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norrizzandpia · 1 month

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bff reader x lando where they’re at a party maybs in monaco? pool party and stuff and the night gets messy but lando and reader stays out in the pool till late,and he becomes all clingy bc it’s getting cold and he likes reader 🥹 coz i’m a sucker for bff x lando aswell as cute smutty jealous lando,idk if you’ll be able to make something out of this but thank uuuu ☺️ xoxo

I love a good best friends to lovers

His (LN4)

Summary: When a fun pool party turns into a hurtful disaster, the only good thing to come from it is two confessions.

Warnings: wandering hands 😏, y/n’s ex, slightly jealous Lando, PROTECTIVE lando, the use of “whore” (not in an attractive way) language, major fluff at the end like i was blushing at my own writing

Note: I THINK I LOVE THIS ONE GUYS

To be honest, nobody told Y/n that her ex, David, was on the invite list. As she stood next to Max, him a rambling and blushing mess over Pietra - who was laughing with her friends in the cutest bikini across the way, Y/n tried to convince herself that her eyes were lying. There was no way in hell David was walking through the door to the backyard of whosever house Lando had dragged her to. There was no way in hell David was making eye contact with her, a sickening smile on his face as her presence greeted him. There was no way in hell David was walking toward her.

No way in hell.

Except, there was!

David’s hand squeezed the flesh of her arm as he grinned down at her, “Y/n! What’re you doing here?”

She blinked a few times, her fingers slightly denting the plastic of her cup as his sliminess seeped into her skin, “David! Lando brought me here. What about you?”

The problem with David was that he was always intimidated by Lando. Whether that was because Lando had a bigger build and had a few inches on him or because of the fact that Lando was more successful, she never could tell. However, all she knew was that one of the reasons they broke up was because of his continuous insecurity that controlled their fights over Lando. No matter how many times she reassured him or told him Lando was just a friend, David would never relent. In his mind, Lando and her were basically fucking on the side.

His eyes turned a darker shade, “Lando’s here?”

She nodded, “Yes, he got invited and had a plus one.”

David scoffed, “Oh, and you’re the plus one, I suppose.”

“Yes, she is.” Lando’s voice interrupted the conversation. His body stuck to Y/n’s side like glue, his hand around her waist, as he stared the man down. Another problem with their previous relationship - Lando and David hated each other. At first, Lando had kept an open mind to his best friend’s boyfriend, albeit he was a little standoffish, but the moment Y/n started to show up at his door - sobbing - in the middle of the night because of some bullshit David had said during a fight, Lando was immediately turned off.

Lando was always protective over the people he loved, attentive and caring to its fullest potential. But, with Y/n, there had always been an inherent need to be there for her through everything from the moment he met her. The way he was with her stood out among the rest. They could try and explain the deep connection away with certain things they shared in common, they had tried, but everybody knew.

David’s chest puffed up higher, not enough to scare Lando though, “Lando.”

Each syllable drenched in a need to exert dominance, David’s words made the McLaren Driver glance down at the girl tucked under his arm. His eyes, the ones she could always read, asked for her to trust him. She always would. She smiled back at him.

With the reassurance, Lando’s hand came to rest dangerously low on her back, “Is there anything more you need to say to my girlfriend?”

She did trust him, just didn’t expect that to come out of his mouth. Her fingers almost ripped through the cup in her hands as her firm hold continued.

David’s eyes bulged, “Girlfriend?!”

From some place deep within herself, one she had never met before, Y/n nodded feverishly, “Yeah, we got together a few months ago.”

Lando’s body leaned into her and it all began to feel… comfortable. They would never address it, but there was always some sort of unspeakable tension between them that made hangouts and interactions a bit intense and awkward, too much for people who were supposed to be the closest of friends. For once, as their hands were allowed to sit nicely on places they had been too aware of every time they touched each other, that sense of heightened uncertainty was completely gone.

Replaced was warm palms.

A soft smile plastered on Lando’s face was quickly gone the moment David laughed, “Oh, I saw this coming for ages.” His gaze, dangerous and angry, shifted to Y/n and Lando almost moved his entire body in front of her. Honestly, he wished he had as David mumbled in her direction, “Whore.”

Max, sipping on his drink off to the side, choked as he watched Lando’s entire body tense up. His arm, that was once wrapped around his “girlfriend”, very quickly came to clutch the man’s shirt, shoving him harshly.

“What’d you say?!” Lando said, right in his face as Pietra came to pull Y/n away. The two girls held hands tightly as the entire party’s attention was turned toward the spectacle that was Y/n’s ex-boyfriend and her speculated new one.

David’s face went pale, “Nothing.”

Lando pushed him away once more, slapping his chest harshly before pointing a finger in his face, “Say that about her again and I will make your life a living hell, I swear to God.”

David coughed out an apology to which Lando spit on his shoes and said, “Say it to her not me, dick.”

Her eyes caught his as he stuttered it out, pure fear etched into them - something she had never seen before. He was always eager to make her feel scared during an argument. It was weird to see him in the same position he had put her in multiple times before.

When he stumbled away, out the same door he had come from twenty minutes before, Lando stopped being concerned with the cameras around him, waltzing right up to his Y/n and holding her head in his hands. He whispered, “You good?”

She nodded, leaning into his hands as he began to lead her into the house. She knew it was his friend’s house, but she didn’t expect for him to know the complete layout of it when he brought her to the kitchen so effortlessly.

She looked around, “I’m not hungry.”

He nodded, shrugged, “I know, but I thought we could hide out in here while everyone filters out.”

Her head peeked around the corner and, sure enough, the guests who were once lingering around the pool in the back were now scurrying through the door.

Lando chuckled, “Guess David’s a downer.”

—

An hour later, dinner ingested and everybody gone, Y/n found herself back in the backyard. Her body laid against the concrete of the pool as she stared at the place where David had been, calling her names, an hour and a half before. It hurt to think about, wonder if that’s what he had genuinely thought of her throughout their relationship. Nobody knew that it all got to her, the comments under Lando’s posts about her being something entertaining for him and the others on Twitter talking about the same things David had muttered before, but it did. No matter how much she tried to make it seem as though she knew those claims were ridiculous, a part of her did, she had gradually begun to internalize it all, creating a deep sore spot.

Nobody knew.

Well, except for him.

Lando’s footsteps pattered against the cold ground before they begun splashing around as he submerged himself in the water. She turned around to see him, one arm hanging on to the edge of the pool while the other wadded in the water. He smiled at her as he begun swimming toward her, coming to rest skin-to-skin right next to her.

He looked on at the spot she was so infatuated with before whispering, “You know what he said was completely wrong, right?”

All she could do was nod, her voice would not be convincing. She knew that. Lando knew that and that’s why his arm creeped around her torso, holding her close.

His mouth was right next to her ear, “It’s not true, Y/n.”

There was a deep sincerity in his words that hit her heart hard, prompting her fingers to trail up his arm before clutching his shoulder. Her head turned, their faces inches apart, and she smiled, “Thank you.”

His body fell further into the water as he let go of the edge, pulling her flush against him right after. He was gentle in his touches as he guided her legs to wrap around him, continuing to hold her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck. A dark, starry sky above them illuminated the twinkle in Lando’s eye. One Y/n found hard to explain away.

He pushed the wet hair out of her face, “He didn’t know what he had.”

Her fingers traced and memorized the sharpness of his cheekbones, “Are you saying you do?”

Her question, however bold, opened their friendship up. For once, one of them was giving the other the opportunity to confess whatever had manifested throughout the time they’d spent together.

She could see it in his eyes, the hesitation and fear in moving into that space with her. Sure, they had been uncomfortable together before, but this was different. This was an opening for something that could make or break them.

This was life or death to Lando.

Though, by the way she smiled at him, he knew he would be stupid, wrong her like David had, if he continued to sweep it all under the rug, “Yes.”

Her hands stopped moving about his face, instead cradling it, “What does that mean, Lan?”

Her question made his heart stop, the moment it all came down to, “Y/n, I hated seeing you with him. I hated seeing you with all of them. I couldn’t stand to see you hanging onto someone else’s arm. It made my skin crawl. And, today, when I got to be the guy that had you under his arm, especially when I got to look your satanic ex-boyfriend in the eye and tell him you were mine, nothing felt better than that. I’ve always known what I had when it came to you. I just wish you would let me show that.”

Her hands tangled in his hair as he continued to hold her, his feet stabilizing them as he stood in the pool. She exhaled a breath, took a moment to think, before leaning closer, “I never said you couldn’t.”

Even in the cold of the night, his face warmed with a tinge of redness. He squeezed her lightly, allowing a moment of silence to pass as they looked at each other before whispering back, “It’s chilly out here.”

Her giggling warmed his body, “Lan, what does that have to do with any of this?”

His hand moved delicately up her back before resting on the nape of her neck, pulling her lips closer, “I’m thinking a kiss or two might warm us up.”

She smiled again and her thumb rubbed against his jawline, “Oh, I got it. I love that idea.”

Max and Pietra watched from the living room, hearing Lando laugh before the two were kissing in the soft light of the backyard. The couple rejoiced on the couch, jumping and down with no regard for Max and Lando’s friend yelling at them to get down. However, once he looked to see what they were screaming about, he joined them too. It felt like everyone had been waiting for this moment. The moment when Y/n and Lando realized that their friendship was never just that and the love they had for each other was never just love. It was something completely indescribable, but as long as the whispers of love they shared between kisses in that pool continued, that would feel like enough.

It sure as hell was more than enough for the smiling, blushing idiot of a Brit who was kicking himself for not telling his Y/n just how much of his she really had been all along.

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cutecatlov3r · 9 months

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oh to be ran through by denki, sero, katsuki, and kirishima…

what would it be like? college au

a/n: bro I haven’t posted in forever ! but maybe I’m back for awhile ? you should check out my c.ai bots :3 dekusquad ver here .

it’ll start off with the five of you chilling in sero’s college dorm. you five all just playing games and chatting. until denki realizes there is literally a girl in the room with the four of them. the reality of the situation, you’ve been their friend for a few years... why the hell hasn’t he thought of this sooner?! he’s seen too much porn to know what could go down.

so when you go to the bathroom he talks to the boys about the situation he’s playing in his head.

“well we could always try to convince her, I mean she’s been our friend for years and I’d be so down to fuck her,” he spoke unashamed.

next thing you know, you’re fully convinced on letting it happen, the boys basically begging you to let them inside of you .

Bakugou obviously going first. he has to be the number one in everything. so when you allow him to fuck you, he’s the one to take off your clothes, being rough. he’ll rip them up, not caring. when he whips out his cock it’s long and thick, slapping against his abdomen as it is released.

“g’na fuck you nice and good, you slut”

and he does, he wastes no time plunging into you deeply. of course you didn’t really need foreplay due to the fact it turned you on to see them all begging for you to fuck them. as he fucks you in a mating press he will pull your hair. it’s a little off because he’s making out with you so sensually and sweet but his cock is ramming into you, only caring for it’s own pleasure.

“fuck… fuck you’re so tight, stop squeezin’ around me like that, dumbass…” he pants, voice a little raspy.

the boys watching, the heat inside them unbearable. just looking at your whiny face as bakugou fucks deep in you makes them so needy and heated.

he keeps going hard, his tip occasionally grazing against your cervix.

in the end, bakugou will gladly cum deep inside you, filling you up. pulling out he’ll watch it seep out, using his fingers to fuck it back into your hole.

Sero is next, looking down at you as you whine due to bakugou’s cum spilling on to your thighs. it was an uncomfortable feeling but you sort of liked it.

“don’t worry sweetheart… i will be nice and slow” he hums, kissing your neck, groping your ass.

he takes off his pants as he’s kissing you, placing you on his lap. his cock was long, not as girthy as bakugou’s cock but it looked a bit longer. he groans as he slips inside your wet and sloppy cunt. he rolls your hips, his cock rubbing against your g-spot as he rolls them.

he leans his back on the ledge of the couch, getting a good view of your sticky pussy moving up and down his cock. he loved the squelching noises it made. it was so erotic… the boys watching also loved it, they fucking needed you.

towards his climax he grabs you close, pressing your chest against his as he pistons his cock inside you, chasing his high.

“s-shit! fuck- ah- im gonna fucking cum… yeah, yeah, right in your slutty pussy”

you were moaning and creaming around his dick. the rutting hitting your g-spot over and over again. you were out of breath and he just kept going, holding you tightly so you couldn’t use your arms to get away from his body.

eventually he came inside you. his cum mixing around with bakugou’s. both of their bodily fluids leaking out of your slutty hole.

Denki happily offers to go next, it was his idea after all. look, he’s a pervert whose down for anything, he doesn’t even want his dick inside your messy cunt that was still leaking of sero and bakugou’s cum, instead he honestly wanted to give you a facial. so when you looked at him with your dazed eyes, he grabbed your chin, nodding his head to the floor.

“come on baby, on your knees for me” he smiled happily with a small chuckle.

you got on to your knees, looking up at denki. he held your cheek as he took out his hardened cock. it slapped against your face… your eyes glued to the pink tip that leaked of precum. he was pretty long, you’ll give him that.

without warning though, he shoved his dick right in between your cute soft lips, letting out a little whine. one hand gripped your hair, the other holding his shirt up so he can see as your tongue glided against him.

“s…so warm…” he moaned, eyes shutting slightly. though he did reach down to squeeze your breast, pinching your hard nipple.

your head bobbed on his cock, his grip on your hair tightening slightly. with your hand you fondled with his balls which caused an audible groan as he thrusted into your mouth more.

spit was rolling down your chin. your eyes fluttering as you looked up at denki who now has his shirt in his mouth. he gripped it with his teeth, his free hand grabbing some more of your hair and he thrusted his hips more.

after hitting the back of your throat, it caused him to go a bit crazy, moving faster, balls slapping against your chin. he was whining and moaning, feeling like he was gonna explode. he pulled out just in time, you stuck out your tongue as he painted your face white.

“that’s it babygirl… all over your face…” he panted, slapping his tip against your tongue.

Kirishima was last, he frowned looking at you, you were so messy.

“let me clean you up” he said softly, taking off his shirt to clean off your cute little face. he brought his shirt down to your cunt, cleaning it off, along with your thighs. there was still sero and bakugou’s cum inside you but he wasn’t gonna worry about cleaning that up. afterwards he sighed happily. he brought you to his lips, placing soft kisses against yours.

“It’s okay… you did so good for us today, y/n. thank you for letting me have the opportunity to please you” he smiled, laying her on the couch gently.

he took the hair out of your face, smiling down at you so sweetly. he started to remove his pants and my god… his cock was huge. it was so fat that it hung low even though he was hard as hell. you were in for it.

“not gonna hurt you, okay? if you need me to stop, I will. i will stop immediately,” he said, softly to which you nodded, propping yourself on your elbows to watch him sink into you. he went slow and steady, one of his hands by your head to balance himself. he was stretching your hole out, you felt so full.

he let out a soft moan as he kept trying to push himself deeper in you.

“g-gonna move now, okay?” he panted, his hips making a bit of movement. his thumb played with your sensitive clit as he made the small fulfilling movements. he rubbed you gently, the rubbing causing you to moan and his cock making you see stars.

a white ring was around his cock, your juices and the other boys around him as he made his small movements.

he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. this thumb rolling around the nub, he knew how to please a woman.

and out of everyone, he made you cum. you squeezed around his dick as you came, causing him to moan. he went down to your chest, sucking your nipples as you felt your bliss. he made sure you came before him, his hips now picking up the pace, your pussy tight around him, your walls clenching in overstimulation.

he went at a moderate pace not to hurt you, pulling out to cum on your stomach, he gave you a sweet kiss, wiping off the cum with his shirt that was on the floor.

“you did so good today, we are so proud of you, y/n”

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shooting-love-arrows · 5 months

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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 reacts to...cheater! reader

Request made by Anon:

Hi! I just read your post about yan 1950 house husband, it's amazing. Can you write his reaction if reader cheated on him? If you don't feel comfortable with this ask, feel free to ignore this. Remember to take care of yourself and have a nice day.

Hello to you too, dear Anon,

First of all, I must apologize but your request suddenly disappeared from my inbox! Thankfully, I have the content of your request saved in my google docs so I pasted it above.

Putting that aside, although this topic is sensitive to some, I am fine with writing about that.

I appreciate your words. It's very nice of you to think about little ol' me. I wish you a nice day too (even if it's not a daytime)!

Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [CHEATER!] reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied), your lovers genger isn't specified/mentioned/implied either. Don't be swayed by the curses used to describe them; Tw. cheating/indifelity from the reader, cursing, description of a m*urder, delusion (delulu is the solulu), emotional manipulation, gaslightning; A/N: As a person, I do not support this kind of behavior. This is only a piece of fiction, serving for entertaining purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Denial. Denial. Denial. At first 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 doesn’t believe it. No, he refuses to do so. You’re the most faithful and perfect partner known to the human kind. Right then, he's desperately holding on to that image. But unfortunately, evidence says otherwise. A simple photo, sent to him by your lover, secretly taken by some photographer is clearly showing you and (that whore) your lover, in some hotel room, in an intimate position. It is clear that day that you have an affair.

“But what if my darling was forced to do this?”

That question sends him into a spiral of delusion, rage and sorrow. As a defence mechanism, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 made up a story where suddenly you were a victim in this whole situation. It was definitely your lover who has forced themselves on you. Probably blackmailed or worse, drugged you to have a taste of sweet love and burning passion you share while making love with him.

“My poor darling…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 wailed, clenching his chest like someone was physically ripping away his still beating heart from it. Fat tears ran down his rosy cheeks, smudging his mascara and turning him into a crying mess. “I’ll avenge you, my darling. I won’t forgive what was done to you!”

He doesn’t even blink when he sends your lover into the pits of hell. There’s no hesitation when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 plans this hideous crime, making sure every detail is taken care of. And so, it begins small, like creating false and disgusting rumors about your lover. Day by day, he patiently destroys your lover's life. Until the day when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 poisons them through his signature pie and then proceeds to repeatedly stab your lover until no one is able to recognize them in the first place.

"YOU WENCH!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 roared at the person who happened to be your lover. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" With every word he dove the sharp, kitchen knife deeper and harder into his victim's chest. "DIE!!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 yelled for the final time and knife one last time, straight in this whore heart. He was left alone in the empty and messy kitchen, covered in blood, panting and trying to catch his breath.

In the end, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 begins to gaslight you. Once again, with the patience of a saint, he began to manipulate you to believe that it was in fact your lover who was using you all this time. You were forced into this vile affair and you are a victim.

“My innocent darling, you mustn't think about it (them) anymore. I will make everything perfect once again.”

But isn’t it weird how he started wearing clothes that are scarily similar to those worn by your lover? Sniff…sniff…and those perfumes…

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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— ALL GROWN UP

pairings: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.

warnings: normal coryo in all honesty, jealousy, flirting, p in v, oral (m), choking, kinda subby coryo - for a bit, time gap he spent a year in 12 (i got lazy this is short and basically just porn with slight plot)

a/n: hehehehe first fic of 2024 kiddos besides the klaus one!

your laughter was the last thing coriolanus wanted to hear, ever. it was still annoying when he was here, and it was still once he returned.

"there's no way!" tigris giggled a loud as you joined in.

"tigris?" he called out to her, waiting. "coryo!" tigris yelled as she ran to him, his arms open for her. "it's so good to see you, you’ve been so busy." you laughed, "your hair, it's worse in person." would you shut up? who were you to interrupt a family-

your night dress was black, short, barely below your crotch. lace details, messy hair, you were nothing short a of a dream, and it was messing with his head. he was so use to hating you, your stupid gorgeous face and here he was, dumbstruck. “y/n?” you nodded with a sweet smile, “how are you coriolanus?”

he sighed, “exhausted, between the university and dr gaul, it seems i’m stretched thin these days.” you nodded along, “it seems you’re well on your way to success.” he inhaled, not use to your kind words, “thank you.”

apparently you were staying with the snow’s for a week or so, much to coriolanus’s elation. surprisingly, in the time he’d been away you’d become, tolerable. it sure as hell had nothing to do with the sway in your walk, your sweet eyes looking up at him and your new found confidence, no he just felt nice.

he was itching to get a taste.

he’d seen you out and about, talking with almost all the people around. a kind smile aimed at quite literally everyone. almost every guy in the restaurant seemed to know you, and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

didn’t they know you came for lunch with him?

shouldn’t they know better?

you weren’t his, yet.

it was late at night, you needed something to drink.

grandma’ams tea isn’t exactly the most refreshing. you were in the midst of scouring the kitchen for a teabag of actual flavour when you’d heard him behind you.

“looking for this?” he held the jar in his hands, “actually, yes.” you walked over to grab it and he only held it higher, “coryo, please.” he grinned, “coryo huh?” you placed your hands on your hips, annoyed, “yes, now if you don’t mind.” the jar clattered on the counter and you quickly swiped it away. “would you like some?”

in the reflection of the glass cabinet, you saw him shake his head, “i’m in the mood for something else.” you giggled at his vagueness, “oh? and what might that be mr snow?” his smirk was all you needed to know what he was hinting at. “you’re playing a dangerous game here coryo,” he feigned confusion, “am i now?” you smiled, “yes you are.” he was behind you now, breath heavy and hot on your shoulder, “i might be, question is, are you willing to play?”

his lips were on your neck, light as ever, open mouthed kisses all the way up to your cheek. “cory” he gathered your hair, swinging it over your shoulder, “cory? that’s new.” you smiled, “i know. i’m going to take a shower, wanna join? to conserve water of course.” as if they need to, they had more than enough money now.

“to conserve, of course.”

the hot water rose steam, surrounding you as coryo watched from outside. the fog covered up all the parts he wanted to see, and his night pants seemed smaller. soap running all over you, soft hands trailing down. “i think you’ll get a much better view from in here.”

he ripped his clothes off, practically stumbling around in the soft glow of the guest room lamp. he’d been waiting for so long. ten minutes. his hands massaged your scalp, washing it off remaining shampoo and conditioner. ridding your body of any soap, your shoulders, your stomach, your thighs.

and soon enough he pressed you against the wall, imprints of hands staining the glass. you were both unbearably needy, messy kisses and desperate touches. you revelled in his grasp, you felt as if your skin was on fire. “y/n, please.” he whined. you giggled at his begging, “please what coryo?” you stroked his dick as he groaned out, “suck me off. now.” you laughed at his words, “pretty bossy for someone who was whining like a little bitch two seconds ago.” he was about to protest but your warm mouth on him seemed to shut up all forms of protest.

“oh god.” he leaned his head back on the wall as you dug your nails into the back of his thighs. the water pouring down on the two of you made coryo glisten, his abs looking especially sweet. droplets of water fell down from his hair onto you.

as if you weren’t enough the view of you on your knees, your tuts on display was more than enough for him to explode down your throat. “fuck, when did you learn to do this slut? you been practicing f’me?” his attempt at regaining control had you suppressing your laughter.

but his hand in your hair tugging you to your feet, crazy eyes and a very attractive smirk? “only for you cory.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently kissed him, “all for me.”

“please, cory. i need you.” you leaned your head against his as he directed his cock to entrance, teasing you. “you want it?” you nodded your head vehemently, “god just please, fuck me.” he kissed your cheek before pushing in, “anything you say baby.” you moaned out at the feeling of him in you, filling you to the brim. you felt unbearably hot, between the running water and coryo rutting into you it felt like heaven.

you can feel the wetness dripping down your thigh, mixing in with the water, “messy girl, aren’t you?” your hands dug into his shoulders almost painfully, “jump up.” wrapping your legs around of his waist, his hands cupped your ass. his pace is unbelievably brutal, “such a bitch to me, making me look weak.”

you shook your head, “didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to i swear.” you mewl, hot tears streaming down your cheeks, as coryo lets out throaty groans.

“stop crying.”

“i can’t, you feel so good!”

“stop crying or i’m not gonna let you cum.” his hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your airway. the dizziness paired with his thrusts inside of you was absolutely delicious. he let up only to mark you before returning to it.

“not yet," his grip around your throat tightened as coryo continued thrusted into you, obviously chasing his own high. "you'll cum when i do.” please cum. you thought, please please please.

his hips slowed down as he groaned, “fuck, all for me yeah? all grown up, aren’t you baby?” your nails marked up his back as he grunted, the hot water seemed to make the fresh marks hurt all the more. coriolanus loved the stinging, almost as much as he loved your cunt.

“cum, cum for me.” you weren’t sure if your release came before or after, but all you felt was unwavering pleasure and relief. you rested your head in the crook of his neck, you were so exhausted. “you did good, so good y/n.” coryo praised you as he pressed kisses to your forehead.

“let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagine

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tarjapearce · 5 months

Text

Poppy Blue

Blue Jones! Miguel x Baby Doll! Reader.

Art by @marbipa on x

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, choking kink, rough sex, mentions of abuse, preying, toxic and perverted behavior, implicit clandestine and illegal activities, lobotomy, dissociation, implicit depersonalization, objectification, hate sex, manhandling, violence, sub space. No Proofread.

Summary: Messy things ~ (I guess?) Miguel as Blue Jones from Sucker Punch.

A/N: Watched Sucker Punch last night and... yeah. Had to get this out of my system. ~ Another one for the Miguelverse ~

Masterlist

All it took was a bullet. Aimed at your assailant with no intentions of missing. Yet you did. You missed, failed terribly so. His chest was your goal, instead it went directly to his shoulder.

Projectile ripping and scorching skin, tissue and muscle in the go, earning a shaky and pained yelp. But it was the least he deserved after trying to be sneaky on your sister, that laid cold and bled out in the floor. She was no match for his knife and his blood thirst of the night. The rest was a blur.

And now, you were dragged down to the wet and dull greys walls of your future home. Lennox House. Or rather Lennox Asylum for the Mentally Ill.

Everything about the place screamed danger, everything about the people working in the monstrosity of place yelled I'm no better.

Barefoot, soaked in rain, holding your new uniform and gazing at the biggest man you've seen in you life, holding a bunch of keys while his eyes bore into you.

The way he stared made your skin crawl and it didn't help your clothes clung to your body. Arms braced the uniform closer to your chest, trying to cover it up. His eyes wandered to the man behind you, a police officer with three scratched lines into his face. You hadn't left him unscathed. Not when he tried to play rough with you back at your old home.

The man showed you around, place was as depressing as it was from the outside, but The Theater took the prize.

Girls your age dressed in gray, socializing in the area. And by socializing it'd mean to watch them either receive therapy with a polish beautiful woman named Vera Gorski, or watch them fight over the stupidest things. But who could blame them?

Some probably had enough time inside that had memorized the cracks in the wall, the scratches on the floor, the number of chewed gums underneath the table or how many dust particles were accumulated in the windows. Gray. Everything was gray and dull.

Even the voice of the men behind you talking about a price for your silence were tiresome and dry. Two thousand. That's what your memories were valued as. A number you now hated.

Corrupt pigs

The police officer gave you a gentle push forward as a nurse came to fetch you. The simple touch of that man made your skin revolt and slapped him hard across his wilting face, a scowl on your grimace that slowly turned into a smirk as the police officer tried to catch you, but you were being dragged away by two nurses into a life that would turn your head upside down and backwards, the many times it saw fit until you'd understand that you weren't in charge.

Until you'd understand your purpose.

Dance.

"If you don't dance, you have no purpose."

Madam Gorski murmured to you. Pretty, dangerous and aware of the many many situations revolving in the brothel. Cause in truth, the asylum was just an alibi and a frontage for the real deal. House Lennox. A house of pleasure.

Bets, drinks, sex, meds and a hell of a show to anyone that filled Miguel's pockets.

The main attraction? Girls that society deemed unfit to keep within her picky guts. Too into messy situations to keep the pretense around relatives. Too fucked up to function properly but good enough to mold and shape into something useful, and too tempting to break even further.

She mumbled while circling you, her dark eyes scrutinized you unabashedly, taking in everything her sight could reach. Pursing her pouty lips upon your body.

Pretty, scared, still holding a grip on reality while trying to swallow a really hard to deglute pill, and oh so perfect for a new purpose.

"We do not keep things in here that serve no purpose."

The collide of her cane on the floor was like a metronome, setting the pace to enter a forbidden place, somewhere that none could reach but you. Mind splitting in two, dissociating soul from conscience, leaving an empty, moving vessel behind. You were free for a moment. And now you wanted more, more of that place where your imagination ran rampant.

Where Gorski's words meant nothing, where the guards had no power, where you were allowed to break down and feel without second intentions or being frowned upon. But mainly, without Miguel’s preying gaze licking you raw while undressing your form with it.

But the clapping and praising brought you back to this reality. Red eyes fell upon you, studying, raking over your body upside down, stopping at your thighs to then go back to your flushed and breathless face.

Mr. O'Hara. Miguel 'Blue' O'Hara. The asylum guard, the key bearer, perverted pimp, and your new shadow.

Ever since that dance many things changed.

Even though you danced, duties in the asylum weren't to be neglected. If you said no, you'd get a visit to the hole.

If you didn't dance, you'd get a visit to the hole.

But if you didn't do things Miguel's way, you'd get a personal talk with him, and then a visit to the hole.

And those talks, surely weren't words.

Scrubbing the floors gave you the chance to listen a bit of everything. Girl's derangements, psychotic outbreaks, mumblings that were filled in with regret and many more flourishing emotions; the ever loud music from the cook, and the unceasing mewls and obscene noises coming from Miguel's office.

Some girls misbehaved on purpose, just to get a taste of him. Others did anything to draw his attention to them, specially in the dance floor. But you knew better to anger him.

Sure, pleasure came in hand with a high price. He wasn't good, he wasn't nice nor gentle, matter-of-factly some girls cried during their one on one sessions and the degradation only enhanced the tears.

Sick fuck.

Gorski's alarms flared up upon seeing belt marks on their legs and ass, bites in their inner thighs and bruises on their hips. Eyes a bit too gone and tired to actually work in anything. They might have spread the gossip around of Miguel fucking them, and even enjoyed it.

But the aftermath of it, said otherwise. And it was enough to keep you on check, but even so he was pulled to you like a magnet so strong you could see the refrain in his eyes every time he approached you.

Hands shaky, tongue rubbing and wetting his plump lips, a soft flush on his cheeks and pleading eyes. A silent 'Let me play too' cause he wasn't allowed to touch, or taste you. Instead, he'd use the girls willing to please him to take his anger out. Their bodies meant nothing, they meant nothing cause they weren't you.

They didn't have your body, they didn't have your sweet voice that distorted into moans and gasps that he'd kill to induce every time you danced, but above all, they didn't have your spark.

That little interaction with the police when you first arrived, had him folding on a bathroom, stroking himself to oblivion at the mere sound of your slaps.

Unbeknownst to you, you held so much power over him. Power he was set to dull, because he was the only one in control. Not even Gorski and her stupid polish methods to get in the rest's head. He ran the place and had it under control.

For how long though?

You wanted out. His little Poppy wanted out and surely would get everything to be free and leave him, forsake him in this damned place.

Anger flowed within his veins like molten lava upon remembering how other men looked at you, how other men wanted you. They'd possibly been imagining how good and tight your insides would feel cause the way you moved when you were up in the stage, was surreal. It was like another person took over.

But he, a sick fuck through and through, would want both. No. He'd have both. He craved and needed both, even better when you were dressed in such things that only added more dry bones to his needy fire.

Fucking lucky of them to feel you and be a your second skin. Even that stupid and everything but innocent uniform you were to dress every day, stirring up enough to let him take a peek of your panties, or the stockings underneath that remained etched on your supple thighs he'd often fantasize in getting lost between.

He just had to wait for you to misbehave. But sadly you didn't seem keen into breaking the rules. He'd wait.

---

"Stormy, come."

Vera called another girl. Whoever gave their names either knew them too well or picked random words in a go. Gorski too engrossed into her lessons to notice you had been dragged away by other guards under Miguel's petition.

Had you forgotten about something? No. Surely not. Last week's chores were fulfilled completely, the bathrooms were clean, the kitchen's dishes turn were washed up, and so were the floors. Your wrists sore, a reminder to ask for a new brush.

And-

Shit.

Fuck.

The laundry.

Some dancers had ran out of stockings, lingerie, and some sheets from the brothel needed to be replaced ASAP.

But you, Poppy, as Vera had called you and it stuck with the rest ever since, had trouble. Just cause you had forgotten about the damn laundry.

Miguel's formidable frame came into view, he was on a call, lying on how well someone's daughter was doing after a lobotomy. How they didn't have to worry about her anymore.

Your stomach felt sick and your heart leaped on your chest once he ended up the call. The guards had been long gone, leaving you with your shadow alone.

If honest, you knew Miguel either followed or kept you watched under hawk's eyes. Time stopped as soon as he turned to face you.

Pupils wide blown as soon as you came into his sight.

"My sweet, sweet Poppy."

He inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together before his face. An uncontainable smirk morphed into a light titter.

"You've been a bad girl, princesa."

His hands slamming on the table before him made you jolt and blink at his sudden mood shift.

"We..." He wetted his lips as he came behind you, "We were counting on you, Mi cielo. But... you failed us. Failed me."

A gulp as his breath fanned over the crook of your neck.

"You see..." His big and long fingers brushing your hair away from the right side of your head joint, "Now I gotta improvise something for the next show. "

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

His hand took a hold of your neck and the contact made him growl. Warm, smooth, feeling every heartbeat underneath his big and calloused palms.

Lips dangerously close to your ear, breathing and panting as he pulled you closer to him, your back colliding against his torso and abdomen.

"Shh"

He hushed while taking a big whiff off you. A mix of soap, perfume and cigarettes. His hand squeezed tighter, earning a lovely and sweet yelp from you as he pushed you against his desk.

Your eyes widened in surprise upon feeling the hardening cock in between the slot of your thighs, poking, begging to be released and finally take you.

"You remind me of someone. Too bad she lost her spark."

His hand riled the skirt of your uniform up, passing up some layers of extra clothing, your underwear and stockings. Hand plunged inside to finally allowing his fingers to have a sample of your flesh.

"But I'm keeping yours alight, sweetheart."

His cock twitched when he found your clit. Fingers dexterous and peeling the outer folds away to give a gentle rub before you closed your legs almost instantly. A little delaid reaction, your brain was still processing it.

You went completely still when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He sucked them off with hunger, groaning and trembling at the taste.

"Por Dios, preciosa..."

You tried to pry his hand out of your neck but the struggle made his breathings more labored and needy as he humped and ground against you from behind. Letting his tip to speak volumes at how hard and wanton he was. How bad you made him react. How much power you had over him.

Of course.

The idea of having him subdued to you assaulted your mind. Pressuring you into pleading, just like your clit that clenched and twitched upon having his tip rubbing in a slow yet firm strokes.

His hands went back inside your panties, searching for the nub of nerves that had you melting. Tongue skimming at the tender skin of your neck.

Just as he was about to bury a finger knuckle deep, the ever annoying voice of Vera urging Miguel from outside the door, asking for you. Her dear and lovely Poppy.

"Chingada madre" (Fucking shit)

He sighed with an exasperated growl and looked at the door.

"The fuck you want?!"

"I need Poppy on the practice. Now."

Where was the shocking baton when he needed it the most?

For once, you were relieved to know that you didn't go unnoticed under Gorski's watch. She protected the girls in her own way.

Knees trembled as he kept the hand inside. A little miscalculation had you whimpering while his fingers remained trapped in your flesh. His eyes snapped back on you with a smirk.

A hand clasped on top of your mouth, suffocating any moans as he worked his fingers between your pussy. Touching and prodding at the forbidden flesh, a moan vibrated through his hand with a high pitched Hmm

"I'll get her to you right away!"

Miguel yelled while working his fingers harder and faster, alternating between rubbing and fucking your hole with them.

"Spread your legs wider, pretty baby" The husk of his voice made you close your eyes and hips hump ever shyly at his hands. Gaining as much friction as possible.

"Miguel, I need her now."

He grumbled under his breath while moving his hands faster. The wet smooch and sucking squelch had him humping against your panties, breaths agitated, muttering something you could only decipher as filth in spanish, your hands clenched onto him, tightly fisted on his clothes.

Just a bit more

He heard Vera cursing in her native tongue as he prodded his fingers inside, toying with your opening. Stretching and fucking it at his likings.

"You fucking little slut"

He tittered while rubbing furiously in your clit. A bit too rough that had you bucking and trembling in his arms. If his hands made you quiver and melt he couldn't wait to see what his cock could do. You drenched his fingers.

Said fingers were cleaned up again by his mouth with a droopy and pleasure drunk face.

Despite having your legs shaky, he held you by the hips, and forced you to grab onto his desk. His hands quickly fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling his cock out.

He stroked a couple of times, tip susceptible to stimulation. He pulled the panties aside, your stockings the only barrier between you and his erection. The flimsy layer of clothes instantly adhered to your soaked skin, He pushed in between your thighs, rubbing his cock back and forth with slow thrust against your pussy. His hot length brushed against the already engorged and sensitive nub.

The tightness of your warm thighs smooshed together created the perfect friction hole for him without actually penetrating you. So close and yet so far of that forbidden territory. Soft mewls and whimpers came out your mouth, too enraptured in feeling than verbalizing your pleasure.

He also needed his toys. Specially his favorite. Stockings were thoroughly soaked the more he pushed his cock in and out. Labia clothed and slicked parted to feel his shallow moves. He used you as his fleshlight, his hips smacking yours. His chest rumbled with animalistic and low growls.

His hands were clumsy as the pleasure turned overwhelming, you could see the flushed tip of him peeking out your thighs, the urge of tasting him turned bigger the faster he went. You were trying so hard to keep it as quiet as possible.

"Wished I was inside you, don't you?"

You gasped as he purposely angled his tip in your dripping hole. A shivering breath was all he received.

He took you by your chin and squeezed

"Don't you?!"

"Y-Yes!"

"Yes, what?!"

"Yes, sir."

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in deeper in your cunt, his cock pushed a bit of the stockings inside as he doused it with his cum, unable to hold back any longer, marking you.

You had never heard a man pant and wheeze like that before. So deep, raspy, needy, cradling you tighter, anchoring to you as he shook his orgasm out.

"Fuck- Ay Dios, fuckfuck-"

He slurred while engulfing your frame against the table. Breathings matching his erratic ones.

Your skin between supple thighs felt clammy and sticky. Black stockings ruined completely by the white and wet patch of his scent.

Hot breath fanned over your neck.

"Can't wait to feel the real de-"

The door banged.

"Boss! We need you!"

The guards and Vera had proposed to fuck around with him cause his patience had been tested many times.

Your steps marching away from him snapped him out of his thoughts, He blinked and held you by the wrist, pulling you once more to him to kiss you.

Your first kiss in years. Soft but needy and filled in with a promise to fulfill later.

Now that he had a taste, there was none to stop him. He'd take his favorite toy and go home.

----

Freedom was taken away from you, right before your eyes. Forsaken by your so called friends, marooned by the crew you had gathered within the depths of despair. Your hope had given them a chance at surviving, your courage had transformed you into a fucked up sisterhood, but it was their greed that made you the ultimate sacrifice to their success.

You could only watch while thrashing your way out, but the more you fought, the more guards came to you, but one in particular pulled you out of the mess like a feather. But you didn't stop fighting. Not even when your tabs were in absolute zero probabilities of winning, not when Miguel dragged you inside manhandling your crying form like a ragdoll.

Scratches, fists and other punches didn't move him in the slightest. His grip tightened once you both were locked up in his office once more. He tossed you on the floor.

"Why... Why did you want to leave?"

His tone menacing yet hurt.

The idea of you almost slipping away from him had sent him in a berserk mode that unleashed hellbent through the asylum. Just to find you and when he did, he wanted nothing but hurt you, just the way you've hurt him.

Wasn't his attention enough? , wasn't him being lenient on you and your chores enough? Wasn't he enough?

"WHY?!"

You were too dumbfounded to process his question. Too marked with shame at your failure and rage to pay him attention, and that alone sent him grabbing you by the neck and crash you against a vanity. Tossing everything above it to the floor.

Your back collided against the now shattered mirror, you yelped but still managed to slap him and that made him groan and nod frantically.

Yes

One of his hands was more than enough to hold your both arms as he positioned between your thighs, pressing further against you.

"You don't like me, Poppy? Why?"

"Let me go!"

His hand squeezed your neck tightly, cutting all air for a minute while he kissed you. Sloppy, angry and so full with lust and rage. It gave you no time to react while his other hand tore the panties from underneath your skirt.

You kept slapping him, but that only enticed him to spread you further

"Love that fucking spark on you, preciosa."

He then thrashed you against the table sending a painful jolt through your body, It made you still for a moment.

"No! No! Don't-" his eyes widened in panic, "Don't lose it. Please-"

"No" You panted, "Just found it" A flower vase was smashed in his forehead. And that granted you freedom from his hands as you fell on the floor, gasping for air and crawling away from him.

Heavy steps echoed, trailing dangerously after you. Miguel took you by the ankle and dragged you towards him.

"No!"

He hissed and pulled you upwards, like a statuette, and slammed your torso against the desk you had been clenching onto. All air knocked out your lungs.

A hand passed over his buckle and removed in a swift motion his belt in one go. The sight of your pussy peeking underneath the ruffles of your skirt made a smile that didn't reach his eyes to appear.

He quickly got the belt around your neck, your hands instantly pried, or at least tried to pry it away, scratching yourself in the process. The smell of copper filled in the air, the vase had broke the skin of his forehead.

"You fucking ungrateful bitch!"

He secured the belt tighter and you wheezed, hands flailed to get a hold of him. Fingers already prodding and toying with your cunt, to his surprise, the struggle and fight turned you on, knowing that a man wanted you so badly that would do anything to have you, and you denying such power had you soaked.

Specially when the man in question was this 6'9" cell guard that wanted nothing but to wreck you, destroy you the way you had destroyed his fucked up illusions.

"All I did for you, everything I did meant shit for you-"

He rasped before slapping your butt with such force it stung and left a red imprint on the now reddening flesh.

"I didn't... a-ask you for shit!"

He grunted at your broken words as he pulled the makeshift leash backwards, separated your legs and pulled out his cock once more.

"There we go, baby"

"Y-You're so pathetic-"

Words died in your throat as he slid inch by inch inside. The intrusion made you sob a feeble whimper, it burned and hurt, but in a way you weren't expecting and you liked it.

"Me? Pathetic? Ay muñeca, is not me whose gonna beg me to stop" He pulled your face towards him and kissed you once more, "You won't even remember your name once I'm done with you."

He buried to the hilt as he watched your expression. Troubled yet blissful. A little grip was loosened as he felt you were about to speak again.

"You talk too much shit-."

Part of you regretted said words, cause he smashed your head in the desk and dug his fingers around your hips.

"Is that so?"

Nothing had you prepared for the assailing onslaught of his hips. Fucking was a measly word compared to what he actually was doing to your poor and snug cunt.

It wasn't slapping, his hips thwacked yours with such force you were sure your cervix would be bruised and your legs wouldn't walk properly for the next few days, but as it hurt, it felt good. Too good for your own comfort. Specially when propped a leg ontop of a stool for more leverage to ruin you deeper.

A garbled moan came out your lips, before gritting your teeth together and shaking your head vehemently. He laughed in between deep growls and moans.

"Am I dulling that spark, muñeca?"

Your body lurched forwards, pussy drenched him with every remorseless push he delivered. Eyes struggling to keep on the front, but it was unavoidable to have them rolling back as your jaw slacked open.

High pitched wails rumbled out of your gaping mouth, permeating the once silent room. Two of his fingers slid in your mouth, hot breath colliding against them. They hooked forcing your mouth to keep open.

The desk shook under your weight, the room filled in with moans so sweet and delicious, unlike the many that had been under him.

You were experiencing first hand the danger. Miguel wasn't nice, he wasn't gentle. The latter made an emphasis on its own as he pulled the belt impossibly tighter. A gurgling and rasping noise came from your throat. He wasn't squeezing anymore, he was choking you.

And Dios mio, you were sure you'd die. But dying sounded way too much of a reward than staying in this awful place.

"Yes"

You hissed in between butchered pants and wheezing mewls. Mind set in welcoming the reaper as air was still cut out of your lungs. Legs too weak to keep on their own. Dizziness fogging your mind, fire engulfing your body, Your cunt slurped him in, wetness no longer an issue since he slid and out so easily.

The only indicator you still had consciousness was the little pathetic cries you did as his hips plowed you with a new intensity you didn't know possible.

He had been whispering the filthiest things into your ear, a couple of degrading words you couldn't quite hear, too busy being cock drunk and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Your torso and arms laid in between his arms and the desk, his upper body keeping you still as his hips did the whole assault. His face too snatched in a myriad of things.

Pride cause he finally got to have you and proved you wrong, lust cause you felt just like he had imagined, anger because of your previous words. He was the one that was rawing you into oblivion, had your brain turned upside down, not Gorski, and had you cumming with such an intensity it was overwhelming and too much for your brain to digest.

Too much.

The choking had your brain's fuse in a shortcut, shutting itself off for what it felt like forever, until he spilled himself inside. Renovating your walls white.

Hot cum spurted and not a single drop was wasted as he made sure you kept it inside.

His hulking figure trembled, torn in between subtle and violent spasms that shook him to his very core and raged pants that sent a shiver down your sore spine.

He finally had you and you were his. He wasn't letting you go. Not when he was about to give you a new purpose.

Being his.

---

Everything that he thought good and right blurred. Eyes filled in with tears at your state. Gone. Gone from this world, gone from him, the spark had vanished.

How this happened?

His mind raked through the memories, trying to find the right moment everything went to shit.

He signed a paper. A lobotomy authorization in your behalf.

No!, no!.

"Come back" He pleaded while kissing you and squeezing his hands on the joint of your head and shoulders, to pry something out of you. But nothing came.

The spark had been lost.

And so were you.

"Please, muñeca"

He sobbed and cradled you in his arms, but there was no push, no retaliation, nothing. Only a lovely vessel of his love.

You were gone. For real.

He had been so naive to believe that fucking you senseless meant to have you. He had been such a fool to fall for such a simple thing as that.

And now he had lost you. His own hand brought his demise. Guards and Gorski dragged him out, his hand latched on to you, but even your skin felt different.

"Poppy!"

He yelled but you didn't answer. Just watched him with a look that shattered his heart.

You were free. Free and far far away.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #spiderman 2099 smut #sucker punch #t writes✨#one shot #Miguelverse

1K notes · View notes

dogco11ar · 2 years

Text

love triangles are all the same huh 🥴

#messy as hell and sometimes involving more than 3 ppl for Maximum Pain #and if any or everyone involved is gay? rip to that group but you’ll be lucky if u make it out alive

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

04. sharing a bed series ; skz ; hyunjin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 4/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. penetrative sex n the pull out method lol. also hyunjin n reader were drugged the night before, premise is based around them getting married in vegas under the influence and not remembering how it happened in the morning. drama llama antics ensue.

Hyunjin has the heart of a sentimental corvid; he loves his people, but he’s weird and sneaky about it. His propensity for dramatics is only in certain situations and the rest of the time he is quiet and tends to balk at grand displays. He definitely does not like cuddling or hugging. He will only begrudgingly suffer through it when his more physically affectionate friends get the bright idea to attack him with their loving arms.

So you are wildly confused when you wake up in your hotel room with Hyunjin plastered to you, hugging you so tightly that you are halfway convinced he glued himself there. His chin is nestled on your shoulder, his breath coming softly against your neck. The hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled over his head but some of his long blonde hair still falls on your face. You blow at it unsuccessfully, getting some in your eye. He holds you tighter.

What the hell?

You arrived in Las Vegas yesterday and while most of last night is a foggy blur, you do remember the room had two twin beds. Sure enough, there is a second bed just a few feet from yours, the covers completely untouched. The neatly made bed is a stark contrast to the mess of your bed: the duvet sliding off the foot, the pillows on the floor, the bedding partially untucked. All the sheets are wrapped around your body like a cocoon while a shivering Hyunjin clings to you, presumably for warmth.

You try to roll over but your bedsheet-burrito has you trapped, never mind Hyunjin’s death grip of a spoon.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “I can’t breathe.”

He grumbles and squeezes you, making you squeak.

“Hyunjin,” you say, a bit louder. “Wake up.”

He groans in his sleep and buries his face further in your neck. His nuzzling sends shivers shooting down your spine.

“Hyunjin.” It comes out like a croak. You try wriggling your shoulders. “Hyunjin, wake up!”

He makes a disgruntled sound but doesn’t move.

“Oh my god,” you say. “How are you such a bitch even when sleeping? Wake up!”

When he stays sleeping, you are forced to take drastic action. You turn your face and blow, hard. His face scrunches up and he finally stirs.

“Ew,” he says, slowly blinking his eyes open. His mouth draws into a sour pout, his brow tight. “Stop. Your breath is so disgusting.”

“Ahem.”

He makes a fist and rubs his eyes. His dark brows are still furrowed but there is modicum of clarity when he looks at you. It takes a minute to fully register your proximity, his eyes flicking here and there. Finally, they open wide.

With remarkable speed, Sleepy Hyunjin concedes leeway to Drama Queen Hyunjin. He mewls like a frightened cat, ripping away so quickly that it knocks the air out of you with an oof.

“What—” he starts.

He is interrupted when his thrashing makes him slide. You are still bundled in your bedsheet-prison and can only watch as the clumsy oaf slides backwards right off the bed. All those long limbs make a frantic windmill as he shrieks on his way down, hitting the floor with a heavy crash and groan.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Ugh,” he replies. “My head.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, when you’re done, come help me.”

His hand appears first, thumping onto the messy bed. His head follows with an exhausted peek over the mattress. His hood has fallen back and his long hair is infuriatingly neat considering everything. Hyunjin is so beautiful that it is ridiculous. All he does is run his long fingers through his hair, shake his head a little, and he looks picture perfect.

“You’re staring,” he says with a scowl.

“It’s because you’re so ugly,” you say.

“Liar,” he says. He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them. “I’m sexy and you love me.”

He is correct, so it is only natural that you try biting him.

You chomp at him when he approaches, threatening to bite his fingers when they get too close to your face. He pinches your nose between two knuckles and squeezes.

“Hyunjiiiiin, staaawp,” you say in a nasally whine.

He does, but only after playfully snapping his own jaws in your direction.

“I should just leave you here and have a peaceful day,” he says.

“I’ll kill you and bury you in the desert.”

“Gross. Can’t you bury me on the strip?”

“I’m gonna feed your carcass to some desert scorpions.”

“Ew.”

It takes some effort, but Hyunjin manages to find where your blanket-burrito starts. He grabs it and tugs like the annoying bimbo he is. Your protest comes too late and he whips the blanket open, sending you flying off the bed. You land with a heavy thud of your own.

“Oops,” he says. He rustles through the sheets to peer over the edge of the bed. “Are you okaaaa—whaaaat are you wearing?”

You were already dizzy before Hyunjin decided to throw you around like a human tennis ball, but now it’s even worse.

You have no idea what happened last night but it clearly involved a hit of something way, way, way stronger than usual. It takes you a minute to come back to reality. After shaking your head a few times, you are able to push yourself into a sitting position. You finally look down.

You freeze.

“Hyunjin,” you say. “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“That’s what I just—”

“Hyunjin. What the fuck am I wearing?!”

It is an utterly useless question because it is abundantly obvious that you are wearing a wedding dress. A big, poofy, princess wedding dress with giant puffed up 1980s sleeves and enough cleavage on display that Hyunjin almost falls off the bed because he is tilting his head so much.

You yank up the skirt as if that will offer any answers. You find a pair of white stockings, one still neatly clipped to a thigh garter and the other halfway down your calf. You stare at that stocking for a long moment, the vaguest recollection of something fighting its way through the fog of your druggy, drunk memory.

“Uh,” Hyunjin says.

You look up at him but his eyes are downturned to his own wrist. You look there, your own eyes widening when you see what he sees.

Your missing garter is looped around his wrist like a silky white bracelet.

An image comes flooding back. The periphery is still in smog, but you distinctly remember Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, gathering his long hair into a ponytail as he smirked up at you. You remember him lifting your skirt, his head disappearing under the pile of white lace.

You look at each other at the same time. Did he just have the same memory? Does he remember more? You have no idea and you can’t bring yourself to ask. Your voice is shot to hell, swallowed up by the heart that seems to have jumped into your throat.

The silence is tense. It is hotter than the desert in here.

“We didn’t…?” he finally says, pointing between the two of you.

“No way,” you say. It sounds very uncertain.

He lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind his ears. That’s when you see it. Hyunjin wears so many rings so often that you completely missed it at first. But right now his hands are bare save for one unfamiliar ring in a very particular spot.

Hyunjin follows the trajectory of your horrified gaze and freezes when he spots the wedding ring. He slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Oh my god,” you say. You are afraid to check your own hand but it is imperative. Hyunjin looks at you, his shocked hand still covering his mouth. Together, you watch as your hand shakily rises out of the pile of white princess lace.

There is a wedding ring on your finger too.

You and Hyunjin scream at the same time, him clapping both hands over his ears as he hollers and you shaking your head and kicking your feet. After your mini-freak out, you wave your hands to silence him.

“Stop, stop!” you say. “It’s okay. Be calm. Be quiet. This is okay.”

“We got married,” he wails, dragging his fingers down his face. “My mom is gonna kill me.”

“Your mom? YOUR MOM? Hyunjin, I’m gonna kill you before you even leave this city, so don’t fucking worry about your mom.” You mime throttling him because he is too far to reach.

Hyunjin flops down on the bed. He lays on his back with his arms folded like he is ready to be mummified.

“Oh my gawd,” he says. “Oh my gawwwd…”

“Look, we might not have even done it,” you say. It takes a lot of effort and you fall on your ass twice, but you manage to stagger ungracefully to your feet. “Some rings and a dress don’t mean anything. We were probably just goofing around. What do you remember?”

He is still in a mummification pose, his eyes closed.

“Nothing,” he says. He frowns. “No, wait. You were hitting on some ugly bitch of a man and didn’t listen to me, as usual, and the loser put something in your drink so I drank it to prove a point. But then you still drank it because you’re the worst, and I dragged you out of there.” He covers his face with both hands. “Then we got married and ruined our lives.”

“Okay, the last part you don’t know for sure,” you say. You stumble around the bed. “I’m gonna go wash up and clear my head and sort this out, because there’s no way we—” You stop when you spy something sitting on the television stand. It takes a few clumsy steps to reach, but you get there.

“Uh oh,” you say.

“Is that a marriage certificate?” Hyunjin asks.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He rolls over so he is facedown on the bed, his voice muffled by the messy blankets. “I love this.”

“I’m gonna… go… wash up still,” you stay. You sigh and gather up your dress to stomp over to the bathroom door.

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says. “Your breath is gross.”

“I hope you suffocate over there and make me a widow.” You close the door with a pointed shove.

You want to disobey him on principle, but there is a truly nasty taste in your mouth so you brush your teeth before anything else. You avoid your reflection for as long as possible because the crazed madwoman in the mirror is a terrifying sight to behold.

You reckon with her monstrous appearance eventually, tidying up as best you can. You remove the stockings and garter, gulping when the memory returns. You splash a lot of cold water on your face and it helps ground you.

Just as you begin to feel cleansed, you feel an itch on your throat. You crane your neck and tentatively touch the sensitive indentation, the raised bruising of a hickey. Touching it awakens another memory, one that strikes hot at your core.

Hyunjin. You. This hotel room. He pressed you against the door and caged you in, forearms on either of your head. Despite his presence looming over you, you did not feel nervous. You touched him as if that intimacy was something you always shared. You remember him cupping your face in one hand and turning your head, him kissing you softly on your temple and cheek, him breathing lightly over your throat before sucking a hard kiss under your jaw. He was all teeth and tongue, drawing moans out of you while you bucked against him. You remember him grinding against you, remember him pinning you to the door. You remember stringing your arms around his neck and him picking you up, then it all goes black again.

You turn away from the mirror, still holding your neck.

Did you… no.

Did you?

No.

You didn’t fuck Hyunjin. No way. You would have remembered that much. If nothing else, there would be evidence now. A used condom or a mess somewhere, a twinge between your legs. You are both fully dressed. You even have underwear on. It’s not the underwear you were wearing when you first left the hotel room, but it is underwear nonetheless.

One thing is certain; you did not go that far. He took a bite out of you and carried you to the bed where you probably passed out. How you got into a blanket-burrito, you are not sure, but at least it protected your dignity. Whatever was left of it, at least.

You step out of the bathroom only to walk straight into a pacing Hyunjin. You bonk heads and cuss each other out, swatting the other person out of your way.

He walks over to the bathroom and is about to step inside when you release a sigh.

“I have a hickey,” you say.

He pauses in the bathroom doorway.

“You gave it to me,” you add.

You cross your arms when he turns around, his gaze suddenly too hard to meet. You tap your foot and stare at the wall.

“I know,” he says. “I remember it.”

That draws your attention. You look right at him and plant your hands on your hips.

“Well, what else do you remember?” you ask.

“I—I—ugh! This is so annoying! Ugh!” He grabs his head and shakes it like a snow globe.

His stupid beautiful hair is barely ruffled and he still looks amazing when he surfaces. He runs his teeth over his plump bottom lip and you suddenly remember him grabbing your face with both hands, him smiling at you as a hot breeze fluttered around you, him holding you steady as he planted a big, wet kiss on you. It makes your whole body lock with tension, barely paying attention to the Hyunjin in front of you now, the Hyunjin on the verge of a meltdown as he intentionally smacks his head against the doorway.

“We came back here,” he says. His whole face is scrunched up with disgust like he just ate something bad. “Then I gave you that.” He slaps a hand over his face. “Then you… tried…” He puts the other hand on his face too.

“I tried what?” you ask, heat creeping your neck.

“You put your hand down my pants,” he croaks, hands over his eyes. “I said we should wait until morning and you started crying. I think you tried to give me a lap dance while crying, actually.” That does sound like you, drugged or not. “Then I…” He points to the messy bed. “I wrapped you in the sheet to protect your honour.”

“My honour? Ewwww. Don’t call it that.”

“I’m gonna go drown myself in the shower.”

“Hyunjin, wait.”

Once more, you stop him before he crosses the door. He sighs and his shoulders deflate. Pushing a hand through his hair, he turns around.

“What?” he says.

“I’ll take care of this, okay,” you say gently. “We weren’t ourselves. Thank you… for taking care of me. Seriously.”

He sniffs and looks aside, the tips of his ears turning red. You try to ignore the pitter-patter of your heart.

“It’s Vegas,” you say. “I bet they have drive-through divorces. I’m just… I’m just sorry this happened.”

“You are?” he says, staring at the ground.

“Of course,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster. “Hyunjin, I know you. You’re a goofy old romantic. I’m sure you’re not happy about your first technical marriage happening while you were drugged up, and to someone you don’t even love. Right?”

He looks a little panicked when he meets your gaze. It flashes in his eyes for a second, then he looks away. He crosses his arms protectively over his chest.

“Hyunjin,” you say. It feels like someone just lit fireworks in your chest. “You… don’t… love me, right?”

There is a long moment of silence then he throws both hands in the air.

“Why do you say it like that?” he demands. “Would it be that bad if I did?”

“What.” Your jaw falls open. “You love me?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sorry for inconveniencing you with my goofy romantic feelings.” He snarls at you. “It just happened. If I could have stopped it, I would have, but I can’t. So live with it.”

“What kind of love confession is this? You’ve watched like a million romance dramas and that’s what you come up with?”

“I’m a painter, not a poet. Good-bye.” He is quick this time, jumping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.

It leaves you standing there, jaw still hanging open.

Hyunjin loves you.

Of course Hyunjin loves you. How could you be so stupid? All this time, you had yourself convinced your best friend was unattainable because he’s the most gorgeous creature on earth, but all this time he loved you and you didn’t even notice. He drank a drugged drink just to protect you. He got a bit nutty in the head and married you, but even at his most fucked up, some intrinsic part of him sprung to your defense. No matter how out of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially hurt you.

Oh my god.

Hyunjin loves you. You love Hyunjin.

You are pacing when Hyunjin exits the bathroom and smacks into you. You bonk heads and curse, again, then he brushes past without saying anything more. You watch him go to the clean bed, watch him fold back the covers. He takes off his hoodie and his pants. Despite how many times you have casually dressed down around each other, this time you find yourself looking away, hot in the face. When you look back, he is in a t-shirt and his boxers, sliding under the covers.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Going back to sleep,” he says. “I’m tired.”

He doesn’t look at you once. He rolls onto his side and faces the wall, laying stiff as a board.

You touch a finger to the mark on your neck and shiver.

“Hyunjin,” you say, to which he just grunts in reply. “I want to sleep too. I’m sorry, but can you help me with the dress?”

He exhales and closes his eyes, shoulders dropping, but then he flips the covers down and gets out of bed. He still doesn’t meet your gaze. His strides are long and quick and, before you can blink, he is in front of you.

You open your mouth to speak but he grabs you and spins you around. It feels like an electric zap from your heart to your pussy, hands instinctively clutching your chest in surprise.

You can feel him fiddling with a few buttons, muttering expletives to himself.

He is still wearing the ring. So are you.

“Hyunjin,” you say softly. “I love you too.”

He has his fingers on the zipper. He stops.

“What?” he asks. He stops touching you entirely so you look back at him. He is tucking hair behind both ears, shaking his head. “Don’t just… say it,” he says, still staring sideways. “That’s worse than not hearing it.”

“Hyunjin,” you say. At least he looks at you this time, even if it is with uncharacteristic uncertainty. You smile at him. “Unzip me please.”

You turn back around, chewing on your bottom lip.

It takes a second, but Hyunjin does what you asked. You feel one hand on your back, the other circling the zipper. He tugs it down slowly and you shiver as the cool air conditioned air kisses your back. His fingers brush your bare skin when releasing the zipper.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing back at him.

He nods curtly and spins around. You smile, watching him march back to the bed. You turn your back to him when you let the dress drop, then you remove your bra. His open luggage is nearby so you slip a t-shirt out of the suitcase. It smells like him, his favourite cologne, and that alone gets you hot.

With a final tug on the hem of the t-shirt, you turn and walk up to the bed he is in. He is sitting upright but under the covers, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he stares at you.

“Can I sleep here too?” you ask. “The other bed is a mess.”

He nods. A second ago, he refused to look at you and now he can’t stop staring. It makes you grin, beaming at him as you slide under the covers.

“You’re staring,” you say.

“I’m not,” he lies, still staring at you. He slumps against the headboard and slides down until he is laying flat. His hair pools around him on the pillow. Ridiculously gorgeous man.

You lean over him, staring back. You rest a hand on his chest and can feel his heart palpitating as quickly as your own.

“You are staring,” you say, then giggle a little because his expression is still wide-eyed. “You look like you’ve never seen a woman in bed before, and I know that’s not true.”

You say it jokingly but he doesn’t laugh. He tilts his head, his expression softening. His tongue touches his upper lip then he smiles at you.

“Not like this,” he says with heart-stopping sincerity. “Not you. Not… my wife.”

Oh god. People always act like there is something supremely unsexy about wife or husband, some stagnant nothingness that kills sex appeal. But the second he says that word, it feels like an electric storm ignites between the two of you. His gaze is dark, his breathing hard, his heart still pounding under your palm. You suck in a deep breath, a shuddering release. You are already aching.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper.

His hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. It passes over your bottom lip and tugs at it. It feels like you have a heartbeat between your legs.

“Fuck,” you say, and swing yourself over him.

He makes a noise the second you are straddling him, both his hands dropping to hold your hips. You lean down, your hands on either side of his head. His eyes are already closed when you start kissing him. You rock against him, feel him getting harder in his boxers as his hands run up and down your thighs.

The kiss breaks for a second, just to breathe, and he sighs.

“Good,” he says. “You brushed your teeth.”

“You are soooo…” You try to sound annoyed but it’s impossible. He laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Ughhh, the worst!”

You roll off him as if you have any intention of denying him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to tease him. He just follows, rolling on top of you so it’s you pinned under him, the weight of him between your open legs. He goes right back to kissing you, taking his time, almost torturously slow while pressed so intimately against you. He licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, steals your breath and comes back for more.

“Hyunjin.” You are out of breath. You grab his face with both hands, gasping against his open mouth.

“Mm?” he replies, pecking your lips.

A part of you thinks you could lie in bed all day doing nothing but kiss Hyunjin. Just a small part. The rest of you is burning up with the need for much, much more.

“Make love to me,” you whisper. His breath stutters. “Please,” you say.

He nods frantically. If you weren’t so hazy with want, it might have made you laugh. As it is, you string your arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss. This one gets heated quickly, wet and sloppy and pressed messily to the corner of your mouths, your hands moving over each other, trying to find the hems of your shirts without breaking apart.

It happens in a frenzy, but you somehow get down to just your underwear. His boxers land on the lamp and the shirts could have flown out the window for all that you care. He is laving kisses all over your body and you are so wound up that you get a little teary, arching under him and tugging on his hair.

“Hyunjin, please,” you say, dragging your nails up his back. “I need you.”

He looks up at you. You smile and bite your lower lip.

“I need my husband,” you say.

You are pretty sure you can visibly see his brain short-circuiting. The next second, he is fully above you, pulling your panties down your hips. It stays hooked around one ankle but the thought of it leaves your mind quickly. He slides his hands under your thighs and spreads you open, leaning down to kiss you as he finally eases inside you.

You both look down at where he inside you. It feels like your clit is jumping for attention, your whole body shaking when he gently rubs you there while sinking fully in.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself once he fully inside you. He closes his eyes and breathes a little harder. “Don’t move,” he says. He leans down so his chest is against yours, your faces close. “If you do, this is gonna be over really quickly.”

“Really?” you say with a giggle, pleased he is as unravelled as you.

He just nods, his eyes still closed. You kiss his cheek and hold the back of his neck, stroking there lightly and giving him a minute.

“Feels good,” you say, because it does, even just like this, pressed so tightly together, him so full and hard inside you.

He just groans, dropping his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. You rake your fingers through the hair at his nape when he rocks a testing thrust into you. You have only just adjusted when those hips starting rocking with fluid determination, rolling steady and deep. He feels almost impossibly good inside you, driving you into the mattress again and again.

“Oh my god,” you squeak, putting both arms around his neck and clinging tight. “Hyunjin.”

He just makes noise, unintelligible sounds that make him sound crazy despite how deftly he is moving. You feel a bit crazy yourself, blinking at him with your mouth open when he lifts his head. He kisses you, swallowing up your gasping moans, and presses his forehead to yours. For someone who claimed to be close, he lasts a long time at a steady pace, the subtle, corded muscles of his slender frame holding taut as he moves.

“Touch yourself,” he says, and kisses you without waiting for an answer.

You kiss him back, very messily at that, but you do what he said. You lick your fingertips and slide that shaking hand between your bodies, getting yourself off just seconds before his hips get erratic and he has to pull out. He strokes himself to completion just over you, coming on your thighs. He manages to reserve his strength long enough to gather you in his arms and roll over. He guides you to rest on top of him, your face in his sweaty neck and your rising-and-falling chest against his own.

“Why haven’t we been doing that for years?” you mumble.

He laughs, his hand flying to his face to cover his mouth while he giggles. The ring catches your eye and you reach for that hand. He gets quiet, watching you.

You lace your fingers with his, looking at the ring then looking up at him.

“We’re a little crazy if we stay like this,” you say.

He leans in and kisses you for so long that you almost forget what you were saying. You remember when he smiles down at you, when he squeezes your hand, when he leans in and says, “That’s okay. I like a little crazy.”

In agreement, you smile back.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut

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