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#wishing you a wonderful and happy halloween
ursuburbanmother · 24 hours
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I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter One
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Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!Reader
Summary: You and Angus have been best friends since you were little children. Now in high school the only thing that separates you is a lake between both your schools. Due to what was describe by your headmaster as "Unfortunate circumstances due to chance, and poor planning on our part," you are forced to stay at the Barton Academy for the holidays with the company of your best friend or maybe more.
a/n: hi guys! I’m new so try to be kind to me lol. Anyways this is probably not very good. It’s slow paced cause I wanted to establish their friendship. Not sure where this is going so if you have any suggestions let me know! Also not grammar or beta read so…
Word Count: 3k
Enjoy!
December 17th, 1970
You hadn’t spoken to your parents in months. You figured they would call or write a letter or something. In October they wished you a speedy little, “Happy Halloween,” before hanging up. You could hear the loud party in the background. Always the socialites, they were probably eager to get back to enjoying themselves by downing flutes of champagne and appetizers. Now it was December, and you had not received a peep from either. When the holiday plans form was passed out to the girls of your boarding school at the end of November, you ignored it. Then the deadline came, and you hastily checked off the box that said, ‘Plan to stay on campus.’
Your parents hadn’t called to dispute it and now you’re stuck at mass, sitting in a pew, watching other happy families and their daughters anxiously waiting to leave. You wondered if there was still a way for you to get away. Your friend, really only friend, Angus Tully was headed to St. Kitts and with him gone, your only true escape was gone. If he knew you were stuck holding over, he would beg his parents to take you, but you knew it would be too much of an imposition, so you kept that fact secret.
Life had always seemed to throw you two together. Even at the age where cooties were still a very legitimate fear. Born in the same snobby Boston neighborhood you two were often the only kids at your parent's parties. You remember that humid night on the Fourth of July when you had met the lanky boy with a mess of brown curls. The fireworks had begun to go off and everyone wore white dresses and suits. You had become restless and started to wander the halls of your home aimlessly. Streamers of blue, red and white hung from the ceiling and servers walked around passing out sparklers.
You found him on the patio. He tugged, annoyed, at his tie. Your own dress was stifling in the heat and for a pair of seven-year-olds, you found the best solution to your ailment was to jump into the shallow end of the pool.
“I’ll do it, if you do it,” you had promised under the hum of cicadas and floating fireflies.
“Deal,” you shook hands.
The water was cold and clear. You swam around for a while, splashing each other and playing Marco Polo. It was at the same time your mother had decided to move the party outside so people could watch the lights in the sky a bit better. You two were pulled out of the pool and shook like wet dogs.
Livid, your parents fed you the line all parents wait to say to their troublesome child, “If your friend jumped off a bridge, would you?” You decided at that moment that yes, you would.
After that you two were inseparable. Because when you're a kid all you need is one single act of solidarity to devote your life to someone. Throughout elementary school you were practically fused to one another. You’d exclude people from your game of hopscotch and eat lunch in secret nooks. When you two were headed to high school your parents enrolled you in a posh all-girl boarding school and Angus to some prep school in another rural part of Massachusetts. Phone calls rang long. You remember the groans you would get from other girls who would give up trying to use the payphone. At some point you had run out of quarters and so to save money you had begun writing letters. Angus being Angus, he’d write as if he was off at war and the letters were the last things keeping him sane.
You knew he never enjoyed school but after he was kicked out from his first preparatory, then his second and third, you had turned into a scolding mother.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Die if I’m lucky, shave my head at Fork Union if not.”
“I want to go to college with you Angus. If not college then I at least want to be able to be an adult with you. One with a diploma so we can get easy jobs as regional salespeople or something,” you mumbled, twirling the phone cord around with your finger.
“You really thought this out,” he laughed.
“I’m serious, Augie.” You heard him sigh across the line.
“Okay. I’ll do better. No screw ups next time.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
When he was sent to Barton, your sister school, you couldn’t have been more excited. It was a short walk away; you could see it from across the lake that separated you. Your mom had been the one to call you about the change. She said his mother thought having him near you would make him less fussy. Something about you being the good influence he needs. You doubted that yet bit your tongue, knowing it would create more trouble than anything. Now it had been over a year and Angus had kept his word. When the opportunity arose for you to meet up, you would take it. Football games or talent shows, you were there. To anyone outside, it would have appeared as though you two just held a lot of school spirit. Like that beach boy's song.
“Be true to your school now,” you’d sing into Angus' ear.
He’d roll his eyes but always join in, “just like you would to your girl or guy.”
“Rah-rah-rah-rah sis boom bah! I love that part!” You’d giggle.
He’d try to hide his smile, but you could always tell. He’d put his arm around your shoulder and say, “Yeah okay.”
Once you were dismissed from mass you sighed and trudged all the way back through the snow to your dorm building. Having it so empty was eerie, you could hear your own footsteps echoing down the halls. You made your way into the common room to wait for Ms. Orchard.
She was meant to be your babysitter for the next few weeks. She was your Renaissance literature teacher. Ms. Orchard was nice but on the older side, which meant she was traditional. You often thought she would be better suited to be a Home Economics teacher if she was so invested in being ladylike.
You sat in the corner of the couch and opened a book. Minutes passed and it seemed obvious no one was coming to join you. Not even Mrs. Orchard. She probably broke a hip trying to make her way back in the snow.
“Ms. Orchard has broken a hip while walking in the snow,” the door suddenly bursts open hitting the side of the wall so hard it shakes the room.
“What?” Your mouth drops at the news. Shit, had you jinxed it?
Your Dean, Mr. Jameson says as he walks in, covered in snowflakes. “Yup. She slipped on ice on the way here. By the parking lot. Didn’t you hear the ambulance?”
“Uh… no?”
“Hmm,” he hummed, looking around the room, “where are the other girls?”
“I think it’s just me sir.”
“Ah, right. Well that makes this easier. You’ll be spending your Christmas break at Barton. Now, it’s awfully last minute so we hope they take you. Why don’t you go get your bag ready and-,”
“Hold on. Barton the boys' school?” You could almost gag at the idea. No offense to Angus, but you could remember the endless horror stories he would tell you of life in a boys' school. The air always smelled weird, and cleanliness was the least of their worries. “Isn’t there somebody to replace Ms. Orchard?”
“This place cleared out thirty minutes ago, Ms. L/n,” he said, “And I have a family to get back to.”
“But-, I just-, isn't there a rule against this or something?”
“I have no doubt that the teacher supervisor there will ensure you have a safe, jolly time Ms. L/n.”
“But I-,”
“That’s enough. I understand this is an unprecedented situation, but the only alternative would be to leave you here alone and that just is not going to happen. Please Ms. L/n, make this easy for everyone.” With his hand he motioned towards the door.
“Fine,” you gritted out. You got off the couch and went to your room. You half-heartedly crammed anything you could into your suitcase. Some shirts, sweaters and pants. You ran out of space and resorted to carrying your books in your hands along with your potted plant. You felt bad leaving your lavender to just sit and wilt, so you took her with you.
“I made a few calls. Everything should work out. You all settled then?” Mr. Jameson said once you had made your way back to the common room. Nodding with a tight-lipped smile you headed out. You two could have walked but apparently, he was in a hurry to catch a six o’clock flight and you ended up taking his car.
It was a short drive and with reluctance you made your way inside the school. “Come on. Put a pep in your step,” Mr. Jameson clapped.
He navigated you around. You had only been in the main building, never the dorms. Blindly you let him guide you until you found yourself in a room with four other boys and Angus. Angus who was supposed to be half-way to the airport by now. His sulky face shifted into one of shock. You took a step towards him only to be stopped by your dean's arm in front of you. The other guys were looking at you with mouths wide open. It was like their eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. You grumbled, not knowing what else to do.
Mr. Jameson took the lead, “Mr. Hunham? Correct?” He outstretched his hand for him to shake. Hesitantly the older man took it.
“What’s the meaning of this,” he pointed between Mr. Jameson and you.
“Unfortunate circumstances due to chance, and poor planning on our part. This is Ms. Y/n L/n. Come introduce yourself.”
“I’m Y/n L/n,” you shrugged, looking at Angus for guidance. In unison they all say hello.
“Can we speak in private,” Mr. Jameson asked.
“Alright,” Mr. Hunham says, “no funny business,” he gives a pointed look to the boys.
The two teachers leave, and you quickly move to Angus to encapsulate him in a quick hug.
“What the hell? What are you doing here?”
“Funny, I was going to ask the same thing.”
“What the hell Angus. You have a girlfriend?” A blonde boy with a red tie says as his eyes scan your figure. You shift uncomfortably at the action. “A smoking one too…”
“Shut it Kountze, you’re catching flies,” Angus scoffs.
The door creaks open as both gentlemen return from their brief chat. You and Angus move away from each other like you were caught doing something wrong.
“It seems we will be extending you an invitation to Ms. L/n,” Mr. Hunham says, “you okayed this with Woodrup?” He verifies again with Dean Jameson.
“Yes, it’s all settled. We at Janie Patrick’s School thank you. We owe you one,” he turns to you, “goodbye L/n, you’re in good hands.”
He was halfway through the door when Mr. Hunham cleared his throat obnoxiously loudly. “As I was saying, we will be following a standard school schedule.”
“Uh, sir? We’re on vacation.” Kountze points out.
“Which means we’ll be taking our meals together. And you will observe regular hours of study.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“The Peloponnesian War awaits, Mr. Kountze, you and Mr. Tully. The rest of you can get a jump on next semester. It’ll pay off. You’ll see.”
“We’re already holding over, and now we’re being punished for it?” Angus says bitterly and on fast reflex you rub his arm comfortingly. Mr. Hunham is just as fast to notice.
“Oh no, no, no. Do not tell me this is your girlfriend Mr. Tully.”
“Wh-what. No! We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, we were born on the same street!”
“I do not intend to break apart your romantic escapades all break long.”
“We. Are. Just. Friends,” Angus reaffirms, venom on his tongue. You could see the blush rising on his pale cheeks. You could feel your own as well.
“Mhm,” Hunham hums skeptically, his gaze lingers on you two for a second before glancing back at his clipboard, “Alright… You will be afforded limited windows for recreation and supervised physical activity.”
“The gyms are not even open yet.”
“Yeah, they only lacquered half the floor,” another boy points out, this one has long blonde hair that reaches his shoulders.
“Fresh air will do you good,” says Hunham.
“It’s like 15 degrees outside.”
“And the Romans bathed naked in the freezing Tiber. Adversity builds character Mr. Tully. Uh, speaking of which, the school will be cutting heat to dormitories and faculty housing and so we’ll all be bunking in the infirmary. With separate accommodations for Ms. L/n of course.”
They all groan. You're just upset. You had thought you would spend the next two weeks avoiding Ms. Orchard and lying to Angus about your whereabouts while he admiringly described the beaches of St. Kitts to you over postcards. Although you supposed it wasn’t all bad. You could spend more time with him, under the watchful glare of Angus' teacher of course.
Together you all get ready to haul your things to the infirmary before being stopped by Mr. Hunhams tsking in disapproval.
“You philistines are just going to let the lady carry her own things? I’m sorry to see Barton has failed in ingraining a sense of chivalry into you.”
“Oh no, it’s alright really, I can do it,” you protest but they all scramble to help you anyway. “Can I carry your suitcase Y/n?” Kountze says, in an odd way, that was meant to be suggestive.
“Okay Kountze, piss off,” Tully pushes him away, leaning down slightly to get your things, “let’s go.” He walks quickly out the door, leaving the rest of you to follow him.
As you are slapped in the face by the harsh winds you curse the idiots at your school who refused to let you wear pants. You were forced to put on double the tights and your warmest coat. It did not do anything to aid you and your shivering made that clear. It was like they wanted to torture you when the boys stopped halfway down the quad and in front of a truck. You're still holding your books so it's not like you can rub your arms to help you out a little. They were complaining about Hunham, who they so endearingly nicknamed “Walleye.”
“Hey, guys, hold up for a second,” Angus tells the young kids in front of you. He sets his, and your things, down on the grimy paved road. He searched through his pockets and lit a cigarette. “Want one?” he asks you and Kountze.
“No. I got something else. Give me that,” he grabs the lighter from him and sparks a joint.
“Hey, don’t smoke that out here. I don't want to get busted by Walleye.”
“Don’t be such a pussy,”
“I’m not a pussy, I just don't want to end up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”
He ignores Angus and instead turns his attention to you instead, “You're not like a total priss right?”
You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you were.
“Alright,” he smirks and stretches his hand out for you to shake, “Teddy Kountze.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say. The other unnamed boy is the next to greet you.
“Jason Smith.”
“We know who you are. You want to hit this,” Teddy offers the jock the joint.
Jason scans his surroundings before agreeing, “Uh, yeah.”
“You got a great arm man,” he compliments,
“Yeah, well, it’s just football.”
“How’d you get stuck holding over?”
“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack, but my dad put his foot down. Said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”
“So why don’t you cut your hair?
“Civil disobedience, man.”
“I dig that,” you comment. “You know that when they tried to cut that tree between our schools, I organized the tree-sitting.”
“Holy shit that was you? Figured it was some hippies from Boston,” Teddy snickers.
“Nope. I sat in that tree for hours, drinking from water bottles that Angus tossed up to us.”
“Did it work?” Jason wonders.
“For now, yeah.”
“Awesome…. But no, he’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”
“What about you, Mr. Moto? Why are you here?” Teddy asks one of the first-year boys.
He appears embarrassed to be singled out, “No, my name is Ye-Joon. My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”
“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken,” Teddy laughs to himself. Angus didn’t exaggerate when she said this guy was a jerk.
“What a rickshaw?”
Angus intervenes, “You’re an asshole, Kountze. Your mind’s a cesspool and a shallow one at that.”
“Who’s the asshole Tully? You’re the one who blew up history.” Jason notices the tension and brings the group's conversation back to the freshman.
“What’s your story man?”
“Alex Ollerman. I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS. “Mormons, right?” Alex nods yes.
“Don’t you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?” It's like Teddy loves to hear himself talk, you think.
“Common misconception. Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when-.”
“Hey, what's with the townies?” Kountze spots two men emerging from the chapel with a large, heavy green tree in their grasp.
“Hey, what are you doing with our Christmas tree?” Angus shouts, tapping you on the shoulder in a way that says can you believe this?
“The school sold it back to us. Scotch pine, still fresh.” The stranger shouts back.
“Yeah, we’re going to put it back on the lot. We do it every year.”
“This is the most bullshit ever.”
The boys put out their separate smokes much to the relief of Alex and Ye-Joon. You fall behind the rest of them and Angus naturally finds his place next to yours. You stroll in silence until he decides to break the ice.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
“You tell me first. You were so excited to go on vacation.”
“One word. Stanley.”
You grimace, knowing what that means. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever. They want to spend their honeymoon forgetting my existence then they can do just that. I’m almost an adult anyway. Then I can go anywhere I want anytime.”
“Is that what Judy said?”
“That was the bullshit excuse, yes.”
“Hey, you got me though. We’ll make this fun.”
“We have no tree, Hunham will be breathing down our back, and Kountze hasn’t stopped ogling at you since you arrived. Does that sound like the perfect Christmas to you?”
You laugh softly, “Ignore Hunham and Kountze. As for the tree, we could always Charlie Brown it. What do you think the lavender is here for?” You shake your plant a little. The purple bush sways in the wind.
He smiles, “Yeah… It’s not a bad little tree,” he begins to quote.
“Maybe it just needs a little love,” you say together and break into a fit of giggles.
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exhaslo · 5 months
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Kinktober Day 31- Ghost face!Miguel x Shy!Reader
*Requested by the many fans of tumblr. Happy Halloween!*
        Everyone had warned you about moving to Nueva York. The amount of dangerous people in that city were overwhelming. You were going to be eaten alive as your friends and family warned. You thought of yourself better and wanted to prove to them that you could survive. The shy and quiet you, who barely had to courage to say no. It was something you always struggled with, but you hoped that this new job would help you with it.
        You were hired at Alchemax as a lab assistant. You tried to fit in, but everyone was so self centered that you ended up being a loner. Everyone except one person. Miguel O'Hara. He had extended the hand of friendship to you, wanting to make you feel more comfortable around the place. You instantly fell for him. He was so kind to you and understanding. You had just wished that everyone was like him. You had wished you had the courage to ask him out.
"(Y/N), are you okay?" Miguel asked as he tried to grab your attention. You flinched out of your daydream,
"Y-Yeah, sorry. I've been...tired lately."
"I've noticed that you've been taking on other people's work. You need to learn to say no," Miguel told you before typing away on his computer. You could only nod,
"I...know...I've also had trouble sleeping...N-News of that...Ghostface going around killing people has me spooked." Miguel glanced you way, handing you a bottle of water, "T-Thanks."
"You'll be okay, tomorrow's Halloween, that's the last day he goes out. Just stay home, okay?" You let out a small whimper, hesitating. "You are staying home, right?" Miguel asked, stopping his work. Tears almost fell from your eyes,
"I-I got...I was told to join some of the others...a-at a small...work...party," Miguel saw you shaking, "I-I...I couldn't say no..."
"Sí, ¿qué voy a hacer contigo? Mi pobre muñeca inocente. (Aye, what am I to do with you? My poor innocent doll.)" Miguel whispered, knowing that you knew nothing of Spanish. He took you hand, calming you down, "Don't worry, you'll be okay."
        You looked into Miguel's eyes, smiling softly as you calmed down. After wiping your tears away, you thanked him quietly before hurrying off to go back to work. Miguel watched you scurry off. He growled lowly as he walked to his trash. That invitation was in there somewhere. Your coworkers didn't care about you to invite you to some Halloween party. They had other plans, and now Miguel did too. Finding the paper, Miguel's eyes shined brighter than normal.
"Tendré que matar a todos y hacerme el héroe, sólo para ti, mi preciosa querida. (I'll just have to kill everyone and play the hero, just for you my precious darling)"
-------------
        You stood in the corner of the small party, watching all of your coworkers enjoying themselves. You glanced down at your costume, wondering if it was too weird. Everyone else was dressed up in slutty and revealing outfits and here you were, with the costume you thought looked the cutest. You sighed sadly, wondering why you were even here. No one was talking to you. You were just there. Another sigh escaped your lips as you made your way to the upstairs bathroom.
        As you washed up, you heard faint screaming. You gasped and shut the light off, your heart beating faster. Loud thumps echoed from the staircase, causing you to whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the loud thumping stopped right in front of the bathroom door. You hurried into the tub, holding yourself as you shook. This was not how you wanted to die. You cried as the door slammed open,
"BOO!"
"KYAAA!" You screamed, covering your ears. You heard loud laughter and raised your head to your coworkers,
"Ah man! Did you get that on video!?" One of them yelled.
        You stormed out of the bathroom, sobbing past everyone as they laughed at you. You made your way to the backyard since the front entrance was blocked off. You sat on the steps, crying your eyes out. They only invited you to make fun of you since you were so scared of Ghostface. You were just a quiet coworker, what did you do to deserve this? Upon hearing another scream, you whimpered in response. Were they trying to scare you again?
"I'll just stay here for a bit. They have to unblock the door soon," You whispered.
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        Miguel had watched the whole thing. His anger had reached a new boiling point. Fixing his mask, Miguel's grip on his knife tighten as he made his way inside. He was the one who blocked the door. Standing in the corner, Miguel watched you ran outside crying. Perfect. He was going to start with the stragglers downstairs. It was a big house and not too many people. The job needed to get new employees anyway. These guys were just dead weight.
        Miguel approached each person a little louder than he wanted. He was so fueled with anger that he couldn't focus. He just wanted everyone to pay for what they did. After his first kill, Miguel inhaled deeply. The smell of metallic blood filling his nostrils. He was not going to get now. He had taken out his anger during this month. It was the only time he could. Slowly making his way over to his next victim, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he thought of you.
        You were going to be his perfect little wife. Miguel was going to make sure you stay in the dark about his secret. He just wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep you protected and loved. When you first arrived at Alchemax, Miguel thought he saw an angel. A shy little angel who entered his life just for him. Miguel had hunted every single asshole who dared tried to flirt with you, or even scared you. Miguel was going to be your dark protector.
"AHHHHHH!" 
        There it was. The first scream of the night and not from a scare, but because of the dead bodies that laid under Miguel. Smiling through the mask, Miguel watched the girl run to warn the others. Ah yes, that was the start. Miguel inhaled deeply, getting enjoyment from true horror. He was going to enjoy his last few kills of the night. It was going to be another year until Miguel could kill again.
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        After calming down, you decided to leave. You rubbed your eyes once more before entering the house. It was quiet aside from the sound of thumping from upstairs. They were probably enjoying themselves. Honestly, you were mad at your cruel coworkers. You stopped at the front door, seeing that it was still blocked. Why were they doing this to you? The couch was far too heavy for you to move on your own. Looking for another way out, you gasped as you stepped in something.
"My shoe," You whimpered, looking at the red puddle.
        Following the puddle, you gasped sharply as you saw one of you coworkers dead. Your heart started to race again as screams came from upstairs. You hurried to the kitchen, wondering if there was a door there and froze as another dead body laid before you. This was bad. Ghostface was here and he was killing everyone. Tears began to roll down your cheeks again as you hurried to find somewhere to escape. Maybe there was a gate in the backyard?
"Please! Don't kill me!" One of your coworkers screamed as another ran down the stairs,
"(Y/N)?! You're still here?!" He yelled and gasped as Ghostface started to walk down the stairs, "Fuck it, I ain't dying here!"
        You yelped as your coworker grabbed you harshly and threw you in front of the staircase. You eyes widen as you nearly froze in fear as Ghostface stood directly before you. You couldn't move. His knife was stained with blood. You shook and closed your eyes, crying as you waited for the worst.
"No! Stay back!"
        You shuddered a gasp as you heard Ghostface leave to your coworker first. Quickly, you found a closet and hid in there until it was safe. You were frighten and scared. Covering your ears, you tried to stay quiet as you waited. Waited for Ghostface to leave.
"(Y/N)? Are you here?" That voice. You knew it all too well.
"M-Miguel! R-Run!" You cried out.
----------
        Miguel whispered some cusses towards your coworkers as he stabbed him. Now that everyone was dead, it was time for you. He knew that you ran to the living room, but where were you hiding? He stopped to clean his knife in the kitchen sink, washing all the blood off. Once that was done, he attached the knife to his thigh strap under his pants. He then took his mask off, putting it inside one of his cloak pockets that was big enough.
"(Y/N)? Are you here?" He called out, wanting to bring you out of hiding.
"M-Miguel! R-Run!" Those cries weren't meant for you.
"It's okay, I'm here now. I saw Ghostface head upstairs, quickly close your eyes and come out. I'll get you out of here."
        You were such a good girl for him. You crawled out of the closet with your eyes closed, your breathing still heavy. Miguel just smiled towards your shaken form, knowing that you were going to be in his arms in a second. With ease, he picked you up, holding you close. He could feel your heart beat. You were sobbing and holding onto him for dear life. You had no reason to cry now. Miguel was going to take care of you.
"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," Miguel whispered as he stroked your head. You just cried into his shoulder,
"M-Miguel, I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"You have nothing to apologize for. I'll take good care of you,"
"T-They're all dead. I-I thought...I was next...Miguel...I love you. I love you. I'm sorry, I'm a scaredy cat and shy and nervous...I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner," You kept babbling, crying your heart out since you thought you were going to die.
"Dios mío, no me esperaba esto. Voy a follarte bien esta noche para que te olvides de todo esto. (My god, I wasn't expecting this. I'm going to fuck you go good tonight that you're going to forget all about this.)" He groaned lowly.
"M-Miguel?"
"It's okay, (Y/n), I love you too. I'll take good care of you."
-----------
        You sniffled as you stepped out of Miguel's shower, rubbing your arms as you wore some of his spare clothes. Miguel was kind enough to take you to his home, wanting to comfort you for the night. You were nervous as you stepped into his living room. It was quiet. Miguel was taking a shower in his other bathroom. Who would have thought that Miguel was rich? You explored his place, still surprised by the turn of events.
        You ended up in the kitchen, noticing a knife in the sink. It looked so much like the knife Ghostface had. Shaking the thought out of your head, you made your way back to the living room. You wanted to forget about what happened tonight. You tried to at least. You knew you were going to have trouble sleeping again. Tomorrow was going to be harsher because everyone was going to be asking about the others. Asking why you were the only one left alive.
"W-What if they think I killed them?" You stuttered at the thought. Miguel approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist,
"Then they would be fools," He kissed the back of your neck.
        You shuddered at the affection Miguel gave you. Turning around, you pulled him into a tight hug. Miguel chuckled as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom. Your cheeks burned up as he placed you on his bed. Miguel stroked your cheek, calming you down again. His smile instantly making you fold for him.
"Do you trust me?" Miguel asked you as he slowly climbed over you. You just nodded, "Good, there's something you need to know,"
        You whimpered as Miguel kissed your neck. His hands stroked your sides under the shirt you wore. He let out a low groan since you looked so good in his clothes. You let out a breathless moan as he cupped you breasts. Miguel was going to wait until you were completely in his grasp before telling you. After all, you couldn't say no. You were going to be his good girl forever.
"M-Miguel?" You whined softly as he took your shirt off, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. 
"You're not going back to work," Miguel whispered as he started to grind his bulge against your cunt, "You're going to stay here. Make it look like you died with the others."
"W-What?!" You asked, but flung your head back as Miguel sucked on your breasts.
        You moaned softly as Miguel spread you legs, allowing him to rut into you rougher. You felt yourself getting wetter. The boxers he let you wear were too thin and easy for him to grind against. You tried to ask him what he meant, but you were being overwhelmed with pleasure. Miguel's hands were now resting against the boxers, rubbing your clit against the fabric. You body leaned into his touch, desperate for more. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making his way back up to your neck.
"You're going to stay here, baby." He whispered again, his fingers dipping under the boxers and circling your clit, "My beautiful angel. I can't let anyone have you. I can't let anyone harm you. You were always mine."
"Mhm~ M-Miguel~"
"(Y/N), don't be afraid of me. I will never harm you." Miguel watched as you bit you lower lip, moving your hips with his hand, "Así es. Déjame convertirte en la esposa perfecta. Déjame manchar tu hermosa inocencia. (That's right. Let me fuck you into the perfect wife. Let me taint your beautiful innocence." He groaned lowly.
        You whimpered a moan as you felt a knot tighten inside you. Miguel moved his fingers faster against your clit, causing that knot to tighten. You tried to rub your legs together, but Miguel kept them spread. He sucked against your neck, groaning as you cam from just him playing with your clit. His fingers dipped lower, two digits entering your tight, soaked cunt. You moaned again, your cunt squeezing his fingers as he pumped inside you.
"Ah, my sweet innocent little angel. Watching you break because of me is so delicious." Miguel groaned as you squirmed and moved your hips to his touch, "You're going to stay here. I'll make sure no one will ever hurt you again, understood?"
"Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried out as his fingers feverishly fucked your tight gummy walls.
        You whined as Miguel raised your legs over his shoulders. Your pussy clenched his fingers as he started to curl against your sweet spot. You flung your head back as he started to wiggle his fingers inside you. His thumb rubbed against your clit again, bringing you over to the edge. Miguel wasn't making any sense, but his words were making you wetter. Honestly, with how tonight went, you wouldn't mind being stuck in Miguel's home forever. He was your protector.
"M-MIG-" You screamed out as you reached another orgasm. Miguel pulled his fingers out, licking them,
"You even taste sweet," He hummed, holding his erection towards your twitching folds, "You have no idea the amount of men I had to get rid of to make sure you stayed innocent, just for me. Seré tu primero en todo... y tu último. (I will be your first for everything...and your last.)" He groaned.
        You whimpered as you felt Miguel's dick stretch you out painfully. His cock was so thick and long. Your pussy was convulsing around him, sucking him in while drool rolled down your lips. He was making you feel so full. You wanted to question him on what he meant by getting rid of people, but you started to get drunk off his cock. Another whimper escaped your lips as Miguel groaned, fitting his whole length inside you. You swore that he was pressing against your cervix, but you weren't sure. This was a first for you.
"Un ajuste perfecto. Fuiste hecho para mí, cariño. Voy a grabar la forma de mi polla en tu memoria. (A perfect fit. You were made for me, darling. I'm going to fuck the shape of my dick into your memory.)" He groaned, slowly pulling out of you, "Killing all those people made this worth it."
"H-Huh?"
        You moaned loudly as Miguel thrusted his dick back inside you, hitting your cervix with each thrust. You cried out as Miguel started to bully your cunt, causing you to turn into putty under him. You could barely feel your legs as the slapping sounds between you grew louder. His dick forming a perfect space inside your pussy. You trembled as you started to reach another orgasm, unable to take the pleasure that he was filling you with.
"Look at you, so fucked out on my cock. How does it feel to get fucked by Ghostface, baby? Does my dick feel that good?" Miguel moaned as you tighten around him, "Yes, it does, doesn't it. Why else would you be squeezing me this tight?"
"H-Hah~ Ah~ Y-You're....ah~ mhpm...G-Ghost...f-face?" You whimpered lowly. Miguel fasten his pace, enjoying the white ring that formed around his dick,
"Yes. I'm the scary Ghostface that killed those asshole coworkers of ours," He chuckled, stopping to fill you with his seed, "I told you that you'd be okay. I will never, ever hurt you. Only love you."
        You wanted to be scared. You truly did, but both your brain and your heart were only thinking about Miguel's dick pounding you still. His hot semen filling your womb as he kept fucking you dumb. You body twitched from overstimulation as Miguel started to rub your clit again. He leaned down to kiss you, biting you lower lip as you moaned for him. His grip tighten against your hips, rutting into you furiously. He wanted to make sure you knew that you were his.
"Awe? Tired already? I think I need to show you how many people I've killed for you. Here's the second victim." Miguel groaned as he cummed inside you again. 
"Mhm~" You muffled lowly, growing exhausted. Miguel chuckled as he pulled you to his lap,
"Tienes razón cariño. Vas a ser la esposa de Ghostface. Siempre puedo mostrarte mi amor en cualquier momento. (You're right darling. You're going to be Ghostface's wife. I can always show you my love anytime.)
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        When you woke up, Miguel was by your side with water, vitamins and breakfast. He had bathed you and put on a fresh pair of clothes. You recalled his confession from last night and grew slightly nervous. Miguel, the man you longed for, was the murderous Ghostface. He killed your coworkers and faked your death. You now belonged to Miguel. You wanted to be scared, but Miguel had proved to you that he was never going to hurt you.
        Maybe it was your blind faith or actually being fucked dumb, but you willingly agreed to stay with Miguel. You stayed in his place as his house wife, greeting him with love everyday. Miguel rewarded your love with his brutal sex, reminding you that you belonged to him. By next Halloween, Miguel returned to his Ghostface persona, needing to release some steam. You became his accomplish, making sure that he returned home safe and sound.
"How was my good girl tonight?" Miguel hummed as he slapped his dick into your soaked pussy. You whined into the bedsheets,
"D-Distracted t-the...ah~ police...s-sending em...mhm~ opposite side of...of....ah~ t-town~!" You cried out. Miguel groaned happily, harshly shoving his dick deeper into you to fill,
"That's my perfect angel. Well done."
"T-Thank you!" You moaned against him, shaking from the pleasure. Miguel hummed happily as he kept thrusting inside you,
"I think you deserve a reward. Why don't we try making a little Ghostface jr?"
"Yes! Yes!"
        Your vision blurred as you moved in rhythm to Miguel's thrusts. Your mind started to fill with lust as you became tainted by Miguel. You were just as bad as him now, but you didn't care anymore. As long as Miguel was there to love you and protect you, you were okay. You moaned loudly as you cam against his dick, burying your head into the pillow again. You were happy with you life now. You were going to protect and live with Miguel forever.
Forever as Ghostface's wife.
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Text
Halloween prompts year 2 day 31
Happy Halloween 🎃
Danny sighed, staring dejected at the empty cabinets. His parents forgot to go to get groceries again. "Guess its another cereal night."
"I can head to the store right fast if you want something." Jazz said from the table where she was casually eating her own cereal.
Danny sighed again, this time with the full force of his teen angst, "Unless they're selling a way to make our parents less crazy, no thanks."
Jazz got up from the table and began to approach him, "Danny.." he cringed. Danny hated that soft tone. It ment he'd either hurt her feelings or said something she thought required a gentle approach to. "I know our parents aren't perfect-"
"I don't want them to be perfect!" He cut her off, "I just want all of us to be happy and healthy and sane! Is that too much to ask?!" Aaand now she looked hurt, "Sorry."
Now it was her turn to sigh before bringing him into a hug, "I wish things were different. I wish we were kids again had someone willing to raise us in a kind respectful way, someone who could fix all our problems."
"So you have wished it, so it shall be!!" A feminine voice rang out and everything turned green...
------
Bruce was casually walking around in the greenery of the manor grounds, basking in the sunlight and fresh air as Alfred ordered when a portal made from what looked like Lazarus waters spat out a little kid no older than six years old in a blue dress with a matching big blue bow in her hair followed by a younger darked haired boy in a blue t-shirt and cargoshorts.
"No! Ugh!" The younger kid jumped to his feet, "We gotta get back to Amity! If I don't defeat her in 48 ours the wish becomes permanent!"
That sounded alarming and he began to approach after the kid tried to run, only to trip and faceplant into the grass. The kid muttered about how small his legs were which made Bruce wonder if the child was dead aged or shrunk somehow.
As it turned out talking to the yiunger kid was difficult but he eventually managed to convince the older one to come to the manor with him and her brother to explain things...
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irafuwas · 7 months
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some thoughts on how lilia views love
I’ve been watching through the Stitch event and there’s a bit of dialogue Lilia says that unfortunately made me Think, so I wanted to gather my babblings here.
This post contains spoilers for: Book 7, Tsumsted Wonderland 2, Lost in the Book with Stitch, Spectral Soiree/Endless Halloween, and Tamashina Mina
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After spending the day fighting off Gantu’s robots, scavenging for food, and exploring the island, the boys rest for a bit in an old cottage they found. Lilia wants to take the opportunity to spruce up the cottage and make it more resort-like while they’re enjoying this “vacation”, and Riddle and Jack are both surprised and a bit peeved to hear him say this.
Riddle: Don’t you want to find a way off this island as soon as possible, Lilia Senpai? Malleus Senpai, Silver, and Sebek… Everyone at Diasomnia must be worried sick about you right now. I should think you’d want to assuage their concerns a tad bit faster!
Lilia: …Thing is, I trust them.
Riddle: You trust them?
Lilia: Mm-hmm. Knowing them, no doubt they understand I’m safe and sound and having a good time right now. Malleus and the others know I’m not the type of guy who’d get in a pickle over something as trivial as this. And that’s because they know me very, very well – just like family!
(snipped)
Lilia: It’s truly wonderful having people in your life who trust you and wish the best for you - and for whom you do the same in return - no matter how far apart you may be.
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When you take this dialogue and look at in isolation of this event, then it’s a wonderful thing to hear Lilia say. He trusts his boys and they trust him - because they’re family, and that’s what families do. It’s always great to hear the characters themselves acknowledge their strong bonds with each other, and I thought it was really cute how Stitch got so happy to hear Lilia talking about his Ohana.
But when you take what he said and consider the broader story of Twisted Wonderland (vignettes and events, included), and you consider other things he’s said and done in the past… This dialogue just hurts.
There’s been small moments here and there that made me think Lilia has kind of an unhealthy(?) or warped(?) view of love. I’m not sure what the best word for it is, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like people worrying over him, he doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness, and he really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak.  Additionally, he seems to value himself very little – he doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger, or that people would be happy getting pictures of him, or that his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much. I’ll go ahead and put examples for each point so you all can understand better what I’m trying to say.
He doesn’t like people worrying about him
We can see this partly from the quote this whole post is based on, as well as from Book 7.
Based on his conversation with Riddle, Lilia’s way of thinking appears to be:
If someone trusts me -> that means they wouldn’t worry about me
As well as:
If someone worries about me -> that means they don’t trust me
But we do worry about the people we love and care about, don’t we? We worry about our spouses getting home safely from a business trip, and our kids making friends at school, and our friends acing the interview they’ve been practicing for because we love them, don’t we? And because we want the best for them. But it doesn’t seem like Lilia thinks the same way.
And to add onto this point, it’s very clear the boys do worry about Lilia a lot, contrary to what Lilia claims. Due to Lilia’s departure, Malleus brought a snowstorm to the island in his sadness, Silver considered dropping out of school and leaving with his father, only to end up breaking down and crying in front of their crown prince of all people, and Sebek used his one wish to make Lilia be healthy and have him stay with Silver forever. They were all worried terribly about him in their own ways, but it doesn’t seem like Lilia ever noticed (or maybe he did, and just didn’t want to bring it up for some reason. Who knows.)
At any rate, he also gets mad (well, more like tsundere lol) at Silver when the boy was on the verge of tears after Lilia took a nasty hit for him. (I know this exchange occurred with General Vanrouge, and he was quite the asshole back then, but he’s still retained that dislike for people worrying over him.)
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Lilia: Oh, would you quit it with the sniveling. I drank the potion, didn’t I? I just to rest for a little bit, and then I’ll be good as new.
He doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness
He exhibits his distaste of sappiness in Book 7 and the Welcome to Tsumsted Wonderland 2 event. In the latter, when everyone is saying goodbye to their tsums, he mentions he doesn’t like the gloomy atmosphere. He wants goodbyes to be happy (and most likely, free of any emotional weight). The same can be said in Book 7, when he wholeheartedly agrees to the going away party the students wanted to put on for him, as well as when Silver mentions his father had wanted them all to send him off with a smile. I’m not sure if Lilia just doesn’t enjoy people getting serious with their emotions towards him, or if he doesn’t like seeing it in general. It gives me Macho Man (tm) vibes, kind of? Like, “don’t let people see you cry and feel sad because then you look weak” kind of thing but idk.
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Lilia: Farewells are certainly sorrowful, but I hate leaving things on such a gloomy note. Let’s keep our chins up until the end. Tsum, your ability to surprise others was exceptional, and you made today so much fun. So long!
He really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak
There’s still a lot of loose ends to be resolved in Book 7, one of them being the full extent of Lilia’s motives for wanting to leave so suddenly. It does seem to be he’s telling the truth that his magic ran out early, since he couldn’t muster up enough strength to fight back against Malleus when he was about to Overblot, but we don’t know if the real reason for that is just because he “went a little to wild” in his youth, like he claimed, or if something else caused his magic to deplete so prematurely. But we did hear him reveal a little bit of his motives when he was talking to Floyd at the party.
Floyd was dismayed he never got a chance to fight Lilia, and he wished he could’ve seen Lilia go all out at least once. When he asks Lilia why he’s dropping out, Lilia says under his breathe that he didn’t want “them” to see him so weak.
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Lilia (whispering to himself): …It’s because I didn’t want them to see me so feeble.
Regardless of why his magic ran out and why he wants to go the Land of Red Dragons of all places, we know part of the reason for his departure is because he doesn’t want Malleus and the others to see how far he’d fallen from his former military glory. (sidebar: I have a feeling he thought he’d be a burden on Silver and co. with him losing his magic, and he was trying to leave so quickly to escape his shame towards his rapid loss of strength and independence (I imagine since he’s a magical being who comes from a country that runs on magic, him losing his powers must feel very isolating and limiting, like he’s lost a lot of the control he used to have over his own life).)
He doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger
In Endless Halloween/Spectral Soiree, Lilia was surprised by how much Silver and the others had been worrying about him and Malleus when they disappeared. Interestingly, even though Lilia is the one that Silver was the most relieved to see (it’s hard to tell with the live 2d models, but it looked like he went up to hug? Lilia and Lilia slapped his hand away), Lilia later says “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about us.” (referring to himself and the others involved with the party shenanigans).
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(I am aware they changed this line to “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me” In TWST EN, but I’m just focusing on the JP version).
I just found it weird that even though Silver was very clearly worried about Lilia the most, Lilia kind of redirected Silver’s concern over from “Lilia” to “Lilia and everyone else”. Did it make him uncomfortable to hear Silver was that worried about him? I’m not sure, but it just stood out to me as being a little strange how he responded, and how surprised he was that his own son would get worried about him suddenly disappearing.
He didn’t think people would be happy getting pictures of him
At the end of Lilia’s Tamashina Mina vignette, Yuu stops by Diasomnia to give him some photos he’d taken of Lilia on their trip, and Sebek, Silver, and Malleus are delighted to see them, since it’s not often they get to see photos of Lilia. Lilia is surprised at how happy they are to receive those pictures of himself. But why wouldn’t they be happy? They love him and treasure him dearly, of course they’d be overjoyed to have pictures of him to remember him by. It’s like he thought they wouldn’t care about him that much, which is really bizarre, considering the whole “even if we’re not related by blood we’re still family” thing he told Malleus before.
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Lilia: To think, you’d all be so delighted just to see some pictures of me. I never would’ve imagined you’d all react like this.
He didn’t think his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much
This relates back to what I mentioned in the first point, but there’s one scene that demonstrates this perfectly.
After Silver breaks down in front of Malleus, Malleus teleports both of them to Lilia’s going away party. All eyes should have been on Malleus with how strangely he was acting, but the first thing Lilia honed in on was that Silver had been crying. And not only that, but Lilia looked surprised that Silver had been crying. And why wouldn’t he cry? The one person who formed Silver’s entire world and sun and stars was about to leave him and go die all by himself on the other side of the planet. There is no reason Lilia should’ve been surprised at Silver’s tears, yet he was. And I gather that’s because he never thought the boy could ever possibly want to choose to stay by his side, to choose him over all the hopes and dreams he’d burdened on the poor child from the moment he could walk, to choose him over his real friends and his real family members.
I hope when Lilia “wakes up” from his dream, the first he does is ask Silver what he’d been crying about back at the party. And I pray to god they will actually talk things out and Lilia will finally apologize for how much of a complete idiot he’s been acting.
My headache’s coming back so to wrap this up quickly, my current understanding of Lilia Vanrouge is that he either doesn’t realize just how loved and cherished he is by his family members, or that he does realize it and just pretends not to. If it’s the latter, which is what I personally lean towards, I think he does this as a means to protect himself.
He’s already lost so many of his loved ones, and he very well may be putting up these walls around his heart and pushing away the people who love him just so he doesn’t have to get hurt again. We don’t know how he became an orphan, but his birth family either gave him up or passed away and left him behind. Even when Queen Maleficia took him in, he was always made the scapegoat for the princess’s schemes, and it sounded like he was brought up more as Levan and Mallenoa’s inferior than their equal. And then war struck their nation. And then his one best friend went missing and the other one probably gave up her life trying to protect the very child who'd go on to shatter the ice surrounding his wounded heart.
Perhaps with Malleus and Silver and Sebek now, he thought his best option would be to exit their lives before they had a chance to do the same to him, because he knew they would do the same to him. Everyone does.
As a final note, I still keep going to back to what he said in Cater’s Halloween vignette. I think this one line sums up his views of love better than I ever could:
“But the more precious a bond is, the more pain it can inflict.”
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(source)
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macfrog · 5 months
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if patrick bateman were a woman
cowboy like me [bonus chapter]
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surprise!! happy halloween!!!! may your day be spooky and your sex be filthy. here's a bonus chapter of clm to celebrate. love y'all !!! despite being cowboy joel and his reader, this is not canon. does not happen in the cowboy like me series. i wish. it's just a little bit of spooky szn fun with my two favorite star-crossed lovers. !!!
pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: sarah throws a halloween party. you and joel have a little too much fun.
warnings: as pwp as a macfrog fic can get, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lil bit titty appreciation, a singular daddy mention, a single slice of degradation, but also praise kink, unprotected piv sex, creampie, it's set on halloween, alcohol consumption, cursing
word count: 4k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡
Ice, pretzels, lime juice. Ice, pretzels, lime juice.
I’m giving you one job. Ice, pretzels, lime juice. That’s it.
That sounds like three jobs, you’d said.
Sarah ignored you. Be here at seven, alright? Ice – pretzels – lime juice!
It’s seven thirty. You’re finally on her front porch. The tiny section of bare skin between your stockings and black skirt is pimpled with goosebumps. With each inhale you suck in the sickly-sweet scent of fake blood, splattered across your face. You have a bag of ice slung over one arm, a bag of pretzels balanced on top, a bottle of juice hanging from your fingers and an axe under your elbow.
Only – it’s not lime juice. And the axe is plastic.
Sarah opens the door and spots your blunder instantly. “That’s lemon.”
“I know. They didn’t have any lime.”
“They didn’t have any lime? Where the hell did you go?”
“It’s Halloween, Sarah. Everybody and their fucking grandma is drinking tonight. Lemon tastes the exact –”
“Ah!” She holds a finger up. Her red cape flutters in the breeze. “It does not taste the same. Otherwise, why would it be two separate things?”
“Hey, Wonder Woman,” you drone, “mind letting me in? I’m fucking freezing.”
She scoffs, and steps aside. Mutters, “’s not the same thing,” as you pass.
You click down the hall, head rolling to check out her decorating. The living room and kitchen are lit by constellations of tiny tealights, flickering and blinking and casting tall, warped shadows across the walls. There’s a purple neon sign sat against the wall that reads Spooky. By the fireplace sit the two pumpkins she and her boyfriend carved last night; she’d sent you photos and asked you to pick a winner. When you chose the Iron Man head over the silhouette of Tinkerbell, she sent back a middle finger emoji.
Y: It’s cleaner cut. What do you expect? Shoddy work, Miller.
S: asshole.
Sarah’s slotting the ice into the freezer. Struggling, by the sound of it. You swing back into the kitchen to find Wonder Woman on her ass, hammering her fist against the frozen pack to fit it in.
You’re about to offer help, when someone else does it for you. Someone lower, gravellier. A voice like thunder in the distance, a storm approaching.
“You need a hand?” he asks, and when you turn, you almost drop your fucking axe.
He glances to you as he emerges from the dark hallway, the warm glow licking at his graying flicks of hair, nestling in the deep-set lines on his face. His eyes dart down to where your fingers now clutch the plastic handle, holding it against the hem of your skirt like it’ll do anything to cover your modesty.
Your modesty, meaning – the line of sexy black lace curling around your thighs, snug against the supple skin.
What the fuck are you doing here? you mouth, as Joel paces across the kitchen towards his daughter.
He shrugs, palms outstretched. It’s my house?
You roll your eyes, run your tongue like lightning across your scarlet lips. Sarah straightens up, huffs hair from her face and stares blankly at Joel.
He bends, takes the entire bag in one huge palm, and reorganizes the drawer with the other. Your eye drifts to his bicep, flexing under the tight seam of a dark tee. The bag of ice cradled in his arm leaves weak little droplets, running down the tan skin to the crook of his elbow. You want to fucking lick them up, gather the frozen beads on your tongue, hike up up up to the curve of his shoulder, the crook of his neck, the –
“Hey.” Sarah clicks her fingers in front of your face. “You hearin’ me?”
“Huh? No, yeah. No. I wasn’t lis– What did you say?”
She sighs again. Joel groans as he pushes off his knee and stands tall behind her. Wipes the water from his arm with one swipe of his palm.
“Would you put these in a bowl?” his daughter asks, shoving the bag of pretzels into your suited chest. She shuffles off, announcing she’s going to pick a playlist for the night.
Suited is perhaps giving you too much credit. You’re in a mini skirt and waistcoat, a red tie slung loose around your neck. You’ve a clear poncho draped over your shoulders, but with the heat from the million and one fucking candles – and the flush that the forty-something-year-old with his wide frame and fitted sweatpants and toned chest and his big fucking hands has cast over you – it’ll soon be discarded to the newel post.
But when you reach up for the bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet, pushing forward with a palm on the countertop, the marble digging into your pelvis and forcing your ass to jut out – you think yourself pretty fucking smug to be in a skirt that hugs your cheeks and not much else.
You turn, the lip of the bowl in your fingers, and smile sweetly at Joel, whose gaze returns north as you approach him.
“You got nothin’ better to do with your night than babysit a bunch of twenty-five-year-olds?” you murmur, spilling the bag into the blue bowl. You place a pretzel on your tongue, humming at the taste.
Joel smiles, popping the cap off his beer. He spills the amber liquid into his mouth. “I’ll be in my room.”
Your eyebrows lift. “That so? You need any company in there?”
“Nope. Rangers game is on. I’ll be busy.”
The words ghost across your lips. You’ll be busy, you breathe. Joel nods. Then looks you up and down.
“American Psycho?”
“What?”
He flicks his wrist up and down your figure. “What’s his name, again? Pat–”
“Patrick Bateman,” you say together. You nod.
“That’s the one.” Then he turns, leans his jaw nearer until his lips line with your ear. Your eyes shoot across to the empty doorway. Sarah’s skipping song after song in the living room.
Joel’s finger slips beneath the lace trim of your stockings, tugging gently. “I don’t remember ‘im in these, though,” he says, voice low.
You gulp. Swallow to push your heart back into place. “Well,” you glance down, lifting your thigh closer to him, “if he were a woman, he woulda dressed like this.”
“That’s somethin’ I’d like to see,” Joel murmurs, eyes locked on the place where lace separates from skin.
“Yeah?”
He nods. Growls, “Yeah.”
And then he’s walking away.
Within an hour, the house is jumping. Literally. Almost.
You sit at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer, staring down the hall at the sea of bodies – of nylon and polyester, of purples and oranges, of headbands and props and cloaks and hats. There are a lot more than forty people here – a lot more than Sarah intended to turn up.
A lot more than you know, too. She’s barely even four years younger than you, but most of these kids look like they just walked out of middle school. Of the handful of faces you recognize, one is sat opposite you, his arm draped over Sarah’s shoulder, her hand locked in his. She and Ty have been dating for a year now, surviving long-distance when she jets back off to school every few months.
The other you know, unfortunately for you, is swaying by your side. Leaning a little too heavily into you. Asking you questions about college, and then talking over your answers to tell you stories about his college. Asking you questions about films you like, and then interrupting to gawk at the titles you reel off. The only times he doesn’t jump in over your answer, are the times he’s asking who you think might win in a fight between prime Mike Tyson and prime Muhammad Ali. And that’s only because you don’t have an answer to give him.
Jace. Ty’s best friend. Fucking – loser.
“And who the fuck are you s’posed to be, anyways?” he asks, slinging a heavy arm over your shoulder. He reeks of beer, warm and stale. His jaw’s swinging, cheeks popping and suckling on a shriveled piece of gum.
You scowl, shrugging the uncomfortable weight from the nape of your neck. “Patrick Bateman,” you mutter.
“Who?”
“Christian Bale. You know, when he –” Sarah mimes lifting an axe over her shoulder, takes a swing through the air, across the island to Jace.
“No fucking idea,” he says, shaking his head. You’re not surprised.
“Where’s your axe?” Ty asks, as Sarah nuzzles back into his side.
You shrug. “Saw someone using it to stir the punch earlier. ‘s probably in the toilet or something.”
He laughs, flashing his dimpled cheeks. He’s got glistening eyes beneath long, black eyelashes. He’s handsome. Sharp jaw, full lips. Sarah links her fingers at his side, plants her cheek against his shoulder. She’s comfortable. She’s safe. Your chest warms at the sight.
He squeezes her arm, and they share a meaningful glance before there’s a yell from across the kitchen, and their attention is diverted.
When they turn to watch two of Sarah’s high school friends sword-fighting, wielding a plastic lightsaber and your axe, you slink off, swiping two beers from the fridge. Swift and silent, you scale the stairs and fade into the darkened hallway at the top, in pursuit of your own dark-eyed, sharp-jawed comfort.
The sliver of light at the end of the hall draws you in, footsteps silent along the soft carpet. Up here, tucked away in the corner of the house, far from the rattling music and rumble of boisterous chatter – you can hear the soft roar of a crowd, the crack of ball against bat.
Your hip nudges the door open, trickle of condensation running over your knuckles. Joel’s eyes are already on you. He’s laying on his bed, legs outstretched, knee cocked. One arm lies idly on his thigh. You get the feeling he shifted it quickly when he saw the door move.
He balances his chin on the end of the remote, purses his lips and lifts his head. “Now,” he mumbles, “you’re s’posed to be downstairs.”
You shrug, holding the bottles up. “Thought you might need a top-up.”
His eyes thin. He sits up straight, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You come to a stop between his knees, holding the beer down to him. He hums, taking it with his eyes locked on yours.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, and his eyes begin to drift down.
You tilt your head back at the same time he does, lifting the lip of your own bottle. The cold drink washes over your tongue, bitter and blunt in its taste, leaving a furry feeling on your gums. When your chin lowers again, Joel’s hand is on the back of your thigh.
He’s staring at the two knolls between you – your breasts round, nipples peaking under the tight waistcoat.
“Welcome,” you reply, swirling the liquid around in the curved glass. Your voice is barely there. But he hears you, and he must hear the want laced deep through that one quiet word, because he instantly slides his beer onto his nightstand.
He curves both hands around your thighs, fingers lifting higher and higher between your legs until they’re crossing over lace and onto bare skin.
You shuffle forward, leaning your arms on his shoulders and propping your knees on the bed either side of his body. Your skirt rides up, exposing the shard of shocking red lace beneath the pinstripe material.
Joel sees it. Like it’s a rag and he’s a bull. It charges something deep inside him. Something that awakens beneath the thin line of fabric between your legs.
You can feel your pulse in your clit. Fluttering, fucking – hammering. Your cunt feels painfully empty, clenching around nothing. Joel’s palms surf across the tops of your thighs until his fingers are teetering along the hem of your skirt.
“Off,” he instructs, swatting the poncho away.
You shake it from your shoulders the same way you shook the blond downstairs off. Joel nods as the material crumples to the floor. He hooks a hand under your knee and yanks your body closer to his. You almost throw the beer bottle across his bed.
“J– fucking hell, my –”
“Shut up,” he clips, and grabs the beer from your grasp to deposit it alongside his own.
His hands find the tiny buttons of your waistcoat, fingers slip through the gaps between them where your skin peeks through. You can feel his hot breath on your chest. A wave of need washes over you, a desire from deep within your marrow to feel him everywhere. His breath, his tongue, his hands. All of him.
Your entire body weight rests on his shoulders, your fingers locking his shirt in two tight fists. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. Barely seems to notice. He pulls apart the first button, watches with a dark gaze as your breasts spill over. The second button pops open easily, and they bounce lower. When he unhooks the third, they drop into place, nipples pointed, welcoming him in between them.
“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he leans in, mouth flattening against the smooth skin between them. “No bra or nothin’.”
“Knew you’d be here,” you reply, head rolling back as he licks a trail across to the darker flesh of your nipple. His lips close around it and he suckles gently. Your nails dig into his scalp.
He pushes the waistcoat over your shoulders and it drops to the carpet, pooled inside the shell of poncho. As soon as it falls, his hands begin the climb up the seam of your thigh, resting on the brush of red – where he feels the quickly dampening mark on the fabric.
“Thought as much,” he says, head cocking to watch your expression warp as he rubs slow circles into your clit. His voice is as soft as his touch, innocent almost, when he asks, “She like that?”
“Ye-ah,” you choke, leaning back.
“Yeah,” he agrees, and uses his other hand to fish beneath his sweatpants. He rubs himself under the gray cotton, watches as your fingers clutch at the waistband to tug it down, releasing him.
His heavy cock springs up between your bodies, dabs precome on the pointed tail of your tie. You giggle, loosening the knot and pulling the thin silk over your head. Your hands wrap around him, twisting and pumping and dragging the milky arousal from his slit down the smooth, warm skin. Joel’s breath catches when your thumbs swipe across his head.
His fingers slip behind your knees and pull them apart, pull them wider on the mattress. You lean forward, chest brushing against his parted lips, taking your panties in one hand and guiding him along your slit with the other.
You cover him in your arousal, the veined skin soon slick and pearlescent. His wide head slips between your opening, notching against your entrance and forcing the breath from your lungs.
His hands sit firmly on your waist, pushing down on your hips, pushing and pushing until he sinks snug into your cunt. When he pauses, his mouth agape and eyes stuck on the sight of his body connecting to yours, you whine.
“More,” you mewl, voice dripping with need, drizzling all over him.
“We gotta –”
“More.”
“Baby,” Joel says, voice flat but crumbling. “We gotta go slow. I’m gonna – You’re gonna make me come, dressed like that, if we go too quick.”
But fuck, you want to feel him. Want him to buck his hips and fill you in one go – fuck the pain. Fuck the discomfort, fuck the way your walls would clamp in a vice grip around him. You want him to fuck you. Want to be fucked so good that you have to time your moaning with the bassline of the music downstairs, unable to contain the sounds in your throat. Fucked so good that you waddle out of the room, that you fling yourself back onto the couch and wince in pain, a sharp memory of the breadth of him shooting between your legs.
Your hips circle, the heat of your cunt swirling around and around on his tip. He groans, hands tightening on your waist to hold you still.
“Stop it, darlin’,” he growls, the words clawing from between his teeth.
“F-fuck me, then,” you moan, curling your back to slowly edge down on him.
“Ask nicer.”
You smile, heavy lids falling closed. “Please?”
His hands roam around the curve of your ass. He starts to push again. “Nicer.”
Your mouth opens wider the further he slides into you. The more he claims of your body, the further you open for him, the warmer your welcome. Your head tips back, eyes tighten until you see stars. When you feel a weight around your neck, you flutter your lashes open, blink the cyan-colored sparkles from your vision.
Joel pulls your jaw back down to face him. Squeezes on your pulse, holding you between his middle finger and thumb.
“Nicer,” he demands.
You lean in, small hands linking around his thick wrist. “Fuck me, please, daddy,” you whisper.
And he smiles like a fucking devil. Eyes drawn black like ink. He pulls you in until your chin brushes against the rough bristle of his own, lines his bottom lip with yours.
Into your mouth, he asks, “You think you can take it, babygirl? Think it’ll fit?”
You nod desperately, anchoring yourself on his wrist. “Know it will.”
He’s only halfway in. Your heartbeat is thudding around your body, focusing hardest on your clit. Your hips move again, and Joel allows it, sitting back to watch as you sink down further.
“Go on,” he says, watching your body slowly attach to his, “’f you think you can do it. Be a big girl ‘n take it. Slow.”
Something caught between a laugh and a whimper drags between your painted lips – something dripping in desire, built from a need to prove yourself to him, to take all of him inside your body, to feel him in the deepest parts of yourself. You push on him, loosen his grip around your neck and flatten your palms on his chest. And you curve your back, pushing him deeper.
“’s my girl,” Joel says, quietly, as if to himself. “This what you wanted? Comin’ up here, dressed like that?”
Your teeth hold onto your bottom lip. “Like what?” you purr, leaning forward until your noses brush.
Joel tips his chin up, lips flush against yours. “Like a little fuckin’ slut.”
You laugh weakly, feeling him finally in his entirety. “Fuck.”
Joel’s hands take your waist, pushing you down until the pain sends bolts of lightning across your vision. The bruising feeling of his head against your cervix. The sweet stretch of your skin opening around his.
“Beggin’ for it, weren’t ya? ‘n now look, you can’t hardly take it.”
“I can take it,” you hiss back, bracing yourself on the mattress. Your hips lift, holding onto him, bouncing up and down steadily. “I can take it,” you repeat, like a mantra, like the only thing keeping you in the room still. The only thing reminding your body to keep moving.
Joel holds a palm steady against the bottom of your stomach, rubs his thumb delicately against your skin. “So deep, baby. ‘m so fuckin’ deep inside you. That feel nice?”
The meat of your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs. You’re quickening, eyes screwing shut. He feels so good. Fills you up so fucking good. Your legs start to loosen, knees weakening the more you fuck yourself on him. Your head drops between your shoulders when his thumb lowers, circles gently at your clit.
“Keep – keep doing that. Fuck, Joel – touch me. Keep touching me.”
“’boutta come, ain’t you?”
“Sh-shut up.”
“Yeah,” he says, “she’s about to come.”
“Shut up,” you hiss, hips rolling now, losing rhythm between the split of his cock inside you and the lull of his thumb on your clit. Your back arches, vision begins to blur. Your lungs close in on themselves as you give one final gasp to the ceiling, and let go.
Your walls clamp hard around him, and in one swift movement, your bodies are flipped. When you open your eyes again, you’re on your back, Joel’s figure towering over you.
“’attagirl,” he mutters, palms flat against the underside of your thighs. He pushes them flat, folding you in two, your knees resting by your shoulders. “So close, darlin’. Ain’t gonna last.”
You’re shaking your head, holding onto his neck, thighs trembling. “I – can’t, Joel.”
“Yeah, you can. You can,” he assures, dipping his head to place his lips on yours. Your mouth opens up for him, tongue falls against his own. It’s barely a kiss – you’re licking at one another, sure, but there’s nothing tender or gentle about it. Joel pulls away only to glance down and guide himself back inside you. “Gonna be my good girl, aren’t you? Gonna make me come.”
With one seamless thrust, he’s back inside you, pressing your legs harder against your torso. You whine, a blur of pain and pleasure mixing where he fucks you.
“Good girl,” he says, tongue skimming along his top lip. “Nice ‘n wide, that’s it.”
Your back arches into him, arms tighten around his neck, lips settle curved around his own. You’re moaning, his name releasing itself from your mouth in shots of breath. Joel takes your knee and hooks it over his shoulder, letting the other fall to his hip. The angle forces him deeper. Deeper and harder.
But he’s starting to jump. Bucking randomly. He’s panting your name, teeth grazing against your neck in attempt to hold on just a little longer, feel you squeeze him a little more.
“You’re close,” you slur.
“’m close,” he says.
“Gonna come in me –?”
“Baby –”
“– ’n send me – ah – back downstairs full of you? Runnin’ outta me?”
Joel’s head shakes. His eyes tighten. “Fuck, darlin’. Dirty fuckin’ mouth.”
“C’mon,” you beg, “give it to – m-me.”
His hips hammer against yours, punching against the edge of your cunt harshly. You sob out, nails digging into his shoulders, until he halts, and you feel the warmth of him spurting deep inside your body. Feel the way he tenses, empties, and stills.
Your head falls back against the mattress. Joel’s still nuzzled against your neck, breathing labored, lips soaking wet against your skin. You sift your fingers through his hair, combing through it as he comes to.
His chest rocks against yours. Feeling starts to sharpen again, the orgasmic haze starting to bleed into the past. The walls of the house thud with the music from downstairs. You feel the weight of his body on top of yours again.
“Up,” you groan, pushing on his shoulders.
Joel scoffs, pushing against the mattress and rolling over beside you. He slips out, his spend seeping out and spilling onto your thigh.
Your fingers intertwine with his by your side, your nails scrawling into his knuckles.
“I miss you, when you ain’t around,” Joel whispers, glossy eyes blinking at the ceiling. “I’m bored up here.”
You roll onto your side, run your fingers over the halo of sweat around the collar of his shirt. “Good think I ain’t far, then. ‘m only downstairs.”
He smiles. “Downstairs is too far.”
You lean over him and place a soft kiss on his rough cheek. “Just have to keep you at my hip then, don’t I?”
His head turns and his lips find yours. He cups the globe of your head, pulls you harder against his jaw, runs his tongue along your teeth. When you pull away, you shift the damp hair from his glistening forehead.
“You ruined my tie, by the way,” you tell him. “The hell am I supposed to say that is?”
Joel shrugs. “If Patrick Bateman were a woman, ‘n all that.”
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ghostofskywalker · 5 months
Text
Gorgeous
Loki Laufeyson/Fem!Reader
Fictober Day 31 of 31
Words: 1,220
Summary: Loki moved into the Avengers Compound, but the first time you saw him was at Tony's fancy Halloween party. Your brain stops working for a little bit because he's so pretty.
Note: today is the last day of fictober, happy halloween everyone! this was originally going to be based on the taylor swift song of the same name (one of my favorite songs from her!), but i think the story took control and we lost some of that along the way.
Loki Laufeyson Masterlist
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It should be illegal for someone to look that good was the first thing that ran through your head the moment you laid eyes on him from your seat at the bar. You knew who he was, it was hard to ignore the fact that Avengers Compound was now home to not one but two Norse gods, and that one of them had tried to take over New York a few years ago. You hadn’t been part of the team at that point, but you certainly weren’t in the dark about what he had done. However, that apparently didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate how good he looked in a suit, and a lot of embarrassing thoughts were suddenly flooding your brain.
It certainly didn’t help that this was the first time you’d seen him out of his room since he had arrived. He wasn’t bound to a single room (though you were pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to leave the grounds of the compound), but he simply chose to stay away from everyone else.
A voice interrupted your thoughts. “Staring at someone?”
You blinked, slightly embarrassed that Natasha had caught you, but you could tell from the tone of her voice that it was all playful. “Maybe,” you admitted softly. “But in my defense, it’s not like I’ve ever seen him around the compound.”
She laughed. “You do have a point there. I think the only reason he’s here tonight is because Thor is making him.”
You looked back over at the god, catching the expression on his face. “Oh definitely. He’s absolutely miserable right now.”
“He’s just lucky that it’s not a costume party,” Natasha said. “He’d be frowning even more.”
You laughed, an image flashing through your head of Loki wearing a gaudy-looking Halloween costume, with Thor and Sam laughing by his side. “That’s very true,” you said. Although Tony took any excuse he could to throw a party, he hadn’t imposed a costume rule on you all this time, and for that you were grateful, because at least you wouldn’t have to meet an extraordinarily attractive god while wearing a silly outfit.
“Why don’t we go over and say hello?” Natasha said, grabbing from drink from the bar and heading over to the direction where Loki was sulking in the corner. You followed her, the whole time incredibly aware of the fact that you needed to figure out something to say to him, and your brain had apparently taken a vacation.
“What do you want?” Despite Loki’s words being standoffish, his tone was more tired, as if he wished he was anywhere else but here at this point.
“I just wondered whether or not you had met Y/N yet,” Natasha said, gesturing in your direction.
“Hi,” you said, really not sure what else to say. It certainly didn’t help that your brain had apparently not returned from its impromptu trip away. “It’s nice to meet you.”
A normal person might have waited for a response, but your fight or flight response kicked in at this very moment, and it chose the latter of the two options. If you weren’t embarrassed already, you certainly were now, because you just walked away. You could hear yourself mutter something about getting a drink, but you weren’t sure if anyone else had even heard it. And besides, the clearly full glass in your hands gave your lie away completely.
After at least heading back to the bar and lingering there for a few moments, you started to walk back around the party, saying hello to those you recognized. You knew a lot of the guests, so it was easy to flit from conversation to conversation, all the while thinking about how ridiculous Loki must find you. Maybe if saw each other on another day in the compound you could apologize for running off like an idiot and try to explain that you thought he looked nice and for some reason decided to act like you’re twelve about it.
As the hours passed and the party’s energy remained loud and joyful, you found yourself settled on a balcony. The compound boasted a different view than the one you were used to in the tower, and you found yourself missing the lights and sounds of the city, especially because it was almost completely pitch black (other than the lights from around the building itself).
The sound of the door opening behind you caught your attention, and you watched as Loki took one step onto the balcony, stopping as he noticed you. “I apologize,” he said, starting to pull back into the crowded ballroom.
“Wait!” you said quickly, hoping that he would at least be willing to hear you out for a few moments. You never wanted him to feel unwelcome, you just had terrible conversation skills around people you think are attractive, and in that moment your brain had fully sabotaged you.
By some miracle he stayed, and the door closed behind him as he stepped fully outside with you. It had gotten to the point in the year that the night air was bitingly chilly, but you didn’t mind the way it nipped at your face if it meant getting away from the chaos of the party for a few moments.
“I want to apologize for my awkwardness earlier,” you said, before he could question why you had called him out here. “I don’t want you to think that I’m afraid of you.”
“Then may I ask why you ran away before I could even say hello?” His voice didn’t sound like it held any malice, but there was still an emotion in there you couldn’t quite read.
“Sometimes it’s hard for me to talk to new people,” you said softly. “Especially ones that are dressed as nicely as you.”
It wasn’t an all-out confession, but it still seemed that he understood what you were implying. “I understand,” he said. “I also get nervous in this realm now.”
“I can help you if you need any kind of Earth Guidance in the future,” you said, immediately worrying that you sounded eager or overly-annoying to him before tempering the statement with an “if you want.”
He smiled, and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the sight. “I will keep that in mind,” you said.
The sound of your phone’s ringtone going off popped the moment’s delicate bubble, and you looked down to see a text from Natasha asking for your help with something. Loki understood this time why you were leaving, and he said that you that he was going to stay on the balcony for a few more minutes.
As you took a step closer to the door, you heard him say your name. “I think you’re dressed nicely too,” he said before turning back to look out into the darkness outward, and two things happened the moment you stepped back into the party and closed the door to the balcony behind you.
One was that you had to physically push down a giant grin from spreading across your face.
And the other was that your brain took (yet another) impromptu vacation from its duties. If you were going to spend more time with him in the future, you would really have to get a handle on that. 
- the end -
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shanastoryteller · 6 months
Note
Star Trek please!! Happy Halloween
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6
Admiral Archer is unwilling to take his rescission at face value and demands a more complete explanation. To Spock's relief, and the gathered students' disappointment, he's willing to hear it in his private office.
Captain Pike slips in behind them, which gets him an irritated scowl but the admiral allows it. Spock is only marginally surprised by this. Admiral Archer and Captain Pike are known to be on good terms and James Kirk had entered the academy on Captain Pike's recommendation.
"Explain," Admiral Archer demands.
Spock hesitates.
Starfleet is of course aware of the events that took place on Tarsus IV and so they must be equally aware of James Kirk's role in it. While Admiral Archer certainly has the clearance to know the particulars, it does not mean that he does, and Spock is loathe to reveal these particulars, even to someone who could find them out himself. Additionally, Captain Pike does not have the necessary clearance, and while he does not think that James Kirk would allow his presence if he did not wish him to know, or had not already told him, Spock cannot be certain and there is no way for him to ask.
"Commander," Admiral Archer snaps. "Is this a joke to you?"
"No, sir," he answers. He doesn't find any of this funny at all.
James Kirk steps up next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. Spock resists the urge to flinch and shoots him a disapproving look. The contact is not skin on skin, but any casual contact is discouraged. James Kirk is very well aware of Vulcan customs.
Then again, his point of contact for Vulcan culture is Sybok. His brother had been significantly more... affectionate after Tarsus IV. Spock wonders if that's something he picked up from his association with James Kirk.
"It's alright," James Kirk says warmly. "Spock, tell Admiral Archer whatever you want him to know."
He doesn't remove his hand. Human's run hot, their physiology not perfectly calibrated to survive in the deep heat of the desert, but even still James Kirk's hand feels unusually warm.
"I was unaware of Cadet Kirk's background with facing impossible odds when I made my accusation," he says. "Having been made aware of it, my perspective has shifted. Cadet Kirk does not allow rules or the constraints of logic prevent him from doing what he believes must be done. This was what he was demonstrating by bypassing and reprogramming my system."
He can feel James Kirk staring at him but he doesn't take his eyes of Admiral Archer.
Admiral Archer frowns. "You didn't know he was on Tarsus IV with your brother?"
That he already knows is a source of relief. The incredulity is less.
"Spock had exams the time I went to Vulcan," James Kirk says. "Sybok loves an excuse to go off-planet, so we usually meet up on Earth. Spock and I have never met before." He turns to him with a grin that Spock is distinctly uncomfortable having aimed in his direction. "I should have known the second I saw you. You look a lot like your mother."
Being compared to one's mother on Vulcan is a high compliment. Or it's supposed to be. Spock's had those same words hurled at him before, but it was with cruelty, as a way to demean him rather than honor the woman who bore him.
James Kirk say the words easily, exactly as they are intended to be spoken.
"You're driving me to drink," Admiral Archer says.
Spock has no idea how to appropriately respond to that.
"What about me? You're driving me to drink," James Kirk says, "which is driving Bones to as of yet unknown heights of nagging. The stress isn't good for him but he keeps threatening me with hypos when I tell him that. Can't I just be concerned for my friend?"
That is not an appropriate response on top of being incomprehensible.
Admiral Archer rubs his forehead. "Chris."
"Sir," Captain Pike returns, grabs the back of James Kirk's jacket, and hauls him out of there like grabbing a wayward kitten by the scruff of its neck.
Spock stands there, unsure, until Admiral Archer glances up and says, "You too, Commander. I'll consider this matter closed."
He nods, "Thank you, Sir," and steps outside to an empty hall. Captain Pike and James Kirk are nowhere to be seen.
Once he returns to his quarters, he video calls his brother.
He doesn't pick up.
Typical.
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ghouljams · 5 months
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Happy Halloween!! Die attempts to confront Ghost about his issues, Ghost doesn't respond well.
Tags: Ghost x f!oc/reader, angst, vague references to Ghost's canon backstory, hurt no comfort, Ghost is an asshole who can't communicate
Ghost doesn't even glare at you when he opens the door. Glaring you could handle, at least it would be a show of his feelings. No, the gaze he levels you with is cold indifference. You sit on his bed, all but begging for him to look at you with something other than disgust.
"Figures you'd be here," he grunts looking away to pull off his gloves.
"You're room?" You ask, eager for any bone he'll throw you.
"My bed," his tone is so even and cruel you wince.
"I thought we could talk," you try. Ghost stays silent, his focus on his nightly routine. He sets his gloves on his dresser, strips his shirt over his head, careful to keep his balaclava in place. You try to keep out of the rolling tide of his emotions. Disgust rears its ugly head too often for your comfort. Although you can't tell who it's directed at. If you weren't here you wonder if it would still point its wretched finger at Ghost. "Maybe I should start with an apology." You mumble. Ghost snaps the top drawer closed, presses his fists to the top and leans against it.
"You don’t even know what you’re apologizin’ for," he spits, you flinch. You don't know how to respond to that, what to say or how to say it. You don't have the words for the ache in your chest that his words conjure. He swallows, you feel his mind settle on something like pulling the brakes on a speeding train. Everything screeches to a halt, and piles in on itself. You'd be crushed under that weight, you don't know how Ghost can stand it. "Why couldn't we stay strangers," it's a question, but it isn't really. He isn't looking for an answer.
"I don't-" you don't understand. Ghost turns to look over his shoulder at you and you catch the spark of his glare, the cool heat that shoots through you.
“Least you can admit it,” He grumbles.
“If you would just talk to me,” You plead. Ghost slams his hands on the top of the dresser and you flinch. He clenches his fists tighter, another roll of disgust hitting him. Hitting him. It’s not you that he’s disgusted with, it’s himself. His anger, his hurt, his want to hurt you.
"Because everything has to be done your way.” He pushes his shoulders down, trying to keep the tension in his figure from showing. He’s wound so tight you’re worried he might break. “You couldn't just leave well enough- God, you can't leave me alone." You almost wish he were yelling at you, that it wasn't the cool even tone he always carries tearing you down. He yelled for Soap. Why won't he yell at you?
"I can't, I'm- the contract doesn't have a dismissal clause, there's no precedent-"
"So every fucker that gets one of you is satisfied with it? Don't believe that," he ticks his head to the side, clicks his tongue, "Give a man a brag rag that says 'e's a monster, and you lot think 'e's happy with it?"
"It's not-"
"How'd you tally it up? Hm?" Ghost turns towards you, "How’d you decide I couldn’t-” He looks away again. Couldn’t what? There’s nothing in your arsenal Ghost couldn’t use, no part of you that isn’t made to complement him. 
"I'm a reward," you press. He looks at you again, eyes narrowing. You squeeze your hands into fists, dig your nails into your palms. You can smell blood, feel the sharp break of your skin. 
"A reward. You think just because you give a dog a pretty bone it doesn't know it's gettin' kicked?"
You look away, you can't hold his gaze when he looks at you like that. A dog with a bone. His gaze is hot, his disgust pointed inward. He doesn't want to want you Iike he does. He wants you though. There’s a softness to it, an unease, a resentment. Another voice in his head that barks at him, reminds him of what he is. It feels older, darker. You don’t like it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you try, you feel small, a bad sort of small. You don’t like this part of you, the human part, the cursed blood your mother gave you.
“No, you want me to hurt you,” He snarks, his sarcasm more biting than his teeth ever could be. Your ribs tighten around your lungs, squeezing them closer together until you can't feel them expand anymore.
“I don’t,” you mumble. Your throat hurts, scratches uncomfortably, and your eyes itch in a strange way. 
“Wha’s that? Can’t hear you, love.” Ghost’s tone is mocking, he leans comfortably against his dresser. Smug, but not pleased with himself. You can feel it. He’s making a show of it, but it still hurts. Hurts in a way you’re not used to, but perhaps starting to be.
“I don’t!” You yell at him, sob at him. You press your hands against your face, unsure if it’s wetness from the blood or the new tears rolling down your cheeks. “Why don’t you like me?” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest, “Why? I’m good, I can be good! I can be good, I promise." You feel your fingers trembling, your voice getting softer, more watery, “I can be quiet, you won’t even notice me, please.-" you draw in a breath, "-Please don’t hurt me.”
Simon’s horror slices through you like a knife. But it’s fine. You can't hold form anymore, you don’t have to feel it when you melt into the shadows. You don’t really have to feel much of anything, not like this. This is good.
“Die?” Simon calls, his fingers pressing against his blankets where you'd been, his eyes darting around the dim room. It’s ok, you can be good. Your weight leaves his chest, and a new one settles in its place, as familiar and dangerous as coming home.
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worksby-d · 1 year
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Pairing: dilf!Andy Barber x babysitter!Reader
Summary: Andy offers to drive you to a halloween party after babysitting for him, but you get distracted before you can get there.
Warnings: Age gap (Reader is in her 20s), Andy’s imaginary younger kid that I made up to make the plot work, car sex, blowjob, fingering, creampie, 18+
Word count: ~2,000
a/n: Changed this prompt to be for Andy at the last minute because I miss him soooo much 😣💕 I’m sorry to the Ari girlies. I’ll make it up to you, I promise 🫶
Part Two
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Skipping down the steps, you're in your own world as you quickly gather your jacket and shove the rest of your clothes into your bag, heading toward the kitchen to wait patiently for Andy and Jacob to get home.
Andy had texted you earlier today, asking a last minute favor of you to watch his youngest daughter while he and Jacob had a father-son evening. It wasn't like the Barbers to have not asked weeks in advance, but they're like a second family to you at this point, so you couldn't say no. But you do have plans to get to once those two are finally back.
Sending Andy a quick text, politely asking for an ETA since he wasn't sure before, you jump hearing his phone ding from just a couple feet away.
“Never mind,” you chuckle, walking into the room and seeing them both standing there already. “Sorry, I didn't hear you guys come in.”
“That's alright,” he laughs. If you aren't mistaken, you swear he does a double take after his eyes land on you. And you kind of hope that’s the case for a different reason, but he's probably just trying to decipher your costume. “We just got back. Figured you were putting the princess to bed, but maybe you were playing dress up..?”
“Oh, no,” you giggle. You know he's joking as he gestures to your outfit – a white skirt, white cropped tank top with thigh high tights, white heels, and a halo on your head to match. “I have a Halloween party to get to, so I was getting ready since she fell asleep early.”
“I didn't know you had plans tonight, I'm sorry–”
“No, it's okay.” You can’t let him apologize. He didn't force you to say yes. “I'm always happy to help out. I have a friend coming to pick me up though, so I'm just gonna hang out a while longer if that’s okay. This is kind of out of their way.”
“Well… Tell them they're off the hook.” Your confusion must be evident. “I can give you a ride,” he explains. “Yeah, Jacob’s here now, so I can leave for a bit, no problem.”
“You don't have to–”
“It's the least I can do.”
. * ✦ . ◍ ∘ . * ✦ ‧ ∘ ⊹
It's a quiet ride at first. You spend the first couple minutes trying to come up with some small talk. You've always talked to his wife more than you have to him, so you're not coming up with much.
As if he can read your mind, he takes it upon himself to break the silence.
“Laurie and I separated.”
Is this his idea of small talk?
You have kind of been wondering though since it was Andy who contacted you for once and since she wasn't at the house when you got there. Plus, you wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but you noticed his missing wedding ring.
“Just felt like I owed you an explanation for the last minute need for a babysitter today. It's my weekend with the kids, but I didn't want to let Jake down, so…”
Glancing at him beside you, there's a sadness in his eyes–very clear as they're lit up under each street light you pass–and you wish there was something you could do for him.
You're not sure what to say honestly. Your initial reaction is scoffing an astonished, “her loss,” but you figure that's probably the wrong thing.
“Oh…” You let your solemn tone fill the quiet for a second. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
You don't leave it at that though, instead punctuating your words with a daring hand resting on his leg.
His heart races the same as yours at the contact – But while yours does so out of nerves awaiting his reaction, his is a result of not having felt such a gentle touch in so long.
As your touch lingers, he has to resist his impulse to drop a hand from the wheel and take yours in his.
For fear of misreading your movement, he just grips the steering wheel tighter, trying his best to not dwell on what’s probably nothing.
You watch as he shifts slightly in his seat, gauging his reaction to your subtle advance. When he doesn't pull completely away or ask what you're doing, you assume you're in the clear.
Seeing how far he'll let you go, you slowly move your hand higher up his leg, gently brushing your fingers along his inner thigh.
He's trying to keep his composure, but you hear the hitch in his breathing as your touch gets closer to where he's secretly wishing it would go.
In an instant, he’s slowing the car down, and you smirk to yourself as he veers to pull over on the side of the road.
It's a dark one, nearly silent save the rustling of what's left for leaves on the trees as a few gusts of wind blow by.
He lets out a deep sigh when you take your hand away from him, finally looking toward you to search for any signs that he's gotten the wrong idea. But you're unbuckling your seat belt and leaning over to undo his too.
“You look so sad,” you whisper. “I can make you feel better.”
Your eyes meet his as you move closer to him–as close as the center console separating you will allow anyway.
“Yeah?” His voice is low as he watches you kneel on your seat, putting a hand back on his leg to hold yourself up.
“Uh-huh,” you hum, putting an end to his anticipation as your hand slides over the crotch of his jeans, palming against his cock. “If it's okay with you…”
His head falls back against his seat, a groan escaping his lips, when your fingers work to undo his belt and move his pants out of the way, ghosting over his hard dick.
“Go ahead and show me, pretty girl.”
He moves his seat farther back so you can comfortably take up the space between himself and the wheel. You can't contain yourself, eagerly replacing your hand with your mouth, taking as much of him as you can before softly gagging.
“Oh, fuck.” A breath gets caught in his throat. One of his hands gathers any hair from falling on your face, while the other rests on your upper back to keep you down. “You're good at that.”
Lifting your head, you let out a small laugh before sinking your mouth back down on him. Hearing him pant above you, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together in attempt of some sort of relief, no room to slip your own hand between your legs.
Andy catches on though, his leather seat squeaking each time you squirm. His hand on your back glides down to your ass, finding that your skirt is conveniently short enough to just flip up and pull your thong aside.
Deft fingers expertly find your clit, already slick from your dripping arousal.
He tsks, “All this just from sucking my cock, babygirl?”
Your whimper quickly turns into a moan as he pushes a finger into your sopping pussy, legs already trembling from the sudden intrusion.
“You're a sensitive one,” he chuckles.
You have to come up for air for a second, resting your cheek against his body while your hand takes over, slowly stroking his hard cock.
“Andy–” Your voice trails off, all words forgotten as he continues thrusting a second finger into you.
“Keep going, angel. I've got you.”
Taking him back in your mouth, nothing but lewd noises fill the car. An involuntary thrust of his hips makes you gag again.
With tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you have to push off of him for a breath again. And as tempting as it is for him to fill your pretty mouth, he doesn't force you back down this time.
He pulls his hand from between your legs, eliciting a whine from you as he kindly smoothes your skirt back into place.
You have to sit up slowly, but once you're steady, you swiftly clamber into his lap, straddling your legs on either side of his.
“Woah, eager,” he teases, putting his hands on your hips to support you. He has to reach up to remove the halo from your head though so it doesn't get ruined pressed against the roof of the car. “I usually take my time with people I like.”
Attempting to ignore the heat that flushes across your face following his words, you let out a shy laugh. He can't help but notice how breathtaking you look – the glittery makeup on your eyelids and cheeks reflecting the bright moonlight peeking into the dark vehicle.
“My friends will wonder where I am.”
“So…” He smirks. “Another time then?”
“Another time,” you nod, breathless again as you lift up and begin sinking down on his cock.
“Shit–”
“Andy–”
You sigh in unison.
Feeling a breeze across your damp forehead, you’re reminded of the windows you kept cracked for air. You drop your face to his neck to muffle your moans, afraid of being too loud.
It doesn't take long for you both to teeter on the edge of your highs after working each other up. He can feel your legs quivering against his own as you continue to ride him.
“Can feel you're close,” he grunts, gripping your hips to help you move.
You cry out, quickly grazing your teeth against his neck to quiet yourself as he fucks you deeper, clit bumping against his pelvis each time you come down.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Give it to me. I wanna feel you cum.”
He's got you in the palm of his hand at this point, you'd do anything for him. Your orgasm washes over you as an intense heat flooding your body. It leaves you trembling in his arms, biting down where his neck meets his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming his name.
“That’s it,” he breathes, working you through it as he chases his own release now. “Good girl. ‘m right there with you. Gonna leave you full of me for the–for the rest of the night.” He stumbles over his words. “No one will suspect a thing from the girl dressed like an a–angel.”
“Please,” you choke out, wanting, needing, to feel him. “Andy–”
Your pleas are cut off by a low growl in your ear and his arms tightening around you to keep you still as his cock twitches, release spilling deep inside you.
Letting out a shuddering breath, your body goes lax against him. The rise and fall of his chest as he works to steady his breathing is the only thing you can feel for a few moments.
“You with me, Y/N?” He chuckles, albeit still a little out of breath, as he checks on you.
“I think so,” you laugh and let out a sigh before finally lifting yourself off of him.
You instantly feel his cum dripping out of you, but he's a man who sticks to his word–quick to push it back in with two fingers before adjusting your panties back into place.
Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes from his, whimpering at the obscene act. But your eyes fall on his neck, littered with evident bite marks outlined by your shimmery lip gloss.
“There's glitter everywhere,” you giggle, bringing your thumb up to try to wipe some off of his skin and his t-shirt. “I'm sorry.”
“Hey, don't worry about it.” He shrugs, but tries to get some that's misplaced off your face too though. “Let's get you to that party, sweetheart.”
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Tag list: @chris-butt @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @princess-evans-addict @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @bluemusickid @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21
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salford-blues · 2 months
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Dressed to impress
A/n: I am so not ready to go back to Uni. So fics might slow down a bit because this semester might take a toll on me haha.
Pairing: F1 grid x driver!reader Summary: Y/N shows off her little family to the world, in which they're all dressed to impress. Well most of them are <33 Warnings: like a swear word
@yourusername and @l/nandcompany
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liamlawson30, georgerussell63, landonorris & others liked
My new account for my little companions! Just a fun little account for my many pets.
Left - Thackery (12), Middle - Cosmic Creepers (8), Right - Oogie Boogie (8)
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alex_albon booooooo!! Just trying to copy now 👎
> yourusername i cant just let their cuteness go to waste
>> alex_albon you know what... fairs. Cossie is very cute
User.1 eeeeeee soso cute
User.2 Thackery doesn't look very happy
> yourusername that because Alex didn't bring is favourite treat...
>> alex_albon heeyy i forgot!! Tell him I'm sorry. pleassee
>>> yourusername he said he'll forgive if you bring him some next time!
>>>> alex_albon deal!!
landonorris do NOT let Cosmic Creepers fool you. He may be cute, but he's possessed. I'm telling you
> oscarpiastri dramatic, and for what?
@l/nandcompany and @yourusername
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oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, logansargeant & others liked
Omg, I've never looked so good...
Left - Kismet (9), Middle - Itchy (3), Right - Knuckles (1)
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User.3 how do you come up with these names???
> yourusername most of them are named after characters!!!
charles_leclerc hahaha... veryyy funny caption
> yourusername knew you'd like it
User.4 how many pets do you have?
> yourusername faaarr too many.
User.5 surely this is animal abuse...
User.6 Why does she have a hedgehog?? I thought they were illegal in some states
> yourusername 1. I rescued him and 2. not everyone lives in the states babes <33 but thanks for the concern
@l/nandcompany and @yourusername
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mickschumacher, lewishamilton, logansargeant & others liked
Having a fursome time. Managed to snag a pic before Diablo fought the camera. 🐾
Left - Diablo (3), Middle - Meeko (2), Right - Prometheus (5)
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User.6 Diablo looks very cool.
> yourusername Diablo likes to tell people to 'fuck off'... wonder were he got that from
>> yourusername looking at you @liamlawson30 👀👀
>>> liamlawson30 don't know what you're on about 😤
>>>> yourusername sure you don't. Just like you don't remember teaching him to attack people when they're smacking their lips.
>>>>> User.12 that is a very valid reason to attack someone
logansargeant look how sophisticated Meeko looks
> yourusername oh wow, that's a big word coming from you
>> logansargeant i try to be nice and this is what i get in return...
>>> oscarpiastri yh but you're american. it's why you get bullied
roscoelovescoco whens cans I's comes round agains?
> yourusername soon Roscoe!! Prometheus and Itchy miss you
@l/nandcompany and @yourusername
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frederikvestioffical, georgerussell63, danielricciardo & others liked
We wish you a merry christmas and aaaaa happpyyyy newwwww yeaaarrrr 🎄🎄🎄
Left - Ankyl (6), Middle - Bandersnatch (2), Right - Scorchito (2)
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User.7 why are all these animals so cuuutteeee
User.8 cuteness overload... think I'm gonna die
User.9 Ankyl isn't very christmassy
> yourusername I couldn't find his christmas picture, so I had to put his halloween one up instead
porschef1 hmmm meet and greet when??
*yourusername liked comment*
User.10 do any of them have a favourite person/driver? do any of the hate one of the drivers?
> yourusername yes and yes!! some examples: all of the cats HATE Lando, but Itchy loves him. The cats like Oscar, Alex, Liam, George etc. The ferrets are fond of Fred Vesti and Charles. The bird likes noone... he will attack at any point. ESPECIALLY when you're singing. He's a very naughty boy and we can blame Liam for that.
>> User.11 Liam and Lando catching strays left, right and centre.
maxfewtrell Lando looks like he might cry. Keep talking
> yourusername well I'll send Itchy his way. That'll cheer him up
>> landonorris thanks gonna keep him now
>>> yourusername right... grounded for 3 months.
>>>> landonorris 3 MONTHS???? WHY???
>>>>> yourusername cause the cats told me to
>>>>>> landonorris this is bullying!!
@yourusername and @l/nandcompany
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Meet our newest member Koda 🐻
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User.13 awweee he's so fluffy!!
oscarpiastri I want to be the first one to meet him
> mickschumacher too late...
>> oscarpiastri I SAW THAT
>>> oscarpiastri NNOOOOOO
User.14 wait Mick was the first to meet him? Awweee
> logansargeant NO not 'awweee'. Why was Mick the first one Birdie?? Why not me? Why not Oscar? Do you not love us?
>> yourusername why so dramatic? Can we appreciate Koda's cuteness instead ta
mickschumacher so cute!! Can't wait to meet him 💙💛
> logansargeant you can't sweet talk your way out of this Mick
>> oscarpiastri LIAARRR... count your days Mick
>>> yourusername stop threatening the poor boy or else you can join Lando
>>>> oscarpiastri no please I'll be nice. Promise 🙏
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yawnderu · 6 months
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Ghostface - Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Kinktober Day 5 - Phone Sex
Not rlly satisfied with this one but I'm posting to keep the kinktober streak
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''What's your favorite horror movie?'' A deep, unrecognizable voice asked on the other side of the phone as you were preparing popcorn, ready to have a horror movie marathon while your boyfriend was out. You hesitate before answering, an eyebrow raised as you think about your answer.
''Uh- I don't know. Who's this?'' You glance back at your phone screen, just realizing the call comes from a private number.
''I'll tell you yours if you tell me mine.'' The voice replied, and you can hear the shit-eating grin simply by his tone. You roll your eyes, hanging up as you focus on preparing the call, trying to think about something else besides the weird interaction. Halloween was near, so it was no surprise assholes were prank calling.
You move the popcorn bag around, making sure all the seeds can get buttered up and explode, the sound of your phone ringing again making you jump in surprise before hurriedly picking up, hoping your boyfriend finally found some free time to call you.
''What are you wearing?'' The accent sounds familiar, yet the voice changer he's using is making it hard to distinguish. Is he...?
''None of your business.'' You scoff, looking around your apartment just to make sure no one managed to break in, despite the fancy security system reassuring you already.
''You look pretty.'' He compliments and your heart stops, head snapping towards the only window you're close to, walking closer and closer, wondering if someone can see you despite the dark apartment. Your face is almost against the glass until a hand slams against it, the shock and surprise of it all making you fall on your ass with a loud scream. As soon as you look up, the hand is gone. You're too scared to even process you're in the 32th floor of the building.
''Did I scare you, princesa?'' The voice on the phone asks, and your suspicions are now confirmed.
''Asshole!'' You yell at your boyfriend through the phone, hand in your heart as you try your best to calm down knowing no unknown creep was the one bothering you. The man on the phone lets out a soft snicker, the familiar sound somehow making your nerves calm down slowly, but surely.
''Lo siento, mi amor. You looked so pretty.'' Miguel praises, the voice changer now turned off as you can hear his soft breathing picking up, slowly getting louder once you get up from the floor, rubbing your sore ass with a small frown from his scare.
''You looking at me right now?'' You ask curiously, looking out of the window again, yet you can't see anyone. He mutters a small ''mhm'', breathing getting louder as his mic starts to pick up soft wet sounds. You raise an eyebrow at this, slightly confused until you realize what's going on.
''You disgusting pervert.'' You accuse jokingly and he laughs softly, the fingers around his hard cock teasing the tip, smearing his precum all over it while he looks at you from afar. Oh, how he wishes your much smaller fingers were the one working him up and down, rather than his big, calloused hands. He's busy with work, though, and only has a few minutes before he's bothered again by his duty as Spider-Man.
''Mucha ropa.'' He teases you, the corners of his plump lips curling up when he sees you laugh, his right hand working faster up and down his dick at the image of you looking happy. He can't help it- you're too damn pretty, he'd do anything to keep that smile on your face. You roll your eyes, stepping a bit away from the window as you put the phone on speaker, making a show out of stripping of your clothes.
''Is this good enough?'' You ask teasingly, hand slowly trailing down your stomach as heat begins to pool up when you listen to his breath hitch, the wet sounds coming from the speaker getting louder and faster.
''Touch yourself for me.'' He growls out, his palm spreading the precum leaking like a faucet all over the tip of his cock, eyes slightly narrowed at the sensation as he sees your hand disappear inside your underwear, your pretty, whiny moans becoming pure music to his ears. He starts to jerk himself off again, the sounds of your mixed heavy breathing and moans mixing in, yet he's holding back, trying his best not to get the attention of anyone that might be nearby.
''I wish you were here.'' You moan out, digits dipping deeper into your cunt as you can feel just how much you need Miguel, how much your pussy truly needs to be filled by him, and him only. ''I'd be sucking that dick so good.'' All shame goes out the window when you drape your body on the couch, fingers lazily going in and out of your cunt as your other hand rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves above your dripping hole.
''Yeah?'' He asks between deep groans and heavy breaths, red eyes fully focused on the sight of you pleasuring yourself. You look like a work of art in his eyes, and you truly are. Hair slightly messy, a thin layer of sweat painting each perfect curve, and fingers disappearing in and out of yourself, a loud and lewd squelching sound bouncing off the walls and coming out of his phone.
''Mhm...'' You moan out, nodding your head as if he was there, yet you know he can still see you. ''Need you so bad, Miggy... are you coming home soon?'' His line goes quiet for a few seconds and you stop masturbating, suddenly worrying for him. The sight of a bundle of colors appearing in the middle of the living room almost blinding you, the familiar behemoth frame clawing his way out of the portal.
''I'm here, amor.''
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sorenphelps · 5 months
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wishing you all 🎃Happy Halloween🔥 with Sirius “Do Me Eyes” Black
I joined this year’s @rsbigbang , got paired up with two wonderful writers, who are both so kind and inspiring (i basically haven’t stopped snogging my muse since), so i dedicate this to everyone involved! Writers and Mods, with deadlines coming up, Hang in there!
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fishsticksloser · 5 months
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The Future Turtles fluff headcanons {specifically Donnie's} made me just image angst and I was wondering if you would like to see what i coke up with?
Future Boys Angst
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F!RotTMNT x gn!reader
Warnings: angst, slight comfort, insecurities
A/N: You know I love angst so much. Happy Halloween!
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Donnie
Donnie is in his lab a lot
He tends to forget about everything else
Often times it seems like he neglects you
When you speak to him, he answers with short snaps
He's pretty mean, trying to get work done
If you kiss or touch him, he waves you away
He feels like if he's not working he's useless
If he's not creating/inventing he's less than
Leaving him notes or whispering how you feel makes him feel better
But Donnie is still distant
Would you still be with him if he wasn't useful?
Leo
He's so busy
Leo doesn't have much time for you
He hates it
He really just wishes to crawl into your arms and sleep forever
But he's just so busy
Being the leader of the rebellion gives him little time to spare
Everyone needing something
Leo steals glances at you
But he has no time to be with you
Oh how his heart aches
Mikey
What if you were Kraangified?
What if he can't save you?
What if his magic doesn't work?
Mikey "requires" your help
So you stay in and don't have to deal with the Kraang
He worries about what could happen to you
Worries about you facing the Kraang
Raph
Raph trains everyone
So when he trains with you?
He tries really hard to make you the best he possibly can
Because... What if he's not strong enough?
What if he can't save you?
Raph works hard to make you strong
To make you a force to be reckoned with
He wants you to be unstoppable
Because he doesn't feel like he's strong enough to protect you or live without you.
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petriwriting · 4 months
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Memories - Sirius Black X Reader
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Summary: Harry finds an old notebook that belonged to Sirius during his Hogwarts days. In his scruffy handwriting, in an old dusty journal found in Sirius's bedroom is the story of Sirius' first real love.
A/N: Fluff, nostalgia, a little bit of angst if you look too hard. The reader is feminine, using she/her pronouns. Oneshot - blurb is very short but very sweet.
I made a friend today on the train to Hogwarts. She is very sweet and seems very nice. She had a ribbon in her hair, I thought that she looked nice. we talked and she said that she liked my hair too. I also made some new friends. I got sorted into Gryffindor house, it's crazy since my family is all from Slytherin house. I'm sure Mother will be so upset. She is always upset about something.
Harry read aloud to his curious friends, Hermione leaned over his shoulder curiously to look at the small dark grey journal, it was tatted beaten-down bound with leather, covered in dust, but well used.
"Keep reading, Harry," Hermione said gently, knowing that he wasn't reading it with malicious intent, but instead in an attempt to feel closer to his godfather. he turned a few pages until a page caught his eye, and began reading once more.
Reg and I got into a quarrel over some things that didn't really matter. he says I should be more concerned with our family. Reg and I used to be close, but after my third year, he became cold. I love my brother, but I hate to see him hanging around those gits. Malfoy in particular, but I know he is happy now as he has joined the Slytherin team. he's their seeker, but he's no match for Gryffindor this year.
This entry made Harry smile slightly, and chuckle. he continued to flip pages, it was heartwarming. He turned the pages, looking through some messy potions class notes and annotations, and an entry about the marauders map, and how he saw Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail.) sneaking out every night to sneak food from the kitchens. One page, in particular, caught his eye.
I Love Her.
I have loved her every day I've known her. She is brilliant, her eyes sparkle when she speaks, her smile is so bright it lights up the room as if you'd cast Lumos. She's incredibly intelligent, but kind. She's always been gentle with me. I've never met another like her.
I wish that I could make this all go away. All the secrets, the war, the hatred. I wish we could start a family one day, live in a little cottage, and raise children far away from here. We'd visit James and Lily every Christmas, and Remus on halloween. I could give her my mother's ring. I doubt Regulus would mind. We could be so happy. I remember the first day we met. I think i knew then that she was special. She has been unconditionally devoted to me. The night my mother burned my name off our family tree she held me in her arms as i cried and i finally felt what home is supposed to feel like. I wrote her a letter, expressing my yearning for her. I plan to give it to her very soon, along with a locket I picked out. Lily insisted on the dainty silver chain with a locket of our picture from our first year together, she even helped me enchant to image to capture y/n's smile as she sat next to me. she say's it's sentimental, and that girls like this sort of thing.
I never had a home, truly. just four walls surrounding me. My own mother disgraced my name, Regulus has been absent in my life. I'm thankful for my friends but my love for y/n is like no other. i just wish want her to feel the way i do, i hope she does. With everything, she can not get involved it's too dangerous. But I will love her anyway. The kind of love that could break the most heinous curse.
Harry stood for a moment, looking over his godfather's handwriting. it was sentimental. "I wonder if we could find her," Harry offered hopefully. "There's no mention of a last name." Ron pointed out. "I'm sure we could ask someone, if she knew the black family she can't be too terribly hard to find," Hermione said, offering a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Sirius would love that."
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stuckysbike · 6 months
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Kiss Me Once In The Moonlight
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Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Angst, unrequited?feelings. Fluff.
Summary: You’ve fallen in love, but he wants someone else.
It was a cold mid October Saturday night when you realised you were in love with Bucky Barnes.
Natasha had ushered you out of your solitude and over to her private apartment on the compound. Steve was already there, along with Sam, Joaquin, Yelana, a few from the medical team and a few mechanics.
The place was decorated for spooky season, with playful ghosts and fuzzy spiders hiding in the corners. Everyone got comfortable and music played in the background whilst you snacked on nuts and candied apples and sipped beer. Halloween meets Octoberfest was the theme.
Bucky had been telling a story, his face lit up and his big hands flying everywhere as he described his mom chasing him with a broom during his teenage years after a Halloween fright. Occasionally his eyes met yours and they sparkled, but you figured he was like that with everyone.
You’d been crushing on him since you arrived in January and he was first to greet you. He seemed fascinated by your job, research and data analyst, but it was ultimately boring to almost everyone but you.
You lunched together sometimes and you swapped books every few weeks. You even got him into podcasts and you were always swapping recommendations.
But tonight he looked happy, relaxed even, and when Natasha dropped her dainty feet into his lap you felt the world skip underneath you, you wanted to put your feet in his lap. You wanted his big hands dwarfing your feet.
He rubbed her toes without thinking, and she snuggled down as the mechanics started describing the prank they’d played on Tony this week, going so far as to rope Pepper in.
“Wanna stay here tonight?” You heard Natasha murmur to Bucky during a lull in conversation. Sam was changing the music and Joaquin was setting up tequila shots.
He smiled at her but shook his head. “Nah,” his voice was thick with tiredness.
“You finally made a move on that girl?” She teased wiggling in her spot.
Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink and you dropped your eyes when you realised you were staring. You didn’t want to be caught looking like some dumb kid.
It was foolish to think that Bucky with his wonderful abilities and handsome looks would be interested in you who spent most of your time at work or alone.
“Think I’m gonna’ take her out, yeah,” he nodded. You snuck a glance at him in time to catch him looking from you to Natasha.
Oh god, he must have noticed you staring. How embarrassing!
Tears that had no right to form stung your eyes and you stood suddenly distracting Steve who was kneeling at the coffee table next to you. Sam took the opportunity to defeat him in their thumb war game much to Steve’s annoyance.
“I’m going to head back, I’m just really tired,” you said to the room, avoiding Bucky. “Thank you for the invitation Natasha.”
There were a few comments asking you to stay but ultimately everyone wished you a good sleep. Your own room was a fifteen minute walk away in a shared block and you pulled your arms around yourself to fight the cold as you stepped outside.
“Hey Doll,” Bucky called startling you.
“Bucky, hi,” you frowned.
“Thought I’d walk you back,” he said falling into step with you. “And I wanted your advice.”
“Oh?”
“So there’s this girl I like. She’s not like the others, she’s not really - she’s different. And I really want to make a date special for her, you know?” He glanced as you, letting his arm bump yours as you walked.
“I do,” you sighed resigning yourself to your fate. You didn’t want to have this conversation but you didn’t want to not help him either. He was your friend after all.
“So I’ve had a few first date ideas, I’m thinking farmers market then making brunch together? I started this really great podcast and I was thinking we could listen together as we cook then talk about it while we eat? Then after we could go to a museum or something?” Bucky licked his lips and stopped looking at you.
You didn’t want him to share a podcast with her. That was your thing with him. You knew you were being unfair, childish even but right now you didn’t care.
“That sounds lovely,” you said. And it did, you wished you were that girl, you wished Bucky wanted to go to all that trouble for you but instead you’d have to sit home alone tomorrow whilst he woo’d someone else.
“Yeah?” He asked excitedly. “I really just wanna’ hold her hand, at the market, in the museum, I just crave that feeling you know, like this,” Bucky reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, holding your joined hands up to inspect. “It’s been a long time since I held a girls hand like this.”
“I-I’m sure it has Buck,” you swallowed. He resumed walking and you could do nothing but join him, he still had your hand in his. He described his outfit for his date and wondered if you had a cosy chunky sweater.
“I do, it’s so comfortable,” you said softly. You couldn’t hide the disappointment as you slowed in front of the doors. “It’s my favourite colour too.”
“Will you wear it tomorrow?” Bucky tilted his head to the side.
“Why does it matter what I wear?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his odd request. You couldn’t though, thinking of him with someone else whilst you wore what he asked you to.
“I want to know that you’re warm tomorrow. You know, on our date?” Bucky pressed his cool left hand on your cheek as he turned to face you. His kiss was soft, just a sweet brush of the lips and then he pulled away. “I’ll see you at nine thirty?”
“Uh huh,” you nodded dumbly. He kissed you again, and you caught the faint taste of whiskey on his lips. He was warm as he pressed into you and you let your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders.
“See you tomorrow baby girl,” he pressed one last kiss to your forehead then opened the building door for you.
You walked inside in a daze, waving goodbye and drifting up the stairs like you weighed nothing.
You couldn’t remember getting changed into your pj’s, all you knew was that you were snuggled under your duvet setting an alarm for your date with Bucky in the morning.
You smiled, and suddenly your legs kicked and you let out a little squeal. You were going out with Bucky Barnes and he kissed you three times.
You feel asleep to the memory of one hot hand and one cold hand cupping your cheeks as he kissed you in the moonlight.
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hisui-dreamer · 5 months
Text
honour to us all
Pairing: Silver x gn!reader
Synopsis: in which Silver meets the descendant of his childhood hero
Tags: reader is mulan's descendant, heritage talk, kinda accurate chinese history, fluff, can be platonic or romantic
Word count: 440
Notes: ok so i was stupid and accidentally deleted the original post so here:
from @saneruggiefan
hi!! Hope you’re doing well today
May I request Silver with a mulan descendant reader? Since Silver talked abt how he admires the hero of the east aka mulan in the Halloween event I thought he’d get along well with someone who’s descended from his favorite childhood hero
happy halloween! not really halloween related(?) but it was mentioned in the first halloween event hehe
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from your earliest memories, the legends of your ancestor have been a constant presence in your life
you remember the eyes of your grandparents, their eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and reverence, as they recounted the tale of the brave daughter who so cherished her father, an old and weakened man, that she had committed a crime punishable by death, just to take her father's place in the army
and not only the bravery of doing so, but the decision she made to refuse any title and rewards gifted to her after the war, and simply a request of a steed for her to go home
your family has long treasured the legacy of such a figure, who brought immense honor to your name, and her values have been entrenched into your being
which is why it isn't much surprise that you got along quite well with silver, who often showed how much he respected his father, supposedly a fearsome general in Briar Valley
your schoolmates in NRC were often a bunch of rambunctious teenagers, so silver's calmness and respectful attitude was quite a breath of fresh air
though when he started talking about his childhood hero, you found yourself filled with pride that your ancestor's tales could reach even people in Briar Valley
once he learns your heritage, he would definitely deeply respect for you, asking you questions about the legend that has been lost to history
he loves when you show him some artefacts your family has protected for centuries, a sword gifted to her by the emperor, a treasured wooden hair comb with a orchid flower carved onto it, and even statues of a dragon believed to be the guardian spirit of the family
silver's eyes always glow with curiosity when you talk about the hero, and he even seems to be more awake and less likely to doze off
silver has a newfound appreciation and respect for your
Silver's eyes widened with wonder as you unveiled the artifacts from your family's collection. He ran his fingers gently over the comb, feeling its history in his hands.
"Wow," Silver breathes, his voice filled with reverence. "The detail on this comb is exquisite. The flower... you said this was a reference to her name?" At your nod, a soft smile graces his lips. "An orchid flower, a symbol of nobility and grace, just like the hero herself... This is amazing... I wish I could show it to my father..."
"I can't believe I have the honor of meeting a descendant of the legendary hero... It's an absolute privilege to learn more about her from you..." his words trail off as he succumbs to a gentle, peaceful slumber.
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if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!
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