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wolves-in-the-world · 7 months

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tags on krakenartificer's post about a leverage au where nate enters the priesthood but ends up running cons for people who come to him for help anyway:

#now i need a crossover episode of catholic priest nate who's still running leverage style shenanigans #with father brown [via @trivalentlinks]

thank you for making me stare at the wall in fascination and horror about this crossover

they'd be occasional allies occasional confidantes they'd go behind each other's backs once or twice and only kinda regret it. This nate hasn't gone through the same loss as in canon, but that wouldn't make him a whole lot softer, so he'd be fundamentally irritated with father brown - his tested and unshakeable belief and his optimism about the human condition - and father brown would be generally concerned about everyone on nate's end, and nate not the least of it. They'd play chess together and be fairly well-matched. They'd visit each other's confessionals to check in.

we'd get some interesting acknowledgement of father brown's "I'm nice and simple and harmless" grift (which I could also call power negativity) which is only kind of a grift because he really is that nice and harmless beneath, except that he uses it to get information from people.

flambeau would be utterly thrilled and (playfully?) insulted not to be father brown's only criminal associate.

the leverage crew would be correctly suspicious of flambeau, I think, but sophie would greet him by name - possibly with a kiss to the cheek, possibly eyeing him like he's a viper in their midst - and reference some very improbable occasion when they were after the same prize. He mentions she was using a different name then; he doesn't say what it was. Bonus points if he also had his eye on the dagger in the Rashomon Job but had the flu / was unexpectedly in prison / had to attend a grandmother's funeral at the time.

I have this certainty in my mind that the leverage crew would be largely dismissive of sid's abilities and he'd kind of snort and roll his eyes about it - he's at worst a common criminal and very lower class, so he's used to being understimated - and surprise them with his connections or lock-picking or holding his own in a brawl or fixing an elderly car in the quickest dirtiest way imaginable. (Parker would decide she likes him then; the others would be reassured after seeing how gentle he is when talking with her.) He'd also nope out of leverage's business at a sensible time, because father brown's rubbed off on him and he doesn't actually want that kind of danger - unless the con's personal.

(I'm not sure whether to set this in leverage time or drag it back to father brown's 1950s so I'm settling for mashing the two together and pretending it's not an issue. See also: geography.)

… father brown would have I think one harrowing conversation with eliot where they mention their time in the military, the marks that killing people and losing people leaves on a person - father brown already does this in canon, tells someone it's unfair that they're mired in trauma and alcoholism when he found his faith through trauma instead, it floored me - and after brushing on repentance and god here, he wouldn't bring it up with eliot again. (I think father brown varies on this in canon, frankly, but he often respects that kind of boundary, and I think he'd recognise a wound so sore it should be left to heal however it can.)

(yes I'm playing with fictional priests like barbie dolls but no I'm not comfortable with the conversion aspects, so apologies and bear with me while I skate on past that.)

(he'd describe eliot as a good person, once, or as someone working very hard at it. Eliot would be on edge about that for the entire con, finding a little too much uneasy satisfaction in getting to knock people out and play the bad guy - play at the simpler stuff he used to do. Sophie might catch father brown for a word about it; father brown wouldn't be that clumsy again.)

I think father brown and nate would both talk bunty out of getting involved in a joint kembleford-leverage operation except in the most innocent way possible. The problem is she actually would make a good getaway driver, and she's thrilled with the idea, but she's already had some run-ins with the press and the law and can't risk another; luckily she's better used as a distraction elsewhere.

and I'm sorry to do this, but I think lady felicia's husband would be a mark or potential mark at one point. It would be fraught.

(the main reason I haven't recommended father brown's heist episode (s7e10), aside from not having a background on the politics in it, is that it shows lady felicia as a victim and pulls the heist on her behalf. The show largely convinced me to ignore the messy reality of her and her husband's inherited wealth, but that episode made me kinda uncomfortable - which is a shame, because seeing these characters pull a heist was fucking great.)

mrs mccarthy would be used against her will or knowledge as a distraction while someone's pockets are picked. She isn't told until afterwards, and then only half by accident. She is, of course, horrified. Father brown was absolutely the one to suggest it in planning, but flambeau slips in mid-apology to smoothly take the blame.

I could in fact go on and this is in fact a problem.

—

editing to continue:

I'm actually thinking that father brown might approach eliot from an ex-military angle and not a Religious Authority angle at all - eliot was raised protestant, after all, and it's an entirely different vibe. And I have to think eliot's guarded around father brown for the very fact that he's a priest and seems to mean it in a way that nate, I feel, wouldn't. So they may avoid the topic entirely, or as close to it as they can when brushing on, well, eliot's entire moral injury situation. Which is good news for me.

bunty would admire parker for being different and capable and getting up to exciting things, though would probably fail at any attempts at friendship until she thinks to ask what parker likes doing and ends up learning to pick pockets that evening. The second those two are around buildings tall enough to rappel down she's in danger. (The second parker can slip away at night she's giving the church a go; father brown gives her a look the night before and quietly warns her about the dodgy roof.)

mrs mccarthy decides fairly quickly that hardison is a very nice young man (his nana instincts are online and functional) even if he spends far too much time on the wretched computer. She's determined to feed him and half the time he's determined to find ways to politely refuse, though the strawberry scones are actually pretty good.

she's appalled by eliot's job, and fiercely territorial of her kitchen when he offers help, even just cleaning up, but once she's seen him get in the way of trouble she's absolutely catching his arm and half hiding behind him in any crisis real or perceived. (She still doesn't approve of him.)

lady felicia sees hardison and eliot as two very different kinds of novelties and does some talking to hardison about tech (mostly listening and marveling) and some quietly ogling both of them, and especially eliot once she's seen him fighting. (Eliot unfortunately turned on his charm when he realised she sort of expected it. She doesn't get to chat with charming southern gents all that often - it's very shallow, and she's not serious about it.)

thank goodness bunty's too young for eliot so I don't have to go there. He has to tuck her out of sight in a barn at some point when trouble's headed their way; when the mess is almost cleaned up and she's grabbed a rifle from somewhere to tell the the remaining goon to clear off, with every appearance of competence, eliot takes it from her and disarms it with a smear of blood under his nose and a slightly betrayed expression.

hardison and sid get along, aside from a little initial insecurity on the parker front, and get to bitch a bit about flambeau, who hardison mistrusts from the start.

flambeau... he admires parker, from a distance - professionally and not very effusively - but after he watches her work for a while he seems to realise who she was trained by, and tells her as much. He says he was too, for a very short time, and it's unclear if he'd gain anything from making it up. Says that he and archie had a difference of opinion - and has a way of saying it that implies there might have been fire involved.

#hello. hi. sorry folks. I do in fact recommend father brown (the bbc show) SO LONG AS #you're aware of and comfortable with the fact that he IS a catholic priest.#messy show kind show I had the flu when I fell in love with it #flambeau and sophie would communicate in ways the other characters wouldn't understand and low key flirt like it's breathing #both nate and lady felicia would be jealous and have to DEAL with the fact that they're jealous #this is going to end with nate leaving the priesthood to get to know sophie and run cons with the team isn't it #with father brown's blessing-and-cautions-and-please-stay-in-touch (which he obviously does)#father brown #leverage #orig #this is a separate post to spare the previous OP because I got a bit carried away #and trivalent sorry for referencing characters you don't really know yet!! this just sort of Happened I'm as surprised as you are #can I make this make sense enough to fit one episode's worth of story. maybe.#it would in fact be concerningly plausible to write a modern day fic with a small english village that's apparently stuck in the 1950s #my head's in my hands about this country tbh #catholicism cw #christianity cw #this post may self-destruct after a while we'll see

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starry-teacup · 2 months

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I have this friend we all joke is an eye avatar and the other day I was making a joke and they got the weirdest look on their face and I just felt really watched yk? So I fell awkwardly silent and after a beat they said "you're so fascinating. such a perfect mix of the stranger and the lonely. you look in your reflection and wonder if there's anything to see"

I think I said something like 'lmao mood' and continued the conversation and I'm pretty sure they forgot about it but that moment haunts me to this day

#tma #the eye #beholding #the stranger #the lonely #they're really impressive #I'm low-key jealous of the cryptid vibes #and also I crave understanding of everything always so I wish I could do that #but that truly terrified me

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wewontbesleeping · 11 months

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I like Olivia Rodrigo but idk why some of her fans insist on comparing her to Taylor constantly or act like Taylor is threatened by her. She’s a musician on her sophomore album, she’s talented and successful, but to act like a woman who has sold over 50 million albums and is currently on one of the most successful tours of all time would be threatened by that is just bizarre.

#I find this is a really common thing with Stan twitter #and people do this with Beyoncé too #like… no offense but whoever you’re talking about isn’t in the same arena #Ariana grande is not on the level of Beyoncé and neither is any other pop star that you’re thinking of #low key it does seem like Olivia herself has a bit of a problem with Taylor but Taylor has never returned that energy so ?????#like it’s weird especially since Taylor is WELL KNOWN in the industry for supporting newer artists #she sends flowers to people when they get their first no 1 like ???#but people have ideas in their head of who they want people to be and what roles they want them to play #and now she’s kind of getting the same treatment as Madonna has #like she’s bitter and jealous of everyone younger than her #ther lady Gaga v Madonna stuff was so wild lol #*the #anyways I’m sure actually a lot of this is less fans of Olivia rodrigo and just people who hate Taylor swift lmao #like the same people who suddenly loved Kanye in 2016 despite never caring about him before #bc I do think the overlap in fans is There so idk why her fans should be so salty lol

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ricoka · 1 year

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I think I am finally making some progress in dealing with rejection re: art. I am feeling good about my progress, I am doing the work, it's paying off for me because i can see myself grow and I'm proud of myself. It's for me, proving to myself i can do it.

#will probably still continue to have it's ups and downs but I'm happy #also a tiny bit tipsy still #but it's good #i want to focus more on learning from others again and trying to lift up instead of being low-key jealous and upset #not productive #also there isn't really a point trying to impress people who could not care less about me

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.

"I could do this all day, princesa. "

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.

"You okay?"

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.

He stretches out his hand, and you take it.

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.

"Do you want to?"

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.

"Fuck, Miguel."

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"

You nod frantically with a stifled sob.

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

12K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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neoplatinum · 2 months

Text

morning beauty | myoui 'mina' minari

summary: has mina always looked this beautiful?

pairing: mina x 10th-member!reader

themes: fluff, major major fluff, minor 2yeon, rest of twice

wc: 3.9k

you had something to confess, a little guilty pleasure of yours, well guilty as in you didn't want the other members to find out. but it was truly something you enjoyed for yourself and kept hidden away from the rest of the girls.

you always chose to room with mina, because you liked waking up to her. it started when it was something jeongyeon commented on during the 2022 once day fanmeeting.

when jeongyeon explained that she would like to be reborn married to mina, she explained it was because she wanted to wake up to mina's face everyday. while chaeyoung and nayeon were playfully laying their claim on their women.

you realized you never actually slept in the same bed with mina, so you don't know what jeongyeon means by it. mina's gorgeous, you could never deny that, but wow does jeongyeon sound like she has a crush. you laughed at the sight of a jealous chaeyoung and nayeon.

letting the thought slip into the back of your mind for a while.

until twice's 5th word tour: ready to be was starting up. after the grueling work and practice that came with preparing for a seven leg tour, also was the need of having partners for hotel rooms. the first foreign show was kicked off in sydney, australia.

the beautiful warm city with bright lights shining in to the hotel lobby. while you were still trying to adjust to the time difference. just as you were about to yawn, body sinking into the hotel couch, mina walks up to you.

"hi, we're going to be rooming together." in that quiet, calm voice of hers, handing you a second key card. you nod and continue to yawn and rub at your eyes, ready to get settled in the hotel room before soundcheck. stuffing the keycard into your pocket, and rolling the luggage towards the elevators.

the room was gorgeous, facing the beautiful sun shining in, but you felt like a heavy log in water. the time difference was really messing with your energy levels, so you begrudgingly rolled your luggage inside. flopping onto the bed immediately.

mina's quietly humming a song as she gets settled. tucking her luggage away on her side of the room, and then getting ready to play on her switch.

you watched her, with your body laying flat on your stomach, but your head turned towards her. hearing the low sounds of her game, she doesn't say much, but it's comfortable being around her.

she’s always brought you a comforting sense of home even if you are thousands of miles away from korea.

mina's a nice contrast from constantly rooming with nayeon.

nayeon always flings her outfit all over the bed, even landing them on your bed. chargers and phone misplaced all the time, begging you to call her number and to find her chargers. this is a much different change of pace.

you wake up to the sight of mina, wearing cute jeans and a plain tee, long hair running down her back, her face away from you. rummaging through her toiletries bag for something. then she gets up to go wash her face. her face half turned towards you when she realizes you are awake.

you let out a small gasp, has her side profile always been this pretty? your eyes go wide, trailing down her face, from the sharp eyebrows to the beauty mark above her lip and her defined jawline. it's all too much for your heart to handle while still waking up.

"i'm going to go wash my face before soundcheck." she says quietly, nodding at you before disappearing into the bathroom. you begin to wonder what's in the sydney water.

the rest of the soundcheck and concert, you've been in a daze: a mina daze. constantly eyeing her from across the stage, side glances and unfocused. has she always looked this good?

you try and snap out of it before the concert starts, but as you watch mina perform 7 rings from behind the stage, your jaw drops naturally. eyes glued to the screen, watching her turn around to drop her ass. you nearly drop your mic.

jeongyeon stares at the performance, cheering mina on, but her eyes fall on you, watching you watch mina. she keeps that in mind.

the rest of the concert goes off without a hitch, the crowd's shouting and the energy in the sydney night is beautiful. you're enjoying a break as the group takes a quick break to chat with fans. you lean down to grab water bottles, handing some to the other members.

then the big screen shifts to mina, and you hear her voice reverberate around the stadium. you try and watch her across the stage, but she's blocked by tzuyu so you turn to watch the 4k big screen instead.

and as she shares her feelings for the sydney onces, you get entranced by her speaking. watching the way her eyes shine under the fluorescent lights and the gorgeous outfit she has on. the second time that day you ask yourself, has she always looked this good? mina continues to talk until you notice yourself being shown on screen, eyes glued to the screen.

you completely miss the timing for your turn to speak, and then nayeon and jeongyeon are making a big deal about you staring at mina. pushing and shoving you playfully as you try and play it off coolly. it's too late though because the internet's already circulating with videos of you staring down the screen with mina's face blown up.

onces all over the internet are making memes over it, the sight of your face, jaw dropped and just in awe of mina on the big screen.

by the time you are focused on the concert again, and interacting with fans. you begin waving and doing requests off of once's posters.

laughing at one that's asking for sana's hand in marriage, you tug her towards the excited fan and watching sana offer her hand out, laughing and running away. as if she didn't just kill that poor fangirl.

the walk out of the van into the hotel lobby is tiring, you can feel the adrenaline finally wearing off. the intensity of having to perform for so long taking a toll on you, you keep massaging your shoulder as you follow the girls up the elevator. jihyo and jeongyeon happily chatting about being in australia. and looking forward to exploring local spots.

mina taps you lightly, and you turn your body towards her.

"i brought massage oils." she says quietly, pointing towards the hand thats been rubbing your shoulders. you thank her quietly, letting her walk you to the hotel room, too tired to even talk.

you fall into a chair, watching mina take out another toiletry bag. grabbing some massage oil, taking the time to work the muscle aches and the tension in your shoulder. a nice relaxing feeling with her pressing the buildup away.

"thank you mina." you offer as she leaves to go wash off the massage oil. your cheeks dusted light pink at the attentive care she has for you, even if she's bone tired from her own performance.

after doing your nightly routine, you get ready to sleep off the exhaustion, dreaming of soft hands and long jet black hair. dreaming of the girl in the other bed in the room.

waking up you feel like you've been transported into a different world. eyes watching mina do her morning routine so gently and quietly. moving around to collect her outfit for the day, and to put on light makeup.

you try and concentrate on your own morning routine, but you keep glancing over at mina through the wall mirror as she fixes her eyeliner by the other sink. with your face dripping in water, you forget what you were supposed to be doing. that warm yellow light bringing a gorgeous hue to her skin.

walking out to join the other girls for breakfast didn't help either as mina was seated next to you, taking the edge seat closest to the window. the sun bouncing off her skin, glowing even more than in the bathroom. dahyun had to tap on you five times to get you to pass her the syrup bottle.

you try and snap back into the real world, but with a face like mina's, how can you?

the melbourne concert was amazing, the synergy in the air making you forget about your little dilemma. you playfully tugged chaeyoung along, running around the stage and making half hearts with her at every corner. hearing the shouts of fans at the sight at every pose. you nearly run into mina at one point, not noticing her in your peripheral until it's too late.

at the last second, you pull her body towards you, arms circling her waist in a protective hold, making sure she didn't fall backwards off the stage. in the stress of the moment, you don't realize how close you are to her face, until you look up. her eyes staring into yours, and your eyes go wide at the closeness.

trying to play it off, taking your arm away from her waist and asking if she's okay. but the video is circling the internet that night, fans squealing at the near kiss.

you try and avoid the topic as you and mina get ready for bed, mina wouldn't confront you about it, you know that much. she's quietly humming another song as she cleans up her make up bag. sorting it and tucking it away.

you try and think about anything else other than her, this mina fixation is slowly eating up your attention.

with the osaka and tokyo shows, you begin to get closer to mina, her taking time to bring you around to her favorite spots when she was younger. she's in her home country, and her parents are friendly, familiar faces.

they offer nice gifts to all the members, even asking you how your shoulder is doing. you reply that it's doing well, all thanks to mina's massage oils. they smile at that, glad their daughter is so nice and thoughtful to the other girls.

mina brings all the members over to the myoui residence for a sleepover.

you get a real feel for pre-debut mina. the game obsession is still obvious, but you also discover her childhood memories. photos littered in her room and a giant wall dedicated to the group. you try not to tear up at the sight of everyone as the final lineup from sixteen, but the memories are coming back.

she walks in with a box in her hand.

"this is for you, from my parents." and you look down and see massage oils, top of the line and very very expensive. your eyes widen at the sight, you would never justify buying this for yourself.

"oh mina, you don't have to." you push the box away.

"my parents insisted. i told them about your shoulder, and they ordered it right away." you smile at that, the myoui's are always so thoughtful. you begrudgingly take the box, and thanking her parents for the wonderful gift. promising to always look after mina.

that night as you get ready for a sleepover at the myoui's with all the girls huddled up in her living room floor, you think that you would love to live with mina.

then came the US leg of the tour, and with it came more moments spent with mina. you nearly had a heart attack when you found out mina was experiencing back pain the whole concert. she didn't even mention it, just pulled out a back brace from her luggage and wrapped it over her shirt.

mina had to calm you down from calling your manager, your frantic voice demanding a doctor visit immediately. she managed to convince you to let it go, with the promise of much-needed rest and letting you take care of her.

so you use the massage oils her parents bought to massage her back every night. attentively rubbing her lower back and then to her upper back. removing the knots in her shoulder, mina falls asleep at one point, so you tuck her in. pulling the comforter up and washing your hands before getting ready for bed.

with her back pain having flair-ups, you always carry her luggage, insisting that she doesn't carry heavy things. you insist even if she rolls her eyes because you'd rather have an unhappy mina who feels coddled than a mina in pain and aching from carrying around her luggage.

you start to question why you do all this for mina.

you've developed a routine since rooming with mina at every hotel. always tucking away mina's luggage by the side of the bed that is closer to the bathroom. in that corner that she always likes, always setting her makeup brushes from biggest to smallest, left to right on her vanity. you always make sure the water you brought to her was warm, not too hot but also not too cold.

when mina is feeling a little under the weather from being in the rain for the atlanta concert, you urge jeongyeon to come with you to buy medicine for her.

you stroll into the target, looking around for cough drops and cough medicine, going up to the cashier and through the use of your translator app, you successfully are directed to the right row. getting cough drops for mina.

while you are busy debating between two brands, with jeongyeon holding a basket full of remedies, jeongyeon asks you this.

"who is mina to you?"

"mina? she's our member." you laugh, what a silly question jeongyeon.

"no, who is mina to YOU?" jeongyeon asks again, as you shove one bag back into the display. then reaching into the back of a different row to get a bag of cough drops that hopefully no one has touched.

"she's my..." you stop, hand on the bag. a little confused by what jeongyeon means. "why are you asking this question?"

jeongyeon keeps shuffling her feet, peering on the other side and picking up a box of travel toothpaste for herself. "you've just been really close with her, and now you're even out here buying medicine and little things that she likes."

"well of course i would, it's what you would do for nayeon." you roll your eyes at the obvious.

"exactly, nayeon and i are together, and when she was sick you didn't rush me out here to buy her medicine. so what does that make mina to you?"

you grab the bag, placing it into the basket and briskly walking away.

"hey! you can't avoid the question!" jeongyeon catches up to you, while you continue to ignore her, and then you see a row of red. the nintendo switch display aisle.

bingo.

you begin searching through the rows of game cartridges for pikmin 4.

the game that mina's been raving about the release for. talking to you animatedly about how she excited she is to get her hands on it, talking about her obsession with the previous games. you kept that in mind to buy it for her when it releases.

with the chaotic schedule, mina never had the time to buy the game, so you took it upon yourself to buy it for her.

"oh you are so in love with her, dodging my question only to buy mina a switch game?" jeongyeon smirks at you placing the game into her basket.

"am not!" you shout back, and jeongyeon cackles because you're lying through your teeth. your cheeks are flushed, and you're throwing the worst temper tantrum ever.

"yeah, sure." jeongyeon continues to cackle as you take the basket out of her hand, rushing forward to pay for the stuff, ignoring the way jeongyeon is just waiting for you to look at her with that knowing smirk of hers.

you are not giving her the satisfaction.

you return to your hotel room after shoving jeongyeon to her room. begging nayeon to take her girlfriend away so she can stop asking you if you're in love with mina.

obviously you are not.

you walk into your own room, seeing mina laying like she was before you left, switch in hand and looking pale. you immediately press your hand to her forehead, oh good, she doesn't have a fever.

you start taking things out of the shopping bag. cough drops, and bottle of cough medicine in case she needed something stronger. pedialyte to rehydrate herself, chicken soup that won't hurt her stomach. and tylenol medicine in case she gets a fever. at the display of all the items on her nightstand, you scratch the back of your head. did you really buy that much?

"thank you, you really didn't have to get me so much. it was only a cough." she says quietly, taking the bag of cough drops and ripping it to throw one in her mouth. you realize you have definitely overreacted, but how could you not when mina was coughing?

then you remembered the gift in your hand.

"i also bought something for you." you hand her the physical copy of pikmin 4. watching the ways her eyes go wide, excitement coursing through her, she leans forward, offering you a hug, that has you frozen. and she turns to open the game. you sit by her side the rest of the night letting her explain the game to you.

oh god, maybe you are in love with mina.

it becomes a habit, watching mina play her games every night, no matter how hard or confusing the game was, you alway sat by her to watch her. sometimes she caught you watching her instead of the game and would just redirect your focus back to the game.

then it becomes a habit of sleeping in the same bed. you wake up to the sight of mina, always waking up before her, sometimes you liked tucking her hair out of her face if you were bold. or plugging her switch into the outlets when she falls asleep playing it. you don't question it when she gets closer to you, and you lay your arm over her protectively.

today, mina didn't even want to wake up, so here you are, arranging breakfast in a tray from the lobby, bringing it up to her. with jeongyeon following you, you forget about how this isn't normal behavior for you. so dedicated and attentive to mina's wellbeing.

you walk in and gently place the tray by the counter. then you sit down to wake up mina, tapping her shoulder in a way you know won't spook her. as she slowly gets up, you brush her hair away, you also unwrap utensils for her to eat the breakfast you have for her.

she's enjoying her meal, with you making sure each bite isn't hot, blowing on it if it's too hot. and then you hear it.

"oh. my. god." your head snaps towards the hallway, the sight of jeongyeon and nayeon peering in, with jeongyeon filming the whole interaction. nayeon giggling like an idiot and hitting jeongyeon on the arm. then you get up ready to chase them out the room, them both turning on their heel rushing out the room.

you grow embarrassed, cheeks and ears flushed red and you look at mina, who also seems embarrassed being caught like this.

"let me go talk to them." you say, needing an out from this awkward moment. mina nods and continues eating her meal, letting you walk out, with your hands in your pockets and a nervous shiver down your spine.

you spot the two girls, eyeing jeongyeon's phone, and you can see it even if their back is turned to you. nayeon's snickering and jeongyeon's loud gasps. the video of you hand-feeding mina playing through the speakers.

"jeongyeon!" you shout as you get ready to snatch the phone out of her hand. she's quick, tucking the phone into her shirt. if it had been literally any two other members, you would not have to lose your head like this.

"so...mind explaining to us what's going on?" nayeon looks at you amusedly, pointing at the hotel door. you shake your head no, adamantly.

"oh also, just so you know, jeongyeon sent the video into the groupchat." nayeon says to you, and jeongyeon chases after her girlfriend down the hallway. you get ready for the confrontation that's going to happen when everyone in the group chat sees the video.

jihyo has you and mina in two chairs, watching you two closely. eyes boring into your and then into mina's, it keeps going on until you finally snap.

"jihyo please, can you just say what you want to say?" you sigh.

"okay, i had to do this to jeongyeon and nayeon when i found out they were sleeping together." she explains, you gag at the information, while mina looks away. "are you two together?"

"we're..." you trail off at the end. you haven't asked mina at all, you barely know if she feels anything towards you. mina taps her foot rhythmically. a nervous tick she's developed over the years, you hold her hand, and she stops tapping her foot.

"ooookay, i'll let you guys talk it out." jihyo slips out of the room, closing the door behind her.

you look at mina, she's not looking at you either. but the urge to confess was too much to handle, and you realize words are tumbling out of your mouth, before you had the time to think it through.

"i like you mina, i realized it through this tour, with how beautiful you are, i mean that inside and out. you were so attentive about my shoulder and you always offered to give me a massage even if you were tired from the concert."

you continue to word vomit in front of her.

"i mean i always knew you were gorgeous, but wow you take my breath away. seriously, all those videos circulating the internet was actually because you took my breath away. i want to wake up to your face, every. single. day. i don't know if you like me back, but i really do like you."

her face is beet red, hands rubbing one another as she listens to you talk, and then without another word, she gives you a quick peck on the lips, and returns to her seat. even more embarrassed than before.

"mina?" you gasp out. feeling for your lips, ones that she just kissed. she shakes her head no, but her feeling are betraying her. her body sinking into herself.

you giggle at it; it's cute that she can't even say it. "i'm going to assume you like me back because you kissed me."

she nods her head shyly, and then you let out a laugh.

at the very last concert of the ready to be tour. you're busy trying to tease tzuyu with momo. a wonderful encore stage to wrap up the amazing 49 concert tour. you continue to circulate the stage, often chasing jeongyeon and nayeon, when you spot a sign, "mina, will you marry me?"

you squint a bit at it, a little hard to read in the night, but when you get it, you immediately bring the mic to your lips, accidentally speaking into it.

"you can't marry mina, i'm marrying her."

the video breaks the internet.

a/n: this is a birthday gift to minari!! thank you to @im--yoong who messaged me requesting this fic, this is the video that inspired this fic!!

ALSO HUGE HUGE HUGE SHOUTOUT to @cry4mina who helped me move this story along, frfr saved me. bare-faced mina could save me, i believe it. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#mina x reader #twice mina #mina twice #mina myoui #minari myoui #myoui mina #twice x you #twice x reader #twice #kpop imagines #neoplatinum

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sadhours · 3 months

Note

Maybe one where she and Steve are arguing and as they get home and get in the shower together they're still arguing and then they start fucking while arguing and they move it to the bed and keep on.. sorry I'm high lol

i’m drunk, i can work with this.

steve harrington x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, jealous!steve, shower sex, dirty talk, name calling

“so, me talking to a man means i want to jump in his bed?” you ask, voice raised an octave as steve fumbles with his keys. he scoffs, stops mid keytwist as he turns towards you a stern expression.

“that’s not what I’m saying and you know that,” he argues, unlocking the deadbolt and shoving his key in the doorknob.

“well, then, dumb it down for me, Steve because it sure sounds like your saying that,” you reply, voice dropping in condescension.

steve pushes the door open with such force that you have to extend your fist to stop it from slamming in your face. he stomps to the bedroom with you hot on his trail. he tosses his keys and wallet on the dresser, kicking off his Nikes and starts unzipping his members only jacket. he looks at you under his broad brows, brown eyes set on you and fiery with his frustration.

“communication, Stevie,” you sing, “that’s the only way we’re gonna get anywhere!”

you untie your heels, tossing them to the foot of the bed once you get them off your feet, looking at him expectantly.

“listen,” he sighs, hands extended like he’s trying to calm you down but it only ignites the low flame of annoyance, sparking it with fuel that makes you laugh, all sarcastic and mean. “i’m not saying you wanted to fuck him, i’m saying he wanted to fuck you and maybe, just maybe, you liked the attention.”

“oh!” you laugh again, following him as he trails to the bathroom, “now I’m so desperate for attention! isn’t that a fucking you problem?! maybe i wouldn’t be so desperate for it if i was getting enough.”

Steve leans over the tub to start the faucet, pulls the lever to transfer the stream to the shower head. he looks frustrated, like you really aren’t seeing his side of things and starts to undo his jeans. shoves his jeans down to his knees and kicks them off. rubs his hand against his sharp nose a couple of times and shakes his head, looking at you with wide eyes.

“i played one game of pool with a buddy! i give you loads and fucking loads of attention!” he raises his voice at the end, hands going to the hem of his polo and he pulls it up and over his head.

you eyes fall on his chest hair, unable to stop yourself amidst a relatively heated argument. he looks fucking hot standing there in his underwear and you kind of hate him for it. so you try to even the playing field, shuck off your skin tight dress and undo your bra. Steve’s eyes drop to your tits, as expected and you feel like you gained a point.

he recovers quickly, shoves his hand under the spray to test the water temperature. shucks his briefs off and steps into the shower, closing the curtain but you caught a quick glimpse of his cock and balls. makes you quickly lose your thong and jump in behind him in the shower, moaning low at the heat of the water.

“i want your attention all the time,” you settle for as you push past him to hog the warm water.

“not exactly doable but,” he grunts as he pushes against you, “that’s sweet.”

“stevie,” you whine as you lean against him, feeling his cock start to fill out against your asscheeks. “i wasn’t flirting with that guy.”

“i know,” he mumbles, moving his hands to grab your hips as his lips find the skin just beneath your ear, “but you’re a fucking knockout. no way he didn’t want you.”

“he can’t have me,” you reply, tilting your head to give him better access, “only you can.”

Steve groans lowly against your neck, “you’re damn fucking right.”

“so why do you get so jealous?” you ask as you tilt your head back, welcoming his greedy kisses against your neck. his hands move to cup your breasts, squeezing as he grinds up into you.

“‘cause fuckin’ look at you, baby,” he mumbles in between sloppy kisses.

“i’m yours, stevie,” you remind him, moaning softly as he sucks a sizable bruise on the side of your throat. you reach behind to grab his cock, pointing his head as your entrance, sure he can feel the way you’re dripping arousal. “only you can do this to me,” you promise.

unexpectedly, steve grabs your hips and plants you against the shower tiles, lines his cock up with your hole and sinks in. groaning lowly in your ear as your cunt clenches around him and you moan out loudly.

“think you like making me jealous,” he grunts out, lips still pressed to your ear, hands still firm on your hips as he thrusts roughly into you, “think you like how i fuck you after.”

he’s telling the truth, you love steve for how tender and sweet he is but when he’s got some fire in him, he fucks you so good it makes you see stars. he moves his hand up your back, presses so your chest is flush against the cold tiles. hammers his hips into you two times, pointed and harsh. the head of his cock hitting against the golden spot inside you so deliciously, you’re moaning uncontrollably.

“huh?” he grunts again, “s’that true? like it when i treat you like a slut?”

“Steve,” you whine, hands flat against the shower wall, pushing your ass back at him. he thrusts again, pinning you against the wall and holding you there. cock unmoving and it’s torture.

“what?” he pouts, “big, tough girl can talk to strangers at the bar but can’t admit she wants her boyfriend to fuck her like a slut?”

“i like it, yes,” you babble out the confession, trying to wiggle back against him but his hips don’t budge. he’s stronger than you, physically and mentally.

“what? you like what?” he asks, grabbing your wrists and holding them against the wall.

“steve…” you whine again and he laughs, all cruel and loud against your ear.

“i play your game,” he says, “you can play mine. so say it, and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

you moan and writhe against the tiles, not wanting to give in. you want to push steve, want to make him break. get some of the power back here but it’s all too heady and his cock feels so good sheathed as deep as it’ll fit but you ache for movement. you give in, on the possibility he’ll give you what you want— what you need.

“i like when you treat me like a slut,” you admit, turning your face to look at him. his eyes darken as they meet yours and his lips curl up. he thrusts, gives you what you want but it’s so slow and deliberate. teasing and mean. drags a dissatisfied whine from your lips and steve thrusts forward harshly, quick and deep. prods at that spot so deep inside, the one only steve can reach.

“you’re lucky i like it, too,” he tells you and then he picks up the pace, keeps a steady rhythm. your eyes roll back as the head of his cock hammers against your g-spot. pushes these repetitive uh-uh-uh’s from you. his hands release your wrists, his left grabs hold of your hip and his right comes up to grip your throat, not too tightly and gives him the leverage to tilt your head back. covers your mouth with his in a sloppy, filthy open mouthed kiss. fucks you ruthlessly against the shower tiles.

“you’re my little cockslut,” he says between kisses, “all fucking mine.”

his words make that coil in your stomach tighten quicker and quicker. he doesn’t stop. steve can’t shut up when his cocks inside your tight, sopping cunt.

“aren’t you? my slut, huh?” he drills into you, the water cascading over your bodies only making the slapping sounds of your skin meeting that much louder. “and you fucking love being my slut, don’t you, baby?”

“yes, steve— fuck, i’m your little slut,” you babble, bouncing against him and the wall.

“my dirty little slut,” he pants, “such a good slut, just for me.”

steve gasps, pushes you up against the wall again, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises and jackhammers into you. god, it’s almost too much, each time his cock slams into your sweet spot your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open, unabashedly moaning for him. coil tightening and threatening to snap at any second, your voice cracking on the moans, getting higher and higher in pitch. it’s your tell. steve knows you’re close, knows your body better than you do.

he groans lowly, “cum for me, dirty girl. cum all over my cock.”

you wail as it hits you, body seizing in his grip as he fucks you through it. drags every bit of it out of you. you struggle to hold yourself upright, the orgasm spending you almost immediately but steve’s not too far behind. you can tell by the way he’s panting and whining in your hear.

“my fucking— hnng, my fucking dirty little slut,” he whines and then thrusts one last time, deep and hard as he spills inside you. his lips find your cheekbone, kissing tenderly as his orgasm washes over him. little moans vibrating against your face. then he’s slipping out of you and you already miss the warmth and fullness only he can give you. he turns you around, wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

after the pair of you catch your breath, you continue the shower. taking turns washing each other’s hair and bodies, exchanging sweet words and kisses. the waters gone cold but it’s fine, steve warms you up when you finally crawl under the sheets, clinging to you tightly and kissing your face, neck and collarbone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve Harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut

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polarisjisung · 1 month

Text

PETNAMES NCT DREAM WOULD USE

pairings: nct dream x fem!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 0.7k

warnings: hopefully none

notes: this is a little shorter than usual but if you couldn't tell already I'm a sucker for petnames (if you think they're cringy you're just painfully single 😤) so I HAD to make this

MARK — my girl/babe

now mark's a chill laid back guy, and he loves you like crazy but he also doesn't see any need in extravagant nicknames or petnames and he sticks to the classics, he probably won't address you by your name for the most part so he'll just stick to babe. sweet and simple

"that's my girl" is such a classic mark thing, he gets proud over the smallest things you do, he's like your personal cheerleader. It could be something so small as flipping an egg without breaking the yolk and mark would be ecstatic.

RENJUN — darling

nicknames are serious business for renjun, every now and then he'll call you babe but to him it feels too casual— most likely it'll be something very specific to your relationship and how you met but if not he loves darling, it feels the most endearing to him.

JENO — baby/angel/gorgeous

for the most part jeno will stick to baby, sometimes babe but in his softest moments he'll go for angel— it's unconscious really.

but to jeno you're the best thing that's ever happened to him, like his own personal angel— somehow you always know what to do/say when he's feeling down and he's never met someone like that before. you're unique and somehow everything you do feels perfect to jeno, he thinks your soul is so pure, you're his angel.

on occasion jeno will throw a quick but calculated "good morning gorgeous" your way— mainly because it has you absolutely falling apart to the point where you can't even form coherent sentences, but jeno thinks it's cute

HAECHAN — sunshine/sunflower/honey

you bring out the best in him, you're his motivation and you give him so much energy for performances and his idol life, especially when things get tough so calling you his sunshine just feels right to haechan.

haechan probably throws around a lot of nicknames with you, sometimes some a little too weird, but he knows it'll get you smiling

"hey snookums" he'd say casually as he enters the room

"are you talking to me hyuck?"

he'd nod eagerly and you can't help but giggle at his dorky smile

"I love you but please, never call me that again" best believe he'll stick to that nickname for the rest of the week

and of course every time he steps through the door, haechan has to announce "honey, I'm home" like hes in some american sitcom, as if you didn't see him pull up in the drive and hear his keys jingle as he unlocked the door— you love him either way

JAEMIN — princess/pretty

sure jaemin thinks he's a princess but you? you're like the princess of all princesses. plus jaemin feels the need to remind you of your worth day in and day out— you're a princess and so you deserve to be treated like one, given jaemin's practically a king at princess treatment, you'd consider it appropriate

jaemin thinks you're pretty no doubt. in some moments, especially when you don't quite share the same opinion, jaemin will be the first one to remind you, and if you're feeling down "hey pretty look at me" he'd say in that soft low tone of his that's so awfully comforting, with two hands on your shoulder before giving you the pep talk of a lifetime

CHENLE — babe/baby

chenle's not much of a petnames guy aside from a casual babe/baby here and there but you suppose that's what makes it all the more special when he does use them

he much prefers to have a nickname for you that's exclusive to him than using petnames, but if its something you're into he'll definitely try and step up his game, also if he gets teased by his members for calling you by your name

a jealous chenle uses all the petnames under the sun— anything to make it clear you're his girl

JISUNG — (my) love/beautiful

jisung is usually soft spoken but too shy to throw around "I love/like you's" without becoming a blushing mess so his favourite way to subtly remind you just how much you mean to him are through petnames. he truly thinks you're beautiful inside and out, so it's one of the first names he addresses you with.

he likes to switch it up, testing and seeing which ones your smile grows the widest at. he decides love feels right. after all, you were the person who taught him all about it.

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luciddownloading · 1 month

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Astrology Observations: Taurus Edition 🐂

🌷 Taurus Suns, Taurus Moons and Taurus Risings all specialize in the realm of the senses, the physical and aesthetic plane, but they do it differently from one another

Taurus Sun is the gardener. It's a pursuit that requires patience, persistence, and that unfolds slowly. These people know how to plant a metaphorical seed, water it, and allow it to grow. They are usually excellent manifestors, even though a) they may not actually see it as manifestation, just a steadfast desire to create the life they want and b) their manifestations may take especially long to materialize. But, like a gardener, it is only a matter of time until they have the most luscious plants and beautiful flowers. Taurus Suns are destined for material abundance. It's their birthright! (And if this is your Sun sign, you should actually get into growing plants or flowers. It would be really great for you!)

Taurus Moon is the chef. They can take a lot of ingredients and combine them to make something delicious and comforting. People with this Moon sign are often excellent in the kitchen. If not, they're huge foodies and the way to their heart is through their stomach. They also seem to have an instinct for what needs to be added into a situation. It's like their special secret ingredient but others will come to recognize it with time. It may be their humor, their stable energy, their warmth, or their level-headed ways. But, it's some sort of trait they have that nourishes and comforts others. Taurus Moon people are typically nurturing or supportive but not in such an emotional way. When they ask "what do you need?", they mean physical things. It could be a hug, advice, their quality time or money (many of them are pretty financially generous)

Taurus Rising is the artist. They see beauty all around them and want to replicate that into some form. Many of them will actually be very artistic. They could have a lovely singing voice. But, in many cases, their form of art will be more physical than emotionally expressive, as in drawings, paintings, photography, possibly even sculpture or pottery. Visual art. They themselves are walking visual art. Much like their sister placement, Libra Rising, they are either very physically attractive or they have a really lovely aura that makes them very attractive, even if they're not conventionally good-looking. They will also put time and effort into their appearance but it's low key. Like a masterpiece in a museum, they draw you in quietly, slowly yet undeniably.

🌷 Venus in Taurus people tend to be very vain and enamored with themselves, especially women or people with a lot of feminine energy. But, they also need to make sure they are very secure in themselves, too. If not, they could become very jealous or territorial. Whatever they believe is "theirs", whether it's attention or a partner or career status, when they're being low-vibrational, they will feel very easily threatened or overly possessive. However, when they are secure in themselves, they possess amazing self-love and can really pour into other people unselfishly.

🌷 Taurus people, especially those with their Sun or Moon or Rising in this sign, do have terrible tempers. They tend to have a long fuse and they are calm or chill most of the time. But, when they are properly provoked, they are capable of going off in a way that brings down the house. It's like a storm, like they are channeling Mother Nature herself, and they can go dark or even get violent. But, they are aware of this and try to restrain this part of themselves

🌷 Mars in Taurus men are traditionally masculine in relationships. They are usually not "macho" in an obnoxious way. But, they have a very solid, protective, reliable energy with a mate. They have provider energy, especially since they really prioritize their financial security. Yet, because of this, they tend to prefer a mate who will play a more conventionally feminine role. No matter their sexual orientation, they are more drawn to a partner who will either be a "housewife" type or a very doting spouse

🌷 Taurus Risings very often get "thick" as they get older. It's not looked at as weight gain in a negative way because they seem to put on weight in all the right ways/places. So, people may prefer them when they are a little meatier (and they may also like themselves better this way). But, they are just as beautiful in their "skinny era"

🌷 Mercury in Taurus individuals just like simple conversation. They really find pleasure in talking, even if they're not necessarily talkative or talking about much of importance. So, they can make what would normally be a boring subject or tedious social setting really enjoyable. They are super-easy to talk to and love to laugh

🌷 There is just something SO elegant about famous actors with their Sun in Taurus: Cate Blanchett, Daniel Day Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, George Clooney, to name a few. They just come off as incredibly classy and respectable, like they're of a distinguished breed, which shows the innate elegance that Taurus Suns are capable of.

🌷 People with Taurus placements can simultaneously be very connected to their intuitive/psychic abilities but very unaware of them. Taurus is the opposite sign of Scorpio, an overwhelmingly psychic energy. Taurus can have super-heightened senses and, therefore, easily develop clairaudience, clairvoyance, claircognizance or clairsentience. After all, those abilities are just ways of harnessing psychic energy through the senses. But, because Taurus is more focused on what is tangible or provable, they may be oblivious to their psychic abilities or highly uneasy with them (unless they have a strong Water influence)

🌷 Taurus Moons can potentially be just as codependent with their mother figure as Cancer Moons can be, especially if they have harsh aspects to their Moon. In toxic cases, the mother or child may be too financially reliant on the other. Or, less dramatically, it can just be a case of feeling like your stability or peace depends on your mother's input. When Taurus Moons remember that their sense of security must come from within, the relationship will become healthier

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Thanks for stopping by! You can check out my other posts and readings here:

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#astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #taurus #taurus placements #taurus stellium #taurus sun #sun in taurus #taurus energy #taurus moon #moon in taurus #taurus rising #taurus ascendant #mercury in taurus #venus in taurus #mars in taurus

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rinneverse · 3 months

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cw a little suggestive towards the end, mdni please and ty :)

alhaitham is the type to seethe quietly in his jealousy.

he’s not outwardly possessive—no, because he lets the stranger talk to you—his pretty girlfriend—about his thesis plans, about his academic feats, and you sit there with a smile plastered on your face, nodding your head as you listen to him prattle on and on and on.

alhaitham nearly bends the book in his hand into pieces with what he claims is annoyance. not possessiveness, no, that was out of character. he was just… annoyed, that this random man had the gall to interrupt his reading session with you.

that’s what he tells himself, at least.

of course, how was he supposed to know you were dating the akademiya scribe, when alhaitham was possibly the most low-key person ever? the two of you were quiet about your relationship, content to share it between yourselves. only your close friends really knew the extent of how deep your “friendship” with the scribe went.

as soon as the man leaves (not without leaving his number for you, of course), and the two of you are blanketed in the quiet murmurs of the akademiya library, alhaitham sets his book down. he turns to you.

he finds you staring at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. alhaitham tilts his head, all feline grace, his eyes narrowing into slits as he asks, “what?”

you shake your head mirthfully, crumpling up the slip of paper in your hand and tossing it into the nearest bin. alhaitham feels his shoulders un-tense just a fraction at the sight.

“nothing,” you say, but alhaitham knows you’re lying.

so he leans closer to you, grasping your chin in his hand as he tilts your head back and forces your gaze to meet his.

“liar. what is it?”

you smile. wide and wider it grows, and you reach a hand up to brush alhaitham’s cheek. he barely suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch.

“i didn’t think you to be the jealous type.”

“i’m not.”

“then what was that all about?” you hum. you’re… amused by this. amused by him grappling with his emotions. alhaitham feels his lips twitch downward.

if you didn’t know any better, he would appear to just be frowning. but you did… and it was like he was pouting. you giggle.

“i am annoyed,” alhaitham says, stressing the last word, “that we were interrupted by a stranger. nothing more.”

“nothing more?” you parrot, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “sure. and i’m the grand sage.”

alhaitham bites his tongue, pulling his hand away from your chin. his fingers flex—he has to stamp down on his self-control. being found in a compromising position in the library would surely wreck the both of your social statuses.

but the thrill of it… seeing you bent over the table, utterly wrecked under the careful ministrations of his hands—getting to mark his claim on you...

he quickly shakes the dangerous train of thought away.

“do you want to go home?” you suddenly ask, a coy smile dancing on your lips. he must have been obvious where his line of thinking was going, if you managed to catch on that quickly. the grin on your face tells him that you did.

alhaitham pretends to ponder it. grabs the book he set down, turns it over in his hands, then shrugs.

“sure. kaveh shouldn’t be home for another few hours.”

his voice was bedroom-soft, and the tone in which he said it—nearly purring—has heat pooling in your core.

“alright. let’s go?”

he wordlessly rises, holding out his hand for you. there’s a small part of him that feels a maddening satisfaction when you let out a pleased hum, followed by a surprised yelp as he gracefully slides an arm around you.

someone nearby makes a “shh” noise, and he completely ignores it. you giggle out an apology.

it was utterly unlike him, he thinks, as he guides you through the library with his arm wrapped around your waist, slowly moving to rest his hand on the small of your back when the two of you exit the library.

maybe he’ll try being more public in his attention to you. that would most certainly keep this from happening again.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #☆ oakie writes #hey ! alhaitham drabble jumpscare before i go to bed :3 #i did not proofread btdubs #wrote this all in one sitting on my phone from the comfort of my bed. and now… i eep!#a nice little bedtime story if u will

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suna-cerely-yours · 8 months

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I wanna get him back ( wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad!) - ft g. suguru

a/n: listen, i love satoru- it might not seem like it, but i really do, he'd be the best bf ever.

warnings: minors do not interact, afab! reader, reader is called a slut, girlfriend, public sex, implied noncon voyeurism

songs: get him back! - olivia rodrigo, one of your girls- the weeknd, wine pon you- doja cat (i highly recommend you listen in this order)

"He's such a fucking asshole, I'm going to kill-", your words are cut off by your friend pressing a shot glass to your lips. "Woah, girlfriend- calm it, you broke up with him, remember?"

Taking the shot glass from her, you bite on the salt-lined rim, eyes still fixed on a certain white-haired menace leaning against the bar across the dance floor, clearly flirting with the petite blonde in front of him.

"We've been broken up for a month, a month! Who the hell moves on that quickly? "

Your friend pats your back sympathetically, giving your other friend a wide-eyed look behind your back. "Well, he wasn't the most dedicated boyfriend around y'know? Fuck him, honestly- don't let this ruin your night!"

Furrowing your brow, your press your lips together momentarily, tasting the grains of salt stuck to your lipgloss, before downing the shot. Slamming the glass down on the table, you straighten- adjusting the straps of your low-cut dress.

"I wanna get him back," you announce- not noticing your friend tip her head back and exhale frustratingly, while the one seated across from the both you hides a laugh behind her glass.

"As in get revenge," you clarify, "By hate fucking him. And maybe keying his stupid car."

"Not this again, let him go already! The only good thing about him was his height, anyway- didn't you say he had a temper, and and- in bed! he's a selfish lover right- don't do this-"

Her words fall on deaf ears as you get up and exit the booth, raising your hand in response to the "call us if you need us!" from your friends- set on blazing a path through the crowded dance floor to the man in question.

Wading through sweaty bodies you get closer to the bar, when a hand circles your wrist, stopping you. Jerking your hand back you turn, only for the person to press a hand to your lower back, forcibly turning you to face them. You open your mouth, ready to give the stranger a piece of your mind, when you stop. Blinking at the lightly sweaty skin revealed by the light blue button-down unbuttoned at the neck, you tilt your head up, a black stud catching your eye first- then bangs.

"Long time no see, princess."

Your shitty ex-boyfriend's best friend stands before you, grinning, looking just as devastatingly handsome as he had the night you broke up with your ex.

(Suguru had been present for the nasty breakup, just as he had always been present throughout your short-lived relationship with his best friend. And you had no way of confirming, but you had a strange feeling that he might have somehow also been around during the more physically intimate moments of your relationship.)

"Don't touch me, you- you monkey, or I swear I'll-" you hiss, trying to step away from the man, only for him to shift his grip to tighten around your hips, pushing you closer until you're pressed up against him.

"Haven't seen you around much doll, and you're already running away? I'm hurt," he mocks, leaning closer, minty breath fanning over your face. "You wouldn't happen to be running towards Satoru, would you? He's a little preoccupied from the looks of it."

Clenching your jaw you glare up at him, painfully aware of how firm and strong he felt against you.

"He needs to learn to grieve a breakup," you say, flattening your palms against his chest, "Clearly-"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that? By showing up as the clingy ex? Never thought you were the type, doll."

You swallow once, turning your head to glance at Satoru. He's closer to the blonde now, running a hand up and down her back, while she laughs, clutching at his arms. You doubt he's even noticed you tonight.

"Whatever, fuck, I'll just key his car- now would you let go-"

"Key his car?" you can hear the mirth in his voice, as you feel your face heat with embarrassment.

"Why the fuck are you still here, I'll scream if you don't unhand me right now, Geto."

You feel one hand slide lower until it covers your ass, lightly squeezing. You sharply inhale, when he leans closer, whispering in your ear, " He's looking."

You suck on your lower lip, unconsciously tilting your head to give him more room. He hovers for a moment, before nuzzling into your neck- breath hot, lips wet.

"You wanna make him jealous? Want your revenge? Fucking his best friend is a better place to start than keying his car."

You know it's a bad, no- terrible idea. If Satoru was bad, Suguru was arguably worse. However, standing in his arms in the dimly lit room, with writhing bodies around you, the Weeknd crooning on the bass boosting speakers and the rush of alcohol through your veins- you find it difficult to listen to the warning bells in your head. He's pressing open mouthed kisses you the sensitive skin of your neck and décolletage now, slipping his leg between your thighs, pushing you forward to grind your core against his leg.

You whimper, desire flooding through you, and slide your hands up to clasp around his neck.

"Is he still looking?"

You feel Suguru grin, "Yes."

You press forward, feeling your dress ride up as you grind your pussy on his clothed thigh, mouth parting as he grips your ass and helps you find a better angle.

"That's my dirty girl, I can feel how wet you are already- you're getting off like this in public? Always knew you were a slut."

You moan, rolling your hips, as he slips his thumb in your mouth, lightly pressing on your lower teeth, forcing you to open your mouth further. You lock eyes with him, watching him lick his lower lip, before pressing them to yours, licking into your mouth. You whine, eyes fluttering shut, as you feel yourself getting closer to your high.

The hand that had previously been in your mouth slides down your front, slipping into your dress, thumb sliding over your nipple. You feel your panties wedge between your folds, soaked through. Slipping a hand under your dress, he pulls your panties up, so they push up creating more friction.

He draws his face back, panting lightly, and murmurs against your lips, "Say my name, princess. Whose leg are you humping like a whore where everyone can see? Who are you letting touch you everywhere?"

"Suguru! Oh Suguru, please I'm so close, just-"

"What the actual fuck is going on here?" a very familiar voice cuts through the haze. Your eyes widen, locking with angry, icy blue ones, just as Suguru flexes his thigh, pushing you to your climax. Your head jerks back, you gasp, pussy clenching around nothing as you cum.

"Suguru what the fuck-"

"Satoru, would you shut up, your girlfriend is cumming on my thigh right now, you should take notes- I don't think I've ever seen you actually make her cum."

"I'm not his girlfriend."

"Wanna be mine instead?"

#jjk x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #suguru x you

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