joins the two of you, drinks in hand. “You.”

He seems surprised to see her. “Fel…” There’s a long bout of silence between the three of you. Whatever light energy was there quickly grows tense and you start to feel uncomfortable.

What’s with these two?

You try to salvage whatever you can from this weird conversation. “So, how do you guys know each other?” Felicia’s gaze releases its hold on Miguel and they both look at you, almost like forgot you were even there.

Miguel starts. “Uh, we’re old friends.” She gives him a look that you can’t decipher. “Older enemies.”

Then she writes it out, “Ex’s.”

You can tell he’s trying to hide a wince, but he’s not very good at it. So he was looking for her that night. Does that mean he would’ve kissed her instead of you then? Wait, that also means you kissed your best friend's ex! Shit.

“Oh.” You pick up a coaster just to have something to do with your hands. “Well, that’s cool– I mean it’s not cool, but– like, oh, so that’s how you know each other. Wow, what a small–”

“Why are you here Mig?” Suspicion drips off each word as she steps forward, almost like she’s trying to protect you.

“You’re asking why I’m at a club owned by one of the notorious crime lords in Nueva York?”

And all of a sudden you’re not there again. It’s just them.

“No, I’m asking why you’re here. With her.”

“Can’t a guy just say hi to a friend?”

It dawns on her. “She knows?” She says through gritted teeth.

He run a hand through his dark brown waves, “Look, it just happened.”

“Miguel, leave her alone, she hasn’t done anything.” You feel like you’re a kid watching her parents bicker about things unknown to you. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your skirt.

“She’s a good girl.”

“It’s not like that, Fel.” She rolls her emerald green eyes.

“Sure, it isn’t. I know you, Miguel.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, whatever.” He brushes her off, clearly done with the conversation. “Ok, well, I’d love to stay longer, but I did actually come here for a reason.” He pulls away from the table, “It was nice seeing you, Blaze.” You could tell that he means it just by the way he looks at you.

You nod at him, not really up to say much of anything after tonight. You can tell you’re dismissive send-off stings, but you don’t really care.

“Hardy.” She doesn’t even look at him and he walks away without another word.

“Ugh, that guy.” Feli takes a deep sip of her vodka cran and you watch as a napkin sticks to the sweating glass as she tilts it back. She pushes yours closer to you, letting the perspiration drag against the glass table.

At this point, you’re not really feeling the whole club scene anymore.

“Promise you’ll stay away from him.” Your eyes lift from your untouched glass to meet her stare. “I know he’s Nueva York’s sweetheart Spider-Man or whatever, but he’s bad news, trust me.”

“Ok.”

“You really don’t wanna get caught up in the superhero drama. I’m just, trying to look out for you, Blaze.”

You nod, forcing yourself to smile. “I know.”

And you do. She probably has a good reason for it, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

All the events of the evening sit in the air for a second. Felicia, Fisk, and Miguel. Your brain is having a hard time organizing everything and the noises around you aren’t helping.

You decidedly pick up your glass without thinking and quickly drain it, barely even tasting it before feeling its cool contents bloom throughout your body. You set it down a bit harsher than you intended, but the coaster does a good job of absorbing the sound.

You hop off your seat. “Let’s dance.”

Feli is surprised by your sudden changed mood, “Oh, right now?” You need to let loose. You can’t let some stupid kiss ruin your new life. You can’t let anything distract you. You can’t let him distract you. As of now, you’re a new woman and you’re ready to embrace exactly who everyone thinks you are.

You offer your hand, “Right now.” She takes it, letting you lead her straight to the middle of the dancefloor.

—

This time you run before you even see him. Well ‘run’ may be an exaggeration. You were too drunk to even walk in a straight line so let’s just say you ‘left.’

So the night went off the rails a little bit. One fruity mixed drink turned into a few rounds of shots, which turned into a very ambitious plan to revisit that bank that shut down on you a few weeks ago. Since it hasn’t been hit since that night, you assumed everything would’ve simmered down around it. Less security, less fuss, and less Spider-Man. And you were right.

You were also careless.

Drunk girls and endless power create an interesting scene for the police to discover. First, you skipped the doors altogether. Why use the front entrance, when you can walk straight into the vault? By the time the cops would get there, they’d be greeted by a huge hole that rips through several layers of (theoretically) indestructible materials.

Then there are the two blood-red lipstick kisses right next to it. That was Feli’s idea.

“Oh my god, you know what would be so cute? If we signed off on this with little kisses!”

“Why would we do that?” Your words slur slightly as you step into the vault. It’s stacked high with bills placed in perfectly rectangular towers. A soft breeze could easily ruin the whole room.

“A girl’s gotta leave her mark.”

“Mm…ok, why not.”

You stuff your small handbags to the brim, not worried when a few bills fall out. This job isn’t really about the money, it’s about sending a message.

You both casually stagger away from the crime scene, catch a cab (paying with handfuls of cash because you can’t be bothered to count it out), and get back to her place.

“You staying over?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, darling.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

178 notes · View notes

sepublic · 2 years

Text

undefined

youtube

We got ANOTHER promo y’all!!! It’s technically a trailer but it’s thankfully very brief, given the runtime it’s hyping up is only two episodes, compared to usual TOH trailers that are advertising at least nine episodes! This is an official release and NOT a leak!

First off, Luz’s laptop!!! She’s doing this 11:09 pm at just 20%, she’s got references to Stardew Valley and Hollow Knight on her desktop, and I think that one Hades game? The one with Zagreus? Anyhow the Hollow Knight references are REAL, coupled with the S1 intro, makes you wonder if it influenced stuff like Hollow Mind…!

Luz also has a Good Witch Azura fanfic file! And she’s recently made art since her return to the human world; You can’t see all of it, but it appears to the Owl House’s roof, in a parallel to how the intro usually ends with Luz, Eda, and King on the roof when she ignites a light spell and pushes it into the sky! Augghhhh she’s coping…! And her username is @FriendofOwlsandTitans… Oh my GAWD! She accepts King as a TITAN she’s a friend to TITANS!!! Original art do not steal, just like her GF!

“All I ever wanted was to be good at something”… Good lord, if that doesn’t summize SO much about Luz. Her feelings of inadequacy. Her initial dreams of being a chosen one. Her desire to help others and be of service to them. Her need to JUSTIFY her own existence, to quote her girlfriend… That hit hard. Like I know but OW.

She’s making video diaries again as we guessed, but this time to HERSELF; Girl needs a place to vent, good for her! She probably stayed up and snuck to the kitchen to let herself indulge in her dark feelings and thoughts alone. Did Luz make a video for Eda and King and eventually give up, being forced to confront herself inward without any distractions? She says she knows what she has to do now, is… Is Luz about to do something rash? Something involving Belos? Babey don’t hurt yourself, or maybe she just means the general principle of making thing right!

Then skipping past stuff we DO know, we see Luz and Hunter dressed up for Halloween! Hunter has a HOOTY mask, likely meant to invoke his Golden Guard persona, and Luz is honoring King OH MY GAWD WAAAIIIIII!!!!! She’s MOURNING her Titan brother, just like she mourned Eda! They’re in a dilapidated house, the shack where the Portal opens? They’re armed… Probably investigating paranormal activity, AKA Belos. This fits with another shot of them entering a basement with the same coloring as the house, atop the stairs!

We get a proper look at Amity and Gus’ new designs in the show’s own art style! They look AMAZING… They painted Hooty’s face on the door, pffft, but also ouch. The longing. Treating this place as an earthly version of the Owl House because it kind of is with its role and even coloration! If they miss Hooty you KNOW it’s been a while. Willow must’ve grown flowery vines outside to spruce up the place, it seems to have been converted into a fulltime hideout! If this was the old Wittebane home, I’m sure Caleb would appreciate it… Philip on the other hand.

The door seems to have just… Opened on its own as Amity looks back. Or did somebody, probably Luz and/or Hunter (seeing a glimpse of Gooplos?) quietly leave, and Amity only notices when she hears the door swinging behind them?

We have a hand, either Amity, Willow, or Hunter’s, reaching out to some glow-in-the-dark night decorations; Including a symbol of the moon and sun. This is likely one of the characters mourning and being reminded of the Collector, rather than in-universe connection.

We see our cast, sans Luz, looking at some sort of box with styling reminiscent of the Portal! Not only does it suggest it was actually Caleb and his wife who made it (and Philip plagiarized), but also! Caleb must’ve left it behind in the human world. When Flapjack was pecking at the floorboards, was it to find this? It must be a clue, perhaps on how to make a portal, a Titan’s blood rift, etc.! Is this distraction what got Luz to sneak out earlier?

There’s some sort of book page we see next, presumably the contents of the box the kids found given their hands! I’m not sure the significance of the symbols, but the bottom one reminds me of the curse… Or is it just a reference to Clawthornes loving birds, AKA his wife? Is that some sort of teardrop? Maybe it’s Titan’s Blood and that’s meant to be a FURRY arm of a Titan! And what even IS that thing to the right?!

Hunter says “Did you know that HE was here?!” In a distressed voice. Is this him potentially confronting one of our protagonists for keeping information about Gooplos’ potential survival, regardless if they actually knew and were hiding? Or him talking about Philip and Caleb to perhaps Luz, with the realization that either was a town founder, and inquring as to how Luz didn’t notice!

Then we get Gus and Hunter THE BROS dressed up for Halloween, Hunter doesn’t want to hear spoilers because Gus is likely talking about a recent human hyperfixation of theirs! Brothers.

And then, finally… Luz and Hunter aren’t here, it’s just the other kids, maybe those two are at some other part of the zoo more personal like the aviary…

WE GET THE LONG-AWAITED ANSWER TO THE GIRAFFES!!! AFTER TWO YEARS, ARGUABLY THREE IF YOU CONSIDER WHEN THE FIRST TEASER THAT MENTIONED GIRAFFES WAS RELEASED!!! Since the very beginning, we have been haunted by this question and whether they’d answer it, but now… NOW…! It all comes to light.

The kids are obviously scared and locking arms in preparation, that’s so cute, venturing into ancient territory that hasn’t been traversed for generations. WILLOW HAS HER HAIRCLIP FROM WING IT LIKE WITCHES!!! Was it a gift from Amity, I MISSED IT SO MUCH! She takes a picture and a Giraffe, recognizing natives from its home realm, FREAKS…

We get one idea of why Giraffes were banned and it makes sense. God the kids’ reactions are so funny. Of course Willow the Bravest is bold enough to step ahead and take pictures for the rest! This is such adorable levity and I appreciate the closure, this is their one chance so of course they’d take it after two months of debating if they should risk it! Mayhaps they regret that risk now.

#the owl house #the owl house season 3 #analysis #luz noceda #the owl house hunter #willow park #amity blight #gus porter #augustus porter #vee noceda

640 notes · View notes