#sorry for the dirty window💀💀
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the wasp situation btw
all the hot single wasps in my area want to know my location
#please help i cant focus everything is moving in the corner of my eyes bc of them#and theyre like constantly bumping into the window#so theyre like. climing to the top. falling. bumping into the bottom of the window. climbing again. falling. and so on#theres so many of them doing it that it sounds like it's raining😭😭#my pics#bugs tw#wasps#sorry for the dirty window💀💀#also as a bonus you get me saying aheem heem whimper. so there's that
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December Winds
.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜
Priest!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)
dedicated to you 💀 anon! 💜 I hope you like it!
warnings: 18+ minors DNI, religious connotations, Leon POV, dirty talk, nipple teasing, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (m receiving 🫣), unprotected sex, creampie, kissing, biting, slight blood
kinda beta read by my friend Rex 💜 (only like 80% so any mistakes are my own 😅 )
title from December Winds by Nox Arcana
.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜
After Spain, Leon quits. As he tells the president, “I’ve seen enough.” And he meant it. He packs up everything, quietly bids goodbye to the few coworkers he respects and leaves out from Washington DC, praying he’ll never see the place again.
He searches for a job that’s a little less stressful and a lot more reclusive. He stumbles across an online ad looking for a live-in priest for a small rundown chapel buried in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. A quick search on google maps yields the exact results he’s hoping for—there’s nothing around for miles and miles.
It’s a cinch to get ordained online and even easier to order the cassock and Roman collar. He already has plenty of black shirts, pants, and even shoes, meaning it’s no sweat at all for him to look the part by the end of the week.
When he arrives at the small church, there’s a handful of elderly people gathered to give him a short walk through the place. They leave him with plenty of homemade food as well as their phone numbers for the cracked rotary phone in the office in case he needs any help.
The months roll by and slowly bleeds into a couple of years. He always sees the same handful of people at service, sometimes joined by visiting family members, but always a small congregation which is what he prefers. This year hasn’t been any different, that is until a knock rings out in the empty vestibule drawing him up short as he lays out pamphlets for next week's Christmas service.
Pulling open the heavy oak doors, he’s surprised to see a new face. You stand there shivering in the cold, jacketed arms clutching your middle.
“H-hi,” you give him a bright smile despite your chattering teeth, “m-my car’s s-s-stuck in the s-snow and—“
Before you can finish, Leon’s opening the door wider, feeling chill bumps race across his arms as the cold winter air gusts past you and into the church.
“Please, come in,” he steps back so you’ll follow.
Once inside, he shuts and bolts the door closed.
“I’m s-so glad someone’s here,” you laugh.
Leon watches you, expression stoic even though internally he’s cataloging every single thing about you with heavy interest.
He sees your smile tremble a little, your own gaze roving his face.
“I’m s-sorry to bother you,” you rub your hands together for warmth, “if I c-could just make a call, I’ll b-be out of your hair in n-no time.”
You pull your cellphone out with a frown, “I h-haven’t had service in miles.”
Leon glances down at your hands before looking back up into your face, nervousness radiating from your body language.
He turns, talking loud enough for you to hear as you follow behind him, “Phone’s in the office. If you can’t reach anyone, I have a number to a local mechanic who can help tow you out.”
“Thank you so much,” your voice sounds relieved, “I hate bothering you, but I really appreciate the help.”
“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.”
He glances back over his shoulder and sees your gaze wandering around the church, taking in the clean if rough hewn pews and stained glass windows. Your eyes cut to his quickly as if you sensed him watching, giving him a shy smile.
“You have a beautiful church, Mister?”
“Father Kennedy,” he answers, voice a little rougher than intended as you bite your lip in embarrassment.
“Sorry, not really up on my religion,” you laugh a little bashfully, “it’s nice to meet you, Father Kennedy.”
“Likewise,” Leon turns his attention to opening the office door, gesturing for you to enter first.
His eyes slide down your body, taking in your curves, and shaking away the urge to sink his teeth into your soft neck. You walk over to the old rotary phone, something Leon never updated as it still works just fine.
“Oh wow, my grandma had one of these!” you grin at him, “it’s so cute that you kept it for your office.”
That dark urge to bite you flares up in his chest again but he shoves it down. He nods at you instead of saying anything and you turn back to the phone.
Picking up the handset, you frown and click on the dial a few times before setting it back down on the cradle.
“Seems like your phone’s out,” you bite your lip again, looking agitated.
Leon shrugs, “Tends to happen this time of year. No telling when it’ll start working again.”
You nod along and blow out a breath, “Okay, we’ll I’ll head back to the car and see if I can—“
“Stay the night.”
That pulls you up short and he wants to laugh at the wide eyed look you give him.
“Stay here and we can try the phone again. If it doesn’t work, I can walk you to the nearest neighbor and try their phone.”
A soft smile crosses your face and Leon’s hit with an avalanche of impure want purring in his chest.
“Are you sure it’s no trouble? I mean I’d really appreciate it, but I don’t wanna put you out.”
“No trouble, besides I’m here to help those in need,” a crooked grin slips out, “and you seem to fit that description.”
Another shy bite of your lip has him shifting his feet, willing himself not to do anything to you.
“Okay then,” you give him the brightest smile yet, “thank you, Father Kennedy. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
A sudden flash of you thanking him on your knees floods his thoughts and he turns away from you, adjusting his half hard cock through his slacks, never more grateful to wear all black than now.
“Follow me please,” he calls out to you, listening as you quickly walk to catch up.
He also listens as you introduce yourself and explain as to why you’re out here in the first place, basically boiling it down to visiting some family for the holidays. Nodding along, he guides you into his living quarters which just happens to be a bedroom big enough to house a bed and a desk with a few bookshelves.
“It’s so cozy,” you gush, running your hand along some of the handmade quilts and crocheted throws the church parishioners have given him over the years.
“It’s home,” he states simply, moving to the fireplace and stoking the embers into a flame.
“I’m kinda impressed,” you say as you hang up your jacket near the door, “it’s really rare to see someone so young as a priest in these kinds of communities.”
When he only gives you a deadpan expression, you begin to flounder.
“Oh I mean, I grew up near here and so I’m just used to like older— you know what, I just feel like I’m digging a hole for myself,” you drag your palms across your eyes, “it’s just different is all. And either way I'm happy to have met you.”
Leon finally lets his lips quirk up into a half smile, amused at your reactions.
“I understand, it’s just funny to see you try to explain it,” he moves away from the fireplace and grabs a change of clothes, ignoring how your cute pout is making him feel.
“There’s a bathroom just through that door,” he points to his right, your left, “I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans. There’s also some spare toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.”
He watches as you get flustered when taking the simple sweats and cotton t-shirt.
“Oh yeah, thanks,” you duck your head trying to hide your face and disappear behind the bathroom door to change.
Leon lets out a long breath, trying to ease the tension building up in his chest. The wanting seems to only be getting worse the more time he’s spending with you. It’s like he’s a teenager seeing a skin magazine for the first time.
Has he really been out here that long without seeing a pretty little thing like you? He’s in the midst of his thoughts while removing his collar and unbuttoning his cassock when he hears a soft squeak.
He turns to see your eyes shut tight, hands clenching your bundled up clothes to your chest.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to!”
Leon frowns before looking down to see his bare chest offset by his rosary. Heat washes through him to see you peek again and bite down on your lip hard as you turn away.
“I honestly was on autopilot,” he murmurs, voice rough making him clear his throat, “apologies, I’ll go change in the bathroom while you get settled.”
You gasp as he brushes past you to enter the bathroom. Grabbing onto the sink, Leon stares at his own blown pupils in the mirror.
Get it together. It’s just a woman. A sweet woman. A pretty woman who probably has an equally pretty little cunt—
Shaking his head to clear it, he finishes dressing for bed. As he brushes his teeth, his eyes wander and notice the toothbrush you used sitting off to the side. A sudden flash of possessiveness surprises him leading him to quickly finish up and make his way back into the bedroom.
You startle, standing up from sitting at the edge of the bed.
Hands wringing together, you smile nervously, “Uh I-I wasn’t sure where to sleep? Like I can take the floor—“
He’s shaking his head already interrupting you, “We’ll share the bed. It gets extremely cold at night and it wouldn’t be safe to sleep on the floor.”
You frown over at the bed and look back at him apprehensively, “I can just use the quilts to make a pallet in front of the fire.”
“Please,” he gestures to the bed, “there’s no central heating and it gets deathly cold some nights. Even with the fire, I’d be afraid you would get frostbite.”
“I’ll sleep against the wall,” he softens his voice, “we’ll put pillows between us if you’d like and you can have the edge.”
He watches you bite on that damn lower lip again, wanting it between his own teeth.
Nodding, your eyes seek out his again, “Okay. And we’ll try again first thing in the morning?”
“Of course,” he agrees easily, “I tend to wake early so I can check and wake you if need be.”
Your features melt from concern to thankful, “That’s very sweet of you, Father.”
A hot pulse of arousal makes his dick twitch but Leon ignores it in favor of offering you a slight smile.
“Of course. Shall we?” he nods at the bed.
You climb in after him, settling down under the layers of blankets and quilts.
“I definitely never would’ve guessed I’d start my vacation by sharing a bed with a priest,” you giggle to yourself.
“Unusual to say the least,” he dryly replies, sea dark eyes watching as you turn on your side, back facing him.
You hum softly, shoulders twitching under the shirt and legs swishing under the covers.
“Good night, Father Kennedy,” your soft voice has him gripping the blanket tightly.
“Goodnight.”
It’s driving Leon up the wall with how badly he wants to reach out and touch you. Settling a little more, he listens as your breathing evens out and finds his own eyes slipping shut.
Later in the night, he wakes up to your tossing and turning, feeling you press your ass back against him. He stifles a groan, eyes adjusting to the low light from the fireplace. You keep fidgeting, accidentally rubbing against his chubbed cock until he’s thickening in his sweats. His heavy hand reaches down and grabs you hip, stilling your movement.
“Sorry,” your sleepily mumble, “‘m trying to get comfy.”
He dips his head down to ghost his lips across the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”
He rocks forward, letting his bulge rub against your ass; you whine and press back against him harder.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I promise I didn’t mean to.”
“Sorry, huh?” he dips his tongue into your ear making you whimper, “are you asking for forgiveness?”
His hand grasps your hip and pulls you into a slow rhythm of grinding back against his stiff cock.
“Oh,” you mewl as he kisses the shell of your ear, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not how you ask,” he chuckles, kissing down your neck, “you know better than that.”
You moan as he bites down on the soft skin that’s been tempting him all this time.
“Forgive me, Father Kennedy,” you break the rhythm and grind back against him harder, “I’m so sorry I’m being so bad. God, can’t believe I’m dry humping a priest.”
A smack lands on your ass making you jump.
“We don’t take the Lord's name in vain either,” his low voice slips into your ear, “for that, you get those cute little nipples pinched.”
As you moan, he rolls you over onto your back, slipping an arm around your shoulders so both of his hands can knead and grope at your breasts.
“Pull your shirt up,” he murmurs in your ear, “be a good girl for me.”
You shove the t-shirt up to pool around your neck, hands settling back down to twist in the sheets. His fingers quickly move to circle and pinch your hard nipples.
“Oh, ohhh,” your eyes squeeze shut as he teases and rubs your hard buds, “Father, please.”
He bites your neck again making you writhe and press your breasts up into his hands.
“Please,” you whimper, eyes glimmering at him in the firelight, bottom lip swollen from your own teeth.
“Who knew such a tempting sinful girl would end up in my church much less my own bed,” he rumbles in your ear, grinding against your hip as he teases your nipples.
“Father Kennedy,” you swipe a soft, pink tongue against your lips, making his teeth ache, “shouldn’t we stop?”
“Do you want to stop?” he kisses your jaw, fingers tweaking your nipples sharply making you moan high in your throat.
“No, no, please, it’s so—you’re so hot,” you whine, hips squirming for friction under the blankets, “please, Father, want you so bad.”
“It’s a sin to tempt a priest,” he trails his lips across your neck to suck another mark into your skin, “you’ll have to repent.”
“H-how?” your eyes flutter, trying valiantly to stay open.
He pulls away with a smirk, “You’ll have to use your body in service to the Lord.”
A keening whimper escapes your lips, hands shakily reaching up to run through his sandy blonde hair.
“I-I’ll do anything,” you scratch your nails along his scalp making him groan, “just show me how I need to repent, Father Kennedy.”
He pulls his arm out from under you so he can climb on top of you, settling in between your thighs. Your hands pull his hair as he sucks a hard nipple into his hot mouth. He ruts against the mattress as he suckles each hard bud, nipping at the soft skin of your breasts and leaving marks everywhere.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had a pair of tits in my face,” his voice is low, smoky, and he can feel your legs try to press together only stopped by his bulky body.
He takes his time, kissing the areola before running his tongue over your nipple, letting his teeth softly bite down before sucking it further into his mouth. Your hips buck up against his chest as he lays on top of you. He can feel how wet you’ve gotten already, the soft press of your panties against his skin leaving behind a sticky mess.
He pulls back to look up into your dazed eyes, “Let me taste that wet pussy.”
You moan, hands tensing in his hair, “Y-you want to?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” he grins, “besides I wanna clean up that messy cunt with my tongue before you get slick all over my sheets.”
He scoots down, dragging his lips across your tummy and dropping kisses as he goes.
“We’ll keep the blankets pulled up so you don’t get cold,” he murmurs as he bites your hip bone before soothing it with his tongue.
You give him a shaky nod, “Okay, Father.”
He bucks his hips at that, feeling his cock leak in his sweats. He feels as you tug the blankets up and when he looks back up he can barely see your face making this seem so illicit and dirty it’s getting him even harder.
He quickly eases your panties down your legs and tosses them on the outside of the blankets before settling between your legs again. Leon lets his instructive thoughts win and bites bruise after bruise into the dough of your thighs, sucking and worrying the skin until you're squirming against his mouth.
He bites his way up to the crease of your thigh then lets his tongue trail across your skin until he’s lapping at your swollen clit. He hears as you moan loudly, thighs falling open wider as he hungrily licks into your cunt.
“You taste like sin,” he groans as he pulls back to spread your pussy open, “so fucking good.”
Pressing his face tightly against your slick coated lips, he flutters his tongue into your soaked hole and grinds his nose against your bundle of nerves. He slips his tongue in and out of your hole before licking back up to your throbbing clit, softly kissing the sensitive bud again and again until sucking it gently into his mouth.
Sweat beads around his hairline as it grows warmer underneath the layers of covers. Leon mouths at your sloppy cunt until you’re moaning loudly as slick coats his chin and lower jaw. Once your thighs start to tremble, he pulls away and crawls back up your body. The cooler air of the room kissing his sweaty skin as your hands scrabble against his shoulders.
“‘M so close,” you whimper as you tug him into a messy kiss, “wanna cum, please Father.”
He clicks his tongue, “You have to work hard for forgiveness,” he presses his thumb down against your chin making your lips part.
“Maybe we should try filling that mouth up first,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes droop.
You nod, running your hands down his broad chest, “Please, wanna see you, too.”
Surprise crosses his features, but he schools it into a crooked smile, “Aren’t you sweet? Take your shirt off for me while I get undressed.”
In no time, he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, completely nude save for the rosary around his neck. When he goes to slip it off, your hand snaps around his wrist.
He watches as the embarrassment wars with arousal as you ask him to keep wearing it. His dick throbs and kicks against his thigh and your eyes go lidded as they take in his thick cock.
“Allow me to show you how sorry I am, Father,” you scratch your nails across his chest all the way down his toned stomach to a happy trail that leads to the thatch of hair above his cock.
Goosebumps travel across his skin when you rub across his hips bones, breath ghosting across the drippy head of his dick.
Your tongue lathes over the slit, circling his tip and teasing under his foreskin before you pull back.
That shy look steals over your face, “Can you sit here?”
You pat the gap in the pillows in front of the headboard. Leon’s lips quirk in amusement and shifts to sit with his back to the headboard and legs splayed out across the bed. You move to kneel in between his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his stiff cock.
He watches as you lean forward, one hand coming up to grip the base of his cock as the other rests on his thigh, and slowly sucks the head of his dick into your mouth. Your eyes shutter with a moan as you take more and more of his cock into your mouth until you choke.
Pulling off with a gasp, your watery eyes blink open staying on his as you sink back down on his cock. His abdomen tenses and he grabs the back of your neck with his broad palm to guide your head.
“No need to rush,” his eyes track your tongue as you lick and kiss all along his dripping slit.
“You taste so good,” you moan as you lick your way down to his balls.
Leon keeps his gaze on you as your wet mouth sucks his balls into your mouth, whining when you can’t fit both at the same time. You smear your face against the spit slick skin of his squishy sac as you nuzzle and suck his taint.
“Oh, good girl,” he parts his legs wider so your mouth can reach him easier.
Your glazed eyes slide shut when you slip your tongue down further to ghost across his asshole. Tongue drifting lazily against it, Leon grunts when you finally lick into him.
“Such an eager girl,” he rasps as you softly eat him out, tongue eagerly rimming his hole.
You sloppily makeout with his hole as his cock weeps precum everywhere; his own heavy hands keep your face buried between his cheeks.
When you finally pull back, your chin’s coated with spit.
“Suck my cock a little more and I’ll fill up that needy cunt,” he pulls your swollen mouth to the weeping head.
Whining, you easily follow along and let his thick cock sink back into your mouth. He luxuriates in the feeling, the feeling of your hot hungry mouth slurping loudly around his dick. You moan and whine around him, rubbing your thighs together for friction. He smirks to see you acting so needy, so obedient in servicing him.
“Up,” he murmurs, grabbing your neck and pulling you off of his cock.
Your hands reach out to dig into his pecs, framing the rosary between your hands as you straddle his lap, his cock snugly pressing against your pussy.
“Oh, Father, please,” you grind down on his wet cock, dragging slick along his throbbing length until your clit’s bumping his tip.
“Poor little lamb,” his hands grab your hips, letting you rock against him.
With the grip he has on your hips, he easily manhandles you onto your back, kneeling between your spread legs, cock leaking all over your wet cunt.
“Oh god,” you mewl, scratching at his chest.
He spanks your clit with his fat cock.
“What did I say about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”
Your pupils swallow any color left in your eyes, “‘m sorry, daddy. I don’t mean to be bad.”
“Fuck,” he growls, slapping your cunt with his cock over and over to make your hips jump, “are you misbehaving on purpose?”
Head shaking no, you wrap your legs around his waist, “No, I didn’t mean— it just slipped out. I‘m sorry, Father Kennedy.”
He nudges the tip of his cock into your hole, making you keen and rock down. The pressure around just the head makes him want to be rougher, meaner with you.
He grins smugly down at you, “You just can’t help it, can you? The wetter this pussy gets the dumber you are, right? What a slut.”
You whine, the heels of your bare feet digging into the back of his legs, goading him to slide deeper into your cunt.
“Yes, I’m your slut, Father,” your hands tug on his rosary making him groan and fuck his dick into your spasming cunt.
His heavy weight drops over your body, earning another low whine followed by your nails scoring a hot trail across his shoulders. He shudders, enjoying that small bite of pain as your eyes roll back in your head, pussy sucking him in even deeper somehow.
“Pretty cunt just needed me buried balls deep in her, huh?” he groans as he pulls out just to sink back into your pussy, “so tight.”
“W-wait,” your voice goes high with sudden realization, “I thought p-priests were banned f-from having sex,” you gasp out, stuttering through Leon’s thrusts.
“Baby,” he coos condescendingly, “you don’t think I was some silly little virgin, did you?”
He boxes you in even more, dropping down on his forearms that rest on each side of your head.
“But I gotta say, you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever fucked,” he kisses your mouth, “so wet,” he drops another kiss to your lips, “and tight,” and another kiss ending with a rough bite of your bottom lip, “this kitty’s been purring for my dick all night.”
Your head thrashes against the pillow at his words, “Yes, yes, fuck,” tears drip from your lash line, “it’s so good, Father Kennedy.”
Molten heat rushes through his veins at your wanton face paired with that sweet voice. His teeth sink into that plush bottom lip, suckling on it until you tug your head back with a soft cry. It’s swollen and split from his teeth, a small bead of blood welling up only for him to lick it away with a groan.
He licks into your mouth, mixing spit and blood until he’s sucking your tongue past his own greedy lips. His cock slowly ruts in and out of your clenching hole as he kisses you breathless. Your fingers tangle in his rosary, tugging him back to your mouth every time he goes to pull away.
Leon lets himself go; stops trying to control himself and settles into fucking into your warm, wet cunt with harsh skin slapping thrusts. He bites anywhere his mouth can reach, leaving dark bruises or even outright bloody teeth marks behind. His dark eyes keep track of your pleasure as well; if you wince, he makes sure to lathe his tongue across a bite instead of sinking his teeth into you again or fucks his cock shallowly into your pussy instead of knocking against your cervix how he likes.
You reward him with pretty little cries and pleads against his lips; your doughy thighs clasped tightly around his waist as you beg for him to ruin your cunt. He wrings orgasm after orgasm until your body’s spent and you're babbling incoherently.
He keeps you underneath him all night, trading blood tinged kisses as his cock stuffs your squelching pussy. Sunlight begins to stream through the snow tinted windows when he finally manhandles your body to straddle over him once again.
Leon feels like this must truly be what heaven is like. You, seated in his lap as he buries his cock to the hilt in your hot little cunt watching as you grind down against him. Fat dimples between his fingers as he grips your ass tightly, helping you keep rhythm as he bounces you up and down his dick.
“Oh Father Kennedy,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t—“
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, easing your harsh grind into a slow back and forth, “you can give me one more so I can feel that pussy squeeze me so I can put a nice thick load in her.”
His fingers slowly circle and pinch your pudgy clit, letting you rock against him a little faster.
“Oh, I’m-I’m g’nna,” you hiccup a sob, tears dripping from your eyes as he works your exhausted body towards another orgasm.
“Call me, Leon,” he smiles at you, the first genuine one he’s actually offered to anyone in quite a long time, “now cum for me, squeeze me nice and tight.”
“Leon, Leon, I-I’m cumming,” you gasp out, a mewling cry slipping past your swollen lips as your pussy milks Leon’s cock for the upteenth time since this all started.
“Good girl, so good for me,” he groans, letting your climax coax his own from him, grabbing your hips to hold you snug to him.
He growls up at you, cock jumping inside your spasming pussy as rope after rope of sticky cum spurts inside your fluttering walls.
“Leon, oh, it’s so warm,” you whimper, one hand settling on your belly and the other resting on Leon’s heaving chest.
“Fuck,” he yanks you down into a messy, spit filled kiss.
You whine and he softens it, titling his mouth up to press softer kisses to your lips until pulling away. Easing down next to him, you snuggle into his side, burying your face in his neck.
“So am I forgiven now?” you tease, fingers tracing over the beads of his rosary.
“Might need to spend some time with me in the confessional,” he presses a kiss to your hair, “just to make sure it takes.”
#lipglossanon#lipglossmasterlist#priest!leon s kennedy#priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader#priest!leon s kennedy smut#priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut#fem!reader#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#priest!leon x reader#💀 anon
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Six Days, Part II - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)
I wrote this because ✨️Six deserves a lil more than a kiss✨️ 😌 I read the first The Gray Man book, and some characterization is based on it, but mostly this is movie-based. Let's pretend Lloyd Hansen survived his ordeal, shall we?
A/N: I had not yet read Ballistic (Book 3 of The Gray Man series) before writing this so the unintended similarity between Ch 36 and my work here was unintentional. I'm gratified to know Court Gentry so well lmfao. 💀 My bad, Mr. Greaney.
Lil Spotify playlist I listened to while feverishly typing. (Wipe Your Eyes is a Sierra Six song, I said what I said.)
Beginning / Ending / Prequel
TAGS: Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Six x F!Reader
WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, mention of rape (rape is not threatened nor occurs), drugging, blood/wounds/death.
WORD COUNT: 8.6k (yeah, I'm REALLY sorry)
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IIII
The room is dim when you wake. It can’t be later than six o’clock, but the bed is empty, cold where he should be. The bedsheets rustle as you twist to read the green-lit clock on the bookshelf. Your face ticks in confusion at the numbers spelling out 9:09 a.m.
Must be a cloudy morning. Too bad I can’t see out this fucking frosted window, you grumble internally.
Sitting up, you pull the sheet a little tighter to your naked chest and squint at the bathroom door, bringing it into focus despite your sleep-laden eyes. It seems completely closed, but if Six is in there, he’s unusually quiet.
You drop the sheet and leave the bed, looking for your clothes on the floor. On Six’s chair, a pile of material catches your eye. Your hand trails across the folded, new clothing; you pick up the top item, the tags still attached. A smile splits your face in two. He’d laid out a pair of plain white underwear, denim shorts, and a green t-shirt. You quickly locate your old bra and underwear and throw away the bottoms. You’re too uncomfortable without the support of a bra, so you put it back on despite its desperate need of a wash.
Once clothed, you knock on the bathroom door but it swings open with the contact. It’s dark and unoccupied. A sudden wave of fear hits you and you take a step back.
Where's Six?
Irrationally, your mind taunts you: Did he leave me? Get what he wanted and cut his losses? A small sound escapes you at the intrusive thought, but you remember the way he had held you all night, the gentle yearning of his touch, the devotion in his sapphire eyes. You silence the unhelpful worries. No way. That’s not him.
Shit, shit, did something happen? Oh, my god, I hope he’s okay. The fears cycle through your mind. He’d never left without telling you before. Not back at the original safe house, not here, not ever. Unease settles in your chest like a virus.
It was evident he had left and come back this morning to bring you new clothing, but where was he now? You move into the bathroom, quickly flipping on the light to try to dispel some of the dread. You drop to your knees and begin feeling around the floor as grime and dirt pile along your fingertips.
Oh, god, I bet it’s under this disgusting-ass flooring.
You lean left to grip the rough edge of the linoleum where it lies underneath the sink. Pulling at the aged material, it comes up easily enough, and you’re rewarded by a discolored section of hardwood floor. The linoleum slips from your dirty fingers, and as you reach to grab it again, a loud crash booms behind you.
The front door bangs open. You spin around, knocking yourself on your ass. Your heart fears it’s an intruder, but your brain expects it to be Six, mad at you for not hearing his knock.
As the door swings wide, you’re faced with an unfamiliar man, clad in a blue patterned shirt and slacks, standing with a firearm in his right hand. It’s the first thing you see, but it’s not pointed at you. The man looks relaxed - happy, you notice.
“Hey, doll. Been lookin’ everywhere for ya.” His voice is upbeat yet menacing.
“Whatcha doin’ to that floor?” He marches over to you, roughly grabbing your upper arm.
As his fingers dig into your flesh, you stare at the stumps where his little and ring fingers should be. He hoists you to your feet. You don’t even struggle as your brain tries to play catch-up.
“Who- the fuck are you?” Your voice trembles despite your efforts to the contrary. Your heart is throbbing, painful aching in your veins; your worst nightmare is coming true.
“You haven’t heard of me?” He sounds surprised. “Well, isn’t that hilarious. Mr. Moral Compass has been keeping secrets from you.” He makes a mockingly sympathetic face.
“Where is he?” Your voice cracks and pain pricks in your eyes, your vision watering. You’re petrified of this man’s answer.
To your great discomfort, the man laughs. It’s a terrifying laugh: somehow, all of his features seem warmed by his mirth, like he’s energized by your distress.
“That's supposed to be my line, buttercup.”
He makes a condescending gesture, “Someone saw you clomping around this hallway out here. Not very smart, are we? And wherever you are, Six is sure to be trailing like a sad puppy. But I’m not too worried about where he is right now; he’ll follow us, and that saves me quite a bit of effort. Not to mention bullets and bruises.”
It takes a second for his words to find you through the panic, but when they do, you’re nearly lightheaded with relief. You’d thought you managed and processed that first night well. It had given you confidence in your ability to persevere. But standing here, face-to-face with a man who seemed to know things you didn’t, who exuded the dangerous energy of a wild animal, you were frozen in fear. However, if Six was still out there, still okay, you had some hope. You had every hope in the world, in fact.
Six. Six, please. Please walk through that door. All your wits could offer was to repeat his name like a prayer.
“Let’s head on out, shall we? Car’s waiting.”
His grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you still don’t fight him. He steps toward the bed and, with a flourish, places a piece of paper on top of your pillow.
“MapQuest for 007,” he explains without explaining.
You know you can’t win a physical fight with this much-larger, armed man, but the dam in you breaks as he pulls you toward the exterior hallway. You’re already leaning forward from the way he’s holding you, so you aim at your closest target. Your right fist slams just below the zipper on his slacks and he exhales with a yelp, doubling over. He recovers too quickly, though, and whirls you around, leveraging your throat with his forearm. He squeezes and wins a pained, high-pitched rasp from you.
“Do it again and I’ll leave your dead body for him to find instead of that paper,” he says through gritted teeth.
You shiver and try to swallow, panicking when you can’t. He loosens his grip enough for you to shuffle along, and when he tries to walk you both through the door a second time, you let him.
You were right, the sky outside was blanketed by wooly clouds threatening to let loose a deluge. The old city you’d holed up in was quiet for the time of day, and no one saw the well-dressed man toss you into a waiting black SUV. Your cheek smacks the faux-leather gray seat, and you push your arms underneath your body to reorient yourself.
The air inside the vehicle is artificially cold and smells new. The pleather squeaks as the two armed men who had been waiting outside your room seat themselves on either side of you. You hadn’t seen them until the well-dressed man had dragged you from your shelter out into the sterile-looking hallway. It seemed to you that they were reasonably sure you were alone. There was no way he wouldn't have sent an entire team in if he’d thought the two of you were together, right? This man didn’t dress like it, but maybe he didn’t have the funds for a whole team. Six had mentioned to you once how expensive one mercenary could be, and the going rate for a whole group could feed a small country for a week.
A thumb and forefinger pinch your nose, and your mouth drops open automatically. Your hands shoot upward to fight off whatever assault is beginning, but then the agent to your left pops something small into the back of your throat. You try to choke it out, but he had thrown it skillfully, and you accidentally swallow. You lurch forward violently as the driver accelerates.
You gag but nothing comes up. Coughing, you ask, “What'd you give me?”
The kidnapper’s smooth voice answers you from the passenger seat, “The ineloquent call it the ‘date-rape drug’.”
Utter fear shocks through your body at his blunt words. You’re a chemist, you know exactly what it is he gave you.
He turns a little to face you, “Sugar, you look nervous. Don’t worry,” his voice is jovial, “This is a date, not a rape.”
You shrink into your seat as best you can, trying to protect yourself. City blocks quickly turn into dilapidated housing, then farmland since Six’s safe house was close to the outer edge. You don’t know anything about the country you’re in, so memorizing the now-green scenery would be useless. Instead, you decide to evaluate and catalog the men next to you.
The man on your right is tall and tan. With his ironically trustworthy face, you would’ve never given him a second glance if you passed by him on the street. He’s holding what you believe to be a submachine gun, and a pistol butt pokes out of his waistband.
Your friend on the left is his friend’s polar opposite. This man makes you feel like the kidnapper does, and your hands shake just by looking at him out of your peripheral vision. His sharp, pale features keep anger at the forefront. His dark eyes, though rarely on you, twitch with menace. He’s carrying the same weapons as his partner, but you see an added hunting knife hanging from his black cargo pants. Unconsciously, your weight shifts to your right side, trying to put as much distance as you can, though, of course, you know the other man is truly no better.
Heavy exhaustion suddenly falls on you like an anvil. Lethargy places immense pressure on your limbs. Your world goes startlingly black for a second, then you realize you’ve closed your eyelids. You try to lift them, but it’s so difficult. Straining, you see a sliver of blurry light, but your eyes return to darkness. It feels like a weight is pressing on your chest - like Six did last night. Delirious, you half-smile at the recollection. Your head drops to the side with its own weight, and your final conscious thought is that you hope you fell to the right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feeling more peaceful than he ever had in his life, Six had woken that morning on his side with your head on his right bicep. You were asleep facing him, your right calf sandwiched between his thighs, your hand curled on his chest. If he didn’t include every other time he looked at you, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Six felt a sense of possessiveness surge through him; he was never going to let anything take you from him. If you wanted him, he would be there.
Six had never told a woman that he loved her. Certainly not romantically. He wasn’t completely confident in how it all worked, but he no longer wondered what it felt like. Six knew by the way he wanted to care for you as you did him. It was evident in the way he found himself pulling your favorite mug from the cabinet each morning before you’d even woken; it was evident in the way his body thrilled as he counted your not-so-sneaky glances at him. Six knew how powerful love was because he felt all other aspects of his life drop in priority to you. He didn't pretend to be good at it, but he couldn't stop himself from trying.
In a matter of excellent timing, you rolled away, tucking your head down and off his arm. He extricated himself from the bed, intending on performing a quick errand. He was incredibly energized; after yesterday’s long-awaited activities and then the full night’s sleep he’d gotten, he felt sure he could do anything.
After showering, he located an old, plain black tracksuit set that he’d hidden years ago in the bathroom closet. It wasn’t exactly clean after all this time, but it wasn’t the disgusting shirt and pants from the past few days which was all he cared about.
He thought about leaving a note, but it was so dark outside that he knew you’d still be asleep when he returned. And also, he had no pen. Nimbly, he moved to your side of the bed where he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his feather-light touch never waking you. You sighed into his hand as it curved down your cheek, and he felt himself twitch at the familiarity. He quickly decided that he’d be keeping you in bed today; his high energy would be put to good use.
Six casually moved out onto the streets of the old world city. It was just past eight-thirty. The air was nice: warm and breezy, hinting at the coming storm. It wasn’t a bustling locale, but its population was large enough to provide some cover. Six’s furtive yet discreet searches around the area told him that all was well, so he trekked through the city to a store he knew supplied women’s clothing. He figured your old clothes were no longer suitable - he himself had torn them off in more ways than one - and he had nothing in his cache that would be practical for a woman. He was still cautious, still calculated. If he needed you to run, you couldn’t be tripping around in too-long pants.
The brightly lit store didn’t have much, so he purchased the first items he saw that best fit the summer weather, making no guesses as to your size since it was something he’d memorized for this exact situation. He thanked the shop clerk in his native tongue, then took a shortcut back to the room.
He returned as the green numbers glowed exactly 9:00 a.m. to find you still sleeping as he had suspected. He laid the pieces on the chair and then moved to the kitchenette. His jaw set as he realized the food was entirely gone; there wasn’t any substantial meal to be eaten, and canned peaches weren’t going to satisfy the both of you. Grumbling, he took another survey to confirm your slumber, then exited once again, locking the door as he left.
On his ten-minute jaunt to the corner store, Six felt uneasy. Now he believed the electricity in the air had nothing to do with the impending thunderstorm. He felt the breeze rustle through his blonde locks and tried to relax a little. He had a few - well, he couldn’t call them friends - in this general part of Europe, but only one lived in this area. He hoped the man hadn’t seen him; or you, considering the man might know about the situation.
He’d run out of cash, and his nearest stash was about a four-hour drive away in Latvia, so he was forced to steal a loaf of bread and two chunks of meat. Six left his not-inexpensive watch as payment, but he regretted being forced to this level. He’d never stolen anything in his life (except the odd vehicle, those almost couldn’t be helped) and he hated it. He was paid well for his services; he never needed to steal. Every bit of decency he could afford, he performed. If you hadn’t been waiting, he would’ve contented himself with the peaches for the next few hours, but you were injured, and moving on to Latvia could wait one more night.
His walk back from the store was circuitous by habit. He took two extra turns and an alleyway before opening the glass-paned door to the building. The room you two had been sharing was the very first on the ground floor, and something was horribly wrong.
Groceries fell to the floor, replaced instantly by his gun. He swept into the room, then the bathroom, already knowing you weren’t there. A sharp intake of breath sounded as he realized the linoleum had been disrupted.
Thank God, you’d gotten into the safe room.
He grunted as he pried open the heavy trapdoor, already beginning to tell you everything was okay, when the dusty hole gaped empty beneath him. The breath heaved out of him. He cursed loudly and slammed the door shut with such force that it reverberated throughout the lower floor. He spun around and his eyes snagged on the paper positioned on the pillow you’d occupied only moments earlier. He snatched it up.
- Do you miss her like I miss my fingers? -
Below the handwritten taunt was an address. Six needed no further information - he sprinted out of the building and up the street.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Groggy and unsteady, your left eye opens a little before your right. Warm light streams from a small round window at the other end of the room. It’s dusty, and motes float about in the beams. Your hands chafe at the handcuffs, but the most uncomfortable aspect is the rickety chair you’re roped into. Your shoulders ache and your neck is pained at the position you’d been unconscious in.
Fear rises in your throat, bubbling like lava in your chest. But it’s mutating with another emotion you’re not sure of just yet. You rock forward violently and shift the old chair forward a little, trying to move toward the window. The impact of your weight rattles the rafters, and you realize that endeavor is hopeless if you want to remain alone. You try to scoot, using your untied feet to pull you along, but the chair catches on a warped floorboard, and you’re left stuck.
Panting from the claustrophobic panic and the exertion, you begin taking some calming breaths you’d read about once for test anxiety. It helps, but then you hear the creaking of hinges as a trapdoor falls away a few feet from you. The ladder slides down smoothly, and moments later the head of a man appears. His fit, sweater-wearing body follows. He glares at you.
“You got bits of ceiling plaster on my sweater.”
“What’s going on? What do you want me for?”
You expect him to say something about your job, to demand access to the research, to complete some of it yourself; maybe he wants you to oversee a project of their own. You have no idea and you’re not prepared for what he answers.
“I don’t want you at all, honey. Sorry, you’re not my type. I like women who don’t punch me in the dick.” He says testily. “No, I want your boy, and I want him to be sad. I had no idea you existed ‘til a friend snapped a few pictures of the two of you getting cozy.”
He unfolds three photos from his back pocket. The first is through the large glass backdoor in your original safe house, the telephoto lens capturing Six’s hand nearly touching your lower back, your head turned to smile at him. A second photo was taken from a distance through a window, and it shows Six sitting on the couch beside you, talking. The man holds up a third photo, this one of the two of you outside, Six’s face glows with that reluctant smile he favors, though it's much larger than usual; facing away from you, he looks downright joyous at something you must’ve said or done.
The emotion you’d had trouble naming finally identifies itself as you spit, “Fuck you.”
The man backhands you hard enough to split your lip, but he doesn’t knock you over. Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and you yelp. The moment this man had stepped through your door, you’d done your best to prepare yourself for physical pain. You were still surprised, still shocked by it.
The man crouches in front of you, his eyes level. Your upper lip curls into a snarl.
“I know Sierra Six. That man is a goody-two-shoes. Although, apparently he’s been lying to his lady love. See, I did do my homework: your employer’s security contract with Six ended a month ago. He’s been bunking with you because I sent him those photos the day before termination. If he stayed with you, I knew it was genuine.” He pauses, then jeers, “He doesn’t allow himself to get attached to people.” The man smiles, perfect teeth flashing behind pink lips as he waves the photographs, “But I found the one he has.”
Unable to fully comprehend what’s happening, you just stare. You’d been through quite a few emotions over the past twelve hours and the tumult in your head was raging. Your admittedly hands-off employers had never told you when the protection detail’s contract ended, they probably had just assumed Six would leave of his own accord. The house had been furnished with anything you would’ve needed so you’d kept on working, and your employers kept getting what they paid you for. As long as the status quo remained, no one would’ve questioned each other.
“So, you’ve got me here in this dry-ass attic because you don’t like Sierra Six?” Your confusion manifests with righteous anger. This man is using you, not for your brain, but to get to someone you care about.
He sharply raises his left hand as an example, “I fucking hate him, actually.
“Don’t your manicures cost less now?” You hiss venomously.
Your chair nearly tips when his hand connects once again with your face. You spit out blood, but you’re weak and it lands pitifully on your shirt.
Your mouth already open, you ask one last question, ”And when Six comes for me… you’ll kill him?” You are still angry, but your worry over Six causes your voice to break.
“All part of the show, babe. I’m not monologuing to you.” He shrugs, smiling as if he wasn’t just monologuing to you. He stands and jogs forward-facing down the ladder. You hear his rich voice say something about a knife, and your body goes rigid. More pain. Your heart rate skyrockets and traitorous tears fall.
Calm down, get calm, I can’t be calm, just be calm, this is insane, deep breaths, it won’t help, you’ll be fine, your thoughts race uncontrollably.
Stressed wood and hinges ring out from the ladder as he reappears with a switchblade. He squats and ties your ankles to the chair legs with little effort, despite your kicking. Then he pulls another chair from the far side of the attic to face you.
“Oh, I’m Lloyd, by the way.” He grins as he slices at your already-injured leg.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though he’d brought a comfortable chair, Lloyd didn’t stay long. He made a few cuts, watched you scream and squirm a little, but then his stomach had growled. He stood, wiped the bloody knife on your denim shorts, and folded the weapon as he left the attic. He made a little quip about letting bed bugs bite, and then the trapdoor squealed as it shut, as he left you in darkness.
The window across the room is dark blue, now. You beg your mind to relive the previous sunset, but the pain in your wrists and your leg are agonizing. Lloyd had cut a shape into your leg, and you didn’t want to see it. You’d not looked as he worked, and you were unable to do so now. Maybe it’ll be gone by morning, you childishly wish.
Again and again, your mind returns to Six. As much as you may have had a right to be, you didn’t have the capacity to be upset with him. Certainly not right this moment, as all you wanted was to be secure in his arms, and it was unlikely you’d be too pissed later, either. Six was your friend. Sure, he was generally reserved, closed off - but those were his natural defenses, and it was impossible not to feel his sincerity, his regard. Six had stayed on without payment for an entire month. He’d asked for extra men, probably calling in a favor instead of offering a reward. Just because he wanted to protect you. If he’d felt it was best to keep the truth hidden, then the truth was probably best kept hidden. After all, the man was the best tactician around; even you knew he had a near-mythological reputation.
Simply put, you trusted the man unequivocally. You just wished that he would both hurry and stay away. If this lunatic managed to kill Six by using you as bait, you weren’t sure you could live with the guilt. Six spent so much time walling himself off from everyone, and you’d purposefully broken down those defenses. Now you were both in danger. Six was all you had, all you’d wanted, and now that you had him you were about to lose him.
You sat there as time slipped by, in the dark, crying, until your body exhausted itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IIIII
A splitting headache wakes you. Your neck is screaming at the position it’s been in for hours, and you feel a little nauseous. The strong light from the round window allows you to clock the time at late afternoon, and you regret waking. Your body straightens when you realize that the sound of the trapdoor opening is what woke you. The sound sharpens and you tense, waiting for more pain.
As expected, Lloyd’s face beams at you. Immediately, you’re on edge: if Lloyd is happy, you shouldn’t be. He finishes climbing the ladder, and when he does, he motions to someone else to come up.
“Guess who,” he raises his eyebrows conspiratorially.
“No,” you plead. "No.”
“Mhm. ‘fraid so.” He couldn’t possibly smile wider.
A blonde head that you’d recognize anywhere materializes. He’s shoved by someone else you hate to see: the pale man on your left. The pale man looks terrible. His face is swollen and bloody. Since the ladder rises away from you, you don’t see the prisoner’s face until the pale man roughly turns him around, but you knew it would be Six. He’s slammed into his own rickety chair. His beard is sticky with blood, and a cut near his right eye oozes more blood. His black tracksuit is filthy and torn, and his hands are bound in front of him with zip ties. The instant he faces you, he holds your tearful gaze, and he winks. Your eyebrows constrict briefly in confusion, but you return to utter despair quickly. Lloyd was never going to let you go if he captured Six, and you’re pretty sure he never even offered that lie up to you. Now you were both going to watch each other die. Your chest heaves in sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” your voice is a hoarse whisper, but Six frowns and shakes his head. His attention is forced away from you, however, when Lloyd steps in front of him.
“Wow, Lloyd, you should’ve squeezed the CIA for a better patch job. You look like shit.”
Lloyd laughs, “Aw, don’t make me kill her already. I was just getting excited.”
“Did you do that to her face?” Six asks conversationally.
“It wasn’t the only thing I did,” Lloyd answers suggestively. And though you can’t see his face, he grins at Six who barely keeps a leash on himself. He files that comment away for later fuel.
Lloyd begins to speak, cajoling as Six flexes his jaw, his expressive eyes never leaving the threat. “The CIA didn’t ‘patch’ me up. They’ve pinned that whole … situation… on me. Rather unfairly, wouldn’t you say?” He doesn’t give Six time to answer before he continues, “I have other powerful friends who aren’t hunting me for war crimes. But they don’t matter. They support my little personal revenge mission, although they’re not funding it.” He holds up his hands, “Don’t be offended I didn’t send a whole squad after you, Six. I’m pretty depleted after all your shenanigans. But anyway!” He claps his hands, “Don’t you wanna know how I knew?” He sounds thrilled.
“A little birdy told you?”
“Your friend Denver. Now isn’t that just the worst? He sold you out. ‘Six has found himself a girl.’ His plan was to live that night, but hey, can’t win ‘em all, right?”
Lloyd moves to grab his chair, and you’re able to see Six’s reaction. His face doesn’t change, but you know those eyes. He’s not completely shocked, he can’t afford to be in his line of work, but you can see the betrayal, the sadness pooling there.
Since he has line of sight on you, again, he takes advantage and the corner of his mouth quirks up quickly. The smile is gone before you’re even sure it existed - but that’s the second time he’s signaled you. Trying to keep me from panicking, as always, you reason. You give him an answering smile, but it’s sad, and he grunts in frustration.
Lloyd has his chair in hand, and he looks animatedly between the two of you - back and forth, back and forth, as if trying to choose. The pale man, still standing next to Six, laughs. Your disgust evident on your face, Lloyd makes his choice and sits directly in front of you.
“Did you miss me, honey?” He purrs. You know from his tone that everything this man is about to do has one purpose: to twist a dagger into Six’s soul.
“Didn’t really get a chance, asshole,” you pour every bit of rage and hatred you can into your voice. This man might break your body, but you’re pretty sure this level of anger will protect your mind.
“Let me see that six.” He orders, which stops you right in your tracks.
“What?” You ask, perplexed.
“The six! The six I gave you.” His bottom lip pouts, “You didn’t even see what I gave you?” And he points at your thigh.
Amidst the blood, you finally see the pattern he had carved into your leg. He hadn’t cut as deeply as your other wound, just deep enough to ensure scarring.
“You said something about wanting a six, right?” He plays dumb. “If that one’s not big enough, here, I’ll do another.” He lifts the knife quickly and you start at the sudden violence.
Behind him, you hear Six grunt, then an unfamiliar, more pained-sounding grunt. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate before he jumps behind your chair and sticks the knife against your neck. As he does so, you see the body of the pale man drop to the floor, his submachine gun in Six’s freed hands. Your chin tilts up as high as you can to avoid the blade.
“You brought a knife to a gunfight, Lloyd.”
“Quite the party foul of me, huh?” Lloyd rejoins. “Oh, well. That’s where your bitch comes in handy.”
Six doesn’t react. Lloyd's using you as a shield, but he is much larger than you. One good shot would knock him back enough that Six was confident he could reach you before Lloyd recovered. Six starts to squeeze the trigger when the knife leaves Lloyd’s hand, aimed directly at his heart.
Six bats away the shining switchblade with the gun, which sends him a little off balance. Lloyd uses his chance to rush Six. Like the football star he had been, he tackles Six to the floor. Six groans in pain as the wind is knocked from him, and a scream tears from you. At the last second, you remember that the other man in the car, the one on your right, was probably somewhere below. Surely he had heard the thumping, right? Why wasn’t he coming?
Six quickly gets the upper hand, kicking out from underneath the other man, smashing the gun into Lloyd’s face twice as he did so. Six is loath to shoot the man outright because he really wants to beat the shit out of him first. Lloyd gets to his feet at the same time Six does.
Frantically, you knock the chair over, and try to wiggle sideways towards the knife Six had hit. It was several feet away, very close to what now looked like a standoff. Six hears what you’re doing, and circles a little more to his right, putting himself between you and Lloyd. He thrusts the butt of the gun at Lloyd’s gut, but Lloyd grabs hold of it. Six immediately ejects the magazine faster than he’d ever made the move before. He releases his hold on the weapon, knowing it won’t make a difference. Lloyd gives him an eyebrow raise before tossing the gun down the ladder.
Your chair scrapes with every inch, but your desperation gets the knife into your right hand right as you hear the gun fall. You saw at the ropes around your body, then once free of that, you cut the flimsy material around your ankles. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed to the chair’s armrest. Keeping the knife in hand, you lift the old chair and slam it against the floor, once, twice. Thinking better of that, you sit down and jam both heels on the underside of the armrest, hoping to force the slim piece from its spindles. That worked. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed.
Six waits for Lloyd to swing first, and when he does, Six puts every play he’s ever learned into action. He swings haymaker after uppercut at Lloyd, most of them connecting viciously. Lloyd gets in several licks, but each time Six shakes it off with a growl. Hoping to shorten this dance, you hold up the knife, hoping it’s Six and not Lloyd who sees what you have to offer. They both notice.
As Lloyd starts to run at you, Six leaps forward, grabbing him around the throat by his forearm. He uses the momentum to slam Lloyd down to his knees. Lloyd twists and claws at him, but Six is stronger. To Lloyd’s endless consternation, Six has always been stronger. You gawk on in horror. You’d seen Six kill a man before, but this was different. This was personal, angry, justified. Six is silent as his arms strain, pressing every bit of strength he has into Lloyd’s windpipe. Lloyd is gagging, gurgling. It was terrible.
“Go!” Six commands through gritted teeth, and though he wasn’t looking at you, you obey. You didn’t want to see this.
You flee down the ladder, knife still in hand. Subconsciously, you take in your surroundings: a vacant, crumbling mansion. The white hallway was cracked, and moldy. No furniture could be seen. You could still hear Lloyd’s death throes above you, so you stumble along the hallway, desperate to end the nightmare.
Your right leg, so damaged, gives out and you hit the floor. You see stair railings a few feet away, but you can also see the attic entrance from where you fell, and you weren’t going anywhere without Six. So you drag yourself up against the wall and try to slow your labored breathing as you wait.
A few minutes later, a man dressed in black climbs down. Your heart pounds at the sight of the blonde hair. You stand, wobbling, and drop the knife. As he reaches you, he wraps an arm around you. His hand presses your head to his chest.
“Let me see your hands.”
You hold up your cuffs. He unlocks them with a small key you can only assume he got from one of the bodies upstairs. He nudges you forward, and you start down the hallway, then down the stairs. When you get to the bottom of the wooden steps, you see why the other man never came running. He lay bloody on the floor of the foyer. Six had killed him first.
“Didn’t know where you were in this big old house, so I made my entrance known. Lloyd would take me wherever you were. Amateur.”
Stepping around the body and out the front door, you hysterically giggle at the stolen car Six had parked normally. “You literally walked in the front door?”
“Yeah.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IIIIII
Lloyd had taken you over the Latvian border by several hours, so while you were in the right country, you were still a couple of hours away from Six’s cache. As he drives, you curl up on the back seat, trying to relieve your sore muscles and your stinging leg.
It’s nearly midnight by the time Six pulls to the curb a block from his newest safe house. The streets were bustling with people enjoying their evening, and it wasn’t difficult to blend in. In the darkness, no one could make out your bloody leg, his bloody face.
Six breaks the padlock off the abandoned-looking building’s side entrance, then steps inside, ensuring it was uninhabited. There’d been no actual threats to your life besides Lloyd Hansen, your company hiring Six as a precaution over rumors, but Six was never going to take a chance again when it came to you.
He ushers you through the door, then tucks you into his side as he opens another door. It’s pitch black, and you cling to his jacket. You hear the door shut behind you, then you hear the sound of his hand sliding along the wall trying to find the light switch.
He succeeds and the room is illuminated in warm, artificial light. It’s another ground-floor apartment, and it’s similar to the previous minus Six’s favorite wingback chair. He takes your hand and guides you into the bathroom where you see the biggest difference yet. The bathroom is clean, spacious, and it has both a bathtub and a shower.
“Capital cities have the best safe houses. More people to maintain them,” he replies to the question in your mind. “Strip.”
Your head jerks up to look at him. He unzips his track jacket but leaves his pants. You pull the hem of your shirt over your head and drop the bloodstained fabric to the floor. Six crouches in front of you and unbuttons your shorts.
“I’m a professional,” he whispers, trying to lighten your wordless mood as he covers your new knife wound with his hand and pulls your shorts down.
He takes your hand to balance you as you step out of the bottoms. As he touches you, he looks for a sign of disgust, fear, something that will break his heart but make sense after what you’d been through.
He grabs a washcloth from the counter and wets it. He crouches in front of you again and begins softly cleaning the blood from your thigh, leaving a wide gap around the actual wound.
You’re a little unsteady after the lack of nutrition and the stress your body has undergone the past day, but you steel yourself for a moment: you focus on not freaking out, not crying just yet in order to take stock. You watched him kill someone. How do I feel about that?
In your heart, you know that it doesn’t change anything you feel about him. Six killed bad men - always had, always would - and you’d known that when you met him. Your torso shakes, nearly hyperventilating. No, the worst is that you could’ve died, you could’ve watched him die. You collapse onto his shoulders, your arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry.” He says, the timbre of his voice letting you know that he means it for all that has occurred. For what Lloyd did to you physically and probably emotionally. For not telling you the truth, but mostly for putting you in the situation in the first place.
Too emotionally distraught to check the words thoroughly, you try to relieve his guilt: “’s not your fault someone loves you, Six.”
Still not noticing your own words, you bury your face in his shoulder, and your tears fall freely. The noise he makes under his breath sounds affectionately amazed.
He stands, picking you up, and your legs wrap around him automatically. Your cuts are nearer the outside of your leg, but it still sends a jolt of pain down your limb when you use it to latch onto him. He sets your bottom on the countertop. One hand rubs your back while the other nestles into your hair.
He knows you’re in shock, and he knows you didn’t mean to tell him you loved him like that. It’s good to hear, and he can’t help the sunrise in his heart, but his primary concern is consoling you. Or distracting you, if possible. Early in his career, he had learned that the best way to move forward was to stop overthinking. Distractions worked well for that.
“Shower or bath?” He asks.
He doesn’t have an ulterior motive, and you’re more than welcome to answer with neither. But in his mind, if it comes to it, he could try to make you forget today for a little while. You sniffle as you pick your head up off his shoulder to see his face.
He’s looking at you like you just saved him, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed.
“Shower.”
You’d love nothing more than to be warm, bloodstain-free, and staring at Six naked. Without another word, he drops his pants and unclasps your bra. You push your underwear off. You latch around him again, and he carries you into the shower. You drop your legs and stand while he adjusts the temperature. The shower’s wide enough that you don’t feel the water at all as it warms up.
As the water begins to steam, Six looks over at you and holds his hand out, palm up. A smile touches your lips and he answers with his own as he pulls you to him underneath the showerhead. His hair soaks instantly. He rotates so your hair can rinse free of all the shit it had gone through in the last week.
Six takes a clean, soapy washcloth and stoops to finish cleaning your leg. He tries to ignore the shape that those cuts are in, but it’s still torturing him. He’d tried to forget it the moment after the words had left Lloyd’s mouth, but now he was face-to-face with the physical consequences of his feelings for you. He straightens up and lets the water get the rest of the blood.
You watch as his expression twists, and he won’t meet your eyes.
“They’re shallow. They’ll heal.”
“Yeah, right into my fucking name.” He begins washing himself as a means to avoid your face.
“It’s not your name." You cup your hand to his cheek. "Hey, ‘Six’ is not your name. Those marks will heal, and even if I’m still able to see the number, it doesn’t bother me.” Your voice rises with each word. You’re trying to tell him that it’ll be an incidental scar, and even if it mattered, it’s the pseudonym of the man who rescued you.
His stormy eyes meet yours finally, skepticism clouding them. “It doesn’t matter to you that you were tortured and permanently scarred," his voice acerbic, "because of me?”
“It does matter, but it wasn’t because of you, Six. It was because that guy was insane. He was unstable. He hated you and I was useful.” You're pleading with him to hear you. Your hand slides up from his cheek into his drenched hair.
You decide to gamble a joke, “Always wanted a man’s name tattooed on me, anyway.”
Your eyes shine up at him fervently, hoping the joke corroborates your apathy over the wound. Because that really didn’t matter to you. The physical scars were nothing - they would heal without issue. If anything, you worried about being separated from Six. How would you ever feel safe without him again?
Your gamble works. He snorts and leans his forehead to yours. Stray water droplets collect in his facial hair.
“But you’re right, that’s not my name,” he murmurs, then carefully presses his lips to yours. He’s gentle, but pain issues forth from your split skin, anyway. You flinch slightly, and Six murmurs, "Sorry."
Angry at the reminder, you decide you’re not letting Lloyd take any more seconds of your life, so you deepen the kiss. Your lips part to allow him in, and at the first touch of his tongue, a spark of tension flares.
He hums deep in his chest at your enthusiasm, your reassurance. Six’s right hand curves around the back of your upper thigh, underneath your ass, and he half-lifts/half-pushes you into the icy wall of the shower. You hiss in surprise, but his warm body follows with a grunt a split-second later, and you’re no longer thinking of anything but him.
Your hand drops to stroke his velvet length against your thigh, and Six’s groaning mouth leaves yours to trail along your jaw and drops to the hollow he knows you love. His hands caress your curves, one hand traveling to grasp your breast as the other hand slides between your legs.
You gasp as the friction of his rough palm, then his fingers, send a jolt right to that coil in your stomach. He squeezes your breast gently, and his thumb rolls over your nipple as Six drops to his knees.
“You don’t have to -” you start, but change your mind instantly as you appreciate Six below you: his hair drips into his profoundly blue eyes; water runs down his well-defined body, and his thighs flex as he shifts closer to you and sits back on his heels. His large hands wrap around your hips. You feel your breath hitch as he angles forward and his breath touches your tender skin a moment before his heated mouth. His tongue flattens against you before flicking at the perfect pace; he alternates between the two patterns. The heat floods through you in a deluge - your eyes slam shut, your head rolls back, and when your stomach constricts, your legs go weak.
He makes a pleased guttural sound that vibrates into your skin, and he plants one firm arm upward along the inside of your hip, his hand on your ribs, to keep you upright. His other hand on your hip welds you firmly to him. Your cries of pleasure echo in the space, and he feels himself growing painfully hard.
Your body having been stretched to its limits in so many ways means the euphoria you feel now has you coming easily. Six feels the tension in you splinter, feels the shuddering in your legs. The pride it gives him is unmatched as he holds you still. You moan into the steamy air, and he knows could do this forever.
He continues at the same pace, but in a moment of lucidity, you miss him against you. You pull at his shoulder, and he obliges, standing. His right hand grasps the underside of your knee, palm on the outside of your leg, and he fits himself right against you. You can feel him twitch with expectation. An aftershock of your first orgasm ripples through you, and has you clenching around nothing. You shiver, already anticipating how good he will feel.
“Please, Si-” you beg him, unnecessarily.
He makes a sudden decision, cutting you off, “It’s Court.”
Your eyes fly up to his. But before you have a chance to speak, he steadily shifts up into you. His quiet groan is punctuated by your gasps. His eyes close involuntarily at your tight warmth. Your nails dig into his biceps where you’d braced yourself. The stretch hurts a little this time, but you're too satisfied with the closeness to care. Relishing the unique intimacy of being inside you, he skims one hand down your side before he drags himself unhurriedly out, and thrusts back in.
He begins to slowly increase his rhythm, and with each incredible entrance, you both let the sounds spill out from your mouths uninhibited. Before long he is driving into you so unrelentingly that all you can do is hang onto him. He never neglects your lips for a second, his deep, messy kiss the only thing keeping you sane. You feel white-hot; it’s nearly painful, but it’s so good.
Tears leak down your face. His left hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping away the salty liquid. He can see you’re about to snap once again by the way your face pinches, then begins to unwind underneath his hand. He drops his hand to work you over further. He never knew life could be so sweet. Reserved, isolated his entire adult life, he knows that he’s never going to be happy if he’s not coming home to this.
“Don’t say Six,” he begs. It’s never mattered to him before. He was the same person no matter what anyone referred to him as. But he wanted you to know, to have the purest version of himself. The version no one else had.
He looks down into your eyes as he asks, and when the understanding hits you, it’s the final nail in your coffin. A sob echoes in the small room as your walls constrict around him, fluttering. He revels in the image of you falling apart against him.
He kisses you again, then lets his lips hang open over yours as you both breathe heavily from the wicked roll of his hips. He’s blurry through your tears, and you blink a little to better understand what you just saw flashing in his eyes. What you’d seen there two days earlier, too. He loves you, your mind supplies unasked.
Court’s rhythm changes to deep, passionate thrusts as he tries to bury himself in you. His desperate grunts send aftershocks throughout your thighs. He’d never stop if his body would allow it. He gradually slows his movements, still working you through your own high. He finishes with a low, animalistic noise and closes the small gap between your mouths. Neither of you move, panting.
You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes full of tears at the emotion between you two. He kisses you, hard - full of everything he'd wanted to say for months. After several moments, he lets go of your leg, and removes himself from you.
Unwilling to stop touching you, though, he takes you by the hand as he exits the shower. You twist the knob to shut it off as you walk by.
He wraps an old, gray towel around his waist, and hands one to you. You squish your hair, then wrap it around your chest. He’s quiet, uncomfortable for some reason, so you take his hand again, and back him up against the counter. He barks a reluctant, low laugh at you pretending to be able to keep him pinned. He rests his hands on your waist.
“Why are you sad?” You ask bluntly.
“I’m not the one who was just crying,” he deflects with a quip.
You raise your eyebrows and frown at him.
Remembering that he wanted you to know him, he cautiously answers in a halting undertone, “I would like a calm life.” He stops, thinking. “Maybe with you...”
It's almost a question, and he doesn’t say what he means exactly, but you understand. You're his chance at a normal life. A happy life.
“Maybe not a calm life, no, but you could have me.” You phrase it as a potential, though it’s not one. He’s had you wrapped around his finger for months. You'd do anything if your reward was this man.
His face doesn’t change, so you try again, “You already have me; so, it’d be nice if you’d accept it.”
“Oh, I don’t even get a choice, now?” He smirks faintly, his thumbs rubbing along your hips through the thin towel.
“I don’t think I’ll ever feel happy without you,” you confess your earlier thought. Your hand traces over the tattoo on his chest. “I know I wouldn't feel safe."
He sighs heavily. “I can’t say nothing will ever happen,” he says honestly, “but I can promise I'll be there." He pauses, trying to figure out how to express himself. "If you want me, then-"
“I always want you, Court.”
You cut him off, speaking his name for the first time. When when he smiles, it finally touches his eyes. His grip tightens on your waist. He's contemplative for a moment as his look turns mischievous.
He lowers his voice, “About that book you tried to kill me with: I think I remember a page or two -” he breaks off as he bends faster than you’re capable of reacting to, and throws you expertly over his shoulder, smiling at your laughing shriek.
#sierra six#the gray man#the gray man fanfic#court gentry#courtland gentry#my fics#smut#fluff#ryan gosling#lloyd hansen#chris evans#sierra six x reader#court gentry x reader#the gray man fanfiction#personal#I have a deformed finger and my dad makes that manicure joke all the time fyi#the gray man 2022#sierra six x you
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He finally come home. At 50/50 and 85th pulls 💀 he HATES me.
But I never knows he has a tail????? I have the same question as Bailu before seeing his animation. So his tail is invisible??? Does it means it is un-touch-able? Like ghost?
So, No way to 摸摸(sorry I forget eng word for it) his tail? Here I m wishing to cuddle his thicc Tail 🥹
And his 角 （horn in eng??) become longer too in animation. The first time seeing them, I have so many dirty thoughts about it. And his clothes , am I the only one thinking of ripping it from that chest window??? Fuc- he looks like a perfect sub boy pet.
Sorry. (Actually no.)
#hsr x male reader#hsr x reader#hokai star rail#dan heng x male reader#dan feng x male reader#imbibitor lunae x male reader#ho$ny thoughts at 2 am cuz my bf neglects me for a week#men r liar except me
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Miguel’s new secretary ooh-la-la
(lol /j 💀)
Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol
This is a loooong read so make sure you have time or something. Also, there’s an illustration in the middle of the chapter! Enjoy
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
MIGUEL & YOU
ACT 1 | ALGORITHMIC LOTTERY
It's the year 2110.
You are maneuvering through traffic in a sputtery fashion, the lifter problem in your engine getting so bad it almost sounds like you got rocks under the hood. The podcast is going on about alligators in Nueva York sewers.
“Couldn’t be more wrong,” you mumble, “there’s CROCODILES in the sewers, not alligators.”
You aren’t looking forward to this interview. How the heck did you manage an audition for office secretary to the CEO of Alchemax?!
“I don’t know,” you say aloud to your other self, “but if I get the job, Imma upgrade to a better ride than this heap of Maglev shit…”
But there’s other bitches who want this position. Two of them you are aware of: Syd and Brody. Syd is a real suck up who will say any damn thing to get the position. She out-groveled you and got the lead PR accounting job you wanted. Suck-up Syd is what you call her around your friends. Brody on the other hand is opposite; he thinks he can strong-arm his way into anything and he pretty much has. He’s kicked people down, screwed people over, and there’s a rumor he filed a sexual harassment charge on his friend Ashton just to get the promotion before Ashton could.
These two skanks are gonna be tricky, but that’s the least of why you loathe this whole thing. You also heard that Miguel O’Hara is a hard ass. When he came into power a few years ago, he immediately fired the former secretary for talking about his father in a positive light. Then he proceeded to chew and spit out people who ever had the misfortune of being in that job position.
“Or maybe they just cut their losses after raking in half a billion,” your friend Speshall guessed the last time you seen her, “they prolly couldn’t take the heat for that long so they waited until they were set for life then said something stupid on purpose to get him to let them go. What a retirement plan! To work for the sexiest man of the year then have him berate you on your way out!”
She was always like this.
Anyway, now your car is not being validated in the automated parking center.
“What the HELL?!”
“Sorry, your credit has been declined.”
“Oh fuck me-“
You fumble your lanyard of data sticks. You are looking for the green one, which has a small amount of credit you procured from test playing phone games. You lean out of your car window to bring the green stick drive near the wireless reader.
“Sorry, we cannot accept credit from online gambling. Please use another method of payment.”
“Oh fuck you!”
≋ ≋ ≋ ≋
Now you are walking. You had to park where they don’t give a shit about where your money is from. Alchemax is trying to create a good precedent by not accepting dirty money, but Alchemax, as far as you know, does dirtier stuff for pay. Why the hell is “gambling money” any different?!
Scowling so hard, you almost didn’t notice there’s some douchebag trying to walk close behind you. He probably saw the lanyard of data sticks around your neck, so you fluff your scarf around until they are covered.
“I don’t have any money, muh guy” you say in your heaviest Nueva York accent along with this generations lingo.
“Oh I’m not afta you. I was tryna tell ya there’s this otha weirdo following ya. I’m tryna group up here.”
You know better than to look back. That’s what this fucko wants you to do. He’s probably a flasher, so you walk into traffic.
“Hey that’s dangerous, yo!”
You don’t listen. Cars flying past is not as scary as going up to see the freakin CEO of Alchemax.
No cars hit you, so now you have to face reality. You walk into the Alchemax Business Bureau building (one of hundreds), and wave your ID at the receptionist in the lobby. The receptionist is preoccupied with a lady who has one hand on her hip and the other holding out a holo watch. It’s projecting a screen with a giant hourglass animation flipping over and over.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to get a damn cup of coffee around here, I just don’t!”
“C’mon it’s not necessary to bring security here, ma’am.”
He remains standing behind his desk and grimaces at you. You really need to get him to validate your ID so you won’t be stopped by security, so you pull up your phone and say to the woman, “you want some coffee coupons for Dunkin Donuts?”
“What?”
You open your savings app and hastily air-swipe several coupons to her holo device like someone flicking bills at a stripper. She stops to look at them.
“A regular frap for half off? Oh woooow, how- will they really honor this?” She asks.
“Yeah! It’s good for two more days, so you may wanna hurry over to the kiosk at the west end.”
“Really?”
“They sell all brands of coffee, they’ll honor it.”
“Well, nevermind, then,” she says curtly to the receptionist as she turns her shoulder away, “Didn’t want hours-old coffee anyway.”
She turns on her fancy heel and trots away. You grin stupidly at the receptionist who rolls his eyes and snatches your ID card from you. He swipes it near his card reader then flicks it back without a word.
After a nod, you swiftly leave down the lobby to the elevator area. You round the corner and see an open elevator closing. It's the only one since the other two are under construction. You rush forward as fast as your legs will allow.
"Wait wait WAIT WAIT!"
The doors are closing and you see the face of Suck-up Syd with her smoky eyes and faux fur capelet. She smiles and does nothing as the doors close.
"Shocking typical," you grumble. But you know where the other elevator is. You take off to the other end of the building for the second set of elevators.
You make it onto the elevator with two other people, some white chick and an Indian dude. The lady sees your pass.
"Going for the secretary job?" She asks.
"Yeah."
“Me too. If I don’t get this, I’m going to jump from this building,” the lady jokes.
“If I get this, I WILL jump from this building,” you add.
“Either way, it's gonna be job security for the custodian department,” the Indian guy says. All three of you chuckle politely.
The elevator lets more people in. You check your phone. You are fucking late by 20 minutes, but so is the lady who wants this job or else. You assume it would have taken a while anyway, since there was about 15 people going in for this very same job. Could it be you?! Could you land this job?! What if your mom was wrong?! And what if O’Hara says yes? What if you are set for life?
The final floor of this elevator is reached. You wobble on your way out. The lady doesn’t move.
“Actually, I can’t do this. I’m going home.”
The elevator doors close and she goes back down. You hear a faint byeeeeeeeeeee as the elevator descends to lower levels. You pay no heed and follow the Indian man into the massive hall.
There’s already chaos. One guy is being escorted out of the lobby by his shirt collar, and he's spouting obscenities. Some lady had dropped all her paperwork and she’s too numb to pick it up again. Two ladies near her are sarcastically wishing each other luck, one of them is Suck-up Syd. She looks 10x more desperate today with her tight-fitting outfit and belt buckle the size of a plate. Her overly fake smile gives you no esteem or hope. You almost sit but realize there’s barf on the chair.
Okay, surely everyone is overreacting in here.
“Man I’m not scared at all. There’s a trick to facing down Alpha males,” says a guy who you didn’t ask.
“Ah, cool.” you say through a grin. It’s Brody. You don’t even have to see him to know he’s there with his overwhelming presence of snobbery.
“See, as a Sigma male,” he continues, leaning on the back of the barf chair to talk to you, “I don’t adhere to the Alpha’s orders. That’s how the pack survives! One guy is an outlier so like if the Alpha fails in his role as leader, the Sigma will show by example and the rest of the females and Betas will follow him-“
“BRODY!”
You and Brody see Ashton in the doorway you came from. Ashton beelines across the room with his briefcase raised high. He brings it down on Brody with a loud clunk and they grapple and exchange blows. You go ahead and sit down perfectly still.
"Oh my GOD!" Suck-up Syd muses. She only sees this as two less competitors. You wince as the men start yelling obscenities at each other in their struggle. The guards who took out the last guy come back in and see this happening and they both huff angrily.
"Next!"
"Ah, that's me!" Syd says, “you guys are welcome to leave, I probably got this in the bag.”
She gets up and thrusts her capelet onto the lobby assistant.
.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳ ˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.
Four hours pass. Brody and Ashton were escorted from the building, those bozos didn’t even get an interview, but it was funny watching Brody get dragged down to hell by a demon he wronged.
Suck-up Syd walked out in tears and a forced smile. You felt bad for making fun of her in the past. She’s just kinda desperate and a little pathetic. You assume groveling doesn't work on the boss.
Other people came and went swiftly. The cheerful Indian man from earlier left looking surprised at his failure. The lady who dropped all her crap earlier apparently already had an interview and was reeling from her bad luck. You understand their disappointment since being chosen for this position was like winning the lottery, except you don't know if you won or not.
“Next!”
Your stomach twists but you refuse to be like them. This is just a job. You’ll be answering phones, emails, and possibly even mailing some dry cleaning. No big fuckin deal.
You thank the lobby assistant but she ignores you and walks away. She is just doing her job. She looks very tired of everyone else’s shit and is probably glad it's over. You walk to the elevator where the second to last person is taking baby-steps, talking on his phone with someone nursing his wounded pride. That could be you in a minute.
I'm probably not gonna get it either, you think, but I'm going down with some dignity.
You work yourself up as you step into yet another elevator, this one glass paneled. You stare across Nueva York as you ascend, contemplating your future. So what if you don't make it? You will simply fall back to your job and go about your life. Your mom will say she's right about the invitation being a fluke. You will go back to paying off debts and supplementing your food budget by testing mobile phone games during work hours and before you go to sleep. You see your own reflection, no longer as young as you used to be, and you sigh.
The glass doors open behind you. You walk through another set of foggy glass doors. Despite your self pep talk, you are still not looking forward to this. You've seen pictures of Miguel O'Hara before; over 6 feet tall, wide shoulders that could support an ox yoke, and a presence so large one would think he could go toe to toe with Godzilla. How will the interview go? You imagine fire. You expect a demon sitting behind a black marble desk in the darkness, a horrendous mob boss wearing Scarface attire, spitting fiery facts and passing cruel judgment, his horns ascending at the heavens with searing indifference and contempt for mercy. You expect a fax machine in the corner that will print out your death.
This is not what you see.
There he is, in this meager temp office sitting behind a tiny desk covered in empty water bottles. His shoulders are wider than the desk, but he's scrunching them in to seem normal. He's wearing a regular dress shirt, no tie. No fancy jewelry either, just some off-brand oversized watch on his left wrist. He looks disappointed already, but not at you. He’s squinting down at some of the tiny desks’ interactive holo-projections. You see your name on one of the files he’s peering at through comically large anti glare glasses.
You don’t sit. You are too stressed. He hasn’t noticed you. He picks up one of the water bottles and carefully opens it with his monster hands. They look travel-sized compared to him. He sips it and notices you.
“Hello!” You greet.
He finishes it in two gulps and sets it down slowly, as to not disturb the other bottles.
“Okay I don’t have a lot of time left, so let’s cut through here… you work for the guys in the PR department-“
“Ah yeah, they are a very friendly bunch down there! That is until you get to know them!” You blurt out. He looks up at you with tired eyes and swipes through the files without looking at them.
“Says here you were demoted from vice head PR accounting a while back, but you attached a note saying you have an alibi? Let’s hear it.”
“Uhhh.”
“C’mon I don’t have all day.”
“There was a payment discrepancy, uh, I was given a raise but I noticed my boss didn’t update it for a whole month. He was on vacation and wasn't answering my calls, so... since he left the finances to me I updated it myself… And I got into trouble BUT it was technically not embezzlement, so I was given an ultimatum to either move to a lower department or get fired, so-“
“Self-reliant. Got it. There's a note from your current department head saying she's been notified anonymously that you've been paying for Alchemax home services with gambling money, what do you have to say about that?"
"I- that is a th- thing with SoloGameMedia, ah, they are a parent company to a gambling franchise, therefore every transaction from them is registered as gambling profit- but I test games with- from them directly! It's a side hustle- thing, I- that, I DO NOT playtest games during work hours! Only on-"
"Why do you think I should hire you?”
You are caught off guard by the most basic interview question.
“Hhhhhh WELL… because you need a secretary now?”
He’s already looking back down at the files again. You can see NYPD files, apparently he’s now looking at your small criminal record. You also notice his shirt is unbuttoned on the top. For curiosity's sake, you discreetly raise up on your toes to see down his cleavage. It's deeper than you expected. One mighty flex and that shirt will send buttons flying everywhere. He looks back up as you quickly drop back down on your heels.
“Yeah. Mmm. Ok. So you are way in over your head in college and credit debt, you have been gambling as a means to get by- really don’t care about that, and you did not dispute your boss's ultimatum when you had the chance."
"Wait, what?"
"Four years ago, when your boss gave you the ultimatum to get demoted or get fired. His proposal was ILLEGAL."
Your gut twists.
"That- that was illegal?!"
"You had six months to report him and you didn't. Why?"
"Be- because I just thought he was being fair, I-"
"I'm sorry, but you got screwed."
He looks sincere behind those nerdy lenses with his pout lips. You really want to throw something right now.
“I… oh…”
"Look, the most I can do is re-open your case," he says as he pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge, "You might get a small settlement out of it, but even that isn't guaranteed."
"So... I'm not getting the job?"
"How do you expect to get hired with such an unexceptional history of white collar crime and a meek attitude that's gotten you nowhere? Hey Lyla? Is this all we have?”
An AI assistant pops up from the interactive desk.
“This is the last one, sir.”
“Okay, cool. Look I’m sure you’re actually great at your job, but I have places to be-“
“Wha- well so do I!”
“Uh huh, nice talking to you,“ he scoots his chair back and hits his knee on the tiny desk, sending empty bottles scattering all over the room. He cringes.
“Well if I’m so unexceptional, why was I accepted for an interview?!”
“I’m gonna guess because of some algorithmic lottery? Probably to do with the amount of experience you have in your department, I dunno,” He guesses as he attempts to gather the bottles by sweeping them under the desk with his shoes, “If you wanna blame someone for the short interview time, thank those other time-wasters who came before you. I gotta go.”
“Now WAIT a… minute”
He stands up from his tiny desk as you say that. He’s towering over you with a tired expression and loose strands of hair about his face.
“What?” He asks, all friendliness gone.
“Can we continue this interview at a different time? You obviously haven’t found a secretary you want, but you still need one, right?! I could be the one you need even if I’m not the one you want!”
It takes every inch of your being to not slap yourself on the forehead. He is scrunching his nose, squinting down at you with mild contempt. You get a good look at his sharp, broad temples and cheekbones, complete with a hardened jaw. His thick dark lips are pulled to one side in annoyance and are accentuated with a pair of jowls that look poised to bite at any time like some kind of deep sea angler fish. His eyes are very dark. They almost look red…
His expression goes blank as he sighs.
“Okay.”
“Great! Ah, when?!”
“Tomorrow, same time.”
“Grabsolutely- Great- fantastic! I won’t let you down!”
“Uh huh.”
He leaves. You assume you should leave too. You awkwardly follow him. He grabs his coat off a nearby chair, and you get a brief display of his amazing body shape as he flips the coat over his shoulders. You avert your attention to the floor, already feeling disrespectful after having looked down his shirt. Now you are both in the elevator. You are doing all in your power not to pass out over your small lucky break.
O’Hara pretends you aren’t there as he looks at his phone and chats with his AI assistant.
“Lyla, push the evening meeting to tomorrow as well, except an hour earlier.”
“Roger that!”
“I need coffee.”
“Roger that also!”
“Please, PLEASE tell them to not add cream. I really hate when they do that.”
You wanna ask him if he’s lactose intolerant but you already pushed your luck today.
Apparently he is exiting the building in the same way you are going, but he's booking it with long ass strides and it's difficult to keep up. You both end up on the same elevator again, this time with other people. He awkwardly acknowledges you with a blank smirk and brow raise, then promptly looks back down at his phone. Everyone else is trying not to bother him.
"Hello, Mister O'Hara, I didn't realize you were here! Hi!" says a lady who is shooting her shot at a social connection (she totally knew he was there.)
"Ah, hey. Miss...?"
"Stacy Brian! We met at the Student Festival earlier this year."
"Oh, right, right! Miss Brian, how are you?"
"Doing well! I didn’t know you wore glasses!"
"Oh- I totally forgot these were on my face," he admits while taking them off and trying to find a place to stash them, "I actually don’t wear glasses, it's- um, I have issues with bright computer screens."
You discreetly watch him in the elevator wall reflection as he quickly swaps the lenses out for a pair of red sunglasses. The elevator doors open and everyone flows out into the foyer. You realize you never got his card.
"Hey one more thing, sir!" You call out to him.
"What?"
"I don't have your number! What if we need to reschedule?!"
"Ah, right. Get your phone out, please."
He turns back around and searches for something on his phone. With a swift flick of his hand, he air drops his ID and number to your device.
"Thank you!"
"¡De nada!"
He swiftly leaves through the front doors and trots down the steps. You watch this huge marvel of nature hail a cab. The automated transporter car is so small that he has to bring his shoulders in tight to fit through the doorway. This seems to have more to do with him not wanting to snag his nice jacket.
A man of this position and wealth... hailing a cab? Must be in THAT much of a hurry. You look down at the data he sent you. His ID photo looks like they took his picture after pulling an all-nighter, and his half-hearted smile reveals his crooked teeth. But somehow he still looks great in an unconventional way.
•°《💀》°•
You drive home, feeling both anxious and also deflated. Miguel O'Hara was a mixed bag of what you expected. Speshall hyped him up as a sexy hunk of the year and Brody felt so intimidated that he went on an unwarranted Alpha Male rant, but the guy was so awkward with his tiny desk and water bottles and weird glasses, and he was whining to his AI helper about his coffee. He’s a large… finicky… lactose-intolerant nerd, but he's also got the moxy to move mountains. What’s more, now ya gotta think of what to say to him in the next interview. What could be expected of a guy like that? What if he cancels the meeting and your chance is lost forever?
Your car makes it home and you sit in it for a moment. Speshall left you a text asking about the interview.
Went weird, you text back.
"Welcome back, tenant 27," the AI apartment valet greets.
You open your car door and notice you've been parked over the grates again. You remember when you last dropped your phone in this spot, the fucking thing went right in between the grate holes and you couldn’t get it back for a week. You have the presence of mind to upload the latest bit of information (O'Hara's phone number) to your data cloud.
You walk through the parking garage. You know all the safe routes. It didn’t matter who you were, Nueva York was never safe at night.
You hear footsteps to your left but it’s just a couple of people walking together, a man and woman trying to huddle. The garage opening is just ahead. You go ahead and march out, not looking back.
You step out into the warm breeze of middle-class Nueva York. The wind is artificial, billowing from the hydro-electric plants that keeps this city running. It took you forever to get here, a lot of cheap-skating, white lies, and debt piling to maintain this life, but you are here! Unapologetic holo screens buzz near you as you walk, begging you to spend money as they light up the way to your apartment. There's no point in tapping their "no" buttons since that just wastes your time. The screens showcased brand-new cars, beautiful clothes, and radiant health. If you had more money, at least some of that could be yours. You hate that people roll around in all the wonderful things this world has to offer while you have to make do with decade old clothing and over-processed food. Where the hell is everyone getting it all from? When the hell will you get yours?
“Hey! Wanna buy a shared data cloud?!”
You are now being bothered by a salesman. You say nothing and keep walking. Even saying no opens more dialogue. He gives up but another comes at you.
“Wanna be a part of the elite task force that edits any and all articles about Thor?! It’s a paying job! $100 an hour!”
As dystopian as it sounds, $100 an hour won’t get you far in Nueva York, not in this era of quadrillionaires.
“Hey, I saw ya on da street earlier! Ya walked into traffic!”
You accidentally glance over at the familiar voice talking about the familiar subject. He’s got you. Your eyes are fixated on a creepypasta face, his irises flashing in a hypnotic pattern. This was way worse than the idea of the guy being just a flasher.
He’s a black market demon. The worst street hawker known to man.
You can’t remember much else besides him taking you by the hand and leading you away.
_________________________________________
Next: ACT 2 | BLACK MARKET DEMONS
#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel x you#kinda#not really#more like awkward turtle#MIGUEL & YOU#Spiderman 2099 fanfic#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n
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🤣 I'm laughing at your snow plow man flirting, but in a "it's cute" way.
Wait, this is a fic! It's Lee Know, you're the final street on his route. He likes shameless flirting and he comes back after his shift in 30 minutes to see how much hospitality he can wring out of you 💀
Thank you so much for this lmao it was actually so fun to write!!
18+!! Please&thanks!! MDNI
warnings: cursing, drinking alcohol, boobie play, petname - pretty girl, dirty talk, protected sex (crowd gasps)
“Stupid fucking winter, stupid fucking snow!” You yelled as you lazily pushed the snow off your walk way. It was the first major storm of the season, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.
You had finally made it to the end of your driveway when the snowplow turned the corner, daring to add more snow to the already large mountain at the end of the driveway.
You groaned quietly as you backed up, only to slip on ice and land flat out on your back. “I. Fucking. Hate. Winter!” You yelled, throwing your arms out beside you.
The loud beeping and bright of the snowplow stoped in front of your house, the sound of the squeaky metal door opening. “You okay?” He yelled, you couldn’t hear him.
“Hello?” His face popped into view above you, offering a hand to help you up.
You furrows your brows at the stranger, but took his hand and pulled yourself up, brushing the snow off your coat.
“You okay?” He asked again, his soft brown eyes scanning your face.
“Physically fine, mentally hating every single thing about winter.” You kicked a snowball with your foot.
Leeknow laughed, shaking his head as he glanced back at his plow. “Ya, I guess I don’t help with that.” He looked back at you and extended a hand. “I’m Leeknow.”
You yanked your glove off and shook his hand. “Y/N.”
You couldn’t help but check out the man in front of you. He was extremely attractive, to hot to be driving a snowplow, but a job was a job.
“So, no boyfriend around to shovel for you?” He asked with a tilt of the head.
You huffed a laugh, “Even if I did, they wouldn’t do this. I have a history of picking leaches.”
“Leaches?” He laughed
“Yea, men who just stick to you and suck all your worth.” You shook your head, feeling slightly embarrassed by your own remark.
“Anyways, thank you for helping me up. I’ll appreciate you until you make more snow for me to shovel.”
Leeknow motioned with his shoulder towards your house, “Go warm up, I’ll get rid of it for you.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded, “It’ll take me two seconds.”
You smiled widely, “Thank you, so much. I owe you a drink.”
“I’ll keep your word on that.” He smirked, giving a little wave as he turned back to get in his truck.
You watched from the window as he cleared the snow for you, even getting out to make sure it was perfectly clean before heading on his way.
You grabbed some fuzzy pj shorts and a matching bralette, throwing it on and pulling in your house coat over it. You relaxed on the couch with a white claw, chatting on the phone with your phone as the tv played in the background.
“I haven’t hooked up with anyone since you dragged me out last summer and I got wasted.” You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. “Besides, I’ll get some dick when I get some, there’s no rush.”
“Hey, maybe plow guy will come back to plow you.”
You rolled your eyes, holding the one to one ear as the doorbell rang. “Shut up! I’m not gonna tell you about the cute guys I meet if you think we’re going to fuck right away.”
Grabbing your wallet, you opened the door expecting a food delivery person. Instead it was Leeknow, with a 24 pack of drinks in hand.
“Hey…I’m gonna have to call you back. Leeknow is here.”
You went to hang up the phone, just as us ur friend yelled “plow guy?!” Loud enough for him to hear.
Your cheeks flushed a deep red, as you threw your phone onto the couch. “Sorry, I thought you were my Chinese food.” You mumbled for a moment before raising an eyebrow at him. “Wait, why are you here? Do I owe you money for clearing the snow?” Your second question was filled with sarcasm.
“You said you owe me a drink.” He held up the case of white claws, “I brought some, just in case you didn’t have any.” He said with a wink.
You shook your head with a laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “If you try to murder me, I have a witness that you were here.”
“Am I that scary looking?” He asked with a smirk, kicking off his shoes as he glanced around the room. “Fridge?” He asked holding the box of drinks to you.
You took it and motioned for him to follow you. “I have some chilled already.”
Turning into the kitchen, you noticed Leeknow had gotten distracted by your cat. “That’s Taylor.”
Leeknow joined you a moment later, “Your cats name is Taylor?” He asked with a laugh, leaning up against your center island as you opened the fridge for him to see the drink options.
“Yes. I did not name her, and she refused to be renamed.”
After a few minutes of chatting in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. You started towards it, but Leeknow stopped you. “I’ll get it.”
It caught you off guard, in a good way.
He came back with the food a few minutes later, setting it on the island. “And now I’ve bought you dinner.”
You blushed a deep red, biting your lips before grabbing two plates and passing him one. “Lucky for you, I can’t pick one thing, so there’s tons.”
The two of you chatted while you ate, laughing and telling stories. You didn’t end up eating very much since he kept the conversation flowing. But you definitely had a good buzz on.
“So, how would you say our first date is going?” He asked, gathering the dishes and cleaning up a bit.
You sat back in your chair, watching him easily move around your kitchen, asking where certain things went and insisted you just relax.
“Honestly, probably the best one I’ve had. I’m comfy as heck, didn’t have to go anywhere and I laughed a lot.”
“And what about the guy? What do you think about him?” He asked as he stood at the sink, washing the plates you had used.
You shifted a little in your seat, taking a drink as you checked him out from behind. “Great ass.”
“Thank you.” He laughed
“Did not mean for that to come out, but you’re welcome.” You laughed quietly, biting your lip.
You tried your best to ignore the butterflies swirling in your stomach. Something about watching a man being domestic drove you mind into the gutter.
“He’s funny, super sweet. My cat likes him which is a big thing cause she doesn’t like a lot of people.”
He turned to look at you, a smile on his face as he dried off his hands. You didn’t notice before, but they were beautiful in their own way, perfectly lined with popping veins.
You took a long drink, the warm effect of the alcohol taking over your body, “and what did he think about the girl?”
“She’s smart, very pretty. Likes to color and draw, which is super cute.”
You took off your house coat, completely forgetting that you only had minimal pjs on.
“She’s also got a great body.” He choked over his words.
You looked down at your body, giggling a bit. “I guess you’re lucky I have something on.”
Your filter was basically gone at this point as a result of the alcohol. You lazily lofted the housecoat back over your shoulders.
The two of you made your way to the living room to continue chatting. Leeknow had a few more drinks and you, against your own judgment, had another one.
For some reason, this man who was just a stranger a few hours ago, made you feel safe and happy. It felt like you’d known each other in another life time.
You curled up next to him to watch a movie, his arm draped around you, his fingers gently rubbing your shoulder.
When a sex scene came on in the movie, you bit your lip hard. As if the drunken sexual tension wasn’t enough, you were picturing Leeknow fucking you like the guy on screen.
His fingers came to a stop as the scene got more intense, the girl was being called slut and you couldn’t help when a smirk pulled at your lips.
“Whatcha’ smiling about?” He whispered in your ear.
“It’s kinda hot.” You looked up at him for a quick second, eyes trailing to his plump lips before darting back to the tv.
Leeknow hummed, his fingers starting to move again, this time slipping under your bralette slap.
His touch gave you goosebumps, and you swore you could feel his eyes staring you down.
“I don’t want to sound lewd, but my eyes haven’t been on the movies all that much.”
You slid your hand onto his thigh, squeezing a bit, “well what have you been looking at?”
Leeknow moved a little closer, his hand moving down your chest, running along his fingers slowly across the hem of your bralette.
“Oh, I guess they are quite out there.” You looked over at him, “I can put them away if you’d like.”
“Please don’t.” He said with a smirk, licking his lips.
You repositioned on the couch, sitting cross legged facing him, “Do you wanna touch?”
Leeknow laughed shyly, a dark red tinting his ears. His hand started to move, but bypassed and cupped you cheek instead.
He pressed his lips into yours, gently at first but deepening it when you kissed back.
As the kissing intensified, his hands started to wander over your body, caressing the exposed parts of your skin.
You moved to straddle his lap, earning a soft moan as you felt his semi hard cock under you. Your hand trailed down his firm toned chest, across his abs to lift his shirt.
Your eyes looked over his body, ogling at how good he looked without a shirt. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Leeknow’s hand rested on your thigh, running under the bottom of your fuzzy shorts, slowly sliding up.
You slowly slid each strap off your shoulder before pulling your bralette off, your breasts bouncing freely.
“Says you.” Leeknow said smirking, both hands cupping your breasts. His fingers ran over your erect nipples, twisting and flicking at them gently “You like that?”
You nodded and moaned softly, feeling your wetness start to soak your panties. You rolled your hips against his, grinding roughly.
He hummed happily as his lips went back to yours, gently kissing before he worked his way down your chest, sliding his tongue every few seconds.
His mouth sucked gently on your nipple, tongue swirling and lapping at your sensitive bud.
You gasped quietly as his mouth moved, biting down and sucking hard at the skin of your breast, slowly leading to the other nipple.
“I’m so fucking wet for you.” You say in a moan, scooting back a bit on his lap as your hand ran over his bulge.
“You want that cock, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling back as his fingers slipped under your shorts and panties. His fingers ran slowly over your clit before be carefully pulled them back, admiring the release on his fingers.
“Well” You started to undo his pants, tugging them down a bit as you freed his cock. It was much bigger than you though. “How else am I going to thank you for dinner and plowing?”
Your hand started to pump slowly, with a twist of the wrist when you reached the top. His fingers went back to your pussy, his thumb pressing into your clit as two dipped in your hole.
“You sure you want me to stretch out this tight little pussy?” He asked, his eyes on you as you reacted to his touch.
You tilted your head at him, your hand stopping at the top of his cock. Your thumb ran over the tip, collecting a little of his pre cum before bringing your thumb to your mouth and giving it a little suck.
“Afraid you’ll like it to much?”
Leeknow’s three fingers worked away, pumping your entrance and moving his thumb slowly. He looked up at you, pulling your face towards him. “I already know I will.”
You roughly kissed his lips as your hand trailed down his length, massaging his balls gently.
“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You asked against his lips, your walls starting to tighten around his fingers.
Leeknow slipped his hand from your shorts, wrapping both arms around you to stand up.
You giggled and wrapped yourself around him. “You keep this up and I might want to keep you.”
“Just feed me twice a day and I’ll pretty easy to handle.”
You directed him to the bedroom, where he climbed onto the bed with you still under him.
“Do you have a condom?” Leeknow asked as he kissed you, yanking down your shorts.
You turned over, leaning across the bed to the side table, unaware of how exposed you were to him.
He groaned quietly behind you, his fingers running along your entrance. “You’re fucking killing me.”
You gave your butt a little wiggle, digging through the drawer. “I swear there was some in here.”
Leeknow moved up behind you, his cock resting against your throbbing entrance. He leaned up behind you, “back corner” he pointed.
You held his cock in place, moaning softly at the feeling of his length against your clit. Your hand reached to hold him in place and you started to grind against him.
Leeknow groaned loudly, his teeth biting into your shoulder. His dick barely fit between your folds it was so thick, so long that the tip rested culled in your hand.
“Fuckin’ shit you feel so good.” You moaned, feeling your body shake gently, a gush of liquid running down your legs. You hand found Leeknow’s, passing him the condom.
“Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already making a mess.” He repositioned you on your back, moving between your legs as he rolled the condom on.
“I’m sure I’ll have to sleep in the spare bedroom.” You giggle, biting down on your finger as his length started to poke at your entrance.
He leaned down, inches away from your face as he pushed in a bit. “What? You’re kicking me out already?”
You tried to steady your breathing, feeling him stretch you out, making you wetter with each stroke.
“Because I know after this,” You start, your hand trailing down his cheek and flicking off his jaw. “I’m going to want more of you.”
He thrusted slowly as his lips pecked yours, his own moans making you more aroused. “I already want more of you.”
Leeknow’s lips found yours, kissing you roughly as he started to pick up speed.
You moaned into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in, moving along with yours.
“Pretty, pretty girl.” He whispered.
Your walls clenched around his length, wetness staring to drip and trickling onto Leeknow.
He held your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, your body shaking under him.
Something about his lips were so addicting, the way they moved so easily with yours. How sweet he tasted.
He pulled back a little, just to look down at you. Smiling softly down at you, “You’re so pretty, and super fucking cool.”
You blushed hard and smiled at him, “Clears my snow, pays for dinner, fucks so good, and now complements?”
You leaned up to kiss his lips, gently pushing him back to climb on top. “Good luck getting rid of me.”
Leeknow looked at you with gazing eyes, watching as you lowered yourself onto his cock, “Please fucking stay.”
His words gave you goosebumps and a chill ran up your spine. You leaned down to kiss his lips, the unexpected butterflies made you smile into the kiss.
“I can be all yours.” You whispered, your hips slamming down into his. Your fist balled on his chest, feeling his cock start to firm.
“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, both your and Leeknow’s breathing becoming more and more erratic. “Cum for me Leeknow.”
His hips started to thrust into yours, cursing as he gripped onto your skin.
You laid your head on his shoulder as he slammed into you, your moans turning into whimpers as you felt his cock throbbing inside you.
His arms wrapped around your body, a hand rubbing your back gently.
“You ready to sleep?,” he asked, pressing kisses into the side of your head.
You whined quietly, hiding your face in the neck more. “Can you carry me to the spare bedroom and cuddle me?”
It was mostly a joke, but Leeknow didn’t take it as one. He slid out from underneath you, rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash before scooping you up.
He plopped you on the bed, pulling the covers over you before climbing in and taking you into his arms.
It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep, the warmth and comfort of Leeknow making it easy.
You woke up still in his arms, “Hey you.” You say wuietly.
Leeknow smiled at you, kissing your head. “Hey pretty girl, sleep well?”
You kissed his arm, “I did actually. How about you?”
“Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
#I hope I did ok with this 🥹🥹#let’s all collectively agree to call this ‘plowed’#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fluff#skz smut#skz fanfic#skz fluff#leeknow smut#leeknow fanfic#leeknow x reader#leeknow x female reader#reader x leeknow#leeknow#stray kids leeknow#stray kids lee minho#stray kids x female reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#stray kids#skz#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#kpop fluff#lee minho skz
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thoughts on submissive jimmysaul ???? 🤔 need 2 spread the good word -🍒
>:3
using this gif bc im a menace
combining w/ this ask too
ok so saul is not a sub. not unless you beg him or take him by surprise but more on that in a sec. he is way too egotistical to let himself get pushed around. he NEEDS to be top dog.
but jimmy??? jimmy mcgill is the whiniest bitch to ever bitch 😌 and underneath all those personas and every front he tries to put up he is still a whiny little bitch at his very core. he’ll crack under the tiniest bit of pressure.
he would absolutely pick a goofy ah safe word like “constitution” or some shit. don’t tell me he wouldn’t.
whines and moans when giving you head. he honestly likes it more than you do. he just wants to do a good job and make you proud 🥺🥺🥺 ruffle his hair and he’ll DIE
he doesn’t like hard impact play like anything that’ll bruise/bleed but he’s a baby painslut. slap him, spank him, pull his hair, pinch and twist his nipples >:3
bondage and sensory deprivation really rile him up bc he gets so frustrated! he wants to touch you? kinda hard w/ his hands tied to the bed frame :/ he wants to see what you’re doing? too bad! he’s blindfolded. he keeps running his mouth and whining and begging for release? enjoy the ballgag, bozo 🥱
speaking of running his mouth i think he would try to crack a few jokes at first to try to maintain some semblance of dignity. but that goes out the window when you answer his quip with a bitchslap.
“c’mon kid, is that all you got? my grandma could hit harder than-“ (SMACK) “ngh! ok i’m sorry i’ll be good…”
praise/degradation/humiliation combo meal. whatever you say to him is guaranteed to make him moan. ESPECIALLY if you make him say something.
“ah… i’m a… i’m a dirty old man…”
“what was that, jimmy? say it louder, i couldn’t hear you.”
he whimpers before he says it. “i’m a dirty old man!”
“good boy! that’s right! you’re a disgusting pervert, too! let me hear you say that.” (jimmy mcgill cums in his pants.mp3)
^make fun of him for cumming too early. call him pathetic. he’ll be hard again in no time.
why do i feel like he’d be into small dick humiliation too 💀
TOP HIM TOP HIM USE HIS HOLE HE WILL GO INSANE!!!!!!! i doubt he plays w/ it much by himself but having a partner take care of him like that….. oml he just melts
he’s really scared to bottom at first but then you touch his prostate and it’s like he sees god. he’s DEFINITELY gonna experiment with it on his own next time :3
#anon#ask#bcs#better call saul#bcs x reader#better call saul x reader#better call saul imagine#better call saul smut#brba#breaking bad x reader#better call saul headcanons#better call saul hcs#breaking bad#brba x reader#jimmy mcgill x reader#jimmy mcgill#jimmy mcgill imagine#jimmy mcgill smut#jimmy mcgill hcs#jimmy mcgill headcanons#saul goodman x reader#saul goodman#saul goodman imagine#saul goodman hcs#saul goodman headcanons#saul goodman smut#breaking bad smut#breaking bad headcanons#breaking bad imagine#breaking bad hcs
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IN THE WATER. chapter five
SHIP: bakugo x fem reader
A/N: sorry for the long wait! i hope it isn’t disappointing, i’m sure yall wanted a sweet happy ending sooo tw character death lol 💀💀
TAGLIST: @smashboxgirl26
V. WHEN THE LAST HOPE RUNS OUT
katsuki was in the kitchen putting a small portion of food away, dirty dishes in the sink. “the kids already ate..” he was quick to ask the usual questions, and you answered. “i ran into more revenants today. they’re wandering outside again.”
if you ignore it, maybe it will disappear.
“i know. that’s what i wanted to talk with you about—“ you suddenly took a sharp breath, loud enough to cut him off. it was like a gasp, so natural he almost could have ignored it.
"what was that?" he straightened up, leaning to grab your shoulder. you got cleaned up and dressed in clean(er) clothes when you got back, taking a bath, but he saw the blood.
then he noticed mahoro, peeking around the corner. she was always the one to tattletale or run and tell him things around the house, but now she was keeping her distance.
katsuki tugged at your leg and you turned away, afraid of what he would say. he felt an unpleasant coil in his stomach, and he stared, as if he had never seen you before. “what did you do?”
his tone said it all, and you wanted to cry. “fucking shit, why didn’t you say something? get up, you’re staying in the other room and— y/n?”
the light in your eyes goes out of focus, dimming the way the sun does as it sets, and it makes him realize death still loomed over. it isn’t bound to outer walls. katsuki yells your name and then everything goes black.
his heart pounding the entire way back, buildings turned into trees and the city disappeared. katsuki fell silent and only the sound of breathing could be heard, because that’s all he could do.
white blankets crunched under heavy boots and his legs burned, or maybe it was the cold, but it felt like he was being strangled by his own neck.
it was snowing outside. really, truly snowing.
ever since that day, it had been tense and uncomfortable. the long, treacherous journey north, just the two of you. it was hard, finding out you were infected and only had a certain amount of time. you and me, katsuki thought, how it started.
the air was freezing on your skin, not at all prepared for the weather, red and bruised. that one on your arm has gotten bigger..
flakes fall from the sky and you dare look out the window, you are so cold.
the sound of footsteps made your heart skip into your throat and close your eyes, squeezing a fist as tingles numb your fingertips. katsuki slammed the door behind him, kicking off his boots and the snow was already starting to melt on the beautiful wood flooring.
“there you are.”
you greet him softly, tired from just boiling water —katsuki told you to start melting snow while he was out. the amount you melted wasn’t enough, he sighed. katsuki had been gone for hours, probably, you couldn’t keep a train of thought anymore.
he takes off his damp gloves and tossed them on a table, before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. “i didn’t have much luck with the houses around here either. i have to get more wood, we won’t last the week.”
katsuki starts to tell you about plans for tomorrow. he grabs a small blanket from the closet and drapes it over your shoulders.
“i’ll make you something in a minute.” and true to his word, it wasn’t long before you hold a bowl of soup; mouth watering. your stomach has been hurting more recently, sometimes katsuki would throw a tantrum. it was hard to find food— harder for you to keep it down.
the sound of a single gunshot made all three of you flinch, katsuki pushed katsuma and mahoro behind him out of instinct. you couldn’t look into the eyes of your attacker, too afraid. “just hand them over.”
he’d been looking for these children for months, and word gets around when there were eyes everywhere. dead or alive. “.. i’m impressed they’ve survived this long.”
so much blood was shed that day, too many had fallen and it was all your fault. this world changes people, better or for worse, all that mattered was who was the meanest.
“izuku, we trusted you!” you screamed, looking up to meet green eyes, dull and void of pity. he opened his mouth but you couldn’t hear a word. katsuki glanced at you confused.
“is this a joke?” and then you instantly recognized the young man, shoto. “izuku midoriya is gone.”
shoto was full of grief, remembering the petty tears and begging from his best friend before a bullet silenced him. they were supposed to end this together, if only some bastard wasn’t trigger-happy.
“what?” you blink once, blink twice, and izuku disappears. maybe his luck did run out after all, you wanted to throw up. a woman stepped forward, short in height and she had red hair. one of the others called out her name; kiruka.
katsuma grabs your hand, and you couldn’t look down. “i’ll go with you! i’ll go, just don’t hurt my friends.”
“katsuki.. have the kids eaten already?”
it’s been weeks, months. why is that even a question? katsuki bit his inner cheek before starting to eat.
“i don’t know.” he said with a sigh of resignation and leaned back against the chair. windows were broken and he didn't get much sleep that night.
the next few weeks were excruciatingly long, and he is almost thankful for it. the silence never bothered him before. time flies sometimes, and other times it doesn’t. the sound of his newfound family was replaced with passing groans outside the door.
everything was dwindling down, all the food and the supplies and the energy. when he looked at you and saw how you either slept all day or not at all, it held him back, and he hated the feeling.
maybe it was a thursday when he noticed just how tired you were, you had barely spoken in the past five hours. katsuki’s knees were scraped by the broken glass and threads were torn more than designed; his stomach hurt, too.
“y/n,” he struggled to keep you upright. your lips were dry and you looked so ill. “it’s almost dark.” you were so distracted that you didn’t notice when katsuki moved closer; his body radiated heat while yours didn’t.
maybe this was the plan for your character this entire time —pain, loss, small burns from his touch. maybe the gods were having sympathy.
katsuki reached for a bottle, unscrewing the lid and eyeing the clean water since it had finally cooled from boil that morning. he winced to himself when he realized that was it, and for a split second he had to think about giving this water to you.
he felt like a monster waiting for your end.
“you’ll need to keep the fire going, i’m getting a few hours in.” katsuki told you, tossing shavings of wood into the small flame.
it was a hard morning with no sleep. the mental ticks of minutes turned into hours but he never stopped, and pride filled his chest and made his hands shake when you praised the smoke.
he watched you move and stretch out your legs, having been cross-cross for an hour, to reach for the small rabbit he hunted.
the flames were burning bright, they were like your souls and hearts but some day, they would become ash. “okay, get some rest.” katsuki waited a second in case you had something else to say, before he turned around and pulled up the sleeping bag.
“it’s okay,” your voice cracks in a way that makes his heart clench.
a wave of relief washes over you, like the world had come to a brief stop to catch a breath itself. katsuki held you the entire night, even when he could feel your restlessness and heavy breathing. “i’m not going anywhere, y/n.”
nothing could have prepared him for when you finally succumbed to this infection. you leaned closer and katsuki accepted the kiss, his hand slid around the back of your neck. “thank you.”
the light was fading from existence and it felt empty. the entirety of this home felt empty. alone. his cheek pressed into the side of your head and you felt his heartbeat.. soft and steady.
but you left katsuki with a lingering echo of emotions. terror, trust, love. the late night talks and reassuring smiles and this stupid romance story, it was all for nothing.
hands quiver and his eyes were glassy, fresh tears gathered to match your own. something broke— deep inside of him. katsuki bakugo could scream and cry until the sun comes out, but no one was around to hear.
your skin was stained black by morning.
we vow our lives and blood, but this is not our home.
#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#apocalypse au#bnha x reader#mha x you#mha x reader#bakugo x reader#my writing
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This was the request I tried to send but then tumblr was being weird it was sub jake and dom reader and in a drive thru theater and jake starts kissing and grinding on reader and them drives to a empty parking lot and rides reader in the back.-🐻❄️
Okay i'm literally so sorry for taking so long for this. I have so many requests to do. And relationship issues 💀 But I am trying to post or work on everything tonight or tomorrow.- Mark
Warnings, public sex, HEAVY SMUT, soft dom reader, car sex, jerking off.
JAKE LOCKLEY x DOM MALE READER
Y/n and Jake haven't spent much time together. The reason is because Y/n has his hands full with his large family. His younger sister was marrying a jack-ass and the whole family called some meeting to handle the issue.
Well the meeting took four weeks to handle everything. And finally gets to spend time with his boyfriend.
"Jake gets dressed. Were heading out, but not fancy at all so don't worry." Y/n says to his boyfriend that is currently cuddling with him. Jake grumbles something under his breath in annoyance and lets go of Y/n to go get dressed. Once the couple is all dressed they leave the apartment and head out to the car.
During the whole drive music is playing softly while Jake stares outside the window while his boyfriend has one hand on the wheel and the other on his boyfriend's thigh. "Y/n where the hell are we going? It's 9:46 it's too dark to go out." Jake complains to his boyfriend. "Jake~ I wanna do something to make it up for you so stop complaining for once." Y/n gives Jake a quick look and a squeeze on his thigh.
TIMESKIP AT THE THEATER!
"Okay were here." Y/n gives Jake a huge smile once Jake looks around at all the couples and the huge screen in the middle of the field. Y/n leans in to give Jake a quick peck on the lips before getting everything ready.
"Ok so we are all set. Stay here i'm gonna buy us some snacks." Jake looks at Y/n and nods watching him leave. Once Y/n comes back he gives and splits the snacks for the both of them.
The movie begins to start and Y/n picks up Jake and lays him on his lap wrapping his arms around Jake's waist holding him closer. After about sixteen minutes in the movie Jake begins to move his hips back and forth. Going a pace that isn't noticeable just can be played off as getting comfortable.
Slowly Jake begins to open his legs making it easier to move and he slides his hand to Y/n crotch giving it a slight squeeze. Y/n bucks his forward into Jake as a warning.
Jake smirks to himself and shifts all his weight into Y/n crotch. He uses both hands on Y/n's knees bringing himself up and down. He keeps on repeating the action until he feels Y/n cock fully hardened under him. Jake moves off of Y/n crotch and to his thigh staring at the bulge that's standing all the way up. Y/n gives Jake a glare and tries to ignore his fully hard cock.
Jake leaves Y/n alone for a bit and now the movie is about forty or so minutes in before acting again. He moves his hand to Y/n pants and unzips the fly and pulls the pants down by a little so you can fully see Y/n underwear. "Stop it Jake." Y/n grabs Jake's wrist to stop him but lets out a quiet moan to which he quickly covers his mouth.
Jake grabs Y/n clothed cock jerking him off through his underwear. Y/n tries to beg his boyfriend to stop until the pleasure takes over him and he begins to move into his boyfriend's hand not even caring that hes still covered up. Y/n noises are covered by his own hand not even caring about the movie anymore.
Jake finally pulls down his boyfriend cock and wraps both hands around it using the precum to make it even more wet. Jake drops one hand from the cock and takes off his own underwear and pants revealing his already dripping cock. Y/n spits into his hand and reaches over to Jake jerking his cock at a fast pace. Jake is groaning and mumbling dirty and sweet words in Spanish under his breath while Y/n eyes are glued shut head thrown feeling his orgasm nearing. "Oh f-fuck cumming~ cuMmin!" Y/n moans out not caring if anyone heard him. Jake doesn't last much longer and cums all over his lover's hand.
"Fuck uh oh shit. L-lets ditch this and y'know continue this elsewhere." Y/n paints out fixing his clothes and putting everything back in the car.
The couple left the theater but couldn't keep their hands off each other as they tried to make it back home. Having to keep pulling over to make-out or touch each other. Y/n sees a empty parking lot and says fuck it pulling over parking there. Y/n pulls his seat down taking off his clothes throwing them somewhere in the car as Jake does the same quickly sitting on his lover's lap. The two begin to make out fumbling all over the place just trying to fuck. Y/n finds a bottle of lube in the glove box and squirts it on his cock giving it some strokes getting it lubed up. The two don't need to share many words when something as intimate like this almost being in union.
Jake is quick to ride Y/n cock taking the full length without prep.Y/n grabs Jake's hips helping him bounce up and down on his cock at a fast pace. Jake holds onto Y/n shoulders to keep him stable as he rides his cock. As the two fuck they share deep kisses full of tongue making everything sloppy and messy. Jake time to time pulls and tugs on Y/n hair pulling him in for kisses or pulling him away so he can lick and bite his neck. As the two feel their peak rising their thrust becomes slow and gentle "C-uMm!~with me?" Y/n moans into Jake's mouth as Jake nods in agreement feeling close to cumming. "Y/n cum! joder, correrte conmigo~" Jake screams cumming all over Y/n as Y/n cums deep inside him painting his insides white and hot and sticky.
"Fuck me. Jesus Jake. You did such a good baby~"
#x male reader#jake lockely smut#jake lockely x male reader#jake lockely#moonknight x male reader#male reader#marvel x male reader#moon knight
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Heyyyy bestie I love your fics. I die for them. I was wondering if I can make a request for Eddie Munson x innocent reader . Where the reader is with Eddie and finds some cookies in a baggie in the fridge . Little does she know they are edibles . She eats almost the whole bag and starts to feel funny and she’s high and Eddie freaks out because she had so many and cares for her while she’s high . ☺️☺️☺️ I hope that made sense lol
Aww I'm so happy you like my fics!! Thank you sm!! But ahhhhh this idea is so cute!!! He would be so adorable taking care if his partner imma cry.
Summary: Y/n finds Eddie's stash, and Eddie has to take care of them.
Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, very briefly though, fluff rlly.
The only time pronouns are used for y/n is when Eddie says "She'll". Pronouns aren't stated any other time as I try to keep my writings as inclusive as possible!💕
Request are open and welcomed! And to those who are waiting for me to respond to yours, I promise they are coming haha!
You were unbelievably bored. Eddie's hellfire campaign was tonight and it seemed like he'd been gone for hours. With not much to do in his small trailer besides watch tv and sleep, you preoccupied your time with snooping through him and his uncles belongings. Really any of his uncle's things were already out on display for all to see as he didn't have his own bedroom. The trailer was a one room, and Eddie occupied that space. And as far as Eddie's, there was nothing you hadn't seen already.
Defeated, you retreated back to the usual time killer, eating.
Browsing through the dimly lit kitchen, none of the food items caught your eye. Most of the food was frozen dinner meals or canned goods, nothing special, nothing that quite caught your attention.
Once again defeated, you began to walk out of the kitchen before light deflecting off a plastic bag above the fridge caught your eye. You stood on your tip toes to reach the bag, curious as to why it was hidden behind dusty boxes of off-brand cereal that hadn't been touched in months.
You were pleasantly surprised to find out it was cookies. You were confused as to why they would be hidden, but finally came to the conclusion Eddie hid them so he wouldn't have to share.
You plopped down on the couch and turned the tv on, after flicking through random channels you settled on the show "Growing pains." Not a particular favorite of yours, but it would do until Eddie could come back and entertain you.
Pulling a cookie from the plastic bag you immediately noticed a difference. They seemed intensely dry, and crumbled a lot easier than most chocolate chips cookies would, but you brushed it off as them most likely being stale from laying around.
As time went on, the more you enjoyed the show, and the more you lost track of just how many cookies you had eaten. When a commercial break interrupted your laughter, you finally took a moment to glance down at the bag, now seeing there was only 3 left out of the original dozen. You felt slightly bad for eating all his snacks, but just told yourself you'd buy him more.
You were a little shocked by your lack of guilt, as usually something like that would make you feel terrible. But you were once again distracted by the tv program coming back on.
My god when did growing pains get so funny. You thought to yourself.
Seeing Eddie's headlights shine through the front window, you got up to unlock the front door for him. As you kept it locked at most times due to everything that's happened in Hawkins with the mysterious murders and such.
When you stood up, your legs felt like jelly, causing a slight tickling feeling that made you laugh. Reaching for the door handle, the coolness of the metal also amused you.
"Sorry I'm late sweetheart." Eddie cooed, walking in, and kicking his dirty, white sneakers off.
(I had to do the "sorry I'm late" thing I'm sorry💀)
"Sorry I'm late sweetheart." You mocked his words in a silly tone, not in a mean way, but playful.
He slightly chuckled at you, but you seemed to find it a million times funnier than he did, as you were doubled over laughing.
Eddie raised his eyebrow, confused as to why you were so playful at this time of night. Maybe you were delirious from exhaustion, he assumed.
He moved past your position on the ground over to the couch. A loud gasp from his direction made you turn your head towards him.
"Y/n did you eat these?" He questioned in an alarmed voice, holding up the bag of almost gone cookies.
"'m sorry, I got a little carried away" you giggled, "I'll buy you more."
His face fell even farther than where it was before.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. What am I gonna do? She'll be fine, I'm sure of it! It was only, 1..2..3..9 pot cookies, oh my god." He was rambling and pacing back and forth, using his fingers to calculate how many you'd eaten.
A light whirring in your mind silenced him out as the room began to spin. Your once giggly attitude, was now violently ill.
Feeling the contents of your stomach bubbling up, you scurried into the bathroom only a few feet away. Eddie heard this, and quickly followed behind, putting a hand up to stop the bathroom door you attempted to shut behind you.
You felt Eddie's ringed hands gather up your hair so it didn't get in the way. And when there was nothing left in you to come up, He quickly got you a glass of water. Rubbing your back as you chugged it like you'd been in a drought for months.
"What the hell was that?" You sighed, panting.
"You just ate pot cookies." He replied in a sing song tone.
"What?! That's a thing?" You questioned, snapping your head to look at him.
"Of course it is! You can put weed in pretty much anything if you use some creativity."
Panic started to set in. You had never done anything to do with weed. Despite have a drug dealer boyfriend, you were as straight edge as they came.
"Wait, will I be okay?!" You frantically asked.
"Of course." He said matter of factly, raising a hand to wave at you as if you were silly for asking.
"I can't like overdose can I? No that has to be a thing its a drug. Oh my god am I gonna die?!" Your voice became more and more panicked after every word.
"Yes baby, I promise you'll be okay. No ones ever died from to much weed. At least not that I've heard of. You'll feel loopy for a little bit but you'll be fine, trust me. I've taken more than that in one sitting before." He chuckled, looking down seeming remembering something behind the last sentence.
You only nodded your head in response.
"C'mon, lets go lay down. Its pretty late."
"No!" You were quick to protest his suggestion. "What if, what if something happens and I don't wake up." You were always great at assuming the worst possible outcomes.
He frowned, "Baby, you're not gonna NOT wake up. But if you don't feel comfortable going to sleep how about we watch tv?"
You nodded your head in agreement once again.
You layed with your head in his lap, while one of his hands rested on your side, and the other played with your hair. With you still slightly high, you giggled constantly until you finally dozed off.
After noticing your deep slumber, he decided to carry you to the bedroom. Even through all the movements, and his failed attempts to move you as gently as possible. You were still knocked out cold when you hit the bed.
He chuckled at your weed-comatose state.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson imagine#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#joseph quinn#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things eddie#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson fanart#stranger things season four#stranger things season 4#eddie munson fluff#x reader#eddiemunson x reader
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I have like 2 questions lol
Do you have any childhood Monoma hcs
What in the ever loving toast crunch is a "Spiral Cat"?
Anon, two hours after you sent this ask, I had half my answers typed out. A plethora of hcs. I giggled to myself as I tapped away. There was a wine glass filled with cranberry juice in my hand. (That was a lie. It was a normal glass with guava juice.) I was happily sniggering and wondering how I'd explain what a Spiral Cat is (is the name not explanation enough? It's a Spiral Cat/j) when something truly dreadful occurred- someone called my name.
I looked up, smiling, my phone in my hands. "I got you a new candle!" They said. I gasped, delighted.
I cleared the tab.
AFSHJSSKSKSK FORGIVE ME, HORROR SLOWLY DAWNED ON MY (BEAUTIFUL/J) FACE AND I STARED, APPALLED. THE LIGHT WAS SUCKED OUT OF MY EYES. MY SKIN TURNED SALLOW. MY BONES TURNED TO DUST.
I procrastinated after that, sorry agsjsjsnsk. Anyway, here you go!
Monoma was one of those kids who tried to act really grown up and it came off as just alarming and/or funny sometimes. He tried to use big words and sometimes either didn't know what they meant, or butchered them- you can guess how that turned out 💀. It's a habit that he didn't really grow out of.
I feel like Monoma really clung on to things that had little value to others.
He wouldn't let his parents discard dying plants, torn clothes, chipped vases or the like. "The plants can get better! The vase looks okay when you turn it this way! I can wear this shirt when I play in the sand!"
He'd get so distressed when they tried to argue that they'd relent every time.
As a result, current Monoma's room back home is completely cluttered with old things. The number of cupboards and drawers is ever increasing, but he refuses to part with any of it.
A handkerchief belonging to a friend-turned-bully. A broken fountain pen that used to belong to someone who was a friend before she moved away. Old notebooks filled with silly drawings and stories. His (now deceased) cat's old collar and toys that he refuses to let the current one use. A half painted vase. A stained friendship band.
Monoma had trouble retaining friends. He 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 them easily enough, but it was difficult to connect with him and they'd usually find someone they got along with better and slowly leave.
As a result, he got along well enough with everyone, but there were no actual, close friends in the picture and nobody to defend him when he really needed someone to. It got a little lonely sometimes. Until it didn't, because-
"It's just bread! Moron!"
A cat. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 Cat. It was an ugly tabby with claws and teeth that were too long, and fur that was too matted and dirty, and a hiss that was far louder than any he'd ever heard before. Everything about it was "too much-" her eyes were too dark, too cruel, she was too plain, too aggresive-
Cats scared Monoma, but for this one he felt nothing but pity.
"I got you bread, Tsundere. What- stop with the face. It's bread. B-R-E-A-D."
He didn't quite understand what trauma was, but he figured it looked something like this.
He never really managed to domesticate Tsundere, and even though he gave in to his parents' wishes and agreed to gymnastics and french lessons, he wasn't allowed to bring the cat into the house unless it rained or snowed.
The cat didn't care about such trivial human boundaries. It was their fault- why leave the windows open?
Tsundere, at this point, was too used to being called Tsundere and refused to respond to any other names.
She hated being touched too much and really was a Tsundere, but when Monoma was sick- it really wasn't too bad- she panicked, was inconsolable and remained pressed against his side, purring and trying to make him feel better. She did not make a move to eat for hours, not until Monoma forced her.
She died two years later (she was old) and it was Monoma's turn to be inconsolable.
Is this how you write hcs I've never actually done this before
Moving on
Monoma watched a lot of Ghibli movies when he was very smol, so most of them flew over his head
He really loved the aesthetic, though
He wanted to dress up as Howl for Halloween, but where could you find a Howl costume for a seven year old? Perhaps if you tried-
His grandmother cackled and dressed him up as Calcifer. He still has the costume.
I honestly feel like his parents were physically very present, but emotionally quite absent in his life. They were also overwhelmingly pragmatic sometimes.
"Consider it, Neito. It may never work out. You cannot become a hero with your quirk."
They never really taught him to socialize, or to differentiate between right and wrong. He had to navigate those waters largely on his own.
As a result, some relationships (platonic or otherwise) were pleasant, some were painful and some were just bland. All of them were learning experiences, though.
He has ADHD. He doesn't know it. His middle school teachers brought it up to his parents, who dismissed it with a flick of the wrist and "it's alright, he can manage."
He couldn't manage. An older Monoma with a diagnosis and medication was royally pissed when he found out they already knew.
"You could have told me! Do you think it was easy?! Do you know how many breakdowns I've had? The difficulties I ran into at school? The issues I've had with my self worth? Of course it's easy for you, but it was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 so for me!"
He loved sweet things with a burning passion
He read the first few chapters of Coraline when he was younger, and only touched the book again when he read it with Reiko in UA.
He accidentally ran headfirst into the world of fanfiction at ten, looked over the edge, underestimated the drop and jumped without a parachute.
He has AO3 (he loves it), Quotev (it's good), Deviantart(rarely uses it), Tumblr (meh, sometimes good) and Wattpad ("why do children keep coming here? I hate this").
Reads fanfiction (and writes it as well) but has a tendency to discontinue or have really long hiatuses
Setsuna keeps harping on and on about a wonderful fanfiction that the author discontinued. Monoma who forgot to update it one time and consequently forgot it existed:
She wasn't pleased when she found out
Oh shoot you wanted childhood hcs
What has this turned into
I'm so sorry I'm vv distracted rn but I feel like I need to post this already (it's been way too long ahzjakksk)
#ily for your patience anon (although you've probably forgotten you requested this by now and it's what I deserve)#monoma neito#monoma hcs#bnha#reiko yanagi#mha#idk don't hesitate to ask for more#or even oneshots lmaoo#sheesh I shouldn't have forgotten to do this if was fun#drink lots of water and eat well anon#setsuna tokage#iwasthewind
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(Sorry none of my asks seem related I have v disjointed distracted trains of thought and that seems to translate onto here alsjqjdjaksh)
But like, I'm just imagining having your first time with Eddie Munson and you also being his first. I'm not saying he doesn't get bitches, but like just imagine being each other's firsts and it's so awkward bc the only experience Eddie has at that point is stuff he's seen in porno vids and dirty mags and you've only ever heard other ppl talk about sex.
So it's awkward as you both try to figure out what to do, and to break the tension and make you more relaxed before he goes in he'll tell jokes and distract you by talking about your day, work, stuff you've read or watched lately, music, all sorts. Bc he wants you to be comfortable and laughing and talking how you both usually do eases not only you but himself too.
When you're both done, it's obvs not mind blowing sex but it's the first time for you both and you're so happy you got to share this together and bond over this commonality you share.
Eddie promises that next time it'll be better bc practice makes perfect and he's determined to get so good at it that you'll be calling his dick your perfect cock.
- 💀🦄
honestly babe I outlined a very similar scenario in my dating Eddie headcanons here !!
like I think Eddie has actually slept with a decent amount of people, but it’s all meaningless hook ups and one night stands at his gig, like it’s just sex and there’s no feelings and he doesn’t really care and it’s not really an ‘experience’ if that makes sense?
but then you come along and suddenly he really does care bc he likes you so now there is feelings and now he feels awkward and nervous and all precious experience goes out the window and it basically is like his first time again
so it is bumpy and awkward and he’s so nervous so you help lighten the tension by cracking jokes and just tryna get him to relax and to stop overthinking
bur eventually Eddie comes around and he’s fucking killer in bed, bc now he has you he wants to do everything to make you feel good so he puts in the work to learn how to pleasure you and your body specifically
and then it’s not long before Eddie is literally a sex god to you bc he knows exactly how to work your body
- hope
#the answer to your nightmare#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson x you#🎸😈 anon
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I have horny prompt like : floch watching his boss (eren) fucking his wives (mikasha) in his office.
Lmao
I'm sorry this is just so random 🤣 like why Floch? Why especifically him out of any of the rest of the characters? And why are they doing it in his office!? (Unless u meant Eren's office, if that's the case im sorry cuz I already wrote the whole thing lol) I'm really curious abt it
Not like I mind tbh, he never struck to me as a character so I don't really care giving him a hard time lol
I'm sorry in advance for anyone who genuinely likes him and read this by any chance, because I did him dirty 💀
Anyways, enjoy!
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.
.
If anyone ever asked him why he hated Eren Yeager so much, he would go into an endlesss rambling so long that would make the poor soul that asked him that question regret all the decisions that lead them to be at that exact time and thay exact moment
For starters, he has known the fucker ever since college in the law program, for almost a decade especifically, and his experience dealing with him has to be one of the worst he has ever did dealing with any normal person, but it's not like he is a normal person afterall
The guy was basically a ticking bomb, always at the vergue to explode at the smallest provocations, which really became a problem the moment he started to pick on him just because he had the audicity to call his midget blond friend "four eyes" once, jumping into his defense like his fucking husband and giving him a hard time whenever they run into each other
Another thing he hated about him was his mountain sized ego, always acting like top notch shit at everything he participated at, getting the best grades despite spending more time at parties than working his ass on his career or getting rewarded for his performance at the football's competitions even though he hardly tries at all, the dumb nuts that always surround him feeding his narcisism with praises and by basically licking his boots, simply disgusting
But if there is something that he hated the most about him it's how lucky he was
It was already bad enough that he seemed to do good on his grade despite not trying at all, but the fact that he got lucky in the genetic lottery was simply so fucking unfair, giving him all the right traits that made girls fall to his feet and getting the best body genetic to presume to everybody else, the perfect example of annoying gym bro that can't shut up about himself
The fact that there was someone so fucked up in the head to willingly date him like that chick with the scar in the cheek was just amusing
So much wasted potential to be honest, he can only pity her
And yet, when he thought he wouldn't have to deal with his bullshit anymore now that he graduated but was meet with the fact that the very first job he landed he met him again, and even more upsetting, managed to become his boss, he almost wanted to jump off the window
There was simply no way life could favorite someone this much
That's why, when he went to his office to bring him the workpapers of the cases and saw him fucking the living shit out of an unknown woman right on his desk, he couldn't think about something else than ruining his life, taking out his phone and reconding the whole thing from start to end, making a note of asking Jean for that Ackerman girl once he is done
This time he wont get away with it
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- ... Are you serious? - Said the female voice frim the other like, unsure
- Of course I am! - He said almost screaming, already fed up with her - I sent you the video! He was fucking a girl in his office! -
- I can hardly see anything in that video, it's too blurry - He really wanted to shout at her face how delusional she was, he knows she really was down bad for him if she was willing to marry that idiot but this was stupid
The video didn't look that bad!
Plus she didn't even sound that upset about the prospect of her husband cheating on her
- Can you describe her at least? - Said Mikasa
- She is a redhead! - he tried to explain, getting all the details he could from his memories - She ties her hair in a ponytail and got bangs on her forehead - He really doesn't want to remember all the details about that fucker fucking one of his whores stupid, but if he can ruin his marriage by doing it then so be it - She got tannish skin too -
The memories are still fresh in his mind, the overreacting and annoying moans of the bitch still ringing inside his head as he grunted like a sick dog in heat, watching every single snap of his hips on her thick thighs and the slight jump her breast did out of her unbuttoned shirt, the ripped pantyhose giving him the view of the pinkest slit he has ever seen, ruined by his horrible shaft, watching the whole thing just making him feel like throwing up and yet enduring it until they seemed to be done
Just making sure it was really Eren, nothing more
- Oh - She simply said as response, not quite the reaction he was expecting from her - I think I know who she is... thanks for telling me -
- You're welc- but before he could say something else she hung up
It's not like ti mattered anyways, once he goes bsck to work he will hopefully met the wondeful sight of the asshole dealing with a divorce, and if he was lucky, he would get to see him getting fired for having sex in work installations
For once, he will win against Eren Yeager
.
.
.
Unfortunely, instead of being met with the news of his boss being fired, he went to his office to meet the sight of him accompanied by two women, the very same girl from before now along with his wife, both of them lying on his office desk as the mess of papers and clothes on the ground grew larger, witnessing in first seat rows how he basically destroyed a week worth of work by ruining it with their disgusting sweat and the distinct white threads staining the document he spent so long working on
- What the fuck? - He meant to shout it, to scream it, but instead, it came out as a small whisper, so small it was swallowed by the sounds they were making
Swallowed by the sounds of the two bitches that might as well haven't be dicked down in a long time, the one he knows it's his wife getting drilled by him in a way that makes it look like a performance for a freacking porno, her body throwing and tossing in every direction, making the few left documents fall to the ground, the other woman on her side eliciting more curses out of her with every kiss delivered to her chest and the quick rub of her fingers on her clit, circle motioned movements making her whimper im the same way his fingers make her grith her teeth and bite on the snowy white skin of her companion
- Oh? - It was him who speaked this time, voice so codescending and uninterested and yet with so much edge that it brings back the memories he tried to bury inside his mind for so much time, body shaking just at hearing it - What's the matter? I thought you liked watching, snitching bitch -
His stomach dropped to the ground just hearing at those words and the meaning behind them, cursing at himself for watching him go for so long despite having already recorded enough evidence at the time
Cursing at himself for ever believing that bitch had the spine to confront him, instead of joining
He was just way too dumbfounded to react, to come up with something- anything to defend himself
Instead, he only could stood there, watching him have his way with his companions right in front of him, in the office he spents day and night working his ass off for a paycheck that barely helps him survive the month, fists tightening in hopes of using them for once but too afraid to do something about it
His only consolation prize coming in the form of enjoying the sight of the two women and their dreamlike bodies covered in mouth-watering lace underwear, to see them enjoying themselves by the actions of another man that was not him, by hearing them praise the very same fucker that made his time in college a living hell, whorshipping him in the only way a lover would, the intense glint of the silver white rings they all wear on their fingers making him understand why his plan failed
By watching the very same good for nothing fucker get favorited by life again and being given the life he deserved
- Now, don't get too comfortable, weirdo - It was hard to tell what he was saying, his words barely making out of the concert of moans he was focusing on creating, not even bothering to turn in his direction to make himself clear, his only priority being trying to make the two girls come undone by his hand, the Ackerman girl and the other woman by his side seemingly reaching their peak the more they struggled to breath and the more sweat formed on their bodies, hiz gaze lowering to the mess if papers he created for a second - You still need work to get done, unless you want to gwt fired... fuck -
He really wanted to beat the shit out of him right there, his feet slowly closing the gap in between them and his fists raising with the intention of eraising that shit eating smile he seemed to do just to provoke him, to get justice by himself for once, even if he had to go against the odds
And yet, when he flickered his gaze in his direction for flash of a second, he knew perfectly that there was no way he was doing that, that there was nl way in which he could fight him
Not when he knew for sure he could never win, nor when he knew the repercursions of even daring to do such a thing
He could only fall to his knees and gather the only dignity left in the ground in the form of the several papers he would surely have to rewrite, fingers trying to dry the whitey ooze of it in the hopes of recovering some of it
- Good job - Eren taunted, voice stil deafened by the voice of his girls, his non stoping hips coming to a stop the moment he heard one of them let out the loudest screams he has ever heard a woman made, his eyes locking themselves where she was dripping right to the floor
- Bring me some water too, will you? - He said, almost as if sensing him not doing what he was asked, hands hurriedly resuming gathering the seveeal papers on the floor, the voice of the redhead woman slowly growing to the point where she was the only thing he could hear, the nasty sounds of his figers stirring her insides - I won't be done here for a while -
His hold thightened in frustration, ruining the paper on his hand as he tried to think about all the wrong things he ever did to deserve all this shit...
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YIPPEE MATCHUPS! I hope you're having a good day! Just to let you know- it might help to have your masterlist pinned to the top otherwise people might not be able to see it! (Unless it is an I just can't see if for some reason... ✌️live laugh love) ANYWAY. YES. IDV. I have no hunter/survivor preference!!!
I am nonbinary and pan, no preference. Im tall- like 5'10 or something, brown eyes, dirty blonde usually long and fluffy with short bangs but I'm thinking about getting it layered short. my style varies, often I either dress quite formal and smart (smart trousers! Blouses and collard shirts! Sweaters!!!) But if im not going out i'll switch to a lot of oversized loose fitting clothes in LAYERS!!! SO MANY LAYERS!!! (im so glad flares are popular again!!!) I quite like clothes, I just refuse to wear dresses or shorts as I am quite insecure and uncomfortable in them.
I am a huge bookworm, passionate about a lot of humanities subjects, philosophy, art, history, sociology and psychology, law e.c.
People often times say I have good knowledge about a variety of subjects or have an opinion on everything.
But to be honest its either 0 or 100 with me. I'm autistic and typically go non verbal around people I am not comfortable with (i NEVER approach new people myself) and small talk is the devil i cannot do it. If I try to force myself at best I start stuttering badly 💀. I'm not too bothered by it, it's just frustrating. The only exception i'm fine 'approaching' is to talk to them is online/through writing as it puts concerns about reading social queues out the window.
However the 100 side of it, people that approach me and engage in topics i actually like... as well as people close to me, I'm the opposite, I have to have meaningful discussions and love to share ideas with people! It's like I do a complete 180! People oftentimes mistake me as being very confident if they catch me like this and dont know me very well but I think it's just because I'm moreso passionate and fixate a lot.
At my worst I become extremely avoidant and shut in, typically to be able to get out of my room I need someone I'm friends or close with that can drive me out or stay with me, otherwise I panic. (That includes ignoring basic needs, i will ignore them if i feel threatened) but so long as I have people close to me around I feel far more confident in being able to mask (for me its not always a bad thing if it helps me to be productive/actually stay alive). I cannot stand to be touched by others unless I'm expecting it but even then I'm still sensitive, but I am okay with touching others! Exihibit A! I love pampering friends and get compliments on my massages!!!! Do not do the same to me the devil takes over my body and I cannot control spasms i am not laughing of joy I am on the verge of a breakdown!!!!
As for specific hobbies: I like drawing/painting and sculpting! I LOVE board and tabletop games, chess, card games like blackjack. I like anything to do with watersports. I love to swim! Reading and writing is obviously a big one too and my most recent interest is learning to bake! (Because im dogshit at cooking)
I hope thats enough and that I did everythjng!!! Hope you have a lovely day!!!!
Note: I am not really sure what no binary pronouns use, I asked google and said that go by they, if it doesn’t go by they I am terribly sorry and please tell me if I did it wrong! Also have a nice day you too anon! 💝
And also I am so sorry If I skipped something 😞
I match you wiiith🥁🥁🥁…
Galatea and Emil!
Galatea:
The moment she heard that you like sculpting, she immediately wanted to know more about you!
Even chess?? THATS AMAZING !! She loves playing chess too!!
She was so scared to talk to you thought, she didn’t know how to start a conversation.
Wow she finally spoke to you! But it was in a match while you were chaired and Galatea was just staring at you a little creepy.. That made you uncomfortable and you looked away ‘when will I get sent back to the manor.’ You thought.
,,Your eyes are… pretty..’’ she quietly and softly said.
That caught you off guard and you looked back at her.
,,O-oh thank you! Uh your e- I mean your sculpture is nice!’’ ‘Oh nahh💀💀 why did I say this😭’
She looked confused at the Little rock of clay but smiled.
,,Thank you.. Can I.. talk to you more?’’
You nodded and smiled again.
,,M-maybe play some c-chess with me..?’’ She quietly spoke.
,,I’m sorry what did you say?’’
,,Nothing!’’ Her face was now hidden and you could only see the back of the wheelchair.
She was blushing, which left you confused.
,,Uh can we meet-‘’ But suddenly the rocket chair started spinning which you flew back to the manor, but before you flew she said more loudly: ,,Meet me a-after the match!!’’ ,,OK!’’
When both of you started dating she made you little sculptures of hearts or cute things you like.
BOTH OF YOU MAKING SCULPTURES <333
Walks! When the both of you aren’t in a match you would push the wheelchair while Galatea is on it around the manor. Usually Galatea starts the conversations because she knew that you really couldn’t start one. Such a nice and supportive gf 🫶
Give her a surprise kiss on her cheek and she’s blushing.
Emil
Oh this sweet little guy.
Another awkward shy introvert😭
To the moment he saw you , he felt funny in his stomach. And he could feel his cheeks red.
Would try to start a conversation with you.
But if you tried you would be a stuttering mess, really nervous too because of how much you stuttered.
He doesn’t find it funny tho, in fact he finds it cute. He would chuckle a little, but when he saw your face like it was about to cry he immediately stopped and looked at you in worry.
,,I-I am s-so sorry for laughing! I didn’t m-meant to , i-it’s not that I promise!’’ Okay he accidentally held your hands without noticing. Man was panicking 😭
Now both of you looked like a couple.
You started feeling more nervous at the sudden contact, which he realised too, quickly stopped holding your hands and running away none stop saying ‘I’m so sorry!’ Man it was sure something😭😭
Next day he came to apologise and said that he will never do it again.
This man is so sweet bro.. and respectful too..
He found himself getting more and more comfortable by the time.
But not too comfortable because he would blush sometimes, trying to hide his face while you were looking at him confused.
When both of you were finally dating he would get more protective, not obsessive! He is just worried about you getting hurt!
When people misgender you, he would confidently say: ,,If you didn’t know Y/N is not comfortable calling them he or she!’’
Ur biggest support!
Always asks you if you’re okay with it before he hugs you or kisses you!
When you’re feeling down and don’t want to talk to anyone he would slide down a letter under your door and leave.
There is written how much he loves you, that the others are just jerks and a bunch of more praises and nice things written. And he finished with a ‘please talk to me later, I am worried’.
If you kiss him or hug him he would have the biggest smile on his face with red face.
Best bf material😻
#identity v x reader#idv x reader#idv hcs#sandwichfordinner#identity v x you#identity v headcanons#identity v oneshots#identity v emil#identity v emile#emil mesmer#identity v emile x reader#emil x reader idv#identity v galatea#galatea claude#galatea claude x reader#match ups#match up game
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Fuck Me Under the Mistletoe (Stucky x Reader) MoxMas Day 18
Warning: 18+, oral (m/f receiving), p in v, some dirty talk, pet names: baby, darling, she/her pronouns, language
Word Count: 2,052
Pairing: Stucky x fem!Reader
Summary: Steve and Bucky warm you up on a cold winter's night.
Prompt: Kissing under the mistletoe is underrated, go big or go home.
A/N: Very loosely according the the prompt, not proofread! I just had an idea of Stucky cuddling you bc it's cold as shit, and this is where it went. Also, I wrote the story then added the mistletoe stuff so if it doesn't make sense, that's why, plus I was 80% asleep sorry sorry 💀. Crossposted on moongoddessmox! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated! <3
MoxMas Masterlist | Prompt List 2
After what felt like an eternity in Antarctica, you heard the latch of the front door twisted, and the door push open with a hefty scrape. The pummeling of heavy footsteps tapped their way into the house one after the other, stomping off their snow-covered boots. You heard the welcoming sighs of warmth as the two men made their way to the bedroom where you were. Steve opened the door and flicked on the light, his eyes immediately falling on the large bump under the covers that was your body.
You laid in bed with the thick blanket tucked under your chin as you tried to get warm. The winter air wisped through the edges of the poorly sealed window and chilled the tip of your nose, leaving it blushed red. You ached for the arrival of your partners, missing their large bodies and eternal warmth as you tried desperately to think of sun basked places. A sunny island. Florida in the Summer. Hell. Anything to trick your mind into thinking it was somewhere warm and cozy and not feeling frostbitten.
“Aw, is our baby cold?” His voice was sweet, the joyous undertones filled your ears and you knew he had a smile on his face. Bucky came in after him, ripping off his scarf and tossing it on the dresser. He rested his arm over Steve’s shoulder and looked at you. The only thing that could be seen was the very top of your head, your legs were curled up against your body as much as they would allow and two layers of blankets covered you. Bucky tapped Steve’s shoulder, pointing up to the ceiling where a mistletoe hung, one that wasn’t there when they left. The two men smirked, concocting plans in their heads for the rest of the night.
“I think she is, we should help her out, Stevie,” Bucky’s voice was huskier, less innocence laced it as he slid off his top layer of clothes and climbed into bed. Steve followed suit, discarding his clothes until he was just down to a tank top and boxer briefs. Both men climbed under the blankets, Steve behind you and Bucky in front, wrapping their bodies around yours as you relaxed into them. They were so much warmer than you, despite having just been outside in the snowstorm.
“Hi,” your voice was soft and almost a whisper as you nuzzled into Bucky’s chest. Steve’s arms came up under yours and he placed a soft kiss to the side of your neck.
“How’s our darling doing?” Bucky asked, rubbing circles into your hip with his metal arm. You flicked your eyes up to meet his, his blue gaze penetrated your skin and made you blush, warmth rushing through your body. You turned your head slightly and looked at Steve, his face lingered barely above yours with an equally soft look.
“Cold as fuck and missing my boys,” you responded, shimmying between them as if you could cradle yourself deeper into the nook they created. Your eyes flicked up to the mistletoe briefly, wondering if they noticed before innocently looking down again.
“We’re here now, and I have a couple ideas on how we can get you to warm up,” Steve’s voice grew lustful, a playful tint covering his words as he trailed his nose along your skin.
“Especially since you clearly want a Christmas gift in bed,” he teased, looking up to the green sprigs above them. You giggled, cheeks becoming flush as they looked at you with lustful eyes.
You inhaled deeply as Steve’s large hand slid down your stomach to the hem of your sweatpants, dipping inside as if in search of treasure. As Steve’s fingers ghosted across the front of your panties, Bucky slipped his metal hand up your sweatshirt. The coolness of his fingers quickly subsided as they kneaded your breast, pinching and squeezing until you let out a small moan. The feeling of both of them playing with your body gave you goosebumps.
Bucky brought his lips to yours in a passionate and hungry embrace, his tongue slipped into your mouth and tasted every inch, wetting your lips and leaving you both breathless. Meanwhile, Steve had dipped his hand inside your panties and his thick fingers stroked your folds causing you to buck a couple times against his hand, which also caused you to grind yourself against Bucky’s crotch.
“I think she needs more to warm up, babe,” Bucky pulled away from your lips and glanced at Steve, who spoke in a sultry tone to him. A smirk crossed his lips and the man behind you pulled away, allowing Bucky to change positions and get between your legs. You moaned as you watched the metal-armed man discard your panties and nestle his face between your thighs, getting a firm grip on them.
“You want him to eat you out, baby?” Steve whispered in your ear. His hand had come up to your stomach and gently massaged it, his lips pressed against your skin as he spoke.
“Y-yes, please,” you whimpered, feeling Bucky’s hot breath tease your core and send knots through your abdomen.
“You hear that, Buck? I think she wants it,”
“I can tell, she’s already dripping, such a good girl,” Bucky moaned and licked a long stripe up your slit and placed a kiss on your trembling bud. Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, holding onto Steve’s massive arm with both hands.
“Look at me, baby, I wanna see your face when he starts eating you out,” Steve turned your face toward him. You looked into his eyes with furrowed brows as Bucky began sucking on your clit. His tongue thrashed around wildly before he suckled on your clit again, his tongue moving up and down as he kept the suction on your bud, latching himself onto you more with each movement. You moaned out, clenching your core unable to relax. Steve’s eyes darkened with lust as he watched you twist in pleasure, knowing that one of the loves of his life was causing the feeling only made it better.
“You like that? You like when Bucky eats you out like that, gorgeous?” Steve hummed, pressing his face against yours, talking low and feeling his own pleasure building up from just the sight. All you could do was nod, your gaze never leaving him. Bucky continued to suck and lick your dripping pussy as Steve talked dirty to you; he was merciless, never allowing you a break from the pleasure.
“Oh fuck, Bucky! Fuck, f-” your orgasm cut you off, words becoming mere sounds as you tightened your whole body in an attempt to shield yourself from the explosive feeling rushing through you. Bucky remained latched onto you, sucking your orgasm from your body until you had nothing left. When the knots relaxed, you dropped your head against the pillow, sweat sticking your hair to your face. Steve kissed your cheek, lips trailing your features and jawline with soft growls.
“You’re so gorgeous, I bet you taste so good, Y/N,” Steve pulled away from your skin only to bring Bucky into a passionate kiss. Their lips collided and Steve could taste you on his tongue. He licked and sucked on Bucky’s tongue as his hand gripped his dark hair, deepening the kiss. You watched them as you came down from your high, pussy throbbing from the abuse it just took and the sight before you. You loved to watch them kiss, it was so passionate, so lustful and loving, you loved that you got to have that with them and that they shared the same passion for you.
Bucky pulled away and shifted over so that he was behind the other man, who traded places with him. Steve took off his underwear and pushed your legs up, gripping your thighs and scooting you down the bed until his cock was at your entrance.
“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Steve teased, already feeling you get wet again. Bucky reached his flesh hand down to your crotch and spread your lips open for him, his fingers grazing Steve’s cock and making him twitch.
“Please fuck me, Steve,” you begged.
“Mm, such a pretty girl, I love to hear you beg, darling,” Bucky chuckled and kissed your temple. Steve bit his bottom lip and shoved his massive length inside of you. Your eyes immediately rolled back and you held your breath. You shoved your head into the pillow as you felt him fill you up, he pushed his length all the way in until his hips were smashed against you.
Steve thrust into you, deep and rough, filling your core and sending you into a frenzy. His pants got louder as he felt your walls clench around him with each move. Meanwhile, Bucky stood on his knees and brought his own cock to your face. You gripped it in your hand, the motion of Steve fucking you caused your hand to stroke Bucky’s member. He moaned softly, his metal hand dipping into your hair and holding onto you as you took him into your mouth. Bucky’s cock was large and thick, filling your mouth until you gag.
“Easy darling, don’t want you to choke,” he chuckled. It was a devious chuckle, one that reeked of intent. He loved when you gagged on him, you could tell by the fiery look in his eyes and the fact that his cock twitched every time the sound left your lips.
You sucked on him, closing your cheeks around his length like you were eating a jolly rancher. You bobbed your head with his metal-handed guidance, precum running over your taste buds and guttural moans filling your ears. Bucky’s head hung back with his face toward the ceiling, trying to compose himself to prolong the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock.
Steve was still fucking you, his pace quickened as he watched you suck on his lover. The feeling created a deep pit within him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The air was filled with Bucky’s moans, Steve’s grunts, and your muffled cries of pleasure, and the wet slapping of skin on skin. Steve leaned forward, placing a hand on the pillow beside your head, and kept one hand on one of your thighs, pressing it against his body.
“Oh baby, are you gonna cum for me?” Steve panted. He was almost there, almost to his orgasm and he wanted to feel you gush on him first. He felt your walls clench, tightening around his cock as you reached your hand up to his blond hair and held on tight. The moans that fell from your mouth made Bucky rock with pleasure. He looked down and watched your mouth on his cock, Steve’s face only inches away and your breasts jiggling from his thrusts.
“Yes, S-Steve, fuck yes,” you moaned out with a mouthful of Bucky. The super-soldier in your mouth cursed, his metal grip getting tighter in your hair until he shot his load in the warm hole. You sucked up dry, not wasting any drop of his sweet release. The sound he made was enough to make you cum and you felt electricity shock through your body as Steve made you orgasm onto him, squirting everywhere and soaking the bed.
“Oh shit, beautiful, you’re such a good girl,” Steve’s moan was desperate, the last thread of his composure snapped and he pulled out. A breathless Bucky leaned down and took Steve’s soaking cock into his mouth, the warmth immediately making Steve cum. Bucky moaned at the feeling of him drizzling onto his tongue, tasting the sweet cum and remnants of your orgasm on the long member. The moan that left Steve’s mouth was so needy, so filled with lust and pleasure that you could’ve cum again just hearing it if you had anything left in you.
Bucky released Steve’s cock with a pop and brought his lips up to the other man’s, wet kisses being exchanged until they laid next to you again, both bringing you back and forth between their mouths. You moaned and kissed each man softly, eyes fluttering closed as your high disappeared and exhaustion took over. You preferred this mistletoe tradition to the kissing one.
#stucky#stucky x reader#stucky smut#bucky x steve#bucky x steve x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#bucky barnes x steve rogers#bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader#moxmas#fanfic#bucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers#chris evans#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan fic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan smut#chris evans x reader#chris evans x you#chris evans x y/n#chris evans smut
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‘Playing With Fire’
Robbie Reyes/Ghost Rider x Reader (18+)
Word count: 3,500
Rating: 18+ (penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, sex with a demon/spirit of vengeance, thigh riding, dirty talk)
Summary: One night when you have the house to yourselves, Robbie comes home craving you like nothing else. The Rider does too. You’re more than happy to partake in this arrangement and the kitchen gets destroyed in the process. Reader is presented as afab and uses she/her pronouns.
A/N: No readers were burned in the making of this fic! You’re immune to hellfire because you haven’t done anything wrong, okay 💀 this is purely nsfw from the get go. Hope you enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think! Italics is the Rider and Robbie talking to each other just so you know!
Robbie kissed you harder than he usually did when he came home that night. It wasn’t a kiss of greeting but a kiss of need. You were tasting him, moulding his mouth to yours when you felt the demon’s heat flare beneath his skin. The itch he couldn’t scratch.
He had to pull away from you for fear that he might rise to the surface. The adrenaline was still pulsing. There was still blood on his shoes for gods sake.
“Sorry, I’m really worked up tonight. It’s probably safest if I just head to bed.” He might even have to sleep in Gabe’s room tonight just in case. He was away at friend’s house and wouldn't mind anyway, and it was certainly better than the torture that would be sleeping next to you when he was as worked up as he was.
It’s not that he didn’t want you. He did, a little too much given the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But he couldn’t risk losing control around you, least of all when the demon inside wanted you too.
The hellfire swam low in his belly, right beside his own longing for you. Robbie was already filled with a need to have you, whether that was in his arms or in his bed it didn’t matter. He just needed you. The adrenaline from fighting all night, having the Rider out and burning so violently struck a cord within him. Made his control over the demon falter. The leftover adrenaline just seemed to want to swim it’s way over to you and he swore he’d never let it for fear of hurting you.
He couldn’t be sure if it was his own attachment that made the demon so enamoured by you too or if that was an entirely separate ordeal. Just itching to claw out and have his way with you.
Man, keep your thoughts to yourself. I’m not letting you anywhere near her, he directed his thoughts inward.
He was all set to go to bed, just sleep off his thoughts and cravings when he noticed you were wearing his T-shirt and you looked fucking delicious in it.
“That my shirt?” He asked, admiring how it hung across your frame. That was definitely his shirt and you’d paired it with what had to be the tiniest pair of pyjama shorts you owned, “It looks good on you.”
Tear it off, the rider mused.
You wrung your arms around his neck, not at all attempting to hide how your gaze lingered on his lips, “You think so? I wore it just so you could take it off.”
Ha!
“Yeah?” He took note of where your eyes landed, your own lips seeming chapped and so very kissable. Shit, you wanted him too which just made his plans of sleeping this off go soaring out the window and out into the night sky, “You’re crazy, cariña. I’m barely keeping him down right now.”
You let out a laugh, a low one, like you were expecting him to say just that.
“I wouldn’t mind if he did decide to come out and play,” He felt the demon stir within him, “I’ve been thinking about you all night. Thought I’d have to make do with just my fingers, pretending it was you fucking me in their place. I still can if you’re not up for it, just thought you might like to know what you missed when you were out.”
You knew damn well just from looking at him that he was having a hard time keeping the rider contained inside him. His eyes kept flickering between the brown and orange and the heat, that blessed, beautiful heat radiated off him like an open stove.
“God, baby,” He looked off to the side and groaned in pain as the demon tried his damndest to surface.
He really liked the sound of that. Maybe a little too much for his liking and Robbie had to try so very hard to keep himself from thinking about the picture you just painted for him. You’d been thinking about him all night? Mewling and moaning on the couch, teasing your pussy with your own hand when he could’ve come home and helped you?
Shit. And the way you were looking at him right now, eyes all but one blink away from begging for his cock. He was done for.
You’re really gonna leave her unfucked after that?
“This is a risk. One I would never ask you to take.” He never even considered sex with you when he was as pent up as he was right now. No matter how much he wanted you, no matter how much he craved you. He would never endanger you like that, despite the demon’s persistence.
“Please baby, I’m already soaked just thinking about it. You won’t hurt me and you said he can’t hurt me either. So if you want this, it's yours for the taking.”
“I want to, I really do. But If I can’t push him down and he does come out, I can’t imagine he’d be gentle. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He asked you sincerely and you nodded.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He hated to admit it, the Rider was right. You needed him and he needed you so why not give it a try?
So, he caved.
“If we’re too rough then you tell us and we stop right away, okay?” You nodded and the demon gave his acknowledgment of the arrangement too, “Good, now turn around.”
You turned so you leant over the kitchen counter and his hands were on you right away, peeling off your pyjama shorts. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he said we and us and how his eyes were fully ablaze right now.
He knelt to gently rid you of your pyjama shorts, placing a single kiss to your exposed ass cheek as he went. The material clung slightly to the insides of your thighs as he peeled down the shorts, exposing your dripping heat to the cold night air.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you were soaked. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet, chica.” Your thighs glistened with your own slick and Robbie couldn’t get enough of knowing that that was because you’d been thinking about him. Using your own fingers as if they were his cock and yet you still couldn’t recreate the feeling well enough to be satisfied.
He straightened up behind you and snuck his hand around your front. Teasing over your skin until he made contact with your dewy folds. You threw your head back against his shoulder as his fingers began to move, circling your wetness with the precision of someone who knew exactly what you liked.
You let the smell of leather and burn fill your nostrils, overwhelming your senses almost. But that smell was him, that was so uniquely Robbie.
His other hand kept you upright, wrapping across your stomach and holding you against him so when your legs did falter, you knew he had you. Only occasionally did he move to roll and tease your nipple between his fingers through the fabric of his shirt, causing the most glorious friction.
“This all for me?” He asked, groaning at the way you drenched his hand with your juices. If he’d had known you were in this much of a state he’d have been home a lot earlier.
For us, the demon corrected him and he outwardly rolled his eyes.
He was about to internally berate the rider when you whimpered, “Robbie,” you mewled, bucking your hips back into his when he glided one finger inside you, “Please...”
That’s my name she’s moaning. Not yours, He reminded the Rider before turning his attention back to you.
“Whatever you need, just ask and I’ll provide, cariña,” he murmured against your neck, loving the way you rocked your hips back up against him, “That feel good?” He asked once he’d added a second finger. From the way you were gripping his arm and keening he had a fair idea, but he always liked to make sure.
“So good,” you mumbled, “But I want you,” then you said something that made his breath hitch...
“Both of you.”
See, the demon grated at the back of his mind, she wants me too.
He didn’t like the way he spoke about you, didn’t like it at all. But he knew he couldn’t hurt you if he did come out. The hellfire only burned those you deserved it and you’d already touched it once before. But still, he knew how brutal that demon could be and wasn’t sure how much respect demons had for human fragility.
But you wanted this and he was going to give you what you wanted.
“You ready for me?” He asked, pulling his fingers from your entrance and letting you brace yourself against the kitchen counter.
“Yes! Please...” You heard the unmistakable sound of his jeans zipper, the same zipper you’d fumbled with many times before, and heard his belt buckle loosening. The anticipation in your belly growing with each passing second.
He nudged your legs further apart with his knee and ran his fingers through your folds once more, making sure he had a good coating of your slick on his fingers so he could lather up his cock. He guided the crown of it towards your entrance, letting it glide through your folds a few times before he pressed in. Your walls were so wet and wanting by then that he slid in without much resistance at all. Your body always welcomed him in, embracing his length so warmly that he couldn't help but moan at the feeling.
He bottomed out. The zipper of his jacket grazing the flesh of your ass as he did.
“Gonna make sure you can’t take a step tomorrow without feeling the ache from my cock between your legs.” His words made you shudder against the harshness of the counter’s edge, contrasting to the softness of his lips on your neck.
“Jesus, Robbie.” You breathed, delighting in whatever side of him this was.
He was usually so soft, such a gentle and attentive lover but seeing him lose just that tiny bit of composure? It was divine. You could practically hear his heart hammering in his chest, feel the pent up tension in his muscles. He was rougher, needier in his movements and you lapped up every second of it.
His teeth sank into the thickest part of your shoulder. Denting the flesh and marking you as his. You often littered his chest with hickeys and tiny little bite marks that faded in a few days or so, just to remind him of when you’d been dragging your tongue over the flesh and downwards. He always loved seeing those little marks on his skin and thought you might too.
He pulled out too far once and you used the time to turn around to face him. To your surprise, he grabbed you by the hips and roughly lifted you onto the counter before entering you again.
You grabbed his jacket and brought him down for a kiss, trailing your lips along his neck and jaw before reaching his mouth. The stubble littering his chin scraped against you as you moved so sloppily.
The angle you were at now was wonderful, your hips raised slightly higher than his so he stroked and rubbed against your walls all in all the best ways.
You trailed your way back down his jaw to his sweet spot right beneath his jawbone, biting down on the soft patch of flesh on his neck and sucking a flowering bruise into the skin. He loved it when you did that and the groan it elicited from him also let you know just that. All caught breath and delicious whimpers in your ear as he fucked you just a little harder.
You were close. Walls already so sensitive from your own ministrations earlier that you could've came on more than one occasion prior to that moment. But now, with Robbie’s hands gripping you like a lifeline and his cock buried so well within you, it was only a matter of time before you were sent tumbling into orgasm.
“Baby, I’m close!” You told him and he took it upon himself to get you there more quickly. With his thumb now rubbing circles over your clit and his lips on your neck you were down for, heels digging into his back as he helped you ride it out, clinging onto him for dear life. He fucked you right through it, holding you close.
Your legs just began to cease their shaking when you smelt it: sulphur.
My turn.
He couldn’t keep him down any longer and he barely managed to warn you. The clawing at the inside of his skin, the burning. His skin charring and fading away into tiny flaking embers until all that was left was the skull beneath and the fire that engulfed it.
You felt a hand wrap around your throat. It was gentle, barely applying any pressure at all but it was there. That wasn’t something Robbie usually ever did, if anything you were the one usually doing the choking. You turned your head slightly to get a look at him better, and the flaming head of the Rider, eyes burning straight into yours.
Oversensitivity flooded you along with a new wave of gushing wetness.
“Harder.” You told him and he wasn’t sure if you meant for him to choke you or fuck you harder so he did both, “Harder!” You cried out again and yelled when he pulled out of you altogether and picked you up, shoving you over the kitchen table on your back. Utensils flying in all directions as he shoved them to the side.
He leant over you, got right in your face so the flames did lick at your skin. But you felt no pain, no burn. Only warmth. A warmth that danced and curled along your cheek as flames did.
He was looking at you, directly into your eyes. It almost would’ve made you uncomfortable had you not been so turned on by the gaze. You’d only ever seen him once before, and never so up close. He was close enough now that you could see the grooves and indents on the bone of his skull, a few teeth wonky here and there.
You were barely settled on the table before he was on you, he was in you. His thrusts were rough and untamed but it was still very much Robbie’s body. That much you could tell. His cock still filled you in all the pleasant ways as it usually did, only now his strokes were ruthless. Every stroke had your legs shaking.
With each snap of his hips you thought the table beneath you might collapse from sheer force. The table legs scraping and squeaking against the floor as he fucked you.
The Rider’s hand found its way back onto your neck, applying a little more pressure now but you could still breathe easily.
With a single touch of his finger to your shirt it was turned to ash and you were fully bare beneath him. He couldn’t get enough of you, lapping up the sight of you sprawled out before him, taking his cock so well. He got lost in watching himself disappear inside you then reappear a moment later. Revelling in the way your walls stroked and embraced his member.
He no longer had to sit back and passively watch as his human host got to have you all to himself.
His hand made its way to your folds, thumb carefully circling your clit and pressing down on it again and again. That was Robbie’s touch, you could feel it. He was the preciseness and the gentleness whereas the demon moved in broad, rough strokes. Both effective despite their differences in approach.
You took a hold of his wrist, letting him know you were okay. You were more than okay, actually. Having a demon balls deep in your pussy? Things could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.
The Rider didn’t say anything, you supposed it was because he didn’t have a voice box. But his stare told you all you needed to know. His mouth opened occasionally in a silent cry, flames spilling from within.
“Can Robbie still feel this?” You asked, though breathless. And the demon nodded in affirmation. Oh he was feeling everything he usually would, it was just his mind that took a back seat when the rider came out.
Awwww. Even as I’m ploughing her she’s thinking about you.
She’s close, pendejo. Pay attention.
He wasn’t sure how exactly his host could tell that you were close to your release. That you were stumbling towards the edge. But he took his word for it and increased his pace.
Slow down, she’ll tell you what she needs.
He listened, figuring that if anyone knew your body it was him. And for whatever reason he wasn’t just chasing his own release as he usually would on the rare occasion he has an opportunity such as this, he found himself wanting you to have pleasure too. How much of that was Robbie’s influence he couldn’t be sure.
“Right there!” You moaned and the demon listened, focusing his thrusts right where you asked him to.
You felt him twitch within you and realised the hand he had braced on the table's edge sounded like it was sizzling. Looking to the side you saw a handprint burned right into the plastic that laminated the wood beneath and cursed because that would have to be covered up before Gabe got home and started asking questions.
He came like a crash of thunder. Stuffing you full of his hot, molten release until it leaked out of you. He was coming for two, you supposed.
The feeling of such glorious warmth filling you was almost enough to make you come a second time. Almost. You were so over sensitive at that point that you were almost glad that you hadn’t.
With a crack of his neck, you watched as the flames simmered down to a low heat, smoke rising faintly as skin began to grow back into place. It grew and grew, hair and features too until after a dozen seconds or so, you were looking at the face of your lover once more.
He blinked a few times as the fire in his eyes died down, getting used to his own skin again before he set out to help finish what the demon started. Because of course a demon wasn’t particularly well-versed in such intricacies of the human body.
Soon he was lifting you, cradling you gently in his arms as he sat down in one of the dining chairs. He set you down in his lap and you adjusted yourself so you straddled just one of his thighs and began to rock your hips forwards and back, ever so slightly, careful not to go too hard when you were so over sensitive.
“Did he hurt you?” His eyes were back to their usual shade a brown now, forehead creased in concern.
“No. But your shirt on the other hand…” he noted the marred material, “and the table” He looked down and saw the charcoal coloured handprints covering the table from where he’d leant on it.
“Shit.” You bit your lip, holding back a smile once the realisation dawned on his face, “I think we’re gonna need a new table.” He smiled, a bright toothy smile that was rarer than a blue moon these days.
“The kitchen counter isn't much better, hot stuff.” Now that he couldn't fully blame on the demon but not finishing you a second time? That he absolutely would.
It’s been a while. I’ll know for next time.
He watched his release leak out of you, how some of it spilled onto his jeans as you worked your hips, and he wondered briefly if it was hotter than usual.
“Almost there, baby. I’ve got you,” he reassured and you nodded, eyes scrunching shut as you chased your orgasm, “That’s it, cariña. Come for me.”
A few seconds later you did and your entire body quivered as you fell against him. He petted over your hair and ran his fingers over your shaking shoulders until you went limp.
“Tell him he’s welcome any time.” You took his cheek in your hand so he turned to look at you. The relief on his face was something else, the Rider must finally have been sated for once.
You felt his lips against your forehead, then his cheek and heard a soft mumble of “God, I love you,” Followed by “You wanna head to bed?”
“You too,” you replied, surveying the absolute mess that was the kitchen. The random burn marks and utensils strewn about. It’d be a nightmare for you both to tidy and clean. But that was tomorrow’s problem.
You made to move but your legs had other ideas so you had to just sink back into his lap. There was no way in hell your legs were steady enough to walk on right now.
“I think you might have to carry me.”
So he did, gently lifting you into his arms and carrying you to bed for the night. All three of you were spent, satisfied and absolutely exhausted. For the rest of the night the Rider didn’t even make a peep.
Tagging (if you’d like to be added to the ‘horny for ghost rider tag list’ then please feel free to ask!): @icy-spicy @spring-soldier @thewonderfulworldofjay
#robbie reyes x reader#robbie reyes#ghost rider x reader#ghost rider#agents of shield#aos#can feel my catholic grandmother cursing me from the heavens#nsft#my writing#mine#k.exe
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