#i was supposed to come back from hiatus but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanjisick · 2 months

Text

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.  This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

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daedelweiss · 1 year

Text

“LIFE MISSION: SAVE MY BROTHERS” 💖 The Red Knight’s Mission (Episode 1: The Buried Memory Page 28-41)

and, finally, the last set for this episode. this was actually harder to get through compared to the rest of the sets, physically and emotionally 😭 drawing leo grieving broke me and i cried like a baby sketching that panel. i wish i could add more panels in but i didn't want to drag out the comic too long and give myself too much work. it was supposed to play out similarly to "E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where leo's memories pushed back against him to avoid painful memories but i feel like that would've destroyed the vibe and somberness of the softer moments. plus it'll make the episode much MUCH longer. also leo didn't actually lose the colors of his scarf. it was more for symbolic reasons. and if the last panel of page 35 looks familiar, i took inspiration from the movie and imitated the expression mikey had when he tried to open the portal for the third time to save leo. (no, i did not trace it) it may or may not be foreshadowing for later 🤭 and yeah, the comic will be taking a hiatus……. to make more of the comic 😂 dw it's not for mental health or personal life reasons… actually it's partly that because i have an upcoming VISA interview 😭 bUT i'll still be making LM stuff behind the scenes, dw >:3 next episode won't be as drama or action packed as this one but… we will meet raph for the first time 👀 i'm really rEALLY excited to work more on the comic, and that's TWO reallys! i just hope y'all will be patient with me because it is no easy feat working on this. i love it but i'm only one person, after all 😄 thank you so so much for supporting this comic again! comments and shares are very much appreciated! 💖 BEGINNING / PREV / NEXT EPISODE (coming this april) •

( 🌿 please do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #my ert #rottmnt life mission AU #life mission AU #separated AU #rottmnt life mission comic

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exhaslo · 2 months

Note

hellooo.

I have been reading your stories for a long time, I am totally in love with your writing, and I was wondering if you could accept my requestI've had this story in my head for a while.

basically Miguel is secretly sleeping with the mechanics of the spider society, because they have a "deal" where Miguel can use it wherever he wants, but without any feelings involved of course.

but Miguel ends up falling in love with her, and one day when they fuck, he confesses to her in desperation, because he sees how other spiders are starting to flirt with her, so he decides to confess to have her for himself, which she accepts.

that's all, you can add more things if you like, thank you very much :""

no matter how long you have to wait, take your time

Hello!! Hello! Thank you so much for reading my stories and enjoying them!!! It means a lot to me~

Sorry it took so long for me to get to your request, I was on a small hiatus, (still am actually haha)

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, jealousy, rough sex, dirty talk, possessiveness

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere felt stiff. Normally the basement of the Spider Society did have a thick and sweaty undertone, but this was different. Miguel was standing at the entrance of your shop, watching a few other Spider men flirt with you.

You were the local mechanic at the Spider Society. In your universe, you got bit by a radioactive spider, but instead of fighting crime like everyone else, you built equipment. You were known as The Spider, in your world, a genius mechanic who made tools and gizmos that stopped crime without you getting your hands dirty.

When Miguel recruited you, he immediately requested that you help him with his Spider Society. You agreed on one condition.

Just a simple fuck.

You were still a Spider, you had your own version of a funny bone. It was crude and a very lewd sense of humor, but it helped stick you out from the rest. You didn't expect Miguel to say yes. Hell, no one ever took you seriously when you made your jokes.

It was the best sex of your life, you couldn't just stop there. So, the two of you made an agreement. You would have free range in the Spider Society to do as you please and Miguel would fuck you when he needed to destress.

No emotions involved.

That seemed to be easy for the both of you. Seemed. So, the fact that you felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you made eye contact with Miguel hurt. You were just harmlessly joking with some of the other Spider people who were flirting with you. It was all harmless, but why...

Why did Miguel have to give you such a look?

You didn't have time to call out to him since he left. You could feel your heart ache. You weren't supposed to have feelings for Miguel, but how could you? The endless meet ups for sex turned into deep conversations between the two of you. You fell for Miguel and now you were worried that he believed your 'no emotions' agreement.

---------

Miguel scoffed as he stormed into his office. His hand rushed to fix his hair as he tried to make sense of the scene he just saw. How dare others try to get near you? You were Miguel's and his alone. Just watching you smile towards another man irked Miguel.

This 'no emotions' agreement had to come to an end. You belonged to Miguel and no one else. Inhaling deeply, Miguel waited to calm down before sending you a message. He needed alone time with you to fuck the sense back into your mind.

Once you responded back to him, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It pleased him when you listened. Now, you just had to listen to his demand for you to stay away from others.

----------

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you finished tightening up one of the reactors. The amount of strain that they got due to all of the Spiders working out in the Society was insane. You could handle the work, but Miguel was far too busy to make more.

"(Y/N)? Is now a bad time?" Miguel asked as he casually walked into the basement.

You walked down the wall you were on, "Ah, welcome to my humble lair. For what can I offer you this time, my lord." You teased, enjoying a little cult joke here and there. Miguel, once again, was unamused,

"You always make me seem like the bad guy," He hummed, glancing in your direction, "I suppose I am to you, huh?"

"If I recall correctly, I made the advance." You hummed, approaching Miguel and pressing your body against his, "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Both,"

You felt your heart begin to race as Miguel gripped your waist, pressing you against the wall. His lips roughly sucking against your neck as you felt his harden erection grind against your clothed cunt. Oh, how you loved his rough sex.

Miguel was like a feral beast whenever he fucked you. The man was clearly touch starved and he released all of his stress with you. It was a blissful moment for you. Never had you been so rough handled before, but shit, it felt good.

You gasped sharply as Miguel's hands already worked their way into your suit. Unlike the other Spiders, you had the basic mechanic pants as your bottom half of your spandex suit. It just felt more comfortable for you when saving the day.

"Already so wet. We're you getting off on the idea of others flirting with you?" Miguel hissed into your ear as his fingers feverishly rubbed your clit.

"Hah~ Ah~ N-No!" You gasped and moaned, gripping onto Miguel as he abused your sensitive bud.

"Could have fooled me." Miguel whispered harshly as he nibbled against your ear, "Your pussy is so wet and I haven't even touched your slutty hole yet."

"M-Miguel, n-not so-Ah~" You cried, twitching as you felt your climax approaching fast.

His fingers were rubbing and pinching your clit, making your body shiver in estasy. You moaned in his ear as you felt yourself cum against his fingers alone. Your vision was blurred for a second as you tried to regain composure.

"We're not done yet." Miguel huffed.

With a yelp, you felt your self being lifted. Miguel made quick work of your pants and smirked at the sight of you. Your pussy dripping for him, just waiting to be ravished. You were clenching to air, waiting for Miguel to give you what you wanted.

"Who does this pussy belong too?" Miguel asked as he took out his dick.

"You," You whimpered, biting your lip as you eagerly awaited for him to fill you.

"Who?"

"You, Miguel! Please, just...just fuck me already." You begged.

Miguel scoffed as he slowly poked his tip against your hole. His grip was tight against your waist, watching you tremble against him. Your poor hole just begging for him to shove his dick fully inside you. Miguel could barely contain himself. With a grunt, he started to thrust into you,

"Fuck, (Y/N), why can't you listen to me?" Miguel cussed as he slapped his hips into yours, "You are mine alone. This agreement was just for the two of us."

"I-It is!" You cried, holding onto Miguel as you felt his dick hit all the right spots.

You flung your head back, gasping and moaning as Miguel's tip kept kissing your cervix. His thick dick stretching your pussy into his shape. Each rough thrust making you see stars. You could already feel another heat building in your core.

"You aren't allowed to flirt with anyone else. You are mine. I don't want to see my girl with another man. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes! Ah~ Y-Yes!" You cried as his thumb pressed against your clit, "I-I'm only yours~"

Miguel hummed as he watched your face contort with pleasure as you cam against his dick. His lips curled into a smile as he continued his rough thrusts into your needy hole. Miguel inhaled the sounds of your moans,

"I love you, (Y/N). You're all I ever need and want. So, I'm changing the agreement."

Grunting, Miguel pressed his head against your neck, rutting deeper into you. His thrusts starting to grow sloppy as he reached for his own high.

"You can still do whatever...nh...you want, with extra bonuses," Miguel panted as you clenched around his dick, "And in exchange, you will belong to me and no one else. I will fill you with every drop I have, just to make you mine."

"H-Hah, M-Miguel~"

"Unless your slutty pussy wants to be put on display for everyone to watch me fuck. It's your choice (Y/N)." Miguel scoffed.

You were too fucked out to even register what Miguel was saying. All you were understanding was that he was going to fuck you more if you agreed. Your cock drunk mind already knew the answer.

"Y-Yours. I-I'm all yours~" You cried out.

"Good girl," Miguel whispered and he filled your with his cum, "I knew you would agree. This pussy wouldn't let me go." He said with a chuckle.

You were a panting mess, relaxing from the sex session Miguel gave you. Feeling your back against one of your tables, you whimpered as you tried to squirm. Miguel kept you in place, his dick still firmly inside your abused hole.

"Miguel," You whimpered, finally coming back to your senses, "You know...my sense of humor is fucked...I've only ever had eyes for you," You admitted.

Miguel just smiled. He hummed lowly as his hips started to thrust inside you again slowly.

"A-Ah~ W-Wait, t-too much..." You pleaded, feeling him push back his cum into your womb. Miguel held your legs over his shoulders,

"Have you already forgotten what you agreed too? You belong to me now and this pussy doesn't want to let go of me just yet. Don't you want me to fill you to the brim?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine towards his words. Miguel was always a bit cruel when it came to sex, but goddamn. Such a threat turned you on so much. With a whimper, you just nodded and accepted the abuse your cunt was about to recieve.

"Good girl. I'll treat you nicely for behaving for me."

This was nice? Miguel was pounding you like a flesh of meat. His dick twitching inside you and filling you up with each thrust. You felt your mind go hazy from cumming again. This felt more like Miguel making sure that you knew that you were his.

You weren't sure how long Miguel fucked you for since you blacked out. When you came too, you were sitting on Miguel's lap as he worked on a new reactor. Your mind was still a little fuzzy and your lower half was sore.

"Damn....Miguel...could have been a little gentle?" You whispered, winching as you tried to move.

"You didn't ask," Was all Miguel said before returning to work.

"Fair enough," You replied before sighing softly, "I love you too, Miguel."

Miguel stopped working once more before facing you. His eyes were soft as he leaned down to kiss you. This was one of the agreements during your 'no emotions' contract. No kissing. So this was really, really nice.

"Mhm, you couldn't have gotten jealous sooner?" You chuckled lowly, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I like this evil side of yours~"

"It's not evil. Stop joking like that," Miguel grumbled before leaning towards your ear, "Or else I'll have to punish you."

A punishment well worth.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

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dr3c0mix · 6 months

Note

I immediately apologize for the bad English!

How does Caspian plan to keep the fem!reader underwater? Or does he have another plan? thank you, your work is very nice🛐

ill be making this gn since its a part 2 but if you want a one-off thing with a fem!reader, just request it! :3

Also sorry for the long hiatus again but here's the long awaited part 2 ! yaay you're not dead !! :D

Yandere!Siren x GN Reader Pt. 2

CW: Kidnapping, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Non-con licking (reader is asleep), idk Caspian being a delulu icon

🌊 You wake up with a throbbing headache and a vague memory of what transpired before you blacked out.

🌊 The feeling of overwhelming pressure and deepness comes back to you, memories start to come back as you see a red mark on your arm.

🌊 You remember now, the screams and cries of your classmates ring in your ears before the memory of being dragged down to the depths hit you like a wave.

🌊 a splash of water pulled you out of your thoughts, it was then you looked around at the place you were in.

🌊 It looked like you were in a cave illuminated by algae and glowing sea creatures. the cavernous area was sandy and a bit wet with a deep pool which led to an underwater tunnel, it was the only entrance and exit to the cave from what you can see.

🌊 Behind you was a house built out of a shipwreck, the broken boards of the deck repaired with random planks and cloths.

🌊 "Honey~ I know you're a bit out of sorts right now but uhm..could you help me out a bit~?" a familiar voice echoed throughout the cave.

🌊 You gasp and instinctively stand up and back away from where the voice came from. Caspian was lying on the shore, a net full of what seems to be canned food and fish tied around his waist like a satchel.

🌊 "My treasure~! I know you're excited to explore your new home, but can you help me get to shore first~" Caspian coos as he smiles at you awkwardly, his large tail flopping on the sand.

🌊 You grab a piece of driftwood and hold it like a weapon. "D-Don't come any closer!" you yell at him nervously, afraid of what he might do after you saw his capabilities, and his sharp teeth..

🌊 "My sweet, you have nothing to worry about~! Why would I ever hurt you~? Those mean humans tried to hurt us! You'd never do that to me now would you~?" He tries to calm you down.

🌊 It takes a while for you to calm down considering how confused and scared you were, but with no way out and Caspians lack of intention to hurt you, the only thing left to do was to just sit and try to think logically about the situation.

🌊 Caspian tries to help you make sense of your little predicament, it was mostly him making an excuse to hold you close because "Am I not able to help you relax my treasure~?"

🌊 So you're in a cave after getting kidnapped brought to safety by a mermaid, how fun...

🌊 You has no choice but to accept your new lifestyle, after all, the only out was an underwater cavern, and you had no idea how deep or long it was. Caspian might not be the best at moving on land, but without him, you'd drown if you attempt to leave.

🌊 Once you told the siren that you weren't going anywhere soon unfortunately, He lit up and gave you a big, soaking wet hug. "Oh my treasure! You'll be happy here, I promise~!" He peppers your face with kisses, some making you shiver at the thought of his sharp teeth being so close to your flesh.

🌊 He'd go out every day to get food for you and him, sometimes surprising you with gifts!

🌊 He knows you like reading, so any book or parchment that he finds is immediately brought to you so you won't be so bored <3

🌊 More often than not they're too wet to actually read, but you appreciate the effort you suppose.

🌊 You also had to explain what cooking is to Caspian and that humans can't eat fish raw...and alive..

🌊 Get ready to be showered with pearls and pretty shells and treasure! Caspian is a bit picky when it comes to his own horde so anything that he considers nice but not on par with his tastes goes to you~!

🌊 He would always ask to sleep with you in your bed, and he doesn't take no for an answer.

🌊 "It's cold my treasure~! Could you warm me up~?"

🌊 "It gets so lonely in the water~ May I stay in bed with you my love~?"

🌊 "But I got all those nice things for you~!"

🌊 He would keep whining and fussing until you agree. He doesn't care at all that your sheets are all now soaked.

🌊 If you tell him to dry off first, he will! But you'll have to pay him with a kiss~

🌊 He may or may not sniff your hair while you sleep...and maybe lick your neck..

🌊 He can't get himself to sleep sometimes, he'd just watch you sleep the whole time. What can he say? You're too irresistible~!

🌊 Sometimes he'd even whisper sweet things into your ear, promising you the world if you'd let him.

🌊 More often than not, he sings you to sleep. The anxieties of never seeing your family again and living off of just fish and other sea creatures was getting to you, not to mention the many hours of being alone in a cave.

🌊 His siren song lulled you to bed every night. No matter how much you distanced yourself away from him, he was always able to calm you down with his voice.

🌊 "Hush now my dear~...You'll learn to like it here~ And one day, we'll be married and live happily ever after~ Just like in your stories~ Just you wait~..."

900 notes · View notes

tangledupinyellow · 4 months

Text

Conference | Joel Miller X Teacher F!Reader

authors note: Ah!!! I took an unintentional hiatus, it's been so chaotic in my life lately which doesn't need any details. But I am so so so happy to get back to writing and posting my little dumps here, especially now that life's calmed down I can get some more out for the new year!

summary: You are Sarah’s sixth grade teacher and you see Joel show up for the teacher parent conference. It’s your last meeting of the day and of course Joel being Joel, he’s late due to work and he came there in a rush and is still in his dirty little work clothes, which doesn’t leave a good impression on you.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, very slight praise kink, parent/teacher relationship, fingering, desk fucking, nicknames (good girl, darling, baby girl), unprotected piv, spanking, slight breeding kink, creampie

word count: 4.4k

In annoyance, you look over at the clock once again. It feels like the fifth time you’ve done that in the past five minutes. You rubbed your eyes with a groan and lined up the papers on your desk yet again as if you hadn’t already done that ten times before while you’d been waiting.

You tapped your fingers on your desk, trying your best to stay patient. You had decided that you would stay here for another ten minutes or so, making it twenty minutes of waiting in total, before you would call it a night and head back home.

It was the end of the second-semester conference, and you had spent your evenings sitting down with the parents of your students to discuss any concerns you may have about their child. And with this next conference you had coming up, you had more concerns about the parent than the child itself. You had more complaints about them, as well. And being incredibly late was one of them.

Being even five minutes late would have been something you would let slide, but for something that has gone on for nearly twenty minutes, you weren’t sure if waiting would be worth it anymore. You could just give him a call that you would assume would bring you straight to voicemail, and you’ll give the one-sided conference there.

What made you even more irritated was the fact that these meetings never took more than ten minutes, and you couldn’t understand why a parent couldn’t take a measly ten minutes out of their day to check up on how their student is doing while they’re at school.

But after checking who you were supposed to meet with at this very moment, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

Joel Miller was supposed to be here nearly an hour to talk about his daughter Sarah, one of your favorite students. You knew you weren’t technically supposed to have a favorite student, but you made an exception for Sarah. She was very wise beyond her years and quick-witted, almost like a mini adult. You couldn’t help but have a bit of a sweet spot for the kid.

You would have thought that with a kid like that, a parent would look forward to meeting with their teacher just to hear about how wonderful their child has been doing. But apparently, with Joel Miller, it was a different story.

You gave yourself an extra five minutes before you would just pack up your things and leave. You didn’t have time for this, and you already gave this man more than enough of your time this evening.

Your eyes shot over to your classroom door when you heard a knock followed by a man walking in and closing the door behind him.

“I wanna start off by apologizin’,” He began immediately and walked over to the empty chair on the opposite side of your desk that you had reserved for the parents, “Had’ta work a bit of overtime, but I came as fast as I could. Don’t wanna know how many stop lights I ran on my way to get here.” He chuckled and shook his head before taking a seat across from you.

“It’s nice to see you made it, Joel.” You greeted him before pulling out Sarah’s files from your desk to go over with him.

You could tell he had just gotten off work and clearly didn’t get the chance to stop at home first to freshen up or get changed. There were still dirt stains on his denim jeans, and his hair was a tousled mess. But then again, this was how you were used to seeing Joel. Out of all the years you’ve been teaching his daughter Sarah, you’ve rarely seen him dress up more than a flannel and a pair of jeans.

You’ve only seen him dress up three times for as long as you knew him when the two of you went on a few casual dates. That was before you started teaching his daughter. While you had a genuinely good time with Joel those three times you went out, you didn’t know if you could continue seeing him after finding out that you would be teaching his daughter. Even though you did like him and wanted to continue the small relationship that the two of you had blossomed, you felt it would be too awkward with the whole ‘you being his daughter’s teacher’ thing.

So, you had to cut it off with him and keep the relationship between the two of you strictly professional.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Joel grinned and got comfortable in his seat, scooting it closer to the desk while you set Sarah’s files down.

“Almost left. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up or not.” You laughed quietly with a shake of your head and opened up the folder filled with Sarah’s worksheets and essays she had completed the previous semester.

“Again, I wouldn’t miss it,” Joel repeated, “I’ll take any chance to get to be able to see ya again, even if it’s just you telling me how Sarah’s been incredible these past few months.” He chuckled, a hint of flirting in his voice that you tried to brush off.

It wasn’t unusual for him to flirt with you, for you were the one who cut things off even when he didn’t want to. There were still some feelings there that he had for you, and he hated that he couldn’t express them. He almost felt like a teenage boy. The fact that he couldn’t convey his feelings towards you made him want to do it even more, just to see if you’d crack one of these days.

You gave him a knowing look with a tilt of your head, almost acting like a playful warning, before pulling out one of Sarah’s most recent science essays to review with him.

“Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Sarah’s at the top of my class this semester. She’s tested very high, and her writing skills are well above average for her grade level.” You give him a smile and nod before pointing out some of the highlights you found in her essay.

Joel listened with a permanent smile on his lips as he listened to you compliment his daughter, all things that he’d heard many times before from past teachers. He didn’t even know how Sarah was his daughter or how she was even related to him at that. He was never anywhere near as intelligent as she was when he was in school, and she was much brighter than he ever was. He was incredibly proud of her, as proud of a daughter as a father could be.

“You’re right. I ain’t all that surprised.” Joel said through a chuckle and a shake of his head.

You laughed along with him and tucked her essay back into her folder before setting it back down on top of your desk, “And I’m sure you’ve already heard this before, but Sarah really is a pleasure to have in my class. Helps keep me sane sometimes.” You joked, laughing a bit more with the man before you.

Even though you had to cut things off with Joel, you were glad that it didn’t make things awkward in meetings like this, which was something you worried about once you found out that you were going to be teaching his daughter. Thankfully for the both of you, you were able to get along just as well as you had when you first met.

“Every single one of these conference things I go to I hear the same ol’ thing,” Joel laughed and ran a hand through his messy and disheveled hair from a days worth of hard work, “Sometimes I don’t know how that girl is related t’me. Makes me proud every damn day though, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She talks about you often.” You mentioned and organized her folder with all of your other students.

“She does?” Joel asked with a curious eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” You hum, “She loves talking about you. You have a bigger impact on her life than you may think, Mr. Miller.” You smile at him and stand up from your chair, giving a silent end to the conference, for you didn’t have much else you had to tell him. You both knew his daughter was an excellent student and absolutely thrived in your class. There was nothing much else to discuss.

Joel couldn’t help but smile at your words, feeling his heart warm up in his chest as you spoke. He loved his daughter so much, but knowing that she even still liked him in her tween years was a big deal to him. It made him feel that even though he was a single father and that was as hard as all hell can be, he was succeeding at it. He watched you stand up and slowly followed your actions.

You cleared your throat and inhaled, grabbing your purse as you prepared to say your goodbyes. You didn’t want this conference to be awkward, but just being in the same room with him made you feel vulnerable, and you weren’t sure you could hide that very well from him.

“Well, Mr. Miller, it was very nice to see you again.” You nodded in his direction.

“You can call me Joel, y’know,” He chuckled with a shake of his head, “Just because we had to end things in the past doesn’t mean you need to be all formal.” The smile never left his face as he spoke, but you could feel your heart sink in his chest the moment he had brought it up.

You were hoping that the two of you would be able to move past it or not mention it at all during this little parent-teacher conference meeting. And right when you thought it was all going well and you said your goodbyes, he had to go right ahead and make it awkward for you.

“Right, my apologies, Joel,” You corrected yourself, the tense feeling in your chest still not disappearing, “I’ll see you around.”

Joel watched as you turned to leave towards the door but quickly stopped you before you could make another move, “Wait.”

There was that tense feeling in your chest all over again.

With yet another deep breath, you slowly turned to face him, “Do you have any questions for me, Mr- ..Joel? Any questions about Sarah, or..?” Your voice sounded weaker than you intended it to be.

“Well, there is something that I’ve been meanin’ to ask ya. Not about Sarah. I already know that she’s been doin’ just fine in this class.” He began.

“I’m only here to talk about Sarah and give you her progress report for the semester. I’m sorry.” You tried to cut him off before he got too deep into it. You had a gut feeling that you knew where he would be trying to get at if you didn’t stop him ahead of time. And you have already made yourself a personal vow that you would never mix your love life with your professional life. Even though Joel Miller made that so damn hard to do.

Joel furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you in silence for a moment, almost as though you had said something wrong. And by this look he was giving you, you were kind of worried that you had. But that worry was quickly washed away once a chuckle escaped his lips.

“Darlin’, I’m more than just Sarah’s father. And you’re more than just Sarah’s teacher. I think we both know that now, don’t we?” A smirk crept up on the corner of his lips while his hand rested on top of yours.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t need you to be talking to me like I’m-”

He cut you off with your name. It shuts you up almost immediately.

“What I’m trying to get at here is that I miss you. I miss being with ya. Don’t think you can punish me for that, sweetheart.” Joel shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze before moving it back down to his side.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts before speaking, “Joel, it was fun being with you, but I can’t-”

“Why not.” He interrupted yet again, knowing just what you were about to say.

“You know why. Because of Sarah.” You kept it short, for he already knew the reasoning behind your rejections.

“What about Sarah?” The man was persistent, “Sarah loves you. She adores you as a teacher and talks about you and this class all the damn time,” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he spoke, “Now tell me, why would it be so bad seeing me?” His eyes bore into yours.

“It’s unprofessional..” you tried to reason.

“Unprofessional, hm?” Joel repeated and gave you a small smile, “Alright then. If you really don’t want me anymore, I won’t push it. But it was really nice seein’ ya again, sweetheart.” He winked in your direction before heading over to the door.

“Wait.” You surprised even yourself by speaking up.

Joel hummed and looked back over at you, his hand on the doorknob while waiting for you to start talking.

Your breath was shaky as you tried to calm your nerves, looking between down at your lap and over at Joel, “Come.. come here, please.” You stuttered over your words and motioned your head over to the empty seat across from your own.

Joel gladly did as you said and filled that empty seat.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, both of you anticipating to see who would speak up first. You never broke contact with his eyes, the hazel specks bringing you back to the few days and nights the two of you spent with one another. And you hated to admit it, but having him alone in a room like this made you want to rip off that dirty flannel right off and claim his lips with your own. Somehow, you had managed to keep it all under control. But the longer he stayed, the harder it was to resist that urge.

“Yes?” Joel responded simply before continuing, “Is there more of Sarah’s papers that you want to go over with me or…?” his voice trailed off with a slight raise of his eyebrow, seeming as though he already knew the answer but just wanted to play this little game with you.

And what got to you was that he was right. Both you and Joel knew that you didn’t call him back over just to go over a couple more of Sarah’s papers.

You weren’t sure how to respond. But thankfully, Joel took care of that for you just fine.

“That’s not it, is it?” Joel’s voice grew quieter as he stood up from the chair once he saw you shake your head slowly.

The tension in the room was growing so thick that you could cut it with a knife as he walked over to your chair, leaning over so his breath was just hitting the skin on the back of your ear, “You want something a little more, don’t ya..” he whispered, the hot breath on your ear causing shivers to go down your spine.

All you could do was nod as you involuntarily leaned your head back and fluttered your eyes shut. He still knew how to get such a reaction from you.

“Yeah, s’what I thought.” Joel grinned with a soft tone in his voice.

His hand slowly moved down to your shoulder, goosebumps arising underneath your blouse. You never thought you would miss the feeling of Joel Miller touching you on the shoulder so much. Especially when all he did was touch you on your covered shoulder.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, Joel,” You tried to talk some sense into him, more trying to talk some sense into yourself. You knew that you wanted this. He knew that you wanted this, based on your reaction that you would give him with every little touch of his hand, “We shouldn’t…” you tried repeating, your voice cracking just slightly when his hand moved down from your shoulder to your right breast, giving it a firm squeeze. Your mind was working against itself, debating over right or wrong. But when his strong hands gripped you like that, as if you were all his, you couldn’t resist.

You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips as he fondled your breast, “Just tell me if you want me or not, sweetheart, simple as that.” he whispered in your ear. His breath on your sensitive skin was enough to get your heart rate going.

“Keep going.” You mustered out, taking a deep breath and watching your chest rise and fall.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk at your words as he moved his hand away from your breast and lowered to your stomach, “Are the doors locked?” He whispered, glancing over at the door that attached your classroom to the hallway.

“I’m already past hours. We should be fine.” You whispered. That was enough of an answer for him as he pushed his hand down your leggings to cup you through your underwear, making you gasp at the contact.

“Already so wet for me?” Joel chuckled and shook his head as he rubbed circles around your clit through your underwear, “Such a good girl, just like I remember.” He praised, placing kisses on your jaw and your neck.

You moaned at his words. Hearing him call you a good girl made your panties even wetter if it were possible. Your mind kept screaming at you, trying to remind you why you had stopped seeing him in the first place. You were his daughter’s teacher, for crying out loud. You didn’t want to complicate things anymore. But when he kept circling your clit with his two fingers, all of those thoughts seemed to disappear in a cloudy fog. All you could focus on was the sensation.

You bit down on your lower lip to try and hide in your moans, your hips bucking up to his fingers at the same time. The motion of your hips caused a low chuckle to escape from Joel’s lips as he continued to rub you at the same pace, savoring how much you seemed to be enjoying his delicate and practiced touch.

Joel never broke eye contact with you as he slid one of his fingers, then two, into your now soaked pussy. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes for a short moment at the feeling of your tight pussy, just imagining how it would feel like to have you squeezing around his dick.

A gasp turned moan left your lips as he started moving his fingers in and out of your pussy. He stared into his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his jeans were currently restricting his near painful erection. Just the sight of you staring up at him from your chair with your mouth slightly agape made him want to just bend you right over your desk and fuck that sweet pussy of yours. The image of you screaming his name and looking up at him while he fucked you from behind over your desk burned in his brain. Why keep it just a little fantasy?

“Stand up.” Joel demanded and swiftly removed his now wet fingers; the emptiness was soon followed by an intense yearning for something more.

Your mind was hazy with lust while you did just as he directed. You stared at him, but his eyes were focused on your chest, which was moving up and down slightly in both anticipation and excitement.

“Take off your shirt.” Was his next demand, very much to the point. But his heart was going just as fast as yours.

You didn’t waste another second as you removed your shirt over your head while he unbuckled his belt at the same time, his eyes watching you the entire time. Knowing that he was practically watching your every move made you tingle in excitement.

Joel licked his lower lip as he watched you, letting out an involuntary groan. You could hear the zipper of his pants when he zipped them down, and he slowly walked up behind you. His calloused hands gently unhooked your bra, his touch surprisingly tender.

He caressed your sides, slowly moving down to your ass. His touch remained gentle, and you felt like you were in the arms of a loved one, a husband you’d been married to for years, perhaps. You were quickly taken aback, however, when he gripped onto your hips and bent you over your desk. You held onto your desk and let out a moan of both pleasure and surprise.

“Can’t wait to fuck this pussy.” Joel mumbled under his breath, but just loud enough for you to hear.

“I need you inside of me, Joel,” You practically begged him, your head resting on its side on your desk, “Need you so bad.” Your voice was nearly a whimper at this point.

Joel couldn’t even help but smirk as he heard your pleas, which were all for him and no one but him. The sound of you begging for him made his cock throb in his jeans. He quickly let himself free, pulling his jeans and underwear down and letting them fall down to his ankles.

He pulled down your leggings just as fast, pushing your underwear off to the side to reveal your glistening pussy, wet and ready just for him.

“So, so pretty darlin’..” Joel praised with a shake of his head, admiring the sight for just a moment as he stroked his cock, giving it a few good pumps before pushing himself inside of you.

His fingers gently dug into your hips as he slowly and carefully slid his entire length inside of you, whispering quiet praises of how you were such a good girl for him in your ear. With how wet you were for him, he was able to get inside of you relatively easily. The feeling of his dick finally being inside of you was indescribable. He wasn’t able to stop imagining what it must feel like ever since he first walked into your classroom.

“That’s it.” Joel cooed and rubbed your hips before slowly entering in and out of you, starting his thrusts at a slower pace to ease you into it a little bit more.

Soft and strangled moans were caught in your throat as he took control, your eyes slowly starting to flutter shut at the feeling of being so full. Gradually, his thrusts became faster and faster as his breathing increased. His own groans overpowered yours, much to his dismay.

A quick smack was laid on your bare ass, earning a quick and loud moan from you, one that was much louder than you expected.

“I want to hear you, baby girl. Want to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Joel said between huffs and groans, his thrusts never slowing down but increasing in speed and intensity.

You let your mouth and throat relax at his request, not even bothering to hide your moans and whimpers. The building was completely empty at this point. Nobody in their right mind would still be here at these late hours of the night except for the two of you.

“Mmm..” Joel groaned and nodded, keeping a rhythmic pace with his thrusts while he held onto your hips, “Love hearing you like that..” he grunted, his voice staggered as he thrust in and out of you.

“Love you fucking me like this, Joel... Goddamn, I love it so much.” You moaned and let out a quiet yelp as he spanked your ass again, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. You moaned even louder at the contact.

“Me too... Fuck! Me too..” Joel repeated, his words weakening as he felt himself getting closer to the finish line. He bent his body forward while holding onto your hips, resting his head in the crook of your neck, leaving messy bites and kisses all along your skin, “So close, mmm... So fuckin’ close, baby..” He whispered, his thrusts getting messier with more fervor.

He slowly looked back at you, taking a good look at your messy hair that covered your face while you were being fucked by him. Your mouth was agape, your eyes were closed, and soft moans left your soft lips. And it was all for him... All of this was all for him…

“Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, pulling your hips in closer to him to get as deep inside you as he possibly could.

That was what brought you over the edge. You were surprised to have finished so quickly, or even at all, for that matter. But the way he grabbed your hips to be as close to you as possible, to fill you up as much as he could, sent you waves of euphoria. Loud moans of his name filled the room, followed by a lot of heavy breathing.

His sweaty body hovered over yours as he slowly removed himself from inside of you. That feeling of emptiness in your pussy was there once again.

Joel kissed the top of your head and stood back up to put his jeans back on, leaving you over the desk to try and recover from your orgasm, your heart still pounding.

“Fuck..” Joel whispered breathily as he buckled up his belt, looking over at you as you tried to recover yourself from off of your desk, your legs struggling to keep stability.

“Yeah..” You chuckled in agreement and took a deep breath, slowly sitting back down in your desk chair.

“So,” Joel began and leaned over to get closer to you, his elbows resting on the desk, “Are you free this weekend? Sunday?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, already knowing where he was trying to go with this request, “Are you trying to ask me out on a date, Mr. Miller?” You inquired knowingly.

“I may be,” He smiled charmingly and stood up. “Depends on your answer.”

“Well, in that case,” You paused and stood up from your chair, pressing a cheeky kiss to his lips, “I’ll see you on Sunday. Don’t be late.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #18+#female reader #writing #fiction #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut

573 notes · View notes

achaoticeternal · 6 months

Text

electric touch

aemond targaryen x niece!reader

summary: while taking a visit to the royal library, you come across aemond who seems to have a small gift for you. word count: 1.1k warnings: afab!reader, targcest, reader is mentioned to have violet eyes but that is the only descriptor. a/n: this was just a little drabble I thought of. i'm trying to get back into the grove of writing after my summer hiatus.

Though King’s Landing was quite an enticing place to visit, the climate at Dragonstone seemed to accommodate her taste better. Where Dragonstone held warm air and cooling sea breezes, King’s Landing lacked such a luxury. Whenever Rhaenyra made visits to the capitol with her daughter, neither princess slept well for their own reasons. Both, however, missed their own beds and comforts of home.

Currently, the younger Targaryen princess was making her way down the aisles of the library. Particularly, she found herself in the special collection that her uncle had curated. Books that varied from philosophy, the history of Old Valyria, and even strategies of ancient wars. However, sprinkled in between were books that contained the sweetest words held in between pages. Yes, both she and Aemond held a secret bond over the lines of fine poetry.

It was a love they learned as children. Whenever Aemond was not training or being tormented by his brother and nephews, he would accompany his niece at the weirwood tree. Helaena would not be too far off either, allowing the creatures in the gardens to climb into her gentle hands.

Such a memory caused a small smile to grace her lips as she reached for a book that had been well-loved.

“Have you come to wreck my shelves?” The voice interrupted her abruptly.

She jumped away from her spot, the breath returning to her lungs when she recognized the man. Her hands went to smooth out her skirts, “Good day to you, uncle…”

The lady went to reach for the book again. Still, it remained just out of reach. The scoff sounding next to her changed her focus once more.

“Have you not considered using your words to ask for help, riñītsos?” He questioned.

Little Girl.

Sighing at his question, she moved back from the shelf. As she faced him, her eyes flicked from the book to his gaze. Though her actions were childish, she did not anticipate being denied her wish, “Kostilus…” Please.

His dismissive hum could be heard as he moved in front of her. With ease, he gripped the spine of the book before bringing it down. Aemond held onto it for a moment, eye scanning over the cover. Epics of Old Valyria.

“I see you’ve been working on your native tongue,” the prince stated nonchalantly, “Though it is still peculiar to me as to why you deem it fit to borrow from my personal collection?”

The corners of her lips dropped at his words, “And do you enjoy withholding the pleasure of knowledge?”

His violet eye slowly trailed up her height. Both of them had grown since they’d last shared each other’s company. This was evident to both parties. Her eye then met her own violet ones as a chuckle played on his lips, “Withholding pleasure is enjoyable for some people.”

Her posture straightened immediately, the innuendo not going unnoticed. She took the book from his grip, preparing to move past him and back to the security of her mother’s chambers.

The princess did not make it more than two paces before his hand shot out to grasp at her forearm. His touch was not harsh, yet there was no warm to it either, “What are you forgetting?”

She breathed out in audible frustration. Her eyes still trained toward the exit of the library, keeping her distracted from his intense gaze, “Are you not supposed to be in attendance of the small council meeting? Or has your seat been taken?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened at the taunt. However, his demeanor remained relatively calm.

Finally, she answered him properly, “Kirimvose.” Thank you.

After a pause of silence, she craned her neck to look up at Aemond. Her gaze was met with a playful smirk, “Issa daorun” You’re welcome.

However, his hold did not retreat from her forearm. Instead, he continued, “I have a little gift for you. Consider it a welcoming present for my favorite niece.”

“Careful, uncle,” Her eyes refocused on his face. The rest of the library remained at a soft focus, “You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Jaehaera’s feelings.”

His upper tip seemed to curl into a snarl at the quick-witted comment. Releasing his hold, his hands went to the pockets of his doublet, eyeing the item within it. Pulling out the piece, a finely forged Valyrian steel chain dangled from his nimble fingers. Resting at the bottom of the chain was a pendant of a singular dragon with a sapphire for an eye. The craftsmanship itself must have cost a fortune, not to mention the installation of such a fine gemstone.

“Kepus,” Her voice lulled, “Gevie…”

Without a word, Aemond moved to stand behind her. His gentle touch caressed her upper back as he moved her hair onto one shoulder. The cool pendant rested atop her bosom, sending tingles throughout her chest. The chain itself snaked around the delicate skin of her neck where he now clasped it together, “Dōna zaldrītsos,” Aemond purred.

As she turned back to face him, her lithe fingers toyed at the pendant. She quickly grew accustomed to the weight of it and the metallic feel against her skin, “Where did you find such a necklace?”

The look on his face was passive as if he could not drop his uncaring disguise, “I had it made for you.”

As her browed raised in motion for him to continue, Aemond added on, “I figured it would be to your liking.”

She took a moment, eyes flickering from the leather he wore to the steel chain at her neck.

“I see,” She nodded, “And what moved you to commission such a fine piece?”

Unbeknownst to the lady, Aemond fought an inner battle. He wished to step closer to her and reach out once more. He hated that he could easily despise his nephews, but never her… Not the girl whom he read poetry with between lunch and tea time. The girl who was now a woman grown before him. His greatest torment and object of his deepest affections.

Aemond faced her once more, bringing up his hand to toy with the pendant at her chest now, “The thought of you wearing it for me…”

---

all feedback is greatly appreciated. my ask box is open for requests.

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branded-rose · 7 days

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Adam bolted upright in bed, a shout on his lips that dropped off as his wings shot out, smacking his lieutenant in the head and nearly pushing her off the mattress.

Lute met the rude awakening with all the urgency it deserved, springing up and drawing her fists in front of her defensively as Adam let loose a string of profanity.

She quickly drew up the blind to let light into the room before she darted around the bed; her eyes scanning the room quickly for signs of danger even if she knew there shouldn’t be anything.

It was Heaven. What threats would there realistically be?

When she was satisfied she returned to the bed, about to ask her superior officer what sick joke he was pulling when she stopped.

Adam was pale, his hands trembling as he brought them up to wipe cold sweat from his brow. A string of curses still fell from his lips, albeit strained.

She tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on his shoulder.

“Uh… Sir?”

Adam flinched, turning his head to meet Lute’s concerned expression. He forced a smile and shrugged, trying his very best to play the whole thing off.

“What? Just a nightmare. Geez you’re acting like we’re being attacked or something. Relax.” He forced a laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t get nightmares, Sir. When you wake up screaming, what else am I supposed to think?”

“Heh… right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

“You’re lucky then. Cause they SUCK.”

Lute fell silent a moment, examining Adam closely. It wasn’t often she saw him so… uncertain. So shaken. Even in times he was unsure of himself he covered it up with bravado.

She scooted closer, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to turn so she could realign some of the golden feathers in his wing that had dislodged when he’d struck her.

“What was it about?” Her fingers very delicately and precisely moved over the wing, sliding the feathers back into place and easing any discomfort. Something that was visible as she watched Adam’s posture relax.

“Just human stuff. You wouldn’t get it.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“You haven’t been a human in over a millennia.”

“Yeah well-“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “-that stuff stuck with me. I guess.” He shrugged, waving his hand.

Silence fell between them, Lute uncertain how to respond and Adam lost in his thoughts.

The former finished straightening up his wings, noticing how Adam’s eyes were beginning to droop as he stared into space.

She got up and closed the blinds, allowing the room to fall back into darkness before returning to her spot. Her chin brushed against his shoulder.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” He waited for her to get comfortable before he drew close, his arms and wings wrapping around her small frame, almost protectively.

Possessively.

Lute settled into the embrace, familiar and warm as it was. She couldn’t help but smirk softly as she rested her chin on top of his head, his ear against her chest.

“Hey… Lute. You… won’t betray me or whatever, right?” He muttered softly, his tone laced with an uncertainty that was atypical of him.

Lute’s brows furrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the question.

“Of course not, Sir.” Her grip on him tightened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“…I’ll always be by your side.”

-------------------------

Idea/prompt from the amazing @kimik0hippie! Seriously, their stuff singlehandedly inspired me to come out of my 800000 year hiatus and actually do illustrations again. So please go check their art out. ;D

#my art #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #guitarspear #adam x lute #brandedroseart #my headcanon is that exorcists are heaven born so they wouldn't get nightmares really.

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witheredoffherwitch · 5 days

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Y'ALL CAN EXCUSE RACISM?

Let's get one thing straight: I have no part in this chaotic mess (infact, I have blocked all the accounts mentioned below), but it's grinding my gears how it's devolving into another petty fanfic drama: case 607. I know this drama is getting the attention for certain individuals who are demonstrating mean girl behaviour and gossiping about other writers behind their backs. However, I am solely focused on addressing the racist and discriminatory remarks made by these individuals in the leaked text messages.

For those not in the loop, there's been a huge drama in the fanfic community involving leaked text messages from a group chat of four prominent members. In these messages, two users - Fae and Bel - have admitted to sending hate anons and talking smack about other writers behind their backs. Two other members left the group after it was revealed that B tried to make amends with someone who these two, Em and Ange, don't particularly care for. As a move to clear their names, Em exposed all the texts, trying to prove that Fae and Bel are the real villains here.

But wait, there's more! In these same chats, Bel not only mocked fellow non-English speakers but also bragged about sending rat emojis to an 18-year-old Pakistani writer who was already receiving racist anons. While everyone is focused on getting back at these two women for being shady af, it's mind-boggling how Em and Ange are suddenly jumping on the anti-racism train.

These two ladies stayed in the same chat as a fellow Pakistani writer was driven away because of racism, knowing full well that one of their own was contributing to it, and said NOTHING! Zero discouragement, no condemnation - they only hopped off when things got personal.

So here it is… I've had it with all of you hypocrites. You praise and encourage these women at every turn, feeding their egos like they're the second coming of Beyonce. But let's not forget who's always stirring up drama in this fandom - hint: it's these same people with a sense of entitlement the size of a planet. The issue is groupthink and y'all have all jumped on the bandwagon. You're worse than HBO's marketing department because just like their shitty teams, everyone involved here SUCKS ASS. You don't have to pick a side because they are all petty, mean losers. Bel and Fae are facing the consequences of their actions, which they rightfully deserve.

However, Em's exposé on Bel's racism seems more like an opportunistic move and it's disappointing that so many of you are supporting it. It's a predictable cycle now; there will be a half-hearted apology, an announcement of a hiatus, and then tons of people will flock to their inboxes to shower them with praise and excuses. It's ridiculous! I know there are many who feel the same way as me but are afraid to speak up because they don't want to upset the "village elders" and risk losing their connections and engagements. It's a joke atp!

Instead of taking responsibility for their own wrongdoings, they will come up with a list of 10 different cyber crimes by others to divert attention from their own nonsense. These very same women have confessed to creating multiple fake accounts, secretly stalking servers without mods noticing, and constantly harassing individuals through anon messages.

Yet, we are supposed to consider them as examples of moral integrity and ethical behavior? 😒

#fandom racism #fandom critical #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd #asoiaf #anti hotd #anti hotd fandom #fandom drama #racism #daemon targaryen #hotd fandom #fandom bs

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explicitred · 17 days

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I LIKE CUDDLES, NOW GIVE ME MORE!!!

Neuvillette quietly whined, a small pout curling up on his lips as he lightly tugged your shirt, tempting you to come back to bed just to cuddle with the needy man.

"Dear... Why are you leaving...?"

"Come back to bed... please."

You stared at him, standing beside the bed, seeing his mess of a clingy state as his body curled up in bed.

You suppose that it's normal behavior coming from him, due to the long distance and length of time that you had spent away from Neuvillette.

"Ah... But Neuvillette, I have a meeting."

He stares up at you, blinking, before reaching for your hand instead, interlocking your fingers with his, gently pulling you down to the bed.

"Mm... That can wait, love. I want you instead."

hi. i'm back :)

did you miss me?

my writing style most definitely changed during my hiatus, but i hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless!

(do you think it'd be fun if i tried gi cult au?? heh >:D)

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bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months

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pLEASE if you could write more of sub!OP men you would feed me for the entire winter (or just more luffy begging if it's no problem to you, love ur writing xoxo)

sorry for answering back so late i was absolutely out of any and all creative juice (lord help me), but i love writing sub!OP men and you guys seem to like it so here we go!! (im supposed to be on hiatus to focus on exams but writing smut never hurt nobody)

"i want to watch you fall apart, baby" ft. luffy <3

ft. (very submissive) luffy x (somewhat dom) fem!reader

set-up: you made a bet with the captain and he lost, now he has an aphrodisiac in his system and you have an insanely submissive boyfriend ;)

warnings: nsfw drabbles; nsfw stuff includes overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit of a meanie!reader, sub!luffy, all that haha; MDNI (thankyou very much)

luffy:

^^ credits to the artist!! (found it on pinterest lol)

- you knew monkey d. luffy wasn't okay - it was evident from his strained breaths, reddening face and jittery body - "luffy, you okay?" your words were sickly sweet, cutting through the tension in the room as you looked at his sweet face - it was honestly a miracle he was even sitting still and not pulling you and hovering over you as he fucked you senseless - "ugh" he groaned, palming his borderline-painful erection, "pl-ease come on, please come fuck me" you tut, making a sympathetic face, "i thought we were going to see how long you can hold back?" "yn~" his head is thrown back, features pleading with you helplessly - a smirk crosses over your painted lips, taking in his disheveled self - the menacing captain of your crew was reduced to a animalistic state. his fingers barely skimmed over his pants and even the slightest touch seemed to ignite his skin on fire "yn please, pl-ease c'mere-" his voice was strained, as if he was holding every muscle in his being from pulling you towards him and fucking you senseless till he forgot where he ended and you began - good thing luffy was always quick to react - so he did just what he had been imagining for the past seven minutes; he pulled you towards himself, reeling you in till your chest was flush against his and you teeth scraped harshly against your lips - "lu-" all your attempts to stop him were swallowed by his hungry kisses; tongue lapping against yours, teeth pulling your lip down, spit threatening to dive past his lips - his mouth moved down to your jaw then to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses in its wake, "yn let me fuck you, please. please." - his hands ripped off your t-shirt and his teeth sunk down on the soft flesh across your chest. he hummed against your skin, as if relishing in the softness and the faint citric aftertaste lingering on your skin - he was going insane, harshly tugging on your nipples and pressing his face between the valley of your breasts, licking feverish stripes down, "i wanna fuck so bad, keep going till you beg me to stop, come on please" "re-really? you wanna? what do you- fuck, fu-" - without even lifting his mouth off of your sensitive nipple or opening his eyes, his hands forced yours to skim over his straining cock as if to accuse you, look what you fuckin' did to me - when your hands languidly palmed him, his face contorted till he was gasping and grinding against your shallowest touches - "don't play with me, baby, y'know-" his breath hitched when you increased the pressure and pressed down harder, "yn stop it" you laughed, a cocky sound, "what's wrong luffy?" - his eyes were wide open now, staring you down and as if he had lost of sense of himself, he growled as he turned you around so that you were face down, ass up. - a harsh smack reverberated against your ass and you moaned at the subtle sting, "i've been nice f' too long, huh? let's see how long you stay cocky with my dick down your pretty pussy."

a/n: i have another ask for the sub!op men and i was out of ideas so the others (including ace and shanks hehe) will be well compensated over there!! just hold on guys!!!

#one piece #opla #op #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #one piece smut #luffy smut #luffy x reader smut #luffy imagine #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines

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avatar-anna · 3 months

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Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined.

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t.

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was.

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave.

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

#harry styles #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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teeth-farie · 10 months

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Forty Year Old Virgin

Johnathon Ohnn/GN Reader

Notes: virginity, null spot, hole fingering, dry humping, clothed sex, kinda tribadism, spit, alcohol, spot being pathetic, 3.5k

☞. . . Seems like I’m back from my little hiatus!! I actually started writing this fic yesterday and it’s the FASTEST I’ve ever finished one. I blame the spot server I’m in

Johnathon Ohnn is thirty-eight years old. He knows this because he always liked celebrating his birthday, even if they got less eventful over the years. He still enjoyed the candles and the cake, he still enjoyed how his family would come together to sing for him and how his coworkers would sign a group card.

Johnathon was thirty-seven when the collider exploded. He didn’t realize his birthday had passed until he looked at a calendar. And really, how pitiful was that? No candles, no cake, not even a sloppily signed card. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he craved normality.

It wasn’t long after that he met you, significantly younger and full of spunk. It made him feel a little youthful again, like he was back in that old dorm room at the shiny age of twenty. Admittedly he didn’t do as many fun things as you did at his age, he mostly studied and contemplated taking Adderall to get through his finals, but he digressed.

But observing you made him realize just how many things he missed out on during his youth. Sure, he sneaked a couple of his dad's beers as a teen and broke some college lab equipment he wasn’t supposed to be touching, rebellious things like that, but that wasn’t truly living.

Before, he thought his accomplishments would speak for him; his doctorates and files of studies, his collider. But now, as he watches and listens to the dramatic reenactments of your late teenage hood and early adult life, Johnathon begins to realize maybe science isn’t the end all be all of his life. He realizes that he never went to any parties in college, he never had a quarrel-filled romance his parents disapproved of, he never traveled outside of the country aside from work—and as his eyeless gaze flits downwards, taking in the sight that is you in incredibly short shorts, he realizes another thing.

He’s never had sex, either.

It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex, because he really desperately did, it’s more like he never got the chance. Between his academics that shot straight to the workforce and his lack of genuine attraction to anyone around him, it got put on the back burner.

But now it’s all he can think about.

He thinks about it when he watches your hands gesture wildly, the way they look so agile yet sturdy. He thinks about it when your shirts are low cut or rising up your midriff. He thinks about it when you stand close to him and all he can smell is you. He thinks about it when your hips shimmy to a song you like. He thinks about it when-

Ahem.

He thinks. A lot.

Johnathon has never had a quiet mind, that much is true. He’s never figured out whether or not it was a good thing, but considering how much material his brain has given him for lonely nights, it can’t all be bad.

Well. That was before the collider blew his dick clean off too. Which was another thing on his long long list of ‘Is living still worth it? I’m not too sure.’ (Except now he finally has a pro on that list, thanks to you.)

He can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous, however, hearing you talk briefly about past flings and relationships. Although he couldn’t exactly distinguish whether or not he felt jealous of your experience, or jealous of the men in your stories. He knows he could be better, even if he had virtually no experience to go off of. Despite it all, he still thinks to himself that he could make himself into someone you wanted, someone good for you. (Though he does also wonder if that’s perhaps his newly inflated ego talking.)

Johnathon sighs and holds his head in his hands. His hand briefly falls through the hole in his face and comes out of his thigh. Regardless of what he thinks could happen and what could be, he knows deep down that you couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. Still, a man is allowed to dream, right?

…

As it turns out, dreams do come true.

Or at least a drunk, sloppy version of them.

To be fair, Johnathon didn't think he still could get drunk, so it wasn't his fault that he was a bit heavy-handed with the bottle. It didn’t help that you were so influencing either, all too eager to dump the rest of your bottle down the hole in his face just to see where it’d go. Apparently, liquids dissolved down quickly in his voided body before they could emerge out of another hole. So, he drank. He drank because it was the first time he could feel any kind of normalcy, he could feel like he was human again. Unfortunately for him, he's still just as loose-lipped when drunk as he was before the collider incident.

You swirl the foamy remnants of beer in your bottle, watching it swirl through the brown glass before swallowing it down with a tip of your head. Johnathon watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow, entranced. You breathe out, satisfied, and set the bottle down on the coffee table amongst all the others.

“Y’know,” You begin, leaning back against the couch cushions, legs curled up comfortably to your chest. “You’re not as bad looking as you think.” You’re squinting your eyes a little at him, as if you were examining his body. “Lotsa people are into your kinda thing.”

Johnathon’s face hole constricts a little as if he were narrowing his eyes. “My kinda thing? What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“You know! Like…like not human looking.” You’re still looking at him, grinning, fingers picking at the hem of your pajama pants.

He makes a sound like a scoff. “That’s not really a compliment…”

You whine in subtle frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, you have different kinds of qualities. Good qualities.” You poke your finger out at him, jabbing his chest. Your fingertip sinks into one of his inkblot holes and it gives Johnathon a feeling that he knows he’ll be thinking about later tonight when he's all alone. You replace your finger to actually poke his chest now, the smooth, almost rubbery skin of him. He shivers a little nonetheless.

“What…” he swallows thickly. “What kind of qualities?”

You continue to idly run circles over his chest with your index finger, humming softly to yourself. “I know the regular things, like how much of a good listener and talker you are. You know lots about stuff. And you also are like, super eager to please. That’s gotta be a good quality too.”

Johnathon looks down at your hand, his black little heart thumping in his chest. It’s almost too intimate for him to bear.

“Oh! And your holes!”

“My…my holes?”

“Yeah, I bet you can do some crazy things with them.”

“Oh god–” He nearly chokes at the thought running in his head.

“Yeah,” you continue, pulling your hand back to yourself. Johnathon hates how it makes him feel lonely. “I once met a guy who had crazy holes, haha, you could fit a whole fist in ther–”

“OH wow, really?” He quickly cuts you off, his paper-white face flushing a dull blue. He flaps his hands a little, as if it could cool down both his flustering and spiking jealousy. “I don’t think you should k-kiss and tell, right? Isn’t that a thing we’re not supposed to do? Kissing and…telling?” God, he really wants to know what it’s like to kiss you.

“Oh, c’mon! I know there has to be at least something you’ve done that you just gotta talk about. What is it, huh? Weird partner? Did they have a weird fetish?” You gasp suddenly. “Oh god, a pregnancy scare maybe?…pregnancy fetish?”

“No, no, none of that!” Johnathon waves his hands out in front of him rapidly, hoping to quell your questioning. “I’ve never uh- never really–”

“What, are you vanilla? Usually, nerds are like, SUPER kinky–”

“I’ve never had sex!” Curse him and his loose lips.

The air goes still amongst the sudden silence and Johnathon begins to regret ever speaking. Actually, scrap that, he regrets ever being born. Well, it’s actually not like he really had a choice in the matter, but that's beside the point.

Then, you snort a little. “You’ve gotta be joking, right? Aren’t you like, forty?”

His face hole shrinks down nearly to the side of a pinhole in both embarrassment and frustration. “I-I’m not forty! I’m thirty-eight! A-and besides, lots of people don’t have sex until they’re older! Or at all!”

“Oh my god, this is like that one movie, what’s it called, uhh,”

You tap your chin, completely ignoring him.

“I should have never said anything, I’m such an idiot—“

“No, don’t say that!” You poke his chest again, whining when he recoils from your touch. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you, I’m sorry.”

Johnathon huffs, grabbing one of the half-full bottles and dumping it down his face hole. It scrunches slightly in what you’ve begun to assume is swallowing. You pout and scoot up closer to him. “Johnny…”

He chokes a little, his gangly body going stiff. “Y-yeah?”

You grab his face, fingers pressing against his pale, rubbery cheeks. “You wanna do it?”

For a moment, Johnathon feels like the world has gone still. Everything is muffled and slow as the realization dawns on him. “Wuh-what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You repeat, squishing his cheeks after each word like you were making him say them too.

“Yes! I-I mean, I would really like to, you’re so pretty, b-but uh, I’m a little, hah, how do you say it, ohmygosh this is harder than I thought it’d be! Uhm!” He flusters and rambles, hands flapping in front of his chest, and you’re just waiting. You’re looking at him with lidded, bedroom eyes, and Johnathon thinks he finally understands the meaning of that word.

“I don’t have, I don’t have a penis!”

A beat goes by, and then another, and he begins to feel like he blew his only shot with you.

“Do you have a vagina? It’s not an issue for me, I wanna fuck you either way.”

Jesus Christ, you are going to kill him.

“I mean, I don’t have anything.” He breathes out, shoulders deflating. “The uh, the whole collider thing got rid of it all.”

“Oh man, that’s awful.” You pat his shoulder, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. “But, y’know, the offer still stands…maybe we can get a little science-y and figure out how to get you off, eh?”

Johnathon lifts his head and finds you grinning at him. “Science-y?” He repeats, his face hole crinkling like a smile.

“Yeah, dude! Science-y! Hypothesis! Theories! Quantum holes! Your holes!”

He snorts and it leads into a laugh, a deep belly laugh that he hasn’t been able to do in a while. And really, why the hell not?

His laugh dies down when you get closer, straddling his thighs and seating yourself down in his lap—and god, he can feel those short shorts he loves riding up your thighs and wrinkling against his skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” You croon, leaning in and nudging your nose under his chin. If Johnathon still had a dick, that would have sent blood right down to it.

His inkblot holes quiver amongst his body, undulating and jumping across his skin like microscopic particles, bouncing against each other under a microscope. Your face gets closer to his, lips hovering over the entrance of his face. Gently, curiously, you purse your lips and kiss the voided space. It’s almost as if there’s a thin membrane separating the outside world from the inside of him, cool to the touch and like bubblegum stretched thin. The membrane melds against your lips like it’s kissing you back and when Johnathon shivers, it puckers and purses.

His hands tremble, hovering above your hips and thighs, as if it’d burn him to touch you properly, despite how much he craves it.

Your tongue drags over the edge of his face hole and Johnathon practically whimpers. You’re humming softly, one hand idly stroking his arm as the other feels up his chest. He used to be a tad bit insecure about his pudgy torso, but with so many spots, he had other things to outweigh the worry. But now he can’t help but hold his breath, waiting for your approval of his body, the kind he so desperately needs.

“Cute.” You say mostly to yourself, dipping your fingers into a hole in his chest. He sighs out heavily in relief and pleasure, his head thumping back against the edge of the couch.

“How’s this feel?” You poke and prod into the hole, pressing past the same kind of membrane as his face. Vaguely, you feel your fingertips come back out of another hole, but you don’t focus as much on that part.

“Good,” Jonathan answers curtly, sucking a breath through his nonexistent teeth. When he exhales, it's shuddery and almost pitiful. “It’s good, it’s like- like there but not,”

“So you can feel it? What if I do something like this?” Curiously, you curl your fingers in the empty space, and a fuzzy feeling coats your skin as if your fingers were pruning yet stayed completely dry. He yelps loudly, his body lurching and he finally grabs onto you. His fingers dig into your thighs on their own accord and you are absolutely delighted with it.

“Oh god!” He cries, his thighs shifting and squirming under your lap, and you start to feel something poking at your ass. You give a confused hum, lift your hips and look down. Nope, he still doesn't have a dick, but the empty space between his legs has seemingly swollen into a small, adorable bulge. Johnathon breathes out heavily and follows your gaze.

“Wow, that’s so cool…” You reach down between your laps and grind the heel of your palm against the bulge.

He gasps sharply. “Oh, fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s what I'm trying to do.” You snicker impishly. You observe the way the squishy bulge flushes with color around the surface, almost like a blush. “I bet that feels really good, huh? It’s kinda like you have a really big clit. Sorta” You squish it in your hands and he shudders, shoulders tensing and inkblot shrinking. “Hey, you know what would be fun?”

Johnathon feels a little loopy, his stomach filled with butterflies and his brain thoroughly mush. He considers this endeavor so far to be successful considering the fact he didn't think he still could feel pleasure. But here you are, proving him wrong once again.

“Wh-what would?” He finds himself asking, rutting his hips up into your hand like a depraved little thing.

You don’t answer verbally yet, just sit back down on his lap and rock your hips against his. “If you fucked yourself like this.” Your fingers curl back into one of his holes, running up and down the edge of it. Johnathon melts, blubbering out nearly unintelligible pleas.

“You can do it, right? I’ll keep fingering you if you hump me like a dirty dog.”

And oh, that does things to him. He’ll…have to address that new kink later.

“Yes,” he gasps, grabbing on tightly to your hips and canting his hips up, grinding his bulge against your sex. “Yessss!” He can’t help but cry it out, his smooth head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck from the sheer intensity of it all. The heat of you is almost unbearable on his body, inside his holes. And he really is panting like a dog, he’s humping you like he actually has a dick to work with, like you could grab him and stroke him until he was a weeping mess.

“That’s it, you don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, right? C’mon, show me what you’re made of, you little nerd.” You’re cooing to him like it’s praise, and with the way you’re stroking the inside of him, pressing your fingers past that membrane and curling until the fuzziness is almost unbearable, you might as well be.

Johnathon moans wetly against your neck, legs widening and hands holding your hips down firmly as he ruts. He grinds his aching core against you, practically delirious and melting with every saccharine whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum,” you hear him say, muffled against your skin and devious delight spreads through your entire being. You hook your fingers into the hole of his face and he cries out, a debauched “Ah! Ah!” as you lift his head up. His inkblot holes shiver violently, and you hold his face in your hands like he’s your entire world, like he’s the only thing that matters to you.

And then you lean in, holding his face so carefully—

And spit.

The man below you gurgles, your spit falling down the hole in his face as a viscous glob tasting faintly of beer. Johnathon thrusts his hips up once, twice, and he’s cumming. Nothing comes out of him, but you swear you can see the holes of him drooling, dripping liquid dark matter that hurts your eyes a little to stare at too long. Pleasure blooms in you at the sight and feeling of his incessant rutting, your hands petting his head as his first orgasm in so long washes over him.

And finally, he slumps back against the couch, trembling under you, the surface of his face flushed with color. You lift yourself off his lap, your shorts still wet with your own arousal, but you’re not done with him yet.

“It’s no good to leave your partner high and dry, you know?” You tease him, and the realization dawns on his faceless face.

“O-OH! Oh, I’m so so sorry! I-I didn’t mean- that wasn’t my intention at all! Wh-what should I do? What do you like? Oh god, I’m so sorry—“

You quiet him by lifting his gangly legs up, exposing him even further. “Don't worry about it, it’s your first time! That just means I’ll have to use you.” That evil little grin is back as you brace one foot on the floor and the other on the couch cushions, slotting your hips against his. Poor Johnathon is practically folded in half, one leg hanging over your shoulder and the other dangling uselessly to the side.

You don’t waste any time either, you get right to it, hips thrusting quick and hard against his over sensitive bulge. And oh, how he squeals. He’s always been a talkative man, but he never could have anticipated being this vocal.

“Uhgn! Hah! Mmm-mmph! I-I can’t! S’too much, too much!” He babbles on, sights locked on how your hips connect with his, ruthlessly grinding and rutting and it reminds him of some kind of wild animal.

“You can, huff, take it. Jus’ a lil more,'' your head hangs low between your shoulders, arousal twining together deep in your gut. Johnathon feels it too, and he feels it tenfold. His body feels like it’s on fire, steadily submerged in pleasure until he’s burning alive in it. He can’t take how you look above him either, so goddamn ethereal, the dim overcast of the tv lighting you from behind like a digital halo, as if you were an angel sent to soothe him after such chaos. Johnathon was never a religious man, but for you, he thinks he could be.

It only takes you a little longer, already so wound tight from before. He’s dangling on the precipice of release again, delirious with lust, clinging onto the back of your neck and tugging you in.

You find your face inside of him when you cum, and somehow the deprivation of sensory makes it all the better, colors popping up in your vision like synesthesia. You can feel his thighs tighten around you with his budding climax, but you can’t see, and you already know how you regret that. You suppose you’ll just have to overstimulate him again one day when he can’t hide himself from your view.

Johnathon goes limp and you’re finally able to pull your face from the inside of his, the dark matter sliding free from your skin like an unsticky slime. It’s weird, but oddly refreshing.

Cum stains the inside of your shorts but it’s the last thing on your mind when you take in the visual that is Johnathon. He practically glows with post coital bliss, seeped back into couch cushions without the tension you’re so used to.

You let his legs fall back down, slumping into the seat next to him. He hums softly in delight, kinda loopy, entirely pleased.

“So?” You question him, idly stroking his soft chest. It’s sweaty in its own way. “Was that good for your very first time?” You waggle your brows at him and he snorts, albeit a little weakly.

“Incredibly so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good in my life.”

You clap happily. “And you’re no longer a forty year old virgin!”

“I told you I’m NOT forty!”

#the spot #johnathon ohnn #spicy #sub atsv #the spot x reader

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