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skzdarlings · 11 months ago

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vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation. Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert. It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year. What could go wrong?

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it. Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue.

“Reconvene,” you say. You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line.

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar. “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time.

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says. He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes. “I didn’t really think this far ahead. I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask. “This whole thing was your idea. Seungmin.” You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity. It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this. And you know how I feel about waxing.”

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly. It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two. His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature. “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks.

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots. Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax? Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks. “For a concert? What did you think was gonna happen?” He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes. “Wait,” he says. “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say. You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead. “I’m not fucking our way in. And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head. “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say. You push him away too. “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?” Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin.

Minho cackles. “No way she’d even go,” he says. “She doesn’t get summoned. She likes to be chased.”

“She is walking away now,” you say.

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says. “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you.

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says. “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly. “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says. “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says. He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun. “We all got dressed up. Seungmin skipped a class. You waxed.”

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say.

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says. He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories. “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into? The sports games? That celebrity wedding—”

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.”

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.”

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.” Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall. Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed.

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say. “So how are we doing this?”

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully. “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan. It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past. It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people. You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader. You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out.

“I get that one,” Minho says.

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile. You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue.

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass. He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so.

He does. So he did.

You and Seungmin look around. Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say. “I call dibs on that one! Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late. You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard. He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority. His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail. His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

Also, he really is lean. Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway. You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium.

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention. His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy. Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert. He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction. You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you.

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly. He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound.

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.

Maybe that’s what trips you up. It has to be something, because you were doing everything right. But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.

“Sorry,” Felix says. He drops his arm and smiles. “I just need to see your ticket.”

“My…?” You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone. Oops. “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix.

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile. He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says. He holds out his hand.

“Right,” you say. You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can. “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say.

“Hm.” His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “And what’s that?”

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet. You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue. There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd. You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free. Hwang Hyunjin, here you come.

There’s just one problem.

Felix is fast.

Like, track star fast. Like, road runner fast. Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too.

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet. You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door. He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position.

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line. “Sorry about that. Ticket?”

Your mouth is agape.

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on. He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind. “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says. He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device. It lights up green and he smiles at them. “Enjoy the show,” he says.

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person. Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says.

“I have a ticket,” you say. You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs. He apologizes to the people behind you. You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own. “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes. “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes.

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight. You pick one and flash it at Felix.

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation. You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone. You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him.

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed. You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally. You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you. You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy.

“Um, excuse me!” you shout. “Hello! Someone film this! I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder. He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing.

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble. Got it?”

Felix is very good looking. He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh. But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off. It’s hot. Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression. And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well. That’s not your fault. It’s his. Asshole.

You flip him off. He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue. “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch.

You text to check in with the boys. Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in.

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say. we still have lots of time. we'll get in there. seungmin, meet me by the benches. we need another plan.

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics. It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be. If you act like you belong, then you will.

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people. After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action.

“Help!”�� Seungmin shouts. “My wife needs help! Please!”

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him. You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you.

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says. “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention. A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them. His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small. You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin.

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says. He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth. “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down? I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.”

“One second,” Changbin says. He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster. It buzzes with static as he turns it on. “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B. Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?” The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away. He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered. “Yah, everyone back up! This is an emergency!”

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says. He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down. I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above.

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed. You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle. He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first.

“I have First Aid,” he says. “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says. “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd. Should we bring her inside?”

Felix looks at you. The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way.

You smile innocently.

“No,” Felix says, frowning. “We shouldn’t.”

“Oh come on,” you say. You smack the ground. “I collapsed! I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says. He crosses his arms and stomps a foot. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder.

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says.

“Ah!” Felix yells, spinning to Changbin. “She doesn’t have a ticket! She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?” Seungmin asks, gasping. He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain. “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete. You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you.

“Seungmin,” you say. You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll. “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.” Felix stomps up behind you. “Get off the ground and come with me.”

“No,” you say. “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.”

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet. He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend.

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears. For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth. You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B. Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground.

Changbin disregards your outburst. Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back. Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away. You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all.

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues. You are both out of breath by the time you get there. Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away. In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass.

“Holy fuck!” You are panting now. A line of sweat dots your hairline. You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard. “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket. Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason. Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes. Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring.

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him. When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter.

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly. “No concert. Do you understand me?”

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says. His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll. He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration.

So much for not a mean bone in his body. That bully is all business.

So hot.

You huff and puff for a bit. Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you. Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts. Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real. It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat. You do not lose. This isn’t even about the concert anymore. Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place. No. This is about your pride. This is about your dignity. This is about your honour.

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.

First, you gather intel. This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark. You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst.

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein. Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through. His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt.

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line. The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks. The concert will be starting soon. You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit. The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt. You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible.

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through. You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him.

“Hi,” you say.

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up. He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says. “You look nice. Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this. It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says. “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone. This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says. He smiles at you as he shakes his device. “Sorry!” he says. “I think you showed me the wrong ticket. Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise. Life is so unfair. “I’m so sorry… Jisung. Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says. “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool. Anyway.” He wiggles his device. “Ticket please!”

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone. You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so. How the fuck are you getting out of this? You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger. Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you.

Apparently, you are that desperate.

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut. You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again. With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung.

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted. Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back. Probably because he was told to step back. Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.

“Wow,” Felix says. “Just committing crimes now, are we?”

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed.

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say.

“Public indecency is,” he replies.

“You’re… publicly indecent…” Not your best comeback. You glare at him while fixing your shirt. “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.”

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm. “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply.

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away. He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors.

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again. “Just let me innnnn,” you whine. “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says. He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks. “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times. You faked an injury. You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.” Felix looks ready to rip his hair out. “You don’t have a ticket! Why would I let you in, why would I – AH! Why am I arguing with you! Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?! How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed. He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be.

“Fine!” you exclaim. “Fine! You win! I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong. I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses. “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced.

“Yes!” You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster. “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.”

He turns off his screen. Success. You watch him slip his phone in his pocket.

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice. It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder. “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you. His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner.

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt.

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway. Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast. You clasp your hand over your heart. “Just who do you think you are? First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right. Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it. But you wouldn’t know anything about that. You know why, Felix?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat.

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you. Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face. You try really hard not to gulp.

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say. “You always do what you’re told. You always follow the rules. I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they? I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby. And you are, aren’t you, Felix? You’re just such a good, good boy. But me? I’m not good. I’m not bad. I just like to win. When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it. Until it’s all mine.” You lean in close. “Get it?”

His gaze darkens, brows pinching. You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back. He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp. You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder.

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans. What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan. Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run.

And run.

Hmm. You’ve been running a long time. Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now. You doubt he would have truly given up. Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game. He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose. You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle.

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath. It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end.

Quiet, yes. Too quiet.

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head. Felix is good. You have to give credit where credit is due. If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you. But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack.

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you. You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet.

Around the next corner is the parking lot. You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels. He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body. But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser.

Then he smiles. A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey. That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them. Almost. You want to win even more.

And he just set you up for success. There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby. That’s your ticket in. You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it.

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run. He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars. He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks. You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off. You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand. He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched. You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs. You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went. Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came. You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush.

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline. Victory is in sight. You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground.

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully. You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back.

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back. You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again.

“You’re a monster!” you shout. “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.” He leans in close, speaking right into your ear. “I win.”

“That’s not fair,” you say. “You can’t just—ahh!” You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet. His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion. You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived. He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it. Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners.

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says.

“Fine.” You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you. “But I’m like a wolf, Felix. I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Not how wolves work by the way. But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry. Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology. You got any other fun facts?”

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling. You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action. With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist. He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—” He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward. You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible.

He stands there, mouth agape. You tap your foot impatiently.

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble. He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving. You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments. Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?”

“I dunno, Felix,” you say. You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged. It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down. “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys. And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”

“That’s your plan?” he snaps. “That’s your plan?”

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave. He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head. “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you. “Why is this happening. Oh my god.”

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police? How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say. “Why aren’t you doing that?”

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels. You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail. He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say. “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth. “The handcuffs. Are. Not. Regulation.”

You look at each other. There is a long moment of silence.

Then, “What!” You cackle with complete and utter abandon.

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh.

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest. “You? You? You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have? What the fuuuuuck—” You think you might die laughing.

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims. “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you! Hello. Hello.” He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his. He jingles your joined hands. “Not regulation,” he says. “There are no other keys in this building.”

Silence falls again.

Then, “Oh.” You stare at him. “Shit.”

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key. You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together. You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises.

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably. He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it.

“This is so stupid,” he says. He throws a stick at the wall. “I am a good worker. I never break the rules. I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this. You did this to me.”

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch.

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around. “It has to be here somewhere.”

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple. The stadium lights blare down on you. Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground. The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning. He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile.

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says. “It’s a t-shirt. I cut the sleeves off. And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.”

“It’s not a tank top.”

You continue to search. It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get. It just doesn’t make sense! Things don’t just disappear! The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first. You sit there in a stunned stupor. You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you. You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his. “What!”

You point. He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder. You feel him exhale.

“Please don’t tell me…”

You both lean to look down the sewer drain. He flashes his phone light over it. Something silver glints back in the darkness.

“Fuck!” Felix says. He doesn’t stop there. What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry. When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.

“So what happens now?” you ask. “Do we fuck?”

“What?” He looks at you with utter bewilderment. “What the fuck? Why would you suggest that? What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say. “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.”

“You are insane,” he says. “I am handcuffed to an insane person.”

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place. I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.”

“I dare you,” he says. “Try.”

“No,” you say. And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side. But Felix doesn’t need to know that. Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation. “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead. You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention. “Figure it out, pretty boy.”

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest. He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you. “We’re not doing that! What a stupid plan! You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy. Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.”

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine. I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt. “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today? Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.” He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes. “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke. Wow, Felix.” You giggle helplessly. “Be careful or I might start to like you.”

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink.

“Let’s just go,” Felix says. “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!”

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet. Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away. You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?”

“I don’t.” He sounds more annoyed than afraid. “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever. I’ll take my chances. Come on.”

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble.

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale. He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t. In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking. If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.”

It is so cold and sarcastic.

It gets you so hot.

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain? How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that? Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you. He just snorts and shakes his head.

“What?” you ask.

“Interesting,” he replies. “Very interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was. He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand. “Come on,” he says. “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble. Time to be a good girl and do it my way. No, stop, don’t say anything. Be quiet. Just walk. Let’s go.”

You stumble when he tugs you after him. Your mouth is hanging open yet again.

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match. You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it. But no one has ever really taken control. No one has ever really beat you. No one has ever come close.

No one. Until today.

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart. Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match. Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string.

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #felix smut #skz smut

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moralesmilesanhour · 10 months ago

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Hi! May I request a small fic where miles 42 dates a male reader who's very bubbly, glittery, fashionista, and dresses in very bright colors or pastels. Maybe Rio and Aaron finally get to meet him and try their best not to tease or laugh at how ironic it is?

They find it even funnier knowing he's the who's been stickers all of his jackets or just anything that came out of his room.

Got carried away with this one oopsie

take it or leave it.

Miles peeled off his dark green puffer jacket, brushing off stray rain drops that hadn’t evaporated yet. In doing so his fingers ran over something smooth like plastic. Already knowing what it was, he took his forefinger and thumb and removed it.

The face of a rabbit with an ‘x’ for a mouth stared blankly at him. Miles held it up to the light and smiled to himself as little dots of color shifted from orange to green, having a good idea who it was from.

You liked to slap these things everywhere–anywhere–that you could reach. Though you never explained yourself to him, Miles suspected that your reason was the same as his when he spray-painted the walls of abandoned buildings: to make your presence known in a world that seemed set on ignoring you.

Your bleach-blonde curls, pastel shirts and flared pants made you quite difficult to ignore in the first place.

Even Miles, who hid beneath his hoodies and oversized jackets, couldn’t take his eyes off of you from across the basketball court that fateful day as you sat on a bench crowded with your friends. They were dressed just as elaborately, but not with nearly as much variety of color.

One girl draped head-to-toe in black lace and silver jewelry leaned over to whisper something to you. Whatever was said made you turn and meet his eyes just as he caught the basketball that had just sunk through the net above him.

He froze momentarily and could’ve sworn he saw you grinning at him before he started dribbling again.

You were too far away for Miles to commit the details of your face to memory, but he recognized the blonde sitting at the top of your head when you rammed into him in the middle of the hallway the very next day.

Now in full uniform–save for the fashionably-loosened tie–his eyes were drawn to the row of helix piercings lining your right ear, and the faint glow of metallic eyeshadow swiped across your lids with lashes that curled sharply upwards like–

“Yo,” your voice brought him back to reality. “Are you okay? I said ‘my bad’.”

Miles blinked.

“Oh,” he replied dimly.

You laughed good-naturedly.

“Just ‘oh’?”

“I-I mean,” Miles stumbled over his words, “You’re…good. I guess.”

“That’s…good,” you parroted with a teasing smile. “See you around!”

You pulled the strap of your book bag further over your shoulder, causing the cluster of charms and trinkets hanging from it to click-clack together with every bouncy step you took as you weaved through the stream of oncoming students.

That was how it began.

“I think he likes you.”

Sela took a bite of her french fry, which she then pointed towards the next table ahead of her. You followed her line of vision right back to the mismatched eyes that had burned two holes into the back of your skull in the hallway.

And P.E.

And A.P. Bio.

The more you thought about it, the more your friend’s hypothesis began to sound believable.

Still, you shook your head and chuckled.

“He’s definitely straight, first of all.”

“You don’t know that! What happened to not assuming?”

“Hm, I dunno…”

You looked again. This time, Miles was fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, avoiding eye contact. Presentation aside, you’d never really seen him running with the sort of boy that said “Pause!” every five minutes, so that was a plus.

…Then again, you’d never seen him running with anyone. He even hooped alone. You recalled him making several lay-ups in a row as clean as the twin braids that brushed his shoulders. No team required.

Sela interrupted your quiet deliberation.

“Go talk to him and find out, then. Not like he’s gonna kill you if you ask.”

She tapped her long black coffin nails on the lunch table, awaiting your answer.

“I don’t feel like getting up,” you groaned lazily.

“Fine, I’ll call him over.”

“Hey, wait–”

“Aye, Morales! Miles Morales!”

Miles looked startled. “Huh?”

Sela waved at him while you ran your palm over your face.

“C’mere!”

He eyed her suspiciously, but slowly got up and shuffled over to your table.

“Do you…” he looked around. “Need something?”

The girl gestured enthusiastically towards you, and you rolled your eyes mentally before replacing the irritation with a smile and taking the lead.

“You looked lonely over there, man. Come sit with us!”

Miles bit his bottom lip once you spoke up, appearing to take in a sharp breath before taking the empty seat across from you.

“So do you have any, like, actual friends–? Ow!”

Sela rubbed her arm after you gave her a good smack.

“Sorry about her. She meant to ask if you were doing alright. You seemed kinda out of it.”

“I’m…fine,” he answered slowly.

“Well, that’s good. You were staring at me somethin’ fierce, I thought I had done something to you.”

Miles felt a rush of heat travel straight to his cheeks.

“N-nah, it’s just that–well, I saw you at the basketball court, and…” he trailed off and began messing with the end of one of his braids.

You leaned in closer to hear him better, which didn’t help his situation.

“One more time?”

“I saw you. At the basketball court.”

The teasing grin returned to your face.

“Yeah, I saw you too. What about it?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, trying to piece the right words together. Then he tried again.

“I liked your ‘fit.”

You held back an obnoxious snort of laughter.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, you have…good…fashion sense.”

Miles wrinkled his nose. He didn’t even believe his own lie. Why would you?

Mercifully, you narrowed your eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks. You got good taste in sneakers.”

You paused, then added, “Meet me at the basketball court after school and I’ll show you how I put my outfits together. How's that sound?”

The offer hung in the air. Miles considered the possibility that you were just pulling his leg and that he’d wind up standing alone in an empty court, but there was no sign of a joke in your expression.

He shrugged in a fake show of nonchalance.

“Sure.”

The two of you went on like that for two long months. Meeting each other on the court, sitting on the bench and making light conversation while shooting compliments at each other that always just missed the mark of what you really meant to say, until one day you finally got tired of meandering.

“Miles, can I ask you something?”

“I dunno,” he answered, sipping on a pouch of Capri-Sun. “Can you?”

“You promise that if I ask, you’re gonna give me an honest answer?”

“If it won’t get me arrested, sure.”

“Miles, I’m serious.”

Your gaze intensified, making his heart rate quicken.

“Alright.”

“Are you into me?”

His blood ran hot and icy cold at the same time.

The thumping in his chest whenever you got close and he could smell what soap you used, the absent-minded doodles in his sketchbook, and finally, the staring, had been given a name. And in being named, it took on a physical form - something blinding and liquid that shot through his bloodstream.

Miles wanted to be able to say no. Give a straight answer, and move on to a more comfortable topic. But you’d read him like a book the last time he tried to lie to your face.

You noticed his hesitation, and the vice grip he had on his now-empty Capri-Sun.

“It won’t change anything, I just wanna be sure.”

He looked unconvinced. How do you just go back to normal knowing that your friend is in love with you? They could pretend nothing had changed for maybe a couple weeks, maximum, before conversations became clipped greetings in the hallway, then fizzled out into nothing. Impossible.

But again, it was no use lying.

He avoided your eyes as he answered, “I think so.”

Cold, delicate fingers suddenly found themselves beneath his chin, and his eyes widened as you turned his face towards yours.

“Miles, look at me. You either do or you don’t.”

His heartbeat was in his ears now, making his breaths shallow and the veins in his eyes pulse. The setting sun cast a sentimental glow over everything that filtered through your hair. No one else was around, save for the warm breeze.

“Miles, are you good–?”

He pressed his lips against yours before he could stop himself. Your lips were smoother than he’d expected, just slightly tacky with mentholated lip balm.

And, more importantly, they kissed him back.

Miles grabbed his sketchbook from his desk drawer and opened it to a page filled with tiny sketches of your outfits. Carefully, he placed the sticker next to the baby blue puffer you’d worn yesterday so that the two of you could be “twins”.

He should really call you, he thought.

You sighed, leaning your head back on the couch beneath the cool air-conditioning of Miles’ uncle Aaron’s apartment. The tall, lean man that you’d guessed Miles had probably gotten his accent from (and sayings that could only come out of the mouth of an older man) had gone out momentarily to grab food for all three of you.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to your now-sort-of-official boyfriend with a questioning look.

“What?”

Miles was holding back a laugh.

“Why’d you switch up like that in front of my uncle?”

“I didn’t ‘switch up’ anything.”

“I have never heard you talk like that in my life.”

You copied his pose, slouching and man-spreading with your hands resting on your thighs. You flattened and lowered your voice into the boring monotone that teenage boys liked to adopt when they wanted to be taken seriously.

“You mean like this?”

This earned a snicker from Miles, whose expression then became earnest.

“Seriously, though, you don’t gotta do the whole act around my unc. He’s not like that.”

“Then why do you do it?”

The boy paused.

Your observation was correct - Miles tended to lengthen and smooth out his stride when he walked next to Aaron on their ‘grocery runs’. He would remove the playful lilt in his voice, like when you strain freshly-brewed tea, leaving only the mellow liquid behind.

“That’s…different.”

We’re trying to impress him for two different reasons.

You let it go.

“Whatever you say. You are gonna tell him about us, though, right? Since he’s ‘not like that’.”

Miles scoffed, “You’re the one that introduced yourself as ‘a close friend of mine’. I ain’t tell you to say any of that.”

“I wasn’t sure if you felt safe!” you laughed.

“We were holding hands before he even opened the door, he definitely saw that shit.”

“Alright, alright, you win. We’ll both tell him, then. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

“Miles! Tu novio!”

“Coming!”

Miles padded over to the living room, where you stood in a bright yellow jacket covered in vibrant patchwork, and those jeans with the spray-painted stars all over them. Your hair was hidden beneath a red beanie you had stolen from his closet.

Aaron sipped on a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen, well-within earshot as Miles greeted you.

“Hey.” The boy smiled, awkwardly sticking his hands in the pockets of his plain, dark-wash jeans.

His mother Rio shut the door and looked on in amusement at the two boys standing in front of her. You would think her son would add some more color to his wardrobe, being with someone that looked like that. But the all-black ensemble wasn’t going anywhere.

“¿Ustedes dos siguen fingiendo ser amigos?” the woman teased. “I’m not sensing any affection over here, guys!”

Miles gave his mom a blank stare, while you laughed. Even months later, the other boy wasn’t one for PDA.

“Oh they real affectionate, alright,” Aaron chimed in.

“Here we go…”

“I go out to get these boys some Domino’s one time, right? I come back up, and these two are cuddling on my damn couch after they told me they were ‘just good friends’. Now mind you, I ain’t believe ‘em for a second–”

“That’s great, unc,” Miles was already tugging you in the direction of his room, “We’re leaving now!”

“Don’t get too touchy in there!”

Once inside, he shut the door behind him. You struggled to suppress a laugh at the weary look on his face as you sat on the edge of his bed.

“She’s kinda right, y’know.”

“About?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to spare me a hug or something, once in a while.”

He said nothing.

You scanned Miles’ bedroom. All of his manga had been cleared off of his desk, and his swivel chair was no longer burdened with a pile of clothes. He just cleaned his room, you think.

The only thing left sitting there was his notorious sketchbook, a ballpoint pen, and a couple of Tombow markers scattered about.

And of course, your stickers.

You got up to take a closer look at the loose sketches and hummed in satisfaction.

“You’re really good at getting clothing folds right. You sure you never wanna study fashion design?”

He smiled, and shook his head.

“I’ll leave the fashion shit to you.”

“We could go to F.I.T. together, you and me.”

Without so much as making a peep, Miles and his long legs had snuck up behind you to wrap his equally-long arms around your waist.

“I’ll visit you.”

“What are you doing?”

“You asked for a hug.”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Take it or leave it.”

The smell of paint and Jergens lotion enveloped you as you pulled him closer. You inhaled deeply, then sighed.

“You’re real stubborn, you know that?”

His chest shakes as he laughs.

“One of us has to be.”

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x male reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x you #requests #moralesanhour #earth 42 miles morales x male reader

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kartonkartonski · 2 months ago

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ONE PIECE Pirate AU

What if OP world had real pirate vibe / What if our 1700s had people strikingly similar to OP characters + magic

DISCLAIMER i have the opposite of Same Face Syndrom + cant draw women lol yes the faces are real human ispired

LUFFY - Brazilian / Caribbean kid from a random ass poor village Hat, vest, pants, sandals - made more historically accurate (mmha)

ZORO - Japanese but raised abroad in Turkey or sth idk Hair - green hair dont exist lol Shirt, pants, boots - mmha Eyepatch - a piratey touch

NAMI - Swedish but adopted and raised in Spain or Italy or idk Clothes - mmha + made her more tomboyish Head cloth - piratey touch

USOPP - Italian mum + African father (unthinkable!) (european colonies in South Africa or sth) Clothes mmha The prankster he is, he carries fake prosthetic hook and peg leg and a fake swordsheath. I bet he has a fake parrot and an eyepatch he doesnt use. The gun is real and replaces slingshot

SANJI - French cook in the Mediterrenean Eyebrows - curly eyebrows dont exest stupid Hair - mmha Suit - mmha Cigs - replaced with a pipe Golden tooth - he got scurvy on that stranded island

CHOPPER - Canadian reindeer (caribou) General look - now he look like a real reindeer huh. No wonder why he was feared by the peeps Hat - early american settler-like Pants - mmha + piratey stripes

NICO - Russian originally associated with mafiozo Krokodil The dress is how i imagine her to dress like when working with Krokodil Hat, boots - mmha + more piratey Riding suit - she looked like cowboy in early OP so i gave her riding clothes

FRANKY - American, self-made clockwork cyborg who uses word "super" quite often (it was a thing in early 1700s!) Hair - Cyan hair dont exist idiot + made it cool and epic for 1700 standards Metal nose - screwed to skull Shirt - mmha Underwear - yes its underwear mmha Robo parts - clockwork coz no steam engines back then + wooden doll-looking Peg leg - hides a gun

BROOK - Austrian musician, his crew died hit by a plague Hat - mmha Afro - no afro in 1600-1700 sorry Justacorps - 1600s-ish coz he old af Yohoho

JIMBEE - Now a real FISHman, a real WHALESHARK and a real INDIAN (Oda said hes indian) yup thats about that FOLLOW FOR MORE

#my art #digital art #digital #one piece #one piece fanart #luffy #op #art #concept art #au #pirates #nami #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #one piece live action

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taintandviolent · 1 year ago

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deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would��ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #james march x reader #myfics

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popponn · 1 year ago

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before sleeping. [isagi yoichi x reader]

notes: the thought process here is hehe isagi and then isagi sure gets feral sometimes and then hey feral is biting right and then i postponed my sleeping schedule for this. this guy is midnight madness inducer. if the first paragraph isnt clear enough. no warning except yeah this is a total fluff despite the prompt. established relationship, post canon / pro-player! isagi.

Isagi Yoichi is a genuinely nice person. A really good boyfriend with a normal and nice family, an excellent career in soccer—an overall green flag that also comes with good communication skill. His downside would probably be his soccer obsession, but if one looks from the right angle it would become a charm point along with his occasional clumsiness on other field other than his beloved sport.

Case in point, Isagi Yoichi is a normal guy, most of the time.

“Can I bite you?”

With that being said, it wouldn’t be your fault to be surprised when he suddenly asked this when the two of you were already in sleeping attires.

It was almost midnight and you were dressed in Yoichi’s old t-shirt, baggy and too large for the both of you to wear. Beside you, Yoichi already lied on his side to face you and ready to be asleep, considering the 12 hours jet lag he was supposed to be having. Yet, with his big blue eyes, he stared directly towards yours—whose are sleepy, heavy, and definitely tired.

You, who froze midway in your way to cover yourself with a blanket, blinked for a few times with your mouth slightly agape. Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to process what Yoichi just said. After a few moments of silence, you finally found your voice again, “…I thought… we are about to sleep…?”

“Yeah,” Yoichi answered simply. “But, like, can I bite you? Just once?”

You could only blink once again. Was this some leftover adrenaline high from his winning goal? You knew how Yoichi becomes a bit of someone else whenever he became excited or on a high tension—but it never really came out of blue. Especially at home like this.

Confused, you could only said, “Huh. Wow.”

In respond, Yoichi parroted both your confusion and noise, “Huh? Wow?”

“I mean,” you began to try to explain, slowly feeling your sleepiness wanning off. “That sure came out of nowhere.”

A dumb and blank expression appeared on Yoichi’s face upon hearing your words. Then, it took a mere second before it shifted into one that is full of panic and bashfulness. Yoichi immediately pushed his body to sit along with you as both his hands shook in front of him, “Oh—uh! I mean—It’s just that I look at you in that shirt and just—!”

“It’s not bad, or anything. It was just sudden,” you said, eyes fixed on his sheepish gestures. “It’s not everyday you just blurt things like that at home.”

Yoichi laughed nervously and suddenly seemed to find an interest in the crease of your shared blanket. You let him took his time to continue meanwhile you lied down to your sleeping position. As you finally covered yourself in blanket, Yoichi followed you, embarrassment still dyeing his face, “It’s, uh, I think I missed you a bit too much this time?” Yoichi said, unsure.

You chuckled as you already warped your whole body in blanket, “Playing the sweet words now, huh?”

“It’s not like that!” Yoichi insisted whilst shifting his position for a few times, trying to find comfort. “Like, I also don’t really understand why, but it’s like I really want to bite you. But like positively, in a very ‘I love you’ kind of way?”

At his wording, you found yourself smiling with a soft, unvoiced chortles bubbling inside your stomach. Even in a confusing sentence, the way he just said ‘I love you’ so easily yet earnestly really did things to your heart. You knew that this one was fueled by Yoichi’s own nervousness and confusion—yet still, it felt as genuine as he always is.

“Well,” you paused, pretending to be in a thought, before continuing. “Where do you even want to bite?”

This time, it was Yoichi’s turn to freeze. “Uh. I didn’t think that far.”

As you failed to swallow your laughs, you patted his head, “Now, now, isn’t my Mr. Striker’s head tired? Let’s do the biting and everything else tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Yoichi’s expression soften at your words and pats. Your fingers slowly moved, gently tracing the outlines of his face, and Yoichi’s bashfulness return with a look he kept only for you, “…fine.”

You nodded, smiles still in your face as you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep. Knowing Isagi Yoichi, he probably just thought that you were way too tired and chose sleep out of consideration. How sweet, truly.

But, also this is Isagi Yoichi and he never knows when to give up. With one last offering, he wrapped his hand around your back, “Can I hug you for the whole night, at least, though?”

“Sure, sure, Mr. Egoist. Aren’t you clingy today, huh?”

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dehemetera · 4 months ago

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Omg I can’t believe I am actually posting her. Pls enjoy my precious oc and her wardrobe

Below you can find all the head canons I wrote so far about her, the relationship she has with her squad and with the other significant captains/lieutenants of the Gotei 13

Mira Komamura

General head canons

‌originally from the 4th squad ( vet section) on her own request as she doesn't really like to throw hands.

was assigned to captain Komamura strict medical crew when almost no one knew about his real appearance; specifically, she was tasked with providing emotional support for Sajin's social anxiety.

‌”Captain!? How did you dare to hide that lovely snoot for such a long time?! "

yes, she was basically his emotional support puppy.

as it happens very often, Sajin grew fond for his emotional support puppy and decided to adopt her ( literally) as his brand new sister, then insisted to move her to the 7th.

western origins ( abuses this 🤌🏼 while talking ).

fav animal: humpback whale.

fav food: eats almost everything, watch your hands. Really, this girl is a few snacks away from being your best friend. But if she had to pick one, it'll probably be french fries, no dressing, just salt.

‌fav colour : cold hues in general, blue/green/ purple.

likes stars. Like a whole lot. You give her something with stars on, she's gonna love it. She hoards things with stars on it. She doodles them on everything at hand. When friends are sad, she scribbles a star on the palm of their hand.

‌" you're now under the sign of the good vibes star. You can now enjoy the rest of your day. You're welcome."

now imagine her doing this on Captain Zaraki's hand and Iba's cold sweats thinking how to tell the poor Sajin about his adopted sister's premature departure.

the good vibes star must work thou, cause Kenpachi just patted her head like she was a puppy and walked away. Iba thanked whatever god was listening at that moment.

sassy AF

sarcasm native speaker.

cracks 2.000.000 dirty jokes in between three regular words.

must focus not to drop inconvenient comments during each Captains/ lieutenant meetings.

looks like a black cat personality at the beginning.

turns into a weird dancing parrot when comfortable around someone.

has a ridiculous attention span.

world of the living connoisseur ( western side). Spent several decades studying it by living among living people.

terrible traditional swordsmanship skills.

got Jedi Lightsaber classes on Earth and actually developed a pretty efficient fighting style; ‌Iba is genuinely confused and slightly concerned about that but as long as it works...

likes to sing, not very good at that but still on the average ( usually makes silly dances while singing to underline the lyrics).

pretty skilled belly dancer ( which at some extent she uses in controlling her shikai) but definitely won't dance in public cause she's too shy for that .

very body positive about other people, excessively critic about her own body.

very good painter. She mostly paint with her hands (" advanced kindergarten art skills") but could also use sponges, pieces or paper or rags, leaves, basically everything but a brush;‌most of the times she just likes to make little silly doodles.

then she turns those doodles into stickers and spread them across the seireitei.

Byakuya Kuchiki knows the Shinigami women's association held a secret meeting in his mansion when he finds small stickers with sassy quotes around the house.

take her to the water park; She just loves it.

beach girl

just loves to hang out in the water

‌of course this is the perfect excuse for captain Hirako to make jokes about her liking to be wet

she never denied the statement. 👍🏼

excellent resistence to alcohol. Hard to get drunk.

when that does happen though, she just unleashes all the power or her sass/ sarcasm/ unhinged comments

this usually leads to pretty amusing express stand up comedy shows where she eventually ends up oversharing something she would've preferred to keep for herself

pretends not to remember anything if the topic is pointed out the day after

About the 7th squad

she was gladly welcomed as lieutenant by almost all the soldiers due to her sincere support towards former Captain Komamura

Those affectionate soldiers appreciate her chill attitude prone to jokes and fun as a good balance to Iba’s serious demeanour

She introduced music during workouts and trainings. Music from the west, of course

Now witness the fierce 7th brigade soldiers casually humming Bad Romance while doing their daily chores.

Since Mira’s office is the coziest and most decorated once, Iba started throwing Shinigami Men’s Association meetings inthere

For Iba’s birthday, Mira decided to gift him a new HQ for his meetings by renovating an old, unused warehouse in the barracks, asking Ikkaku some help to edible and renovate the old furniture

Connections

Sajin Komamura : regardless of his full on canine appearance he is still officially her brother by previous adoption. Mira still takes good care of him, she has the most luxurious dog bed in her office for him to stop by. She also got him one of those speaking buttons board humans give their dogs to communicate.

Tetsuzaemon Iba : is definitely like a dad. All of their interactions have the warm yet bickering feeling of a father/daughter dynamic, including: communication issues, dad being jealous and over protective of his precious daughter when men buzz around, not understanding slangs. Mira signed up for Iba’s fan club to show support to her dad.

Shunsui Kyoraku : calls her Mira-chan and likes to invite her to drink together. He pays great attention to her drunken monologues as they’re usually pretty straightforward and accurate analysis of the current state of the Seireitei. He definitely trusts her guts and intuition in picking up the overall morale of the squads. Mira also signed up for his fan club ‘cause he’s the big boss and deserves support. Nanao Ise firmly oppose this.

Rose Otoribashi: is the only one whom has ever seen Mira dance. They sometime shares music afternoons with Rose playing music and her using it to practice her dance. They have a very respectful and delicate bond revolving on mutual arts appreciation.

Izuru Kira: it took them some time to get along due to Kira being really private person. Now they’re kinda cool about each other and Mira often tries to cheer him up telling him the whole hole in the chest thing is metal AF.

Shinji Hirako: this man bribed Mira in joining his fan club by offering her a bag of weed infused gummy bears. It worked. They operate at the highest level of shenanigans and communicate almost exclusively by flirting. Bombastic side eyes darting across the captain’s council room during meetings when they know the other one would be just about dropping the sassiest sh*t that would cost them the career. Regularly hangs out together both in the Soul Society and on Earth. Part of their flirt jokes revolves around the fact they would gladly date each other (but never actually did that).

Momo Hinamori: was the first to show Mira support when she was promoted to lieutenant. Therefore, Mira loves this girl and brings her gifts, treats and loves spending time together for a tea time. They share a heavy betrayal trauma and do their best to support each other in their healing journey.

Renji & Rukia: if Iba is her dad, Renji is her bro and Rukia is the sister in law you actually like more than your own brother. The three of them have a weekly “world of the living pop culture” themed night to binge watch series and movie marathons. Burping competitions between Mira and Renji are mandatory and Rukia is the judge.

Matsumoto Ranjiku: these two can love and hate each other depending on the mood and the topic. Sometimes they look like besties laughing together and mutually complimenting , ten minutes later they’re fighting over something, usually Matsumoto habit of exploiting men using her beauty.

Kenpachi Zaraki: these two really get along for reasons. Mira actually feels safe around him cause who would ever dare to fuck around close to him? She also thinks he’s illegally hot but never dared to voice that, not she would ever try to approach him with intentions. She just likes to fantasize about that amazing mass of wonder. On Kenpachi’s side, he likes to have a new brat messing around him without being scared, it feels heartwarming and nostalgic, sometimes feeds her the same candies he used to buy for Yachiru. Since Mira’s birthday is right after Kenpachi’s, she usually shows up at the 11th barracks with a cake to share to celebrate both their birthdays.

Ikkaku Madarame: for the better time they’ve been knowing each other, he just passively tolerated her, enjoying her little shows from time to time but never payed too much attention to the new lieutenant of the 7th squad. Then Mira came to ask his help in renovating the warehouse for Iba’s birthday gift and since the process took quite some time, they had the chance to spend time together, getting to know each other during those long crafty nights of recycling furniture. He is now heavily crushing on her and gets a little shaky and mildly flustered when she’s around, with Yumichika largest amusement. Mira has always appreciated her fellow colleague and was glad to have the chance to build up some kind of relationship with him but she’s genuinely confused by his friendly yet shifty and sometimes awkward behaviour towards her (she’s not good in getting the hint).

Yumichika Ayasegawa: oh the tea they spill. They don’t meet very often but when they do the amount of information they share can compete with the finest Seieitei’s intelligence. Sometimes they go shopping together. Yumichika tries his best to create opportunities for Ikkaku to be there when Mira comes over.

If you managed to read this far, thank you 💕

Some captains/ lieutenants are missing to the list but I already have them written, maybe I will add them in some future post.

Definitely expect more drawings about Mira’s adventures. I have more on the making (like about her zampakuto and other stuff.

I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination,

✨comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated ✨

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bijoumikhawal · 5 months ago

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DS9 characters as Lingerie

(because I'm on vacation in NC and can)

Sisko- I like this set, though I could do without the writing. It's comfortable, but still... alluring. (Also I have pictured him in leather bottoms that lace up a few times but I don't consider that lingerie)

O'Brien - I do not think he wears lingerie of his own volition, but I do think Keiko has talked him into interestingly designed undies once or twice

Julian - something something that time he unzipped his uniform and had no undershirt on. Technically this is dance wear, but it's also literally a body suit. I definitely think simple, classy black is more his style- a contrast to his off duty tendency of dressing like a parrot externally

Garak - (honestly you can probably say a lot of Aint Born Typical's designs suit him. Also I really like them because all their designs are made to fit a range of bodies, not just skinny women) I really like the red suit he wears, and I think the slightly elevated but still subtle design this one has from the beaded drops would suit him.

Kira - (cut rant about how most lingerie is unimaginative and scared of androgyny) I chose this set because I don't think Kira would wear anything too fussy, and the herringbone detail reminds me of her uniform's undershirt and of Bajor's passion for crochet. I don't think she'd necessarily go for this color though- maybe more of a sage green. I could also see her wearing what Sisko does

Jadzia - the impression I get from her civvies is she likes things purple and drapey

Odo - the cheat answer is that Odo canonically doesn't even wear normal underwear and is going commando to an extreme we can only dream of. I feel like he would copy a dabo girl and end up with something like this if he had too though

Quark - bee2a (affectionate)

#cipher talk #ds9 #Translators note: bee2a is roughly equivalent to kitsch/trashy. I specify I'm being affectionate because it's usually a classist insult #Specifically for like. Urban poor people #I actually like a lot of bee2a aesthetics and am myself Broke/working lass who grew up in the city even if it's in diaspora

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spookypete-94 · 1 year ago

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Coveted

alright, gonna take a shot at this, branching out from just simon. going to be a soap ghost fic, no smut... in this one at least :) will be fem!reader finishing her day at work and leaving off base for a date and seen by ghost and soap.

In the woman's locker room, you adjusted your dress, tugging it down, feeling like it was too short. Nothing was showing. Your painted toenails peeking out of your black heeled booties. You just never got to do this often, and it felt so weird. It was strange to see yourself out of anything that wasn't tactical, OD green, or some sort of camo. Your makeup you had done, and even that felt foreign in the mirror. To feel and look feminine instead of covered in dirt and blood smelling of gunpowder. Still, unable to believe this was happening and the fact Brad from Infantry had asked you out for the evening. The first actual date you've been on for a while, let alone with a coworker.

Glancing at your watch, you noticed how close it was for you to be going to be there early like you preferred. Gathering your bag and locking your gear away, you headed out towards the main entry/exit door of the locker room. Stopping as you got closer to the door since you could hear voices just outside the metal barrier. It was a Scottish accent talking to a deep baritone. Soap and Ghost, you knew it almost immediately. They were talking post mission outside their locker room door... just off of the one you were in.

This made your stomach flip... the idea of members of Task Force 141 seeing you dolled up making you feel like you could throw up so hard, you'd see yesterday's breakfast. Maybe if you waited just a few minutes, they would go away.

But to no avail... they stood talking about minut details. Braving it, you pushed the door open slowly, hoping no sudden movement would leave you unseen. To wish in one hand and shit in another, though, right?

You could see Ghost's eyes locking on you, you refusing to make eye contact as he did. Soap noticing the shift in Ghost's eyes and stance turns around to see you trying to sneak past.

"Bonnie, look at you." His voice low as he whistled. "Where you going looking like that."

"Out."

"Out?" An arm of his now blocking your way.

"Have a date. Move, you're gonna make me late. " you said, trying to hold firm with confidence, even if it was quickly faltering.

"A date?" Soap's tone quickly shifting. He wasn't pleased.

"With who?" Ghost questioned, speaking up.

"Brad from infantry."

"Brad?" Soap said in a way like he was mocking you.

"Jesus Soap, are you parrot? Gonna repeat everything I say?" You were starting to get irritated.

Dropping his arm and moving out of your way just enough to let you slip by, they said no more. Instead they just watched as you walked away, rendered speechless about this turn of events.

"Not fucking happening," Soap said looking at Ghost heading to the locker room to drop his gear off.

"Absolutely not," Ghost agreed, turning to follow him in to do the same. It was unspoken, but they were going to follow you to this date.

If only you knew of the locker room talk that was said about you. The things Ghost and Soap heard and shut down of what the other men on base wanted to do to you. Serving alongside the Task Force meant that you were their's to protect, make sure you are safe from the Brad's and Chad's of this world. You were coveted, one of the few females in this male populated job and radius. The fact you could defend yourself made you even more wanted, a fillie to be tamed. And it sure wasn't going to be Brad from infantry. Not on this duos watch.

Entering the little pub not far from base, you saw Brad already sitting at a booth, beer in front of him, and cocktail on the other side for you. Joining him, you smiled, starting your night off brightly.

Ghost and Soap weren't too far off, choosing to sit at the bar opposite to better watch waiting for their opportunity.

They steamed and brewed at Brad, who was getting closer to you, his arm around your waist pulling you to him. Moving your hair out of the way of your ear so his lips could touch the shell of it while he said whatever it was to seduce you. Anger growing, seeing you give in to it. Was attention all that you really wanted? Or was this really how you behaved for any male?

Their opportunity finally struck. Brad excused himself from you to go to the bathroom. Both Soap and Ghost followed him. Ghost grabbed ahold of the back of Brad's shirt. Soap had already opened the back door of the pub, allowing Ghost to easily push Brad out into the alley.

" That's our girl," Ghost growled, hitting Brad in the eye, sending him to the ground. "You fuckin' know that."

"Gonna leave er alone, right?" Soap asked, being the barrier in between Brad and Ghost at the moment.

Brad nodded, scampering away, holding his already swollen and soon to be black eye. Soap turned up to look at Ghost, nodding to him telling him good job, and they both entered the pub. You still sat in the same place, hands holding your head stirring your drink. Just waiting for your date to come back. Little did you know, you would be having two join you, but not quite yet.

Ghost and Soap sat down at the bar watching you. They didn't want it to seem obvious that your date had disappeared for the evening at the hands of them. Waiting some more for your face to become somber, the thought of you being left wanting to cross your mind.

Sure enough, they could see your eyes become sad, glancing at your watch and phone, wanting something from Brad, but the reason would never come. Ghost ordered you a drink, going to play the card of 'Saw you looking sad, brought you this to make you feel better' and Soap would try to comfort you.

Seeing them both approach, you tried to look as though nothing was bothering you. Stubborn was just part of who you were as a person.

"Where's your date, Bonnie?" Soap asked, putting on the front.

"Went to the bathroom.." and meekly next while looking at your watch "about an hour ago."

Ghost then slid the drink over to you, Soap scooting in on one side and then Ghost took the other.

Soap clicks his tongue, acting like he felt bad for you. "Sorry Bonnie, such a shame because you look so stunning tonight, too," His voice low in your ear.

"Thought it was going well.." your voice quiet goosebumps raising on your skin from how close both men are.

Ghost had nonchalantly placed an arm around the back of you, manspreading while he did.

"Dumb on his part, love, you're a catch." You could feel his voice rumbling in his chest. The thought of Ghost caring your date left warming your aching heart.

But what really took your breath away was Soap's hand on your thigh, traveling slowly up towards the bottom of your dress. In fact, not only was your heart warming, but so were the pretty panties in between your legs you had worn.

"Want to show you how much of a catch ya are." Soap's breath was hot against the column of your neck, teeth just skimming the muscle, wanting to bite until you moan. Ghost had leaned forward, his arm now wrapped up underneath your arms, so you couldn't wiggle away, large hand placed against your abdomen.

"What do ya say, love? Wanna forget Brad?" Ghost asked lips against your other ear now.

"Brad who?" Your wit allowed you to answer earning chuckles from both men.

There will be a part 2 to this!

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

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ordinaryschmuck · 1 month ago

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Full Family AU Part 23

Vee had just finished her drawing, which was a little doodle of Luz. To her it was, at least. She still hasn't gotten the hang of it, but Vee thought she nailed most the important details. There was Luz's pigtails, which were just little scratches of brown at the end of a big round circle that was meant to be Luz's head. There was her big smile, that also left no room for a nose and barely any room for the eyes. Speaking of, the eyes were two little dots with a bit of blue to them to show that they were shiny.

As far as Vee was concerned, it was an accurate drawing of Luz. Looking down at it made Vee smile. She felt as though Luz was the nicest out of all the Nocedas, and it made her feel good to have perfectly drawn her exactly as Vee saw her.

She was going to get started on the body when Vee smelled...something.

Something that she hadn't smelled since leaving her cage.

A certain something that was even nearby.

'Is that...?'

Vee sniffed the air and then got out of her seat to follow the scent. It led her out from the breakroom, down the hall, and, soon enough, into the waiting room.

There weren't many people there. Some big guy with a dog who had a splinter in its paw. A girl with tattoos holding a snake that had some lump in its body. And even an old woman with a parrot singing the blues as it had what looked like a broken wing.

But none of them had the scent. The one who did was a woman at the front desk. Her dress was bright red, her short hair was a vibrant orange, and she had a green bandanna covering her ears.

"Look, lady," she growled. "I've been in this dirthole of a town for two days straight because your vet was the only one available to me. I have an appointment, so check me in."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Tanya told her, looking nervous. "But we can't really heal your pet if you don't have it with you."

"I have him with me!" The woman exclaimed. "He's right...Uh, give me a sec..."

She turned around and walked to a corner. There was a small puff of yellow smoke, all of which smelled delicious to Vee. The woman then walked back to the front desk and pulled out a tiny black puppy out from a messenger bag. It didn't bark, but it did go, "Weh!"

"Here he is."

Tanya stared at the puppy, her eyes wide. And sparkly. "That is the cutest little thing I've ever seen."

"I know he is. It's why I took him when I...found him. Now are ya going to give my baby boy a check up or not?"

"Oh, of course!" Tanya turned to the computer. "What's your name, miss?"

"Marilyn," the woman announced. "Marilyn Rosenstein."

#the owl house #vee noceda #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #full family au #if anyone says that the timelines don't match up...this is fan fiction #it don't matter #just accept it

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mewsingsbynataliek · 1 year ago

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NSR Halloween DLC ideas, just in time for Spooky Night!

The soundtrack for the Halloween DLC would feature instruments associated with the holiday being incorporated into the songs, such as pipe organ and theremin.

The Bosses

DJ Subatomic Supernova

DJSS is a scarecrow, wearing a straw hat, flannel shirt, and denim overalls (cut-off, of course!).

For the battlefield, the background of the Planetarium is a deep orange. The planets he uses to attack are replaced with pumpkins, and the asteroids are replaced by a swarm of crows.

Sayu

Sayu is a cute ghost girl. (I felt it would be fitting since she’s a floaty character.) She's slightly translucent and sports a ghostly wisp-like tail rather than her regular mermaid tail. Her colour palette features off-whites and faded pastels, making her look more etherial.

Sayu wears a tattered white Victorian/Lolita-style dress, lacy cuffs around her wrists and a little bow on her head.

For Phase 2, her dress becomes poofier and more elaborate as small ribbons resembling tentacles appear around her waist. Her trident is completely white.

Phase 3 has her go full-on ghost bride. Her dress has a huge multi-tiered skirt, her hair is adorned with a long veil, and her tentacle ribbons have grown to full length. Her deep-sea mode has her face turn glowing green with solid black eyes, making her resemble a spookfish, while her “tentacles” feature flickering lights similar to a bioluminescent jellyfish.

Her final form is basically your stereotypical bedsheet ghost shape with her legs sticking out the bottom.

Sayu’s team are dressed in dark wizard-like robes, and each of them are wearing masks like the ones worn by Lock, Shock, and Barrel from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

For the battlefield, the “landscape” is dotted with jack-o-lanterns, tombstones, and dead trees. The background is changed to a seafoam green color, with wispy little ghosts flying about.

Yinu and Mother

Yinu is dressed as a cute little witch. Her hair is in pigtails similar to her Christmas skin, and her witch hat is adorned with fall leaves and little jack-o-lanterns.

Mother, meanwhile, is a spooky Halloween tree with spiders. Her dress is a dark wood colour with translucent, ragged-edged sleeves, and she wears a thorny hairband and spiderweb earrings.

The ends of her “hair” have been dyed the same colour as her dress, and she wears both black lipstick and black nail polish.

When she grows bigger, her branches begin to sprout large thorns, which end up making her cage form look more like a spiderweb. (There are even little fake spiders sitting on top of it!)

For the battlefield, the stage is decorated to evoke a bountiful harvest, with pumpkins, hay bales, bundles of wheat, stalks of corn, apple trees, cornucopias, and garlands of leaves.

Both the gate and the giant piano hammers are adorned with thorny branches and autumn leaves.

1010

1010 are pirate ghosts. (As a fun gag, Blue could wear two eyepatches instead of his sunglasses!)

Meanwhile, Neon J is their ghostly captain, complete with a captain’s hat, a sword at his belt, a fake parrot on his shoulder, and – once again – a fake beard attached to his screen head.

For the battlefield, the flying limousine is decked out to look like a pirate ship, with a mast, a crow’s nest, and a tattered sail.

(I felt 1010 as pirates would be fitting since they're a navy-themed boyband and Neon J was a captain in the navy.)

Eve

Eve is dressed as Medusa.

Her dark green dress has a scaly pattern, and she accessories with a lot of gold, including spiralling gold sandals and a golden diadem crown.

Her hair has been dyed, shaped, and styled to look like several little writhing serpents.

Her backpiece is composed of even more snakes in gold and teal which wrap around her upper torso and spread out behind her like a peacock’s tail.

Eve’s pupils even become snake-like starting at Phase 2!

For the battlefield, Eve’s gallery has been transformed into an Ancient Greek temple, but with a postmodern/vapourwave twist. Stylized Greco-Roman columns with snakes wrapped around them line the walls, and an ancient looking gold chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The left side would be eggplant purple while the right side would be cerulean blue.

If the player gets hit by the eye lasers from Eve’s giant statue, they’ll actually turn to stone and be frozen in place for a short time.

For Phase 2, on Mayday’s side, the snakes wrapped around the columns have grown larger and are now looming over Mayday, their faces twisted into angry snarls (representing Eve’s derisiveness and hostility towards May).

Meanwhile, Zuke’s side features floating fragments of ruined columns (representing how lost and incomplete Eve felt after Zuke left her).

Phase 3 is where it really starts to get trippy. Both rooms feature ruined columns and floating shards, along with giant brightly colored snakes slithering all over the background.

The shards in Zuke’s side reflect images of faces screaming in anguish, while the shards on Mayday’s side have limbs protruding from them- one shard has three legs protruding from them in reference to a trinacia. (Look up what a trinacia is to understand the reference!)

Tatiana

Tatiana is a vampire.

She wears black and red robes with bat wing-edged sleeves and a wide collar. Her earrings are coffin shaped, and she has small, pointed fangs that can be seen when she opens her mouth.

At the beginning of her battle, she starts throwing flaming bats.

For the battlefield, Tatiana's office/battle arena is made to feel like a vampire’s castle tower.

The whole room is lit with a deep red glow, and the tall windows that feature the NSR murals are topped with pointed arches, giving them a Gothic look.

You can even see some glass bottles filled with (ahem) red liquid on Tatiana’s desk.

Meanwhile, the Goolings' stage outside is decorated with jack-o-lanterns and hanging skeletons.

DK West

DK West is dressed as Frankenstein FrankenWest!

His look consists of neck bolts, stitch markings, and a dark ragged recolour of his original outfit.

His bull shadow puppet has matching neck bolts, which even emit shadowy electricity when it appears during the battle.

Bunk Bed Junction

Mayday

Mayday is dressed as an imp, wearing a bright red dress with black sleeves and waistcoat, black wings, red horns, and a red tail.

Her guitar is deep purple and splattered with glowing orange paint. It emits a wolf howl when she powers it up for the Showstopper.

Zuke

Zuke is a werewolf. Ragged clothes with fake fur poking out, extra fur attached to his forearms (don’t ask how got it on there), pointed ears, a bushy tail, pointed fangs, his nose has been painted. Pretty simple.

His drumsticks are splattered with glowing green paint and tipped with tiny light-up pumpkins.

The Other NPCs

Ellie has little bat wings attached to her back and wears a springy bat antenna headband.

And last but not least,

Kliff . . . is just wearing a pair of Groucho Marx glasses. Yup. That's it.

Let me know what you all think. I’d love to hear some feedback. Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween!

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livin-life675 · 2 years ago

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John Constantine was at the end of his rope, literally and figuratively at the moment. He had maybe two inches from the frayed end as he gripped it for dear life, a roiling pit of red under him. He didn’t even want to know what was down there, all he knew was that it was demon magic and he could already feel it reaching out for him, trying to drag him down.

He had been a bloody idiot, falling for the trap hook, line, and sinker. He knew when he arrived at the old house that it stunk of old magic, but had wrongly, or rightly, assumed that it was the work of the ancient text he was hunting down. Sure, part of the huge aura was the text, but it mainly came from the hell pit lurking under the rotten floorboards

And then the trap had been sprung, the book ripped away from him, the floorboards disintegrating under him, and he left with only seconds to cast a spell, a binding one he had truly cocked up judging by the rope he held instead of being temporarily bound to this plane of the world instead of being drug down to hell.

“Hang on! Sam, S-14, Tuck, shift him!”

A young, and distinctly American voice, calls out orders, echoing strangely in the house. John as a second to process this before thick vines, with strange glowing flowers, wrapped around his middle and yanked him from the pit, flinging him across the study.

As he goes airborne, he is able to catch a glimpse of a group of three kids, because they couldn’t be older than twenty. Two boys, and a girl, all with a haze of green surrounding them, the pale, black-haired boy the brightest. All three stunk of death magic, something that immediately put John on alert.

And then he was landing in a pile of the same, glowing green flowers, and his view was blocked by the sheer volume. He can’t even move to see what is going on, something holding and cocooning him, although it didn’t feel malicious, and judging by the fact that he could feel the deep ache in his bones retreating, something was healing him.

The sounds of a fight rang out for a few moments before everything fell silent, and the oppressive demonic energy disappeared, along with the sound of the vortex. Slowly, the flowers receded around him, allowing him to scramble up from the floor.

The group of three seemed to be doing a celebratory chitchat, hi-fives, and compliments all around. It was utterly annoying, but it did give John a moment to take in the trio. The first one he noticed was the pale, black-haired boy, just for the sheer amount of death magic still radiating off him, while the other two were more muted now. He was built like a swimmer, lean, but strong, and with that jawline and blue eyes, he was doing a great impression of a Wayne. Tracing up his arm, through his shirt sleeve, and arching around his neck was a lichen burn, death magic radiating from it.

The next obvious was the goth, the dark-haired girl who had saved him from the pit with the vines. Dressed in a pair of ripped, black jeans with a black t-shirt, she was the most unique looking one out of the lot, with black tattoos of vines and flowers going from her fingers, up her arms, under her shirt, and even up her neck, parroting the black-haired boy's scar, except that she had designs on both arms.

The last of the trio was the remaining boy, hair hidden under a beret. He was dressed similarly to the other two, in casual jeans and t-shirts. As John was learning, each had a specific thing unique to them, and it appeared that his was the elaborate designs around his eyes, dark but still able to almost blend into his natural skin color. Each of the tattoos, and the scar were radiating death magic, and it made John incredibly uncomfortable.

“Hey, are you okay? I know we cut it a bit close,” The blue-eyed boy asks, noticing how shaken John feels, his face morphing into concern.

“Cut it close!? What the bloody hell are three Americans doing here?!” John splutters, preparing a set of spells…just in case.

“Saving your ass apparently,” The girl snarks, crossing her arms with an unimpressed look on her face.

“And we’re technically not Americans anymore,” The blue-eyed boy explains easily, seeming far to relaxed for fighting off a demon and closing a portal to hell.

“Yes you are! What are you doing here?! Did that old bat hire you as well?” Constantine demands, magic building in his hands.

“One, stop it with the magic shit, it won’t do anything to us. Two, no, the “old bat” didn’t hire us. We were traveling close by when Danny felt the demon magic, and since it really doesn’t belong here, came to investigate,” the girl snaps, and the blue eyed boy places a placating hand on her shoulder.

“Sam, relax. He’s probably still running high on stress, you would too if you were nearly sucked into hell,” the Wayne bait boy looks to Constantine, face apologetic.

“Sorry about her, we haven’t had great interactions with magic users in the past. If we could just get that book and go, we won’t bother you anymore,”

“Not fucking likely! My find, my book,” Constantine exclaims, holding the book closer to his chest.

And suddenly, the easy going attitude of the blue eyed boys vanishes, eyes melting from an ice blue into a bright, Lazarus green. The carefree look is wiped off of his face and his mouth is set into a hard line, all trances of amusement gone.

“That book belongs to the dead and the gone. It does not belong on this mortal plane. I don’t care if you feel like playing around with a little magic, any mess you get into is yours, but that book belongs in the zone. Return it now, I am not asking,” the boys companions flank him, matching his suddenly intimidating aoura as death magic flares from all three.

Constantine had dealt with his fair share of magical beings and those capable of wielding the mystic arts. The spells and casting circles inside the book would give him an edge in his circles. But all of that experience told him that he did not want to tangle with the trio in front of him. Each one had been touched by death, cradled by it as a mother would hold a child, the blue eyed boy practically dripped in it.

He could maybe take one of them, with a lot of luck on his side. But all three? John Constantine was many things but an idiot was not one of them.

“Fine, what’ll you do with it?” John asks, throwing the book to the trio where the girl catches it.

“Returning it where it belongs,” the boy says, suddenly turning cheerful.

With a twitch of his hand, a glowing green rift forms in the air, death magic pouring out and nearly knocking Constantine on his ass. With one last wave from the blue eyed boy, and a matching set of glares from the other two, all three walk into the portal, the air stitching itself back up behind them.

Without even an incantation, the boy had opened a portal to the infinite realms, and had walked through, without hesitation. Constantine didn’t know a single person who could open a portal so effortlessly, let alone walk through, and certainly not with two companions.

“Bloody fucking hell, I need a drink,”

#danny phantom #john constantine #death magic #infinite realms #sam manson #tucker foley

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tmntxthings · 2 years ago

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Heart to Heart

author’s note: finally got around to this writing idea <3 thank you to everyone who commented/responded, I decided to make it a short multi part, maybe 3 in total who knows!

warnings: first meeting, female reader, foreshadowing, flashbacks, angst, fluff, cursing, cute meet? both pov’s

part two

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You didn’t think you could keep on pretending any longer. Why had you let it get this far? Maybe you were falling back down the rabbit hole. You had thought you were smarter than this. Wiser. You’d been through too much already. Cheaters, gaslighters, manipulators, and most of all liars. You were done with liars. You swallowed as you took one last look in the mirror.

You couldn’t help yourself. When it came to him, you just, ended up dressing to the nines. You wanted to look good. You still wanted to impress him. Even though your plan today was to draw a line in the sand.

You and Leo first met on a rainy night in the dead of summer. The rain was such a sweet reprieve from the sweltering heat that had beat down on you that entire day. You had been working that day, your shift to bus the tables at Mike Toney’s Pizzeria. The a/c could hardly keep up with the weather and you were sweating underneath your clothes. Your shift lasted until 11:00 that night and as you called out your goodbyes to the boss you realized it was pouring.

You pressed on, stepping out of the doors underneath the tiny overhead covering. “Alright!! Just make it to the bus stop and you’re home free!!” You hyped yourself up, jumping slightly and throwing your hood on that you wore underneath your uniform. Looking back on it now, wearing a hoodie all day hadn’t been such a bad idea! You took off in the rain. The sidewalk wasn’t as slippery as you were expecting so you upped it a notch. All that was missing was some music, you’d kill for your airpods right about now! Like most days you had forgotten them on your nightstand.

Rainy night music, where you were the main character running through puddles on an all important mission: don’t miss the bus. Victory was yours as you skidded to a halt and sliding onto the bus bench that was thankfully covered. No bus in sight! You were taking in full gulps, trying to restock on some oxygen. You were so in the moment that you didn’t realize you weren’t alone on that bench. Dark green eyes was the first thing you noticed. He seemed just as soaked as you, blue jersey a bit darker from the rain pelting his shoulders. “Ahem!” You coughed realizing you were staring, and he was staring, and the two of you were staring!

You quickly whipped your head the other way, giving a side eye to see he had done the same. His hand going to his neck rubbing there for a moment before he side eyed you too! Immediately your eyes darted away, shit you were lacking tonight! It must be the lack of oxygen, you took in one last big gulp of air. “Were you being chased by a mut- something??” He asked aloud, you turned to see he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring out across the street, perhaps glancing to where you had ran from. “Ah well, the rain,” you said letting your hand rise and fall.

“Right, heh, right!” He nodded, chuckling to himself because he should’ve seen that one coming. “Were you being chased? Y’know by something?” You parroted back his question. And you just had to ask! He seemed surprised that you were partaking in the conversation. Maybe like he thought that would’ve been the end. So you were completely thrown when the stranger smirked and turned to you fully, “Why yes, yes I was chased here. I’m taking a quick break before they catch up to me!” He snickered to himself and it had to be some kind of private joke. He didn’t seem too worried about his so called pursuers though, so you smiled too.

“And here I thought you were just a regular bus rider like myself!” You took in his appearance again. There was something about him that made you want to keep the conversation going. “Far from regular, I’d put myself up there with the champions,” at this he was pointing a thumb towards the name on the back of his jersey. “Ham-ato?” You sounded out, it didn’t ring any bells but then again you weren’t a basketball fan. “Don’t know him? Agh for-shame! He’s the real deal.” He clutched his chest dramatically as if not knowing the name physically hurt him. His theatrics pulled another chuckle from you, “Yeah sorry not into hoops, though—“

“But have you ever played basketball before??” He interrupted you quickly. “Yeah when I was in like middle school. I had an okay arm, but I was better at volleyball!” This was what you had been going to say earlier. “Ooohh v-ball? I’ve heard of it, don’t think I’ve had the chance to rule at it yet.” This guy! You watched his smug face for a moment with a look of really? Did you just say that? First you could tell he had never played because no one called it v-ball. “That’s a crying shame, cause volleyball is where its at.” You shrugged. “Well well, got any courts around? Teach me the ropes and I’ll dominate!” It was so random. You’d never met anyone this excited before. Or perhaps this cocky either!

You gave him an incredulous look. “Uh” then you gestured down to the work uniform you were wearing. “Oh nice you work at Mikey Toney’s! My little brother’s favorite.” He nodded, totally missing the point. “Yeah and I just got off, there’s no way I’m playing a game in this.” He looked like he wanted to say chicken, but thankfully he held back. And no sooner had you declined the offer at hanging out with some random stranger on a rainy Thursday night, the bus finally pulled up. “Guess I’ll have to get those lessons another time then!” He said standing up, so did you. Your eyebrows came together, this guy sure is forward! This was New York afterall, the chances of seeing him again were slim to none.

“Sure! Next time it’s a deal!” You laughed shaking your head as you boarded the bus. Scanning your pass and taking a window seat near the back. You pulled down your hoodie, shaking your out hair slightly. Then you looked out the window and saw he was still out there, standing by the bench, still staring. You remembered his little icebreaker, how he had been chased there. He put a hand up, and though he was just a stranger that you had exchanged a few words with, your hand rose of it’s own accord. Waving goodbye. You watched as his figure disappeared from view, you turned facing the front. You sure were tired, it had been a long day. But spontaneous things like that, somehow made you feel lighter. You closed your eyes, thinking you never got his name.

You totally missed the three shadows running past the bus.

[ Leo’s pov. ]

When she had flung herself onto the bus bench he had been daydreaming. Leo blinked and his eyes were wide as he took her in. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than your face. The dark blue hood was loose over your head. Wisps of your hair were sticking out and some pressed against your skin from the rain. You were dragging in air like your life depended on it. Which yeah duh it did. He had hardly blinked, soaking in a human who willingly sat next to him. Not bothered by it in the slightest.

So when you felt his stare, and then reciprocated, he was in a full on trance. Your eyes were even more interesting to look at. You didn’t just have one color, but a range of shades. He’d never seen such a thing up so close, without seeing disgust, without fear. (That is if you don’t count April, and in Leo’s defense she wears glasses so meh!) The sound of your cough had him snapping out of it, immediately he turned away. Shit! Smooth Leon, smooth! Humans don’t ogle. Just relax, and say something to break this god awful silence!

“Were you being chased by a mut- something??” Double shit! He almost said mutants! Fucking shit Leo, you are cracking like a egg. Get it together! Does she know already?! Am I doomed!?

“Ah well, the rain,” He felt the invisible weight on his shoulders release. Of course she doesn’t know. He wasn’t a mutant after all. No he was human now and he chuckled to himself. His hand going up to remind himself that he was wearing that necklace. And yep, underneath his jersey he felt the cloaking ‘brooch’ or now called chain. Donnie sure had some great ideas, and when they weren’t straight up failures, they sure could be fun! He couldn’t wait to go out in the daytime. This test run during the night, had been just what he needed. It worked exactly like Sunita’s! Now all Leo had to do was figure out how to throw off his brothers. “Were you being chased? Y’know by something?” It drew him out of his thoughts. Really he had thought the human wasn’t going to talk. He was used to one-sided conversations, especially with New Yorker strangers. Maybe he had just needed this handy dandy necklace!

Leo smirked, deciding to go with the truth for once. It’d be fun. Your reaction was bound to be entertaining. Plus he had a few more moments to spare. “Why yes, yes I was chased here. I’m taking a quick break before they catch up to me!” It was true. His brothers were probably a block or two away. He’d sat down just a few minutes before you did. Donnie sure did want his necklace back. ‘Leo it’s not ready’ ‘Leo you can’t do that’ ‘Leo stop touching it’ ‘Bla bla bla’ Leo almost rolled his eyes then and there remembering all Dee’s nagging.

The conversation continued again much to Leo’s surprise. You were responsive and your facial expression enthralled him. As long as you continued to give him attention he’d readily spout out nonsense. And he was given just the opportunity to not only say his favorite word: champion. But also show off his jersey. Hell yeah custom made. And he about flew out of his seat as he teased you for not knowing his last name. He was pretty sure no one in the Hamato Clan had ever been a basketball player. But it was still fun to see you try and rack your brain. Then you did the unspeakable. You weren’t into b-ball?!? -“but have you ever played basketball before??” He had to hold onto his poor heart. Which again it felt so much more squishy and soft than he was used to. So you had played, he found himself liking that fact about you. And it didn’t stop there, you knew of another sport, one he’d seen in passing, heard of, but never tried himself. Basketball was his one true love when it came to sports.

But if it came down to it, he’d try anything if it entailed a competition. And Leo figured the best way to try and compete with you would be on your own turf. “Well well, got any courts around? Teach me the ropes and I’ll dominate!” He had to refrain from flexing, it was almost so natural. It was how he goaded his siblings into such competition, but he held back. He watched as you gave him a loaded stare, to which you then waved down at your clothes. Mike Toney’s Pizzeria! “Oh nice you work at Mike Toney’s! My little brother’s favorite” Leo smiled but as he thought of Mikey he remembered the whole game of chase that was still underway. You explained to him further what you meant.

Ahhh, chicken! She doesn’t want to face the almighty sport champion! How’d she know?? Is my blue ninja turtle self shining through? Leo felt for the necklace one more time. “Guess I’ll have to get those lessons another time then!” The bus had perfect timing. He had to start booking it real soon and he’d rather not run off into the night with you still around. Though Leo had been having some fun chatting with you. Truly humans were so unpredictable! It was his last ditch effort, maybe he’d run into you again. He hadn’t expected you to make it a deal. So now he was hoping for the chance to see you again. He watched you leave. His first human interaction, (besides April..) his first stranger interaction, he amended. It felt like he had just always known April.

He was trying to remember your face as he raised his hand to wave. But it froze as he watched you pull your hood down, and in what felt like slow motion you ran your fingers through the tresses that had been hidden to him before. He swallowed, you sure had pretty hair. Or maybe you were just pretty. Yeah it was probably that. But why was he just noticing now as the bright lights from inside the bus faded. He watched the light reflect off your skin, dim, and then you became a shadow. He saw the outline of your hand raised, waving a goodbye as well before the taillights of the bus was all he could see. His hand lowered and he stood there blinking for a few dazed moments. Leo moved out from under the covered area, welcoming the rain as he smiled up at the dark sky. “What are the chances huh? Supreme Pizza you watching up there??” He was met with more rain, and no parting clouds to see an awe inspiring view of a full moon.

There was no moon out tonight. “LEO!” Donnie raged, and it was the only heads up he needed. He was running again, fiddling with the necklace clasp. He’d come up with some plan. Fake losing the necklace, act like he didn’t have it. And come sneak out once more, this time with more stealth! Hopefully Donnie hadn’t put some tracking device on this already, he’d have to find out. “Man Dee! You put a tracker doohickey on this one?? How ya finding me so fast?” Leo called over his shoulder and Donnie growled.

Flanking the rooftops on either side of the street were Mikey and Raph. So Donnie really did have everyone chasing after him! Maybe this could be a new team building exercise. “No Leo, not the necklace, but on you.”

“Now give me back my cloaking brooch!! NOW!!” Missiles were firing as Leo finally undid the necklace. It was a miracle he could do so while in a full on sprint. His true form shifted back into view and Leo clenched the chain in his left fist as he pulled out an odachi with his right, slashing for a portal and shooting a wink at his enraged twin. “Buhbyeee~~” he cackled. Watching as everyone lunged for the portal. He wondered how the turtle pile felt without him as they all fell short to the pavement.

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