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gojorgeous · 4 months

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arranged marriage! gojo heacanons

pairing: gojo x fem!reader synopsis: just some headcanons about arranged marriage gojo! headcanons do follow a linear plot content: MDNI (18+ONLY), nsfw & sfw content, arranged marriage, p->v, oral (fem!receiving), pregnancy, breeding, not proofread because i'm lazy!!! a/n: i had a request to do a sort of expansion/sequel/prequel (?) on my business or pleasure fic, so... this is that. enjoy! and remember AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 2k (that's so much headcanon lmao)

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who reluctantly agrees to an arranged marriage when the clan decides it’s time to secure the lineage and make a new heir.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose jaw nearly drops when he sees you for the first time as you’re walking down the aisle. No way you’re that hot…

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s practically rocking on his feet waiting for the minister to give him permission to kiss you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who drags said kiss on a little (a lot) longer than he needed to and spends the rest of the night wishing he’d dragged it on even longer.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s actually really pissed that there are so many damned guests at his wedding. All of them want to talk to him when all he really wants to do is talk to you!!!

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who only gets about three words into you the whole night and feels like pouting every time someone pulls him away from your arm.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally relaxes a bit when the party’s over and he finally gets you alone.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has a hard time keeping his hands to himself on the drive home.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who can’t help but stare at your lips as you answer his silly little questions about your favorite color and your favorite food.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has to restrain himself from literally pulling you out of the car and up to his penthouse.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who suddenly finds himself a little nervous when he finally has you to himself. It’s his wedding night and he has to please his wife, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who revels in tearing away your dress until he sees the lacy little white set you have on underneath.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who pins your wrists to the bed just so he can admire the way you look beneath him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who nearly comes with no warning the first time he hears you moan his name. He decides it’s his sole purpose in life to make you moan like that as much as possible.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is somehow both gentle and rough, who peppers you with kisses but rocks into you so good he has you seeing stars.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he ascends when you come around his cock and then ascends again when he remembers he married you and gets to see it for the rest of his life.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes sure to cum inside you and give you every last drop. After all, you have to make a new little Gojo heir, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who holds you tightly to his chest until you drift off to sleep with your head atop his heart.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes the next two hours to be able to fall asleep himself, too hyped up on all the endorphins he’s feeling.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose brow furrows and stomach drops when he wakes the next morning to you not in his arms.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who scours the house for you and finds you in the living room reading, already having been up for hours.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart fractures a little bit when you greet him soooooo formally and tell him that there’s some breakfast in the fridge.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends far too long in the shower, letting the water run over him and trying to figure out where he went wrong.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who comes to the conclusion that he just needs to win you over a little more slowly, who smiles and thinks he knows exactly how to do it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds you still reading on the couch and tells you to get ready to go out– you’re going shopping.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes you to every designer shop he can think of and buys everything your eyes so much as graze over. Even if you tell him you don’t want it– he doesn’t care. You’re getting it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart flutters in his chest when you smile at a pretty little necklace he buys you. It’s not the most expensive thing he’s bought you by far, but it makes you the happiest nonetheless.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s confused as to why you keep thanking him so profusely on the way home. His money is your money now… do you not know that?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes a stop at the bank on the way home and gets you a flashy black credit card with your name (and new last name hehe) printed at the bottom. He loves the way your eyes widen and your lips part when he tells you there’s no limit.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who asks you what you want to do that night. Fly to Paris for dinner? Pack for a vacation to Bali? Maybe just a fancy meal at Tokyo’s most exclusive restaurant? He’s shocked when you say you’d prefer takeout and a movie on the couch, but all too happy to oblige.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who orders half the menu at your favorite ramen restaurant that he’s never heard of.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes go wide when he takes the first bite and tells you it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who stares at your lips when you laugh and ask him, “really? The best?”

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s suddenly tugging your skirt down your thighs and burying his face between your legs. He takes one long lick and moans, saying that the ramen is now only second-best.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he could fuck you for hours on his couch, but stops after just a few rounds. He doesn’t want to tire his little baby out.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who savors the way you let him hold you after sex. Why couldn’t he hold you like this all day? So what if you’d just met– you’re his wife???

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buries his face in your neck to memorize the moment, dreading the second you pull away from him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who almost protests when you wrap a blanket around your body and pad off, saying you’re going to take a shower.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who debates cornering you in the bathroom for another round, if only so he can hold you again, but thinks better of it and cleans up your forgotten ramen instead.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is completely exasperated when you never return to finish the movie. He finds you sitting in your shared bed, reading again.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart drops when you only look up long enough to give him a small smile instead of tumbling straight into his arms.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds himself once again in the shower contemplating his existence.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who decides he’ll win you over one way or another, even if it takes longer than he originally intended…

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who climbs into bed next to you and slings an arm around your waist casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest when he buries his face in his pillow.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who doesn’t truly fall asleep until you turn off your bedside lamp and lie down beside him. His heart does little skips when you don’t wiggle out from under his arm.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who wakes first in the morning this time to find you curled so tightly into his chest he’s sure his pounding heart is going to wake you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes turn into little hearts when you wake blushing after you realize how closely you’ve curled into him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who tells you it’s okay and pulls you back into him and smirks when you can't see his face.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends the next few weeks buying you every knick and knack, every snack and meal, and bending you every surface in the house.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes light up whenever he sees you wearing that little necklace he bought you on that very first shopping trip.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buys you another necklace… this one with his initials dangling from the chain.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes you ride him so he can see his letters swaying from your neck as you come on his cock.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends every waking moment with you on his mind, who gets in a sticky situation while fighting more than once because he’s waiting for you to text him back or remembering all the nasty things he did to you last night.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally takes a look at the pages of those books you like so much and realizes the pure filth his dirty little wife reads right beside him every night.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s not angry or put off, but rather excited. He uses it as a manual the next he has you under him and when he repeats a line verbatim from your book he laughs so loud at your shocked little blush that he’s sure you’re both getting a noise complaint in the morning.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes every effort to find out what you like (beyond reading smut) and buys you front row tickets to a concert for a band that you both happen to love.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds out your favorite movie series and takes three (unapproved) days off of work just to have a marathon with you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is having his morning coffee (full of cream and sugar and caramel sauce, of course) when you make your way into the kitchen with your lip pulled between your teeth.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes blow wide when he sees a stick with two little pink lines and realizes he’s managed to knock you up on the first try.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who simply has to have you right then and there, bending you over the counter and groaning your name when he slides inside your cunt. He’s gentler this time, though. Can’t be too rough when his wife is pregnant, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who goes overboard with his excitement and buys a new car the same day he finds out you’re pregnant. It’s practically a tank with all its safety features. He says you’re only allowed in that specific vehicle for the foreseeable future. Get used to it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s all over you now. Whatever restraint he had before is gone now that you’re carrying his baby. He touches you… everywhere. All the time. It’s like it pains him to not have at least a smidgen of his skin on yours.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who keeps trying to win you over in the following weeks. He needs you. Not just your body, but your mind and your soul, too!

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who just lets it slip that he loves you when he’s balls deep in your cunt. Doesn’t even get embarrassed or flustered about it, just keeps pounding into you and whining about how much he loves you over and over again while he’s filling you up.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who lets the floodgates open after that. He tells you he loves you at every opportunity. It gets to the point where those three little words don’t even fluster you anymore, but you haven’t said them back. Not yet.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who waits patiently. He knows he’s getting to you, little by little. He’s sure he’ll hear you say it back soon.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s blindsided despite having convinced himself he’d be able to play it cool. He’s got you on the couch, wrapped up in his arms with his head on your tummy (he gets to hold you as much as he wants now hehe). You’re braiding his hair when you tell him that you love him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who flushes the deepest shade of pink you’ve ever seen and pulls down his blindfold like he needs to see you say it again.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who begs to hear it again and again and again until he’s smiling so wide it's literally blinding.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks his arranged marriage was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him <3

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

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#bree’s fics #jjk #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo #gojo smut #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen

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l13 · 10 months

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currently OBSESSED with your blog. Everything you post is FIRE. HEAR ME OUT, ok, imagine being like hella subby/timid and Miguel LOVES it but is also trying to help you use your voice, say what you want, GET YOU TO TAKE CHARGE A LIL and your all shy and cute and it just makes him want to fuck you THAT MUCH HARDER

nsfw mdni!

you're absolutely right anon, he'd love it and he'd also tease you RELENTLESSLY about it- taking advantage of the fact that you wouldn't speak up, so desperately trying to help you achieve the opposite- to be open with him and not feel the need to hide anything from him,

he'd always say shit like "R'you tired, baby? Already?" as if this wasn't the third time he was fucking you, and you'd just mewl in reply, turning your head to bury your face deeper in your pillow

one night you end up with your back against the mattress, moaning and whimpering at the way Miguel eats you out like a starved man- groaning into your pussy as he licks everything you have to offer, lapping quickly at your folds.

you can feel you're close as you arch your back, unconsciously moving further away from him- and he grabs your thighs to pull you closer, clicking his tongue, "Oh baby.. Can't handle what I give you?"

you huff, "I can." and he just chuckles, his chin glistening, "Really."

"Then tell me what you want- I'll stop if you don't." he's thrown that one phrase in a LOT, always 'threatening' to stop making you feel good in order for you to speak up more- but you'd never budged and he in turn wouldn't stop either, because he couldn't. This time, though, he actually keeps his promise when you don't reply to him, and you're baffled as you watch him walk out of the room, leaving you panting on the bed.

you were so close to cumming, and he just left you there. You get up quickly to follow him out the room, rolling your eyes when you see him casually sitting on the couch, legs spread and all, and you come to stand right in front of him, blocking his view of the tv. His eyes betray him as always, and you try not to squirm at the way he stares at your body, licking his lips as he eyes you up and down,

"Something you need, querida?"

you've never actually asked Miguel for anything- only replying with small 'yes's whenever he'd ask you if you wanted more- if you wanted him to do this or that.

"I want your mouth on my pussy," you ignore the way your voice trembles as you talk, stubbornly standing your ground. Miguel grins, tongue running over his fangs before he scoots over, "Lay back,"

"No."

"No?"

"You lay back. I wanna sit on your face." the way his eyebrows shoot up is almost comical, but then he's groaning, grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards him, and you gasp as you situate yourself in his lap clumsily. He kisses you hard- tongue rolling over your own, as you begin to grind your hips on him, loving the way his boxers feel against your bare pussy.

You run your hand up to rub at his pecs before you're pushing him down, and he chuckles breathlessly as he falls back, "Kitty finally got claws, huh?"

For some reason that pisses you off even more because you murmur, "Shut up," then you're suddenly climbing over his chest, hovering right above his mouth, and he can't keep his eyes off your pretty pussy- practically drooling at the sight,

after that it's like everything's changed- seeing miguel beg, hearing him whine for your pussy like you always do for his cock, changed how you viewed sex in general- and now you're the one asking to go for a second- third round, and he's the one laying down on the bed, sweat running down his temple as he pants hard, "Just give me a second baby, shit-" but you don't listen to him- too cockdrunk to do so- so you just straddle him again, taking his cock in your hands, loving the way he jumps from how overstimulated he is,

He grunts from underneath you, his hands squeezing your hips as he throws his head back in exasperation when you slip his cock back inside you, "h my Godddd, this pussy's too tight- I can't-"

and you pout at him, "What's the matter, baby? Can't handle what I give you?" and right at that moment, Miguel thinks he's created a monster

think this got way off topic, no? so sorry if it did

also thank you so much for your kind words 🥹 <3333

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut

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intrepidacious · 1 year

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almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

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azzydoesstuff · 3 months

Text

lethal company dashboard simulator

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

man 41-experimentation has the worst abandoned facilities. where is all the scrap guh??

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

the fuck are you calling an abandoned facility?? experimentation is my fucking home you prick. you scrappers call these facilities abandoned but they're not. you're just wandering into our homes and stealing our things. leave it to the scrapper to regurgitate insectophobic slop. blocked

#like i swear to god. these fucking scrappers are so stupid. i hope they all die #insect pride

3,601 notes

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

i swear to god y'all, ain't NOTHINg moving on my watch

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

heyyyy 😏

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

😬

457 notes

🦅 professionalhawkster2 Follow

bro why do the fucking dogs keep messing with my gang?? they almost killed jerry a couple hours ago

🦖 heywhosaidthat Follow

how about you be fucking quiet you fucking pickle thieves

#seriously who steals pickles lmao #fuck baboon hawks

92 notes

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

T HEY TOOK M Y PIcKLES!!!!1!!

#naw i'm uptading th ose mf dangjer level to 75% agfter tha t shit

18 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

first time visiting 7-dine! wonder what i'm gonna find lol

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

hey i live there! lol

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

🫣

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

man what the hell

#cw coilphobia #fucking scrappers #hope i coil this bitch lmao

7,084 notes

🦑 badjokesbyjeb Follow

What do you do after eating a really tasty planet? You give the restaraunt five golden stars.

🪙 living-on-the-blingbling-baby Follow

BEAST LET ME OUT ALREADY I NEED TO GET OUT I CAN'T BE DIGESTED YOU FUCKING BEAST CEASE THIS MOCKERY OF OUR GOLDEN PLANET RELEASE ME SPIT OUT THE RINDS LET ME LEAVE

🖁 across-the-system Follow

Haha, good one Jeb! You should really change your url!

#you fucking idiot don't say shit like that #he's gonna fucking escape at some point if you keep doing this and then you'll really be fucked you fucking moron #goodjokesbyjeb

765,014 notes

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

who up eatin' their legs

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

what

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

us thumpers get called halves because when we're born we have to eat the bottom half of our bodies to get out of our eggs. this is why we have no legs and have to use our arms to walk around. hope this helps ❤️

#cw thumperphobic slur #cw half #don't be ignorant like this and do your research #also don't call us halves please #thumpers #thumperposting #thumper gang

132 notes

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

man why don't this fucking door open. oh it's my fucking crew behind it fucking great. fucking assholes won't stop saying i smell

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

hey i think we haven't met before

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

😨

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

RICH NOOOOOOOOOOO

#bro stank like shit but i didn't want him to go like this #not like this! not like thiiiiiiis!

64,089 notes

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

you guys, i just found the coolest fucking metal sheet. you have no idea

42 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

BRO GET OUT OF THE DOORWAY STUPID FUCKING BOX

🎁 lethaljesterjestering Follow

listen to my tune

351 notes

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

hey guys it's my first week working for the company! i think i'm gonna make quota this time

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

no you're not

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

no i'm not

9,278 notes

🎭 she-fillin-my-quota Follow

hey guys i'm resigning from the company rn. im gonna make some changes accordingly on my blog now. can someone tell @lootyloot-nestynest i'm sorry and ask them to unblock me. i'm a changed man now, i'm not a scrapper anymore

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

guys idk something seems off about this guy. he was spewing coilphobic shit a couple days ago

🎭 comedy-tragedy-drama Follow

guess who's been busy, coily? 😏😏😏

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

no fucking way

#the madman did it #bro got fucking masked lmao

#is this anything #shitpost #shitposting #lethal company #lethal company shitpost #lethalposting #companyposting #tumblr dashboard simulator #lethalblr #companyblr

553 notes · View notes

straykeedz · 7 months

Text

day 4: hyunjin + cumshot

©straykeedz

tw: exboyfriend!hyunjin; mentions of a breakup; porn with plot but more like plot with porn tbh; very brief nipple play; unprotected piv sex (don't do that at home 🤨); brief clit play; hyunjin cums on reader (obviously) and takes a pic; cum swallowing; exes2lovers?; ♡

honestly this is, like, 90% plot and 10% porn lol, also bare with me if it sucks - english is not englishing these days 🥹 plus i really don’t know what this is lol hyunjin is always the hardest for me to write 🫠

wc: 4,2k (i’m sorry 🫣);

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

♠︎

You scoff, throwing your phone on the bed - still no sign of Hyunjin. He was supposed to be at your place half an hour ago, and still hasn’t showed up. Typical of him - not keeping his promises, no wonder the two of you didn’t work out, it would a miracle if you did. But tonight you don’t have it in you to put up with him - you have somewhere to be and you’re gonna be late if he doesn’t ring your doorbell within the next ten minutes.

Speak of the devil - the doorbell rings. Thank God, you think, rolling your eyes as you head for the door. Once you swing the door open, you’re met with your ex standing on your doorstep - looking pretty handsome, you have to admit. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and has his hair styled into a messy bun, undercut clearly visible.

“You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”, you remark, an unamused expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighs, adjusting his glasses. “Something came up at work.”

You scoff. Yeah, of course, work. You’re not surprised, everything’s about his stupid job with him. You’re surprised he still hasn’t moved into his office, considering he spends most of his time there anyways. But it’s not your place to judge, not anymore, because you’re not his girlfriend anymore and it shouldn’t bother you.

“Yeah, well…”, you cut him off, checking the hour on the digital watch wrapped around your wrist. “You have less than half an hour to grab your things.”, you tell him.

He looks at you surprised. Do you have plans? Well, that would explain why you’re all dressed up and have a full face on. Hyunjin takes a moment to look at you. You’re wearing a black tank top and a skirt - too short for his liking, but it’s not his place to say anything: he’s not your boyfriend anymore, and you can dress however you want to. Just… where are you going?, he can’t help but wonder, and secretly hopes it’s girls’ night or something like that.

“Right.”, he mutters. “Where…?”, he trails, hoping you’d get the rest.

When Hyunjin moved out of your shared apartment a month ago, he didn’t bring all of his things with him, and left most of his clothes in your closet, especially his sweatshirts and jumpers. Given that you broke up in mid-summer, it’s not like he really needed them anyways - but now that fall is approaching, he’s forced to face the problem. Still, he can’t bring himself to ask you if his stuff is still in your closet or if you already moved all of his things - it’d only make the breakup more official than it already is, more real.

“Oh.”, you clear your throat. “They’re still there - in the closet.”

He follows you in what once was both his and your bedroom, which looks so different now. His paintings aren’t exposed on the walls anymore, and there’s no trace of your framed pictures. It pains him, but he tries his best not to let is show, reminding himself that it was for the best. He selects a few of his favorite pieces of clothing, informing you that he’ll probably have to stop by in a few days to take all of his stuff.

“Where’s…”, he starts, rummaging through the hooked sweatshirts, looking for that specific one. “…that grey one with the green details?”, he asks you.

You’re taken aback by his question, because you know exactly what sweatshirt he’s looking for, and you know exactly where it is. You make your way to the closet, to your side of the closet, and slide the door open.

“Here.”, you hand it to him, not able to look him in the eyes. He’s just as surprised as he takes it from your hands, then it hits him - it’s your favorite sweatshirt of his, the one you always stole from him and used to wear to feel him close to you.

“You… still wear it?”, he can’t stop himself from asking you, knowing he’s sounding ridiculous right now. Call it a wishful thinking if you will - that you still wear his clothes.

“I-“, you could lie, but he’d see it in your eyes anyways. “I only wore it a couple of times.”, you admit.

One time, because it was particularly chilly after a thunderstorm, and the other… because you wanted to feel him close, smell his scent and pretend he was still there with you, that you hadn’t broken up and that he’d be coming home and cuddle next to you. But of course he didn’t. Yours, too, a wishful thinking.

“Oh.”, is all he manages to get out - he can’t ignore the way his heart is beating fast in his chest as he holds the sweatshirt with shaky hands. Maybe there’s still hope, maybe he’s still got a chance to make things right.

Before he could say anything else, your phone beeps - a message. You’re quick to retrieve your phone from the back pocket of your skirt and open a notification: a voice memo from your date. You’re about to respond that you can’t listen to it right now, when your fingers slip on the screen and you mistakenly let it play. Full volume, of course, because life’s a bitch.

“Hey, y/n. I’ll pick you up for our date a bit later if it’s alright with you. I just got out of work and I need a sho-“, you lock your phone and throw it on the bed, heart hammering in your chest.

Hyunjin is looking at you with lost eyes - it’s nothing compared to how he’s feeling inside his chest. Void, numb, broken. It’s as if his soul just left his body. You’re dating? Like, going out, meeting boys and… perhaps kiss them, bring them to your house? He feels his knees buckling a bit.

“You’re… you’re going on a date?”, he asks, eyebrows furrowed. Maybe he misheard the voice memo, maybe it was not a man’s voice and it was one of your girlfriends, maybe maybe maybe.

“Hyunjin…”, you to swallow the lump in your throat, not sure what you’re supposed to say right now, there’s not a proper way to talk about your dating life to your ex, is there?

“You’re dating again? Already?”, anger and hurt replaced the confusion in his tone as he stands there, in the middle of your bedroom, sweatshirt in his hands as he looks at you like you just ripped his heart out of his chest.

“It’s not serious.”, you say quickly, not wanting him to think you’re going to marry this guy or anything.

“I should hope so, it would be a fucking travesty if it was serious. We broke up a month ago.”, he remarks. “Are you already over me? Am I that easy to move on from?”, he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, jaw clenched as he snaps his head in the opposite direction, not wanting to look at you right now - not when his eyes are fucking watery.

“It’s not like that.”, the lump in your throat is back.

“And how is it like then?”, he snaps.

You can’t believe him - you honestly can’t believe him. He was the one who broke up with you and he has the audacity to try to make you feel guilty for trying to move on? Okay, maybe jumping into dating guys isn’t the best way of coping with a breakup, but he doesn’t get a say in this.

“Are you being serious right now?”, now it’s your turn to snap. “What am I supposed to do, Hyunjin? Sulk and never move on?”, you speak harshly.

Your words sting him - because that’s exactly what he’s been doing for the past weeks, and he can’t believe you’re already talking about moving on when he still hasn’t gotten used to sleeping alone. He still hasn’t gotten used to a life without you - to waking up alone, to have breakfast alone, to watch movies alone on the couch, to the cold bed that welcomes him each night. And you’re just… dating, casually.

“Were you already seeing him?”, he hates how his voice trembles as he speaks, and clears his throat immediately after. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has.

“What?”, your voice comes out in a whisper and your eyes widen.

“You heard me.”, he tightens his grip on the sweater. “Were you already seeing him when we were together?”, he clarifies.

“How could you even think I’d do something like that to you?”, you ask him, sincerely shocked.

“It’d explain why you moved on so quickly.”

“Of course I wasn’t seeing him when we were together, Hyunjin, what the fuck?”, you raise your voice. “Besides, why do you care? You broke up with me, not the other way around!”

Hyunjin is forced to face the hard truth and the fact that his actions had had consequences and an impact on your life. He hadn’t even given you a proper explanation when he broke up with you, what a coward he’d been… Too caught up in his own feelings, he didn’t even stop once to wonder how you were doing, how you were dealing with the breakup and his absence. Was it that bad it pushed you into other men’s arms? Was this the first man you’d decided to go out with? Have there been others? He’s not sure he wants to know.

He snaps his head in your direction as soon as he hears your words. You’ve got it completely wrong if you think he broke up with you because he doesn’t care about you when, in fact, it’s the opposite. He cares too much.

“I broke up with you because I wanted to protect you, not because I didn’t love you anymore.”, he mutters.

“Oh, please.”, you scoff. “That’s the lamest excuse ever, even worse than the cliché ‘It’s not you, it’s me’.”

“But it’s true!”, he snaps. “It’s true. I did it for you. Do you really think I didn’t notice the way you were no longer happy with me? I was bad for you, y/n. I felt like I was… clipping your wings, like I was taking happiness away from you.”

You’re honestly shocked by his sudden outburst and confession, but it doesn’t make you feel better. In fact, it makes you even more upset and angry at him.

“It wasn’t your choice to make.”, you reply coldly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You broke me, Hyunjin. You breaking up with me - it hurt more than every fight, more than every disappointment.”, your voice is shaky and your eyes are welling up with tears. Hyunjin hates himself for that.

“If you love someone you let them go.” Hyunjin quotes, hoping it’d make you understand the logic he followed when he did what he did. His dark eyes staring into yours.

“For if they return, they were always yours.”, you whisper back. You don’t break the eye contact.

It happens in an instant.

Hyunjin drops the sweater in his hands, letting it fall on the floor of your bedroom, as his cups your face in his hands and crashes his lips onto yours - and you do the same, wrapping your fingers around his wrists, melting into the kiss. His tongue brushes your lower lip and you instantly part your lips, allowing it inside your mouth.

You can feel him growing harder in his pants, lower half of his body pressing against your stomach, and you moan at the contact when you feel it. Your hands begin to wander all over his body - first on his muscular forearms, then his biceps, then his broad shoulders. Then all the way down his chest and then on his back, scratching it over the t-shirt he’s wearing, but it makes him moan nonetheless.

At the same time, one of his hands travels down your spine until it reaches your ass - squeezing it lightly. The skirt you’re wearing is so tight his fingers are almost brushing your bare skin, and it’s driving him crazy. Moreover, he still can’t believe he’s really kissing you right now, that you have your hands on him, that he’s touching you - his brain can’t process it. He’s scared to pull away from the kiss, even if he does need to breathe, he’s scared you’ll come to your senses and realize you made a mistake, that he’s too late, that you don’t want him anymore, that’s it’s over.

But then he feels you tugging at his shirt, lifting it up a bit to expose some of his pale skin, and he takes it as a sign you want to continue. He pulls away from your lips only to regain his breath, and as he does so, his big, brown eyes stare deep into yours. You’re looking at him, too, with your beautiful eyes and puffy cheeks now pink, lips swollen from the kiss.

“Hyunjin.”, you whisper on his lips. He’s mentally preparing himself for a rejection when you tell him “Bed.” He nods eagerly, before crashing his lips onto yours once again with the same passion as before - only a little more relieved this time, knowing that you want him too just as much as he wants you.

Once you let yourself fall on the mattress, Hyunjin’s body is immediately on yours, hovering over yours as he keeps on kissing you without any intention of pulling away from you. Your skirt has lifted up a bit, allowing his crotch to press directly against yours - the bulge in his pant clearly evident as it brushes against your clothed cunt, which has you squirming under him.

He only pulls away from your body when your hands begin to wander under his t-shirt, caressing the skin of his back - taking it as a sign to take it off for good. He gets rid of his ridiculously expensive glasses as well, carefully placing them on your - well, what was once his - nightstand, before his fingers grasp the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head and lets it fall on the floor. You take your tank top as well, staining it a bit with your makeup on the collar, then let it fall on the floor as well - ironically enough, it ends up landing next to his.

You’re not wearing a bra, Hyunjin can’t help but notice, and wonders whether you did it on purpose - if you intended not to wear one when you were about to go out with another guy. He shakes that thought off his head, tho, not wanting it to upset him or ruin the mood, because it’s not that important right now. Not when you’re under him, naked chest on full display for him to see, skirt hiked up your waist.

He kneels between your parted legs, one hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing it lightly as he brushes your hard nipples with the knuckles of his other hand, not touching you properly. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Hyunjin, he’s a tease - you know it well. Meanwhile, your panties are completely drenched.

“Is this new?” Hyunjin asks, referring to your skirt. You nod, it is new. You bought it especially for tonight’s date, but you don’t tell him that. Hyunjin doesn’t need you to, tho, because he senses it in the way you lower your gaze and bite your lower lip. For some reason, it doesn’t upset him. “Can I fuck you in this pretty skirt, love?”, his hand travels all the way to the hem of your skirt, then to your inner thigh until his knuckles are now brushing the soft cotton of your underwear.

You whimper, and squirm under his touch. “Please.”

Hyunjin grins at your eagerness, tho he’s pleased with your answer, then asks you. “Please what?”

You hate that you love it when he teases you like that.

“Please fuck me, Hyunjin.”, you whisper, looking him in the eyes.

He tries to mask the way his breath hitches in his throat - the sight of you sprawled on your bed, legs spread to welcome him in between them while you’re lying there in nothing but a short skirt and a black thong with your tits out has him whipped. It always has.

His shaky hands reach the zipper of his pants faster than lightning, and that has a mischievous grin appear on your face. Hyunjin gets off the bed only to remove his tight skinny jeans, and you take it as an opportunity to hike your skirt further up your body. When Hyunjin sees you’re about to take your panties off, he grabs you by the wrist.

“Don’t. Leave them on.”, he practically begs. You nod. The idea of him fucking you with your skirt and underwear still on turns you on even more, you can’t deny it.

In a matter of seconds, Hyunjin is back between your legs, completely naked - fully erect cock looking gorgeous as ever. Hyunjin has an incredibly pretty cock, if you think about it. Not that you’ve seen that many, not in real life at least, but it is indeed pretty. It’s slightly less thick than average, albeit a bit longer and slightly curved so that it’s able to reach all the perfect spots inside of you. And, last but definitely not least, he knows how to use it.

“You’re staring.” Hyunjin chuckles, noticing your gaze on his hard length - not that it bothers him.

“I missed it.”, you shamelessly confess - it’s not the place nor the time to feel shy about it. Plus, it’s not some stranger you’re in front of, it’s Hyunjin, the boy you’ve dated for nearly four years. “And you know you have a nice dick.”, you quirk and eyebrow at him.

“Mh, you’re right.”, he smirks cockily. “Should I give it to you, then, since you seem to be liking it so much?”, he teases. God, you might actually cry if he doesn’t stick his cock in you within the next minute.

“Hyunjin.”

“Fine, okay.”, he chuckles, positioning himself closer to your body, propping himself up on his elbow. “Forgot how impatient you can get.”, he playfully shakes his head, the smirk not leaving his face.

You’d get impatient too if you knew how good your cock feels, you think to yourself. You don’t want to stroke his ego by saying it out loud.

He pulls your panties to the side, exposing your bare pussy to his eyes and he sucks in a breath at the sight, running the pad of his thumb up and down your slit to spread your arousal all over you - a bit surprised to find you this wet already. God knows you’ve been wet ever since you opened the door and witnessed him standing there - glasses and messy bun and everything.

“You think you need me to stretch you out?”, his voice is soft.

You shake your head as a no. “I’m good.”, you whisper, and he nods.

Seconds later, you feel the tip of his cock pocking at your wet entrance, ready to part your folds. When he does push inside, there’s nothing you can do to prevent a chocked moan from escaping your throat, not used to the stretch - despite it being very familiar. He senses the slight discomfort and immediately brings two fingers to your clit to rub it gently, knowing well it usually helps you to relax. Then, when he feels you’ve adjusted to him being inside of you, he begins to thrust.

Hyunjin fucks hard and fast.

It’s something you discovered in the early stages of your relationship, and needless to say - it shocked you. He always looks so peaceful and calm, and for some reason you thought that he’d be pretty vanilla in bed. He’s not. Sure, he can do vanilla if you ask him to, but his tendency is to fuck you hard and fast to the point you can barely stand on two feet once he’s finished with you.

This time, tho, he’s not being particularly rough. Sure, he has one hand attached to your hip, gripping it to keep you in place as he gives it to you hard, but his pace is excruciatingly slow. He takes his time, filling you up to the brim and then pulling almost all the way out so that only his tip stays inside of you, before slamming back in, making you gulp each time and roll your eyes to the back of your skull.

However, his movements come to an abrupt halt when he hears the low beep of your phone that’s right beside you. He just knows it’s that fucker of your date, who else could it be? He gives in to his impulsive thought of throwing your phone across the room - only a bit gentler than what he had in mind, letting it fall on the floor with a loud thud. “Fucker.”, he mutters under his breath, before slamming his cock back into you with a deep, hoarse grunt.

You don’t say anything - you just pray to God he didn’t crack your phone screen.

“Hyunjin.”, you moan loudly after he starts to pick up his pace, thrusting a little bit faster.

Judging by the way you just moaned his name - he can tell you’re getting closer and closer to reaching your orgasm, and for some reason, it just boosts his ego, knowing he’s the one who’s pleasuring you, the one who’s about to make you cum on his cock.

“Mhh, you’re close?”, he bites his lower lip, looking you in the eyes - you look completely fucked out, split by his cock.

“So- so close.”, you whimper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “Do-don’t stop.”, you beg him, spreading your legs even more to feel him closer.

Hyunjin’s cock twitches inside of you - he’s close too. “Why would I make you cum?”, he smirks at you.

Your eyes widen in fear that he won’t let you cum, that he’ll just leave you high and dry, sprawled on your bed. “Because… because I’ve been a good girl?”, you try.

Hyunjin loves to call you his good girl in bed, so you hope this might actually corrupt him and convince him to let you cum around his cock. Instead, he chuckles. “A good girl?” Another deep thrust inside of you has you seeing stars.

“Yes. I’ve been a good girl to you, please let me cum.”, you whine.

“Oh.”, he licks his lower lip, then smirks at you. “But good girls don’t let their ex fuck them in their cute little skirt and panties.”, he teases.

“They do when he’s the love of their life.”, you snap.

His eyes widen - he looks sincerely shocked by your words. Something inside of him snaps, and he begins to fuck you harder, slamming his cock inside of you repeatedly. Yeah, you definitely earned your orgasm. He feels you creaming around his cock, whitish release coating the base of his length as you come with a loud whimper, looking him in the eyes. That nearly makes him cum as well.

“Fuck- you wanna be a good girl?”, he grunts, fucking you even faster to the point your ass cheeks nearly burn due to the friction caused by the sheets underneath you. “You wanna be good to me?”, he pants.

You nod impatiently. “Yes.”

“You’re gonna let me do whatever I want to you?”

“Yes- whatever, yes.”, you pant. “You can do whatever you want.”

It happens in a matter of seconds - he pulls out of you and begins to pump his cock with his fist as his body hovers over yours, he’s practically kneeling at the height of your stomach.

“Tongue out.”, he pants, and you obey immediately, sticking out your tongue.

Hyunjin comes all over your face - hot spurts of his sperm landing on your cheeks, your forehead, your lips and your chin, to the point your whole face is covered in his cum basically.

“Wait.”, he tells you, getting off the bed immediately only to climb back on it a few seconds later, with your phone in his hand. He’s pleased with discovering you haven’t changed your passcode. Then, with your own phone practically shoved in your face, he brings two fingers to your face, coating them in his semen before shoving them into your mouth.

“Mine.”, he grunts, his cock nearly getting hard again when you moan around his fingers, licking them clean. Then, he pulls them out of your mouth and immediately retrieves his t-shirt from the floor and hands it to you, signaling for you to use it to clean his cum off your face.

As you’re cleaning yourself off, you hear him speak.

“Yeah, I guess she won’t be going out with you tonight. Sorry dude.”, you find him with his finger pressed on the screen of your phone, apparently recording a voice note.

“What are you…”

Before you could even finish the sentence, he turns the screen to your direction, allowing you to see the chat with who was supposed to pick you up in about… now. There’s a picture of you with Hyunjin’s cum all over you and his fingers in your mouth, and then there’s the voice note Hyunjin recorded mere seconds ago. However, you can’t find it in yourself to get mad at him, and crack a smile.

“You’re lucky I love you.”, you pull him close for a kiss.

“The luckiest.”

♠︎

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goldenhourwriter · 11 months

Text

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one (you are here) • part two •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i guess just fighting and some cursing. and threatening to bite someone lol. also i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: this was so fun to write! requests are open, and i am new to this blog, so hang on while i get this all figured out. requests are open, and this will be a mini series i am continuing!!

It’s not usually this quiet at the Spider Society.

It’s nice.

I walk around, humming softly to myself as I munch on a banana, a craving I usually get. I let my hand rest on my slightly swollen belly, my suit especially made to let it stretch and give the baby some room.

Yeah, ever heard of a pregnant Spider-Woman?

It happened a couple of months ago, as married couples tend to let happen. It’s twins, actually. One boy and one girl, but, my husband doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t want to know. I called the doctor anyways, and even though he threw a hissy fit that could rival a toddler, he relented and said it was fine.

And, it was kind of nice being alone. A lot of the spider-people tend to do things for me, think I’m incapable of doing things now because I’m pregnant. Even the ridiculous Spider-Man T-Rex gave me a ride through the halls. I snort at the thought, gaining some weird looks.

Obviously, I didn’t refuse. Who would pass up a ride on a freaking dinosaur?

My few 30 minutes of bliss, however, was interrupted by the beeping on my watch. I tap on it and smile when I see Lyla. She gives a wave.

“Hey, big wifey,” she teases, pushing up her pink, heart-shaped glasses. I roll my eyes. Everyone knows I hate that name. It doesn’t make me feel fat, it just makes me very aware of the two babies living inside of me, and how very uncomfortable life can really get.

“Hey, algorithm girl, what’s up?” I shoot back with sarcasm. I am met with satisfaction as she gives me a dead-pan look.

“Haha, very funny, love that,” she says sarcastically. “Your husband is struggling with an anomaly. Earth-65, some kind of Renaissance bird-man.”

I giggle at the thought. I can imagine his annoyance. “Gotcha, and did he actually call for back up?” I ask, but i already know the answer. I take another bite of my banana, shifting my weight onto my right leg. I can never stand still for too long, luckily, being a super hero can keep me moving. Keeps the babies satisfied.

She snorts at me, like i was making some hilarious, un-heard of joke. I relent, sighing and preparing my bracelet to go to the universe she said he was in.

“Alright, alright. How long do you think until he actually asks?”

“I’d give you about two minutes. He’s getting really thrown around with this one. And there’s another spider person, trying to ask him too many questions.”

My eyes perk back up to the hologram when she mentions this. “I haven’t heard of a recruit from Earth-65, is she new?” I ponder out loud. I cock my head to the side, adjusting my mask. Well, half mask. It really only covers my eyes. Lyla nods. “Yup, she’s a new one. She’s a nice kid, too.”

I smile.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lyla logs off and I sigh, patting my baby bump. “Alright, you guys,” I whisper to my belly. I stick out my hand and the portal opens, and I jump in. I shout with joy, flying through the portal, and as I practically fall to the other end, my hair whips around.

I fall on the other end, and I groan as my hair blocks my vision. I hear grunting, crushing, wings flapping, and snappy remarks being thrown about, but I can’t see anything. I flip my hair over my head, shaking it out.

“I need a hair tie on these things,” I mumble to myself.

I look over, and I see a feminine-looking spider-hero staring at me. I give her a small wave. Her eyes are wide, I can tell. I examine her suit, which seems like it holds up pretty well. It has hood, which is new to me, and she’s wearing…are those ballet flats? I smile

“Hey, babes! You look cute!” I compliment to the get up.

She waves back again, and she looks down at my stomach. “Are you….?” She trails off. I look down, and put a hand on my hip. “Yep, I am. It’s twins, but don’t tell my husband the sexes yet. He wants to wait.” She nods, but seems to remember that she doesn’t know just who my husband is. She takes a step towards me.

“Who are you married to? Are there even more people like us?” I nod.

“My husband’s right….” I don’t even flinch as he gets thrown into the wall right in front of me, and I smile. “There.”

He groans as he slips to get up, his mask eyes squinting at me. I squint my eyes right back.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m carrying your children,” I scold. He gestured to the giant creature that hurls towards us. “I need help here!” He shouts at me. Lyla puts up on my shoulder, and we both cross our arms. He sighs, looking down.

“Please, Y/N? Sabes que no me gusta mendigar,(You know I don’t enjoy begging),“ He pleads quietly.

Vulture screeches at us. “Love truly makes me sick,” he narrates out loud, and he reaches his talons out for me. I stuck out my wrists and web up one wing, so he goes sideways, just barely missing me. He breaks free, but I web up behind him again.

“Your attitude makes me sick!” I shout at him. “You seem like the Beethoven of your area, jerky, cold, and not the greatest people-person!” I struggle to speak as I try to web him up again, but it doesn’t work. He barrels towards me, and grabs me in his talons. I hear Miguel growl and leap off the ground, landing on his back. He tugs on the man’s feathers, making him spin around to try and find him. I take the opportunity to web myself away from his grasp, kicking him away as I do so.

“Is this guy made of paper?” I ask, rubbing my hands together as I take a moment to actually register what just happened. Miguel grunts, and yells as he speaks to me from the bottom of the building. “Honey, I love your voice, but I really need you to use your actions right now!”

I spot a few witnesses trapped behind some rubble, so I shoot off the side of the wall to swoop them up. They scream, clutching onto me, and I drop them off right by a big police officer. He gawks at me, and I give him salute as Miguel webs me up again. I twist up, getting wrapped in his webbing, and I break free using a kick, hitting Vulture square in the jaw with my foot. He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and Miguel uses this moment to try and guide him down, so he won’t escape.

I land right next to, what’s her name? I’ll learn it soon enough. I land right next to the teen as she stares at me. I smirk at her.

“What, never seen two married spiders?”

She swallows. “Can you adopt me?”

“What?”

“What? Nothing! Nothing!”

Miguel groans, and I can tell he’s growing tired. “¡Por Dios! ¿Puedes dejar de hablar por un momento? (Oh, my God. Can you stop talking for a moment?)” He calls out to me. I let out a heavy sigh, putting my hands on my knees. “I’m sorry, but your babies are making it hard to move right now!” I shout at him. Gwen webs away from me, and Miguel lands right next to me again. “Last time I checked, it took two people to make those two babies,” he grumbles. We take a moment and watch as Gwen tries to take down Vulture by herself.

I look at Miguel, and raise my eyebrows. “Did she call ya ‘Dark Garfield?’” I ask. He groans, and I can tell hair eyes shut as his head falls forward. “Yes.”

I giggle. “I like her. Maybe we can recruit-“ “No. No, we can’t, and you know why.” My somewhat playful attitude disappears with a frown, and I nod in compliance. He grabs my waist and he swings us up, and then we fall onto the Vulture back again. I scream through gritted teeth as I try to hold him down on the ground, but he flings me off, a sudden, new found strength in him.

“What the hell?” I curse. “Not cool, man!”

“This ends now,” he says to me, and he springs upward. I curse under my breath again, but it seems Miguel is on top of it. Literally.

“If he gets out, this whole universe will collapse!” He shouts, mainly at Gwen. I know the risks involved, having to save almost every universe from them every day. I shoot my wrist out, but I groan. I hit my web shooters, but nothing comes out. “Fuck-Miguel! I’m out!” I try to jump from floor to floor, but I quickly get nauseous while doing that. I look down at my stomach again, poking it. “So web slinging is fine but jumping is what doesn’t please you guys?” I ask the unborn babies. I get a mere kick in return. “I know that was the girl. That was way too sassy,” I grumble to myself.

Spider-Girl lands right beside me, and she looks at my husband and he battles Vulture. They both crash right through the glass ceiling, and we shield ourselves from the shards that could possibly cut us. She looks at me.

“What is he gonna do?” She asks. Miguel takes the Vulture’s face in his hands, and opens his mouth, wide, baring his fangs and giving a loud roar. “Oh snap,” whispers under his breath. But, he’s cut short, when a helicopter shines a light on him. He yells at the helicopter, his mask coming up again to cover his face.

“I’m a good guy! I’m here to help!” He desperately explains. My spider senses then go off, and I scream up to Miguel.

“Miguel! Watch-!“

I’m too late. Vulture throws two weapons at the helicopter, and then the helicopter starts to spin, going down, and fast.

“Shit.” All three of us say in unison.

I look to the kid, and she’s already looking at me. I nod towards her, and she returns the gesture, and we both know what that means. She launches off the floor, and she begins to web a net. I take a deep breath. “Alright, babies, don’t make me throw up,” I say sternly to my unborn babies.

I leap off the ground, and I fly through the middle of the helicopter, grabbing the two pilots and landing on the fourth floor of the building. I grunt as I roll on the ground with them, and we writhe in pain.

I turn to the both of them, checking on them, and I run to the edge, well, the mess that made the edge. I look down, and the teenage girl is flying through the air, webbing up a net. And just as the helicopter is about to crash, she flies right underneath it, just barely getting nipped by the chopper.

She lands, breathing heavily.

“Wow,” I whisper. Miguel hops a bit in front of me, landing on some rubble.

“I was gonna do that,” he says quietly to himself. I can tell he’s thinking her, thinking about her hard. Miguel and I share a glance at her, and she nods. She turns and hops down from the huge rock, and goes back towards the wall, out of sight. I turn and see the two pilots staring at me. I smile.

“Yeah, I know, there’s lots of freaky spider people, that was my reaction too. Cmon, let’s get you two a medic.” I reach down and offer my hand to them, which they take, one at a time. I help them to the big opening in the building where the door used to be, and I hand them over to some officers.

I sigh, turning around to find my husband surveying the area.

I walk up to him, putting a hand on his back, feeling his tense and rigid muscles, alert and still in attack mode. He seems to relax a little at my touch, and he lets his mask down. I grin, amusement

“Your hair is all messed up.” “Can you and I have one good moment after a battle where you don’t make fun of my hair?” “Absolutely not.”

He lets out a low growl, rolling his eyes. I walk a little in front of him, and stare at the place where the teen escaped to, hearing some grunting from there. No doubt she’s recovering on her own. My hand comes to rest on my stomach, my thumb running over the bump. I turn back to Miguel, my mouth open to speak, but he beats me to it.

“I said no,” he rejects me as he leans down to pick up some broken machinery. He scoffs at some poor excuse for art. “I’m starting to think Vulture did everyone a favor by destroying this place, this art sucks-“

“Miguel O'Hara, no cambies de tema,” I say sternly. He lets out a sigh. Spanish isn’t even my main language, so when I speak it, he knows I’m not messing around. He spins around, holding a figurine of a balloon dog in his hand. I would find it comedic, a big guy like him holding a small thing like that, but not when he’s trying to avoid my questions.

“You know we can use her. I’ve never seen anything like her, and she even beat you to one of your moves. You have to agree with me on this!” I gesture out in front of me, as if the conversation is laid out in front of us. Miguel sighs, walking up to me with his hands on his hips. His expression is hard, but his eyes give it away. He’s considering it, it helps if I’ve spent about a couple years with him now.

He brings his hand to my waist and another to my hair, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Te amo demasiado a veces,” he mumbles into my hair.

Okay, that gives me absolutely nothing.

His hand travel down to my stomach, and his two very large hands splay over my tummy. His lips quirk up a bit as one of them kicks against my skin. “Did you do okay today?” He asks quietly, referring to my very pregnant self. I nod, but it doesn’t seem to reassure him.

Vulture struggles next to us, but we just give him an annoyed look. “I’m done with your attitude!” Miguel tells him, pointing at him. He sighs, turning back to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me impossibly closer, so we’re basically sharing the same breathe. My stomach flutters. Even after marrying him, he really can have the same affect on me from when I was a new recruit.

“You know you can always opt out whenever, I can call for other backup,” he says quietly. He’s trying to spare my feelings, not letting others hear so I won’t get embarrassed. I’m never embarrassed, it’s life, I got pregnant, but I appreciate the sentiment. I lean up and kiss his nose.

“I know, thank you, but really, I’m fine.” I stick a hand up as he begins to protest. “At 7 months, I will take maternity leave. I’ll rest and just be the desk person, okay?” I ask. He debates it for a moment, and lets out a grunt and nods. We stay in our somewhat embrace for a bit, when we hear a gun shot. My head whips to where Spider-Woman went and hid, and I look at Miguel.

His mask forms again, and he kicks Vulture, telling him to be still as he picks him up. Miguel picks me up with his other arm and swings to the opening as we fall in.

“Dad, please!” She begs the cop standing across from her. Miguel shoots a containment pod at him, and she runs towards him. I grab her by the shoulders, trying to use my softest voice.

“Hey, hey, kid. Hey, it’s okay, we’re here, we got you,” I say quietly to her. She’s crying as she clutches onto my arm, staring at her dad. Miguel opens a portal, and I give the kid one more pat and walk over to him.

“What are we gonna do?” I whisper to him. He looks at me. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes.

“We can’t just leave her here!” I get a bit louder, but he shushes me, putting a finger up. My jaw drops.

“You did not just shush me,” I growl.

“Oh, I think I did.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t-!”

Miguel and I bicker back and forth, and at some point, Vulture voluntarily hops into the portal, all tied up, not wishing to stick around. I stick my finger up as I try to argue with him, my hand coming to my hip, and he towers over me, but that never took away my edge.

Then, some sniffling gets us to shut up.

The kid looks at us, her eyes watery and wide. She looks like what she is…a teenager who’s lost and alone. She opens her mouth to speak. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

I look slowly at Miguel, and he lets his head hang forward.

“Yeah, well….”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Join the club.”

🕷️ 💍

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider man into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #miles morales #gwen stacy

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

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Do you know the little fishes? (Charles Leclerc)

Charles' attention is drawn to the way you're invested in your home country's football qualifying game

Note: english is not my first language. I love me some football and I sort of channelled my energy from the last game we lost too! On the side, if you haven't already, you can read this one here where it goes well for the reader's team!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Charles didn't mind watching the football despite Monaco not having their own national team. He often supported the country the people watching the game with him were supporting or the best nations throughout history in which he recognised the biggest legends of the sport.

However, when he met you, the perspective shifted, especially for your national team. No matter where you were in the world, you would get up at an ungodly hour to watch the football, kissing Charles' forehead and tucking the sheets back in as you moved to another part of the room, sometimes the living room part of the room was that big, your tablet in hand as you watched the game, trying your best to keep quiet as you knew your boyfriend needed his sleep.

"Amour, at what time is the game today?", Charles asked as he poured himself some water from the glass bottle. Because it was a night race, he didn't have to go to the paddock until after lunch, and since you were on the other side of the world, the football game was on at breakfast time.

"It's in thirty minutes", you smiled, "do you mind it if we have breaking the room instead of downstairs? Or you can go downstairs while I watch the football, I have some snacks from the plane", you quickly reassured.

Charles smiled, grabbing his phone and tapping in the hotel app, "like I'd let you watch the game on your own", he shook his head, "I know how important it is to you", he kissed your forehead, sitting next to you as you watched the players warm up on the TV, kissing the top of your head, "are you thinking eggs or something sweeter?".

"He's not playing?", Charles questioned as they recorded the players on the bench, "no, he picked up an injury in training, I'm not sure how we're going to do today", you mumbled, "but the guy that's going in his place is very good, he's a bit young but everyone says he's a prodigy", you attempted to lift your own spirits.

The breakfast arrived a little after the first kick, Charles getting it from the door and making sure to display it on the table in front of you without blocking your view, having been once hit with a pillow when he walked in front of the screen just as your team did the last penalty shoot out for the final round of qualifiers.

"Here's your latte, gorgeous", he said when the game was a little quieter, earning him a kiss on his cheek from you, "thank you, they're playing really well", you groaned as the other team kept approaching the goal.

It only took the opposing team a few minutes to score the first goal, the fans recorded on the stands erupting in cheer as you crossed your arms over your chest, straightening up your back and looking at the replay of the goal, seeing no issue and slumping your shoulders, "it's a good goal", you mumbled.

"Like you always say, there's still a lot of game to play, amour", Charles added as your eyes followed the ball, feeling his hand back on your thigh and squeezing it.

"C'mon, you can do better than that, I know you can!", you groaned as another ball hit the bar.

Rubbing your forehead in circles, you sighed as your team scored just before half-time, "this isn't going anywhere! Our defense is like a large fishing net, everyone can get through and skip throughout them! They need to be those fishing nets that they use to get the little fishes! Do you know the little fishes, Charles?", you showed him your fingers almost pinched together, "the holes in the fishing net are so so so tiny that no fish can escape!", you spoke passionately, getting up to use the bathroom quickly.

"They're all playing really well", you said as you noticed the players going back in the pitch, doing all sorts of exercises, "they're just trying to go from the wings and it's so much clearer on the middle section", you reasoned as Charles nodded, "maybe the coach told them in the dressing room, they all look like they've had their behind handed to them on a platter", Charles chuckled, "they deserve it", you smiled, resting your back against his chest.

"Now the referee? I mean, c'mon!", you grunted, seeing the man in the pink t-shirt run to the screen and analyse the footage, "Oh, it looks like it's a penalty", you admitted despite not loving the fact, "maybe he won't see it", you shrugged innocently.

"I'm sure they'll notice it, chérie", Charles offered, not reading into your sarcasm before you looked up at him, "a girl can dream, handsome, a girl can dream".

The second part kept growing in tension, the other team scoring twice in the space of five minutes after scoring the penalty, "I can't watch this anymore", you sighed, eyes focused on the screen as they were waiting to validate a goal, the offside lines not clear enough on the moment and requiring further analysis.

"It's impressive how much they can get to know with technologies these days", Charles chirped in, hoping to distract you enough to relax against his embrace, "they also waste a lot of time though. I timed the game a couple of months ago and they only had the ball rolling for a little over an hour in total. Imagine if you had to do fifteen laps under a safety car", you tried the comparison.

Luckily, the goal was indeed offside, but your team still couldn't manage to out the ball in the opponent's net.

"Is it bad if I say that we're being robbed even though the other team is playing better?", you squinted, seeing the referee had given an extra time of three minutes, the players just making sure the ball never left the middle of the pitch, trying to leave the score unaltered.

"It was a well disputed match still, they didn't have luck on their side", Charles said, rubbing your arm gently and kissing the side of your head as you waited to the final whistle.

When you got to the track, Carlos was the first one to come and talk to you, "so, Y/N, that face can only mean you've watched the football", he teased.

The frown was a little evident as soon as you didn't feel the public eye on you, knowing they would be quick to judge, "they did their best, and their best was a little bit shit today", you shrugged your shoulders, "sometimes it's like this", you quoted your boyfriend, taking comfort in his words you usually hated when they left his mouth.

"She was a great supporter though, she got up early, she had the stripes of paint on her cheeks, her scarf and her t-shirt", Charles noted, "she was the most dedicated, cheerful and the best supporter, it's a shame they didn't feel it!".

"Now I'm going to support Ferrari, and you boys better not disappoint me", you snickered, kissing Charles' lips one last time before they headed off to their meeting.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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ivymarquis · 3 months

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I saw that post that @ceilidho shared of Barry looking all “tf are you doing out of bed” and then I had to write this down for John. Sidebar the title of this in my google docs is “John decides he’s keeping his ONS”

Get Back Here

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 863 Content/Warnings| This is post coital with them having fucked like rabbits but everything is above board. This theoretically would be such a nice jump off spot for a darker twist BUT my heart is still mostly fluffy for the cod boys. I am working on something a lil unhinged with Price tho.

While this piece is rated T, I am an MDNI blog. Minors + ageless blogs will be blocked.

If she has any sense in her head, she’ll slip out from the sheets while he’s snoring beside her, get dressed and fuck off back home.

Of course, how much sense she has at the moment is debatable at best because he went and fucked her brains right out of her skull.

Forget pipe- The man laid infrastructure earlier and it’s already screwing with her head. Making her really have to try and talk herself out of the urge to see where things go. The only thing she needs to see is where the fuck her drawers went. Getting dickmatized is a real struggle and while she doesn’t often go out, she lets the soldier sweet talk her on the expectation that there would be a fair degree of “get in, get done, get out”.

Post nut clarity is nowhere to be seen on his end, as he’d tucked her into the spot next to him with the promise of breakfast in the morning. A well deserved reward on her end for all her hard work.

Maybe her brain just likes to torture her but she starts to think that she’s just not meant for casual hook ups like this. He is kind and respectful and a phenomenal lay and her brain is already trying to twist this to justify finding a way to wrangle down another night with him. She just needs to rip this bandaid off and go.

Chalk this up as go-to spank bank fodder the next time she’s lonely.

It’s easier this way, she tells herself as she peels back the bedding he’d cocooned her in.

Less humiliating this way, to sneak away in the night as the cold bites at her as she gathers her clothes. All the while he’s snoring up a storm, assuring her that he’s still out of it and unaware of her escape attempt that is delayed by not being able to find her damn bra.

There’s a small part of her that somewhat feels bad for planning to sneak out in the middle of the night, but there’s a larger part of her that doesn’t want to hear whatever is his go to prompt when it’s time to kick his partner out of bed and back to the rest of the world.

She fixates on locating her wayward bra to the point she doesn’t notice the lack of white noise as he -John- stirs at the loss of her. She doesn’t see the way he gropes blindly at the space she was occupying not five minutes ago, nor the way his expression screws down into a scowl as realization sinks in when he fully awakens.

She does hear his huffed “The fuck are you doing?”, lacking any bite to it despite the phrasing. What she’s doing is fairly obvious given how her clothes are gathered in her arms as opposed to rifling through something she shouldn’t.

“I, um,” she blinks stupidly. He’s a gorgeous man, just enough moonlight filtering through the window so she can see him even in the dark. “I’m getting dressed,” finally her brain clicks into place.

His eyes are squinting at her as he blinks back sleep, shuffling partly up to get a better look at her, the blanket pooling at his waist. Christ her knees are already weak just looking at him again. “None of that,” he dismisses firmly, “it’s too cold, love. Come back to bed. Promised you breakfast in the morning anyway.”

She has a decision to make, she realizes- if she’s adamant about leaving it’s not like he’s going to keep her hostage. He has to let her leave.

But, her thoughts trail off, it is fucking cold. And that bed is incredibly warm. And she still doesn’t know where the fuck her bra is.

“Come on then, back you get.” He prompts with a pat to the spot she’d previously occupied, and that’s enough to make her fold (she can’t deny that she’s been lookin for a reason to fold all night, even if a part of her knows this is a bad, bad, bad idea). Setting her clothes back in a neat pile rather than them being strung all over the floor-still sans bra-, she returns to the bed and slides back under the covers he’s lifted for her.

Immediately his arm bands across her torso, pulling her in snug against him. Well, there’s certainly no sneaking away now. After a bit of shuffling as they settle in against each other, John ensuring there will be no more half hearted attempts to flee.

He doesn’t snore-likely keeping an eye on her to ensure she’s not going to run again- until she’s securely in that half-awake-half-asleep limbo. It’s incredibly easy to slip into. The room is cold, he is warm and the bed is so incredibly cozy. The math is very simple and the end result is her dozing in the arms of a man she can very stupidly see herself getting attached to- even if he snores like a bear.

Come morning, John makes good on his promise for breakfast.

She doesn’t end up needing to find her bra until two days later.

#my writing #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod mwii #john price

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snailsgoingdowntown · 4 months

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

Chapter 1

Dion x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

===

“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Argece.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

#dion agriche #dion argece #Dion x reader #yandere dion agriche #deon argece #dion agriche smut #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #deon agrece x reader

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actuallys8n · 10 months

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afab!reader | Just the Tip | jjk headcanons

MINORS AND AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

| a / n | : i wrote this last year… just stumbled on it and realized it needs to be shared with the world. happy season 2 release babes~ age in bio / pinned or ill fucking block you

| warnings | : bottom!reader, teasing, degradation, pet play (mild), penises and vaginas

Inumaki Toge | Fushiguro Megumi | Okotsu Yuuta

…the kind of man who is hesitant at first because if he’s being honest, he’d rather wait until you’re ready for all of him rather than some of him. But he’s a young man, his uncertainty is not going to last long once he realizes exactly how badly you want to give it a try.

You’re in a dimly lit room, his hot breath fanning across your neck as your delicate touches slowly make their way to the waistband of his underwear. Soft lips planting wet, gentle kisses against your heated skin. The two of you have never been completely intimate with each other, and definitely not like this – his mind is quickly spiraling down a steep staircase of ‘what if’s’ and worries. He knows you aren’t quite ready to go as far as you already have, but it’s hard to stop when your insistent fingers keep digging into his hips like that.

“Y/N,” he breathes, weight supported by an elbow pressing into the mattress just near your ear, a warm hand tightly winding itself through the tendrils of hair at the base of your skull when you grind your lower body into his. “We should probably stop.”

“Just the tip.” You whine, glassy eyes meeting his foggy ones. His jaw locks at your words, the grip on your hair tightening while he silently screams in his head because he wants to, he wants to, he wants to… But that’s a very bad idea. Even the thought of just rubbing his bare cock against your soft… wet folds has all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.

You boldly reach past the fabric of his boxers and fist his erection with a few lewd strokes, lip tucked tight between your teeth. His eyes go wide, brain fuzzy and his cheeks red; his hips buck up into your touch and a broken moan slips past his lips.

“J-just the tip…” He agrees, nodding frantically and hooking his slender fingers through the band of your underwear to yank them off your legs.

Itadori Yuji | Gojo Satoru

…the kind of man who would whine, pout, throw a total fit when you tell him early in the morning that you aren’t in the mood and he needs to get his erection off your ass before he regrets the request. His strong hands are glued to your hip bones, eyes downcast towards where his boxer-clad dick is proudly pressing against your body and bottom lip jutted out in a deep, childish frown.

“Mean…” He mutters low and quiet, huffing out in frustration and twisting around to turn his back to you.

You roll your eyes, now completely awake and annoyed with your man-child boyfriend over his sad attempt at seducing you from slumber. It’s a Sunday, your last opportunity to sleep in before work tomorrow and he’s really bothering you with this now?

“Just the tip.” You bite, rolling on to your back and craning your neck to look at him with a harsh glare.

He flashes you a devilish grin, full of pride over the success of his fit and intentionally complacent to your obvious irritation. Though the words ricochet around in his head for several moments as he rolls around to pull you in close and plant a chaste kiss to your lips– just the tip? Can he actually do that?

He’s got you twisted on your side, desperately thrusting his aching cock up along the slick of your cunt, nudging your clit with each motion and groaning hopelessly into your neck because damn, it feels so fucking good.

His large hand draws a line down your spine, around the curve of your ass— giving it a quick smack and admiring the jiggle before gripping the base of his erection, stroking it once and gently pushing the tip between your folds.

You suck in a breath at the stretch, your hand quick to find his muscular abdomen and push against the force of his hips before he slips the thick of his cock in too far. The action only earns you another low groan from the man, his hips stuttering against your fingers in an attempt to get just a little more friction.

“Babyy—,” he whines, quickly grabbing your wrist and twisting it to trap your arm behind your back, allowing him to completely sheath his cock inside you. “I don’t think I can do just the tip.”

Geto Suguru | Nanami Kento

…the kind of man who uses it as a punishment. You just had to go and get coffee without him that morning… He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the action frustrated him to no end. To think you’d be so careless?

“You were asleep!”

What a sad excuse to give, you know better than to just up and leave by yourself without at least telling him where you’re going. But you didn’t do just that, you also forgot to get him coffee too?

Oh my…

The remainder of your morning is spent by the silent treatment, fleeting glares and snappy remarks over home-made coffee until you’ve had your fill of his attitude and you are left begging him for some decency.

“Ah, so we’re reducing ourselves to groveling and whining now, hm?” He hums, trapping you against the kitchen counter with his hips, large hands caging your body and dark eyes staring down at you with fervor. Predator and the prey who fell right into his trap.

Your panties are pulled to the side, left leg hiked up to your hip and bare ass flat against the cold countertop while he mercilessly wipes the mess of your slick all over your pretty pussy lips— chuckling to himself at the way your hips twitch from the shocks of pleasure every time he bumps your sweet spot.

“Bad pets like you deserve to be punished.” He says sweetly, tapping the spongy head of his cock against your exposed clit. “How ‘bout I give you just the tip, hmm~?”

“P-please…” You cry, rolling into his touches as heat rushes to your chest and cheeks in embarrassment. He’s making you beg a lot… and he’s not going to let you stop anytime soon.

Fushiguro Toji | Ryomen Sukuna

…the kind of man who knows exactly where he wants you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Ah ah ahh…” He tuts, a smirk splitting his lips as he stares down at where your bodies are joined— a large hand stroking the base of his thick cock while the other holds you in place at the hip. The soft, warm tip of his dick is perfectly nudged up against your clit, so each rough pump on his erection is another smooth stroke along your folds.

You’re nothing but a drooly, crying mess. He’s been using you like a doll for nearly forty minutes, reeling everytime you whine and shout that you’re “g-gonna cum!” because he hasn’t even put it inside yet.

“You’re so desperate for my cock, baby… tell me how bad you want it.” He says low and sinister, hands moving to grab under your knees and push them to your chest. The base of your calves find home on his shoulders while he moves himself up into your body— positioning and folding you in half beneath his huge frame, allowing the tip of his dick to bump your clit again.

His elbows rest on your chest, strong hands now wrapped tight around your neck as he places sweet kisses on your forehead and rubs himself up and down your slick. Each time it catches the curve of your entrance, just barely slips past your folds— you can’t help but let out a moan. It’s so, so close to what you’ve been begging him for, and he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. He knows exactly what you want.

“Tell me…” He coos, stopping right at your dripping hole and pushing in the first inch— stilling when you try to fuck yourself onto him. “Tell me or all you’ll get is just the tip.”

did i do it right? 😂

master’s list

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desert-fern · 1 year

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 2 - Goddamn Pilots

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*Picture is from Pinterest, not mine*

A/N: I was not expecting this to be as popular as it apparently is! Welcome back to AGAD and I hope you enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing (this one is consistent throughout) and I think that’s it!

Word Count: 2.0k

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Masterlist >> Part 1 >> Part 3

===

Days after their first meeting, Jake still had the Navy Seal roaming through his mind. What was her name? What did she really think of him? Would she go out with him if he asked? Did anyone else on his team meet her and have any of this information? He was deep in thought, pondering these questions, and yet he hadn’t tried to seek her out. Maybe it was fear keeping him from engaging, or maybe it was because she had revealed herself to be far more dangerous than expected and he was both afraid, not that he’d admit it, and turned on by the way she carried herself.

Which brought him to now. “Jake, come on man. Did you hear a word I just said?” Fanboy grumbled, knocking his elbow and jarring the blond from his thoughts.

“Hate to break it to you, Micks, but no,” he replied, shaking the last of his daydreaming off to tune into the conversation. “Repeat it?”

Fanboy rolled his eyes, slumping further into the rec room couch before answering. “I said, you hear that Nix and Bob met a Seal on base a few days ago? Apparently she stopped and chatted with them for a bit.”

“Says who?” Jake’s head snapped over to Phoenix, who just shook her head at him.

“She swore me to secrecy,” the woman said with a shrug. “Girl code and the like.”

Hangman let out a frustrated groan at her words. “Seriously? Bob, you a part of girl code now too?”

Bob curled in on himself, not liking the sudden attention of the room on him. “I’m staying out of this,” he mumbled.

“Ah ah ah. Nope, you don’t get to hide information from me.”

“Actually he does.” From the doorway of the rec room, a feminine voice spoke up. Its owner leaned against the doorframe, clad in the desert camouflage patterned uniform worn by the Seals. “My ears were burning, and well, I wasn’t liking what I was hearing.” Bear had been standing there for a good five minutes, listening in silently on the conversations held by the pilots. None had noticed her, despite more than half of them facing towards the doorway.

Phoenix and Bob both turned towards the voice, grins widening when they saw it to be Bear. “Hey, I was just about to come find you,” Phoenix said, holding up her phone.

“I know. But I was done first. Perk of being a sniper. It’s usually just one shot and done if all goes well,” Bear replied with a grin, having just glanced around the room at the various emotions on the faces of the pilots sitting before her. “So these are the Daggers then. Good to meet you.”

Coyote, who’s gaze was flicking between the woman in front of him and his best friend, was the first to speak up. “It’s good to meet you too. I’d introduce you to the team, but it sounds like you already know more about us than we’d like.”

“Got it in one, Coyote. Got it in one,” Bear replied with a teasing grin. She stepped into the room, noticing how everyone’s gaze snapped to her approaching form.

The mustached man who she knew to be Rooster was the next to speak. “So you know all about us, but we know nothing about you. How is that fair?”

Bear just smiled. “You’ll know what I allow you to know. My deployments are a tad more elaborate than yours, fly boy, so every detail is precious,” she replied, coming to perch on the arm of the chair Phoenix sat in.

“Do we get a name, or a callsign…?” prompted one of the pilots, which was then echoed by the group all nodding and verbalizing their agreement.

“Call me Bear,” she replied, giving in just a little bit.

“Bear…” Jake repeated to himself, but when he looked around the room, he was faced with the amused looks of his colleagues. “What?”

“Oh nothing,” Bear replied, her own grin teasing. “It’s just funny that you seem so happy with one tiny detail. Almost seems obsessive.”

Jake’s green eyes widened. “I’m not…it’s not like that!” he protested wildly. “It isn’t like that,” he repeated, making eye contact with Bear and watching her eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Oh I know,” she stated. “ It’s just funny to watch you pilots get all flustered. You all lose your composure so quickly, no offense intended. It’s just an observation.” A flurry of indignant squawks were sent up, making her chuckle. “You all just proved my point.” Glancing at Phoenix, Bear asked quietly “Half an hour then we head out?”

Sliding off the arm of the chair, Bear went to leave but Hangman’s voice called out after her. “Why Bear?”

“Why Hangman?” She prompted. “I made the same deal with Phoenix here, show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, intelligent eyes categorizing every micromovement the blond made.

“...I was really good at the game in basic training…” he admitted quietly, the words barely reaching her ears. The room had gone silent as the pilots tried to match up his story with who he was now, their faces contorted in confusion. “I went, it’s your turn now.”

Grinning wickedly, Bear shook her head. “I didn’t say when I’d tell you,” she hummed, shooting him a wink. “Not my fault you jumped the gun.”

The room exploded in shock, indignation, and laughter at her words, and over the noise, Jake yelled out “Jus’ wait, I’ll get it out of you eventually!”

“Is that a promise or a threat, fly boy? Cause don’t forget, us snipers are patient people,” she replied calmly. Deep in the recesses of her mind, Bear was imagining him storming after her and trying to draw the story from her, doing his best to pluck the story from her lips. The heat in his eyes molten as he would look down on her, making her squirm under the gaze. But she quickly shook herself free from the daydream, to watch Hangman get up from the couch and come to stand in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room.

“I’ll hold you to that, Teddy,” he said quietly, his voice low and near her ear. And when he pulled back, Jake couldn’t help the smirk that broke free as he caught the brief wide-eyed look she gave him. The one she schooled quickly into the mask she usually wore. He sat back down, and watched her wave and leave the rec room quickly.

A glance at his colleagues had him raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“What did you say to her?” Coyote asked suspiciously. “‘Cause I really don’t feel like wakin’ up to your body hanging from the shower head tomorrow.”

“Nothin’ important. Just that I can be far more patient than she thinks,” he said with a shrug.

Rooster burst out laughing at his words. “Bullshit. I watched you switch lines three times in the mess this morning because you thought the others were shorter. She’s got you beat by a mile.”

“That was a one time thing,” Jake grumbled. “I will beat her.”

“Not likely, Bagman. Not likely at all,” Phoenix spoke as she got up. “Well, I’m out. Bear and I have plans, so I’ll see you losers later.”

“What, are we not cool enough for you now?” Payback teased.

“Nope,” Phoenix replied, flipping them off as she left the room.

===

While the pilots teased Hangman about being impatient as hell, Bear had swiftly escaped to the locker room. She slipped inside and leaned back against the door, burying her face in her hands and letting out a groan. Like Jake, all Bear had been able to think about was the cocky man she’d met at the bar. But unlike him, she could keep her thoughts hidden and she already knew everything about him, much to his chagrin. His look of confusion then frustration when she’d refused to tell him about her made her smile as she replayed it in her mind.

A few deep breaths later, Bear pushed off the door and began to grab her things to shower off the grime from the day’s training. Her mind raced as she stood under the spray, and she shook her head to dislodge all thoughts of the blond pilot she’d been messing with.

She wouldn’t think about Jake. Wouldn’t think about how close he’d stood, how she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the smell of jet fuel, sweat, and whatever cologne he’d put on that morning. A frustrated groan left her lips and she rested her head against the cool tile of the shower, willing her thoughts away.

It must have worked because ten minutes later, she was out and dressed in her civilian clothing of a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, feet tucked into running shoes, with her uniform folded into her bag. She hummed as she waited for Phoenix to make an appearance, logging in to her naval email and checking for any new information about their deployment.

The door banged open, making her jump, standing up quickly to see Phoenix walk in, her hair halfway down from the regulation bun. “Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“It’s all good,” Bear replied, sitting back down. “Just be happy that I didn’t have my weapon with me.”

Phoenix made a concerned face. “Would I really be in that much danger?”

“Depends on how emotionally scarring you find a gun being held to your forehead as you’re flat on your back,” the Seal replied almost too casually for the conversation. “But no, it would just be the threat, likely not any action.”

Gulping, Phoenix nodded. “Awesome, good to know. Don’t mess with Bear.” Running her hands through her hair, the brunette gestured to the showers before she said “I’ll be like ten.”

“Got it. I’m in no rush,” Bear replied, looking back down at her phone. “I do have to check in on something before we leave, I’ll meet you by your car?”

Over the running water, Phoenix called back “Sounds good. See you in a bit.”

Stepping quickly from the locker room, Bear made her way back down the hallway towards her CO’s office. On her way there, she ran headlong into someone as she rounded a corner. “Shit! I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention.”

“No, it’s my fault,” a familiar baritone sounded from just above her. Glancing up, Bear made direct eye contact with the green eyes of Hangman. She barely managed to hide the stutter of her breath, as she found herself watching her reflection in his eyes. “I could have slowed down.”

Mentally shaking herself, Bear couldn’t stop a grin from crossing her face. “I wasn’t sure you pilots knew how to do that,” she teased.

A flash of humor appeared in his eyes, twinkling as he watched her. “I can go at whatever speed you need, Teddy.”

She bristled at the nickname. “Really? Teddy? How original.”

All she got in response was a smirk, before he straightened up and stepped back half a step. “Well,” she said, “I should really be going.”

“So should I.”

It was a few moments before either of them moved, but Bear quickly slipped past Jake and hurried down the hallway. Knocking once on the door of her CO’s office, a gruff “Enter” answered her, and she stepped into the room.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Shut the door, and take a seat,” was his response. Rear Admiral Will “Shark” Harris had been running Seal Team 3 for the better part of a decade, collecting commendations until some high up would hopefully promote him up and out of the position. “We have some new information.”

Bear cursed mentally. She grabbed her phone and typed out a quick message to Phoenix. “Just got called into a meeting. Meet me at the bar, I will get there when I can.”

Pulling up a chair, she sat down. “Of course, Sir.”

===

A/N: So much love to the readers of AGAD, and to my editors/cheerleaders @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky, I wouldn’t be publishing this without you. Mwah 😘

Taglist: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @twsssmlmaa @bradleybeachbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @javden @indigomaegrimm @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @waywardhunter95 @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @heli991113 @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @allyxstebo @taytaylala12 @urmom-999

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bmhcdnsms · 4 months

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[male reader] - fem alligned, minors / ageless, and blank blogs dni or u will be blocked !

thinking about clingy men that won't leave you alone. i'm talking: whiny, needy, pathetic, touchy men that will do anything in their power to stay by your side. definitely do not care if their behavior is an inconvenience to anyone around you two, they won't change how they act at all.

they'll whine your name in that begging tone while they tug on the hem of your shirt, pleading eyes looking at you. all that effort just to beg you to let them come with you when you order your drink at the counter at the local cafe you two were at.

genuinely panics whenever you aren't near. it's codependency at its finest. you have to use the bathroom at the restaurant you two are dining at? he's counting down the seconds until you come back. and when you do, he almost burst into happy tears as he excitedly waits for you to take your seat. you have to help a family member on something important? he's trying to persuade you in letting him come, telling you that it's a good time for them to finally meet your boyfriend. you have to go to your classes? constantly tries sneaking in, despite you and your professor's warning on how he will get in trouble.

he can't go anywhere without you. turns into a really temperamental mess (to others) that will not hesitate in throwing a tantrum in hopes of that getting you to return back to his side.

"why don't you want me to come?" he whines, his voice on the other end of the phone call sounding exactly like heartbreak, "baby, i can go there quick-"

"i've already said no, elliot," you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you unlock your car, "you have classes, i know you do. you showed me your schedule last week, don't skip those classes,"

he whines again, sounding like a puppy that just got kicked. his needy sounds only grow louder at your silence, "but, why? i wanna go with you!"

"you can't, you can't miss your classes this semester. you got in a lot of trouble last time-"

"it doesn't matter! my professors don't care for attendence!"

"are you lying to me?"

there is a pause and that is enough to answer your question.

"i'm sorry, eli, but no," you're about to hang up, but falter as you feel bad for being so hard on him. but seriously! someone had to, or else he'd only get worse. your boyfriend practically wanted to live in your skin with you and it was beginning to be really concerning.

"i just want to spend time with my boyfriend, why won't you let me?" he pleads and you hear a locking of a door and can only assume he went to the bathroom for privacy in his upcoming breakdown, "do you not want to see me? are you hiding something?"

"i'm not and that's the truth, i just really need to go and buy groceries." you say calmly, already familiar with this routine.

"then why?! why can't i come? why? why don't you want to see me?" he questions, voice getting weaker and weaker. you can't see it, but he begins sliding down the door of the bathroom, stressfully running a hand through his hair. he begins hyperventilating. "why don't you want me with you?"

"we can see each other after my errands and after your classes," you explain, trying to tough it out even though your empathy is telling you to pity the man.

"[name], i really need to see you, please, please just let me come," he breathes out, words becoming a stuttering mess that is hard to understand through the phone, "please, let me see you, beautiful boy, please, please, please,"

he begins repeating the word "please" over and over again and at that point you begin wondering if it's even worth it to keep arguing with him over this. he's only going to get more adament in coming along. you curse yourself for even texting him that you were busy a couple of minutes ago because that is what made this reaction occur.

"please, i'll be quiet and good, you won't even know i'm there. i won't get in the way, i just want to be with you!"

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x male reader #male reader #clingy yandere #yandere male reader #yandere male #new yandere oc unlocked!#clingy yandere boy elliot

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sleepingdeath-light · 7 months

Text

myers’ girl ; 18

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 1048

content ; sexually explicit content, public sex, vaginal sex, wall sex, rough sex, choking, possessive sex

fandom ; halloween / slashers

pairing ; michael myers (any) x cis female reader