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shogunish · 2 years ago

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𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟭]

pairing. single dad!/dilf! gojo x f! reader

genre. fluff, comfort, slice of life

contents. megumi is gojo's biological son, non-curse! au, language

words. 1.4k

summary. when satoru struggles as a single dad, he's more than thankful when the new neighbor wants to help him out.

note. just a fun little series that i talked with @cinnamonmon about 🫂 also i'm not dead, just lurking in the shadows

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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when you move into your new apartment, you never expect the sadness of a child to fill the dead of night. soft sobs seep through the walls that are as thin as paper, it seems. otherwise, you wouldn't wake up with heavy eyes and half the mind to silently complain about the kid crying next door. with a groan, you check the time: 11 pm. you let your head drop back into the plush of your pillows, arm draped over your eyes as a sigh slips your lips.

sure, it's normal for children to cry, you know that much, but you would give the world up if it meant that the kid shut–

the sound of a key opening a door catches your attention. is the kid's parent just now coming home from work? that is either irresponsible or a very tragic situation. either way, you swing your legs out of bed, quietly approach the wall separating you from your neighbor and press your ear against it.

such matters are none of your business. and yet, your heart breaks.

"there, there. papa is here now, buddy." satoru speaks in soft tones as he enters megumi's room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. the mattress dips underneath his weight.

white hair is a mess, the toe around his neck loose and a couple of buttons popped open. satoru is as tired as megumi looks.

"where were you? i've waited all day for you, papa." megumi is quick to crawl into his father's arms, burying his face in satoru's chest where he sobbed quietly and refused to let go of his dad. it's likely one of those nights in which satoru would share the bed with megumi, his little bundle of joy (even though the boy is scowling most of the time).

in that moment, satoru hugs megumi a little bit tighter as if it could make up for lost time, hoping that his true feelings somehow got through to the little kid in his arms.

failure is the only thing satoru ever feared when he became a dad and he feels like he's doing a phenomenal job at neglecting his son. satoru wants to be there for megumi, for him to have a good life filled with even better memories and friends, but here he was, crying for his dad who is gone all day and night, stuck in an office that keeps him prisoner every fucking day. it's not fair, he thinks.

a father is supposed to raise his child, love and nurture it, yet..and yet..

you swear you can hear the voice of the man living next door choke up like he is on the verge of tears himself.

when satoru hears three gentle knocks in the morning, he expects the old hag to be behind the door, telling him to control his son or else she'd file a noise complaint. but instead, a pretty woman stands there, a nervous look on your face and a platter of homemade cookies in your shaky hands.

right..the new neighbor who moved in just a couple of days ago. satoru hasn't seen you around before, but you certainly are a sweet thing, looking all shy and nervous. if he didn't think you're there to complain about megumi crying last night, he'd smirk at you and maybe flirt a little bit.

"hey, uhm..i know this might be weird, but may i talk to you for a second?" your voice is soft like velvet and yet, satoru can't help but believe that your next words would be against his son. because of him.

quickly, you lift up the platter of freshly made cookies and let a smile tug at the corners of your lips. "oh yeah, i made cookies, too!"

satoru can't quite make sense of why exactly you show up at his doorstep in the morning, but you..don't look like trouble if you bring cookies. "..sure, come in."

with a nod of your head, you thank satoru and enter the surprisingly cozy home. pictures of megumi and satoru hang on the walls, shelves are filled with books, photographs and souvenirs from travels. it doesn't take a genius to see that the furniture is rather expensive and you silently wonder just how much satoru earns to be able to afford it. maybe you shouldn't touch anything. just in case.

you're ripped out of your thoughts when a wet snout sniffs you and you're greeted by two dogs, one with black fur, one with pristine white fur. just behind them stands megumi who regards you with a somewhat unimpressed look; completely different from the child you heard last night.

smiling, you offer megumi a warm cookie and kneel down to his height. he is an adorable little thing, you think to yourself. "here, have one. but don't let the dogs eat them. chocolate is bad for them, you know?"

the boy looks at his father who nods at him and finally takes the cookie. "thank you..," he mutters and is quick to hide the candy from his dogs that were already regarding him with those infamous puppy eyes. you can't help but laugh.

a smile tugged at the corners of satoru's lips at the view. affectionately, he ruffled through megumi's hair. "go play with the dogs, megumi. the adults need to talk, okay?"

negumi..pouts. "..fine.." even though he doesn't look too satisfied with his father's words, megumi calls his dogs, kuro and shiro, and goes outside in the garden.

once megumi is out of earshot, satoru's face morphs into a more serious expression. sitting down on the couch, he offers you the seat next to him, cerulean eyes stare at you over the rim of his pitch black shades. "so? what is it you wanted to talk about…?"

"[name]," you fill the gap with a kind smile on your lips, putting the platter of cookies on the coffee table. you don't quite know where to start. your concerns, your offer..it is more than just odd. a beat of silence fills the air while you fidget with your fingers, but satoru doesn't seem to mind as he allows you to gather your thoughts.

"it might sound really weird, but..i heard megumi cry last night and..," you trail off, pausing. "..it sounded like you were struggling.."

"..huh..?" satoru's eyes widen at your words. his cool exterior..it cracked.

you suddenly go on an awkward ramble, telling satoru about how megumi woke you up at 11 pm, how you heard the key in the lock and decided to listen in. "what i'm trying to say is.." a soft sigh slips your lips. "..i don't think you're doing this on purpose and if there's something, anything i can do to help.."

satoru glances outside where megumi plays with the dogs, crumbs of your cookies around his mouth and the ghost of a smile on his little features. giving his little treasure into the care of a stranger should be a no-go for any father who loved their child, but..you look like you really wanted to help with those round eyes of yours staring at him so pleadingly. if you hadn't been genuine, you wouldn't be sitting on his couch and offering your help.

a small, humorless laugh escapes satoru's throat. "megumi's mom left me right after he was born. balancing a full-time job with a kid..it makes me feel like i'm the worst father to walk this earth."

satoru took off his shades, letting you see the sky in his eyes. he pushes his messy bangs back, sighs and even though he still looks stressed, the tension in his shoulders leaves as if he shed a small part of the burden placed upon him.

"i don't think you're a bad father. just an overworked one who needs a hand." and when you say those words in a voice so warm that it rivaled honey, satoru can't help but see the light at the end of a tunnel.

at least one person knows he's trying for megumi. even if that person is a stranger, it felt..good to be seen and heard. just what are you, satoru thought. heavensent? an angel? too good to be true? maybe all of the above.

"..do you think you could watch over megumi tomorrow?"

a grin settles down on your features, crinkles the edges of your eyes and lets a little blush bloom on the apples of your cheeks. "of course!"

taglist. @ayanominitrash, @torusmochi

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #fic. the gojos & i

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skylarsblue · 4 months ago

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.•° ✿ °•. "Best Friends" .•° ✿ °•.

𖥔 Love & Deepspace... ❥Tara! <Summary: What was supposed to be a girl's night out between MC & Tara was ruined by Wanderers downtown. While it was their night off, there were no other available Hunters in the area. With all the enemies killed, but the metaflux still high, it's against protocol to leave the area until their replacements arrive. Why not relieve a little tension and try to save the night from being a complete waste while they wait?> [Content: Light smut (they're clothed and I don't go into great detail), some vague description of the MC mostly in differentiating her from Tara: ie; implied to be curvier than Tara, a vague outfit description, she's said to be shorter than Tara even in heels, and implied to be at least somewhat muscular. Skin/eye/hair color is not mentioned. I use MC in the place of Y/N. Not beta read and written in a haze between 23:00 & 00:35, so mind mistakes.] -Divider by @elfbar-baby , thank you <3-

Panting and annoyed, MC watched the last Wanderer in sight flicker out of existence, lowering her gun. Silence stretched on for a while. A few minutes went by, and enemies didn’t appear, but a quick glance at the wristband she wore showed the metaflux in the area had only gone down a bit. The streets were empty and the asphalt was wet from rain earlier that day. Leaving the fluorescent signs and street lights to glimmer off the puddles. “I cannot believe our luck.” Tara’s voice broke through MC’s annoyance. She turned and watched Tara put her own daggers away, adjusting her dress with a pout. “We can always plan another one, T.” MC sighed, looking down at her own appearance, clicking her tongue when she saw a tiny rip in the bottom of her dress. They were supposed to be having a girls night out. They had the night off, at the same time, and there was a bar in between both of their apartments that sold novelty drinks. They’d come out with a zodiac menu, so of course Tara was excited to try it.

They’d only gotten one drink each, and both of them barely finished the glasses before they got an urgent call of Wanderer’s in the downtown area. No other hunters were available, for some reason. Of course it had to be them. It not only annoyed MC that a night with Tara was wasted, it was also annoying having to fight in the outfit she had. She didn’t often dress for clubs or bars, but it was fun to feel sexy every now and then. But platform heels and a bra with only thin, clear straps to keep her bust in place was not ideal. It was a strapless dress, and shorter than the other clothes she typically wore. The material wasn’t very stretchy either. It was a miracle she hadn’t busted it at the seam with all the movement required for the fight.

Tara’s outfit seemed to come out unscathed at least. Dressed in a dress as well, a cute off shoulder one with a skirt that had a little flow to it. Kitten heels that tied up her legs like ballet slippers. She’d just bought it, and now, it was wasted on wanderers. She’d been so excited to wear it too. She’d called MC when she bought it, going on about how she finally found a dress her size that took into account her height, and in her favorite color too.

“Do you hear any more?” Tara asked, pausing MC’s staring. “No, I don’t. But the metaflux is still too high for us to leave.” She replied, holding up the reading. She placed her hands on her hips and frowned with sympathy when Tara dramatically deflated, bending at the waist with a groan. “I can’t believe my cards lied to meeee.” The brunette whined while standing back up. “Your tarot cards?” MC questioned. Tara nodded, pushing the short strands of her bob out from being stuck on her lipgloss. “The cards I pulled said I’d overcome hardship and live with enjoyment. Things would come to fruition! This definitely doesn’t feel like I’m living with enjoyment.” The woman crossed her arms. MC smiled with a little breathy chuckle. She looked around again, and there still had yet to be Wanderers. Her eyes trailed back to Tara.

Recently, she’d had a complex bout of feelings for her best friend and favorite coworker. Tara had always been cute to her. And she’d never been shy about admitting to herself when she found a woman attractive. But Tara had always been only a friend to her, until about a month and a half ago. She could recall the exact moment her feelings changed, but it really had been a build up.

Tara bringing her coffee, a few reassuring pats when MC had been working too hard, the bubbly conversations and cheerful encouragement. Cute giggles when whispering gossip, shared perfume and chapstick. It all led up to a day where MC had wandered into the file room and caught Tara being…reckless, because she’d never use the word foolish, even if that was truly accurate.

The brunette stood precariously on a ladder and two boxes to try and reach some of the tallest shelves. It was unstable and she was wobbling when MC walked in. Of course, MC couldn’t help but gasp and feel an adrenaline spike at the sight, and the sound made Tara whip her head around. That motion caused her to lose her balance and fall backward. Naturally, MC would’ve never let her fall to the hard ground. It was all pure luck that she caught Tara safely enough to only bruise her own sternum, but the act proved worth it.

She’d caught Tara in a rough princess carry, but then the motion made MC wobble, so in a few milliseconds, she’d braced the rest of Tara’s fall with her body. Which meant Tara’s elbow went right into her breast bone and knocked the wind out of her. She was sure she’d made a sound. Probably something like a dying chicken. When she opened her eyes though, Tara had scrambled to push her weight off of her wounded friend, placing her hands on either side of MC’s head.

She was apologizing profusely, voice frantic with worry. But she looked so pretty. Hair falling to frame her face, square shoulders defined in her uniform, soft round cheeks and warm brown eyes wide. It was only plain office lights to illuminate her but it looked like a halo at the time. Now any time MC looked at Tara, she stared. Ogled, actually. It’d probably become noticeable to others but Tara hadn’t said anything about it. But even now, her eyes wandered along Tara’s figure and face. She was just…

So god damn cute.

“I’m tired and my feet hurt.” Tara complained as she looked sadly at her shoes. They were adorable but not ideal for standing, or martial arts. Tara looked over as MC chuckled. “Well, let’s find a place to wait until either more wanderers show up or our replacements.” She walked to Tara calmly. Tara held a lot of respect for her. She really excelled in so many aspects, especially combat. She mastered so many kinds of weapons, she’d seen MC slam a claymore into the bodies of enemies with one hand. Even now, in heels taller than her own and a tighter dress, she didn’t seem put off by the fighting. She didn’t even seem tired.

Tara passed the same exams, and she knew she wasn’t a bad hunter. But she didn’t see anything wrong with admitting there were those better than her, and desiring to be more like them. Even with all the combat training, she’d remained fairly slim. All her muscle mass seemed to be hidden unless she was actively flexing, and she knew she had a baby face. But MC was the same age and yet she operated wiser than Tara. At least the brunette thought so. In the strapless dress MC wore, her biceps were impressive, even if she wasn't necessarily bulky like someone who trained for looks, she was visibly strong. And her aura alone held so much influence.

“Being out in the open might be a bad idea. If there’s more Wanderers, they could sneak up on us far easier out here. I’d like to not be taken by surprise.” MC looked around and then stretched. She sighed and then held out her hand to Tara, making a ‘grab’ motion at the girl. Tara raised an eyebrow but stepped forward and took her hand. “So, should we hide somewhe-oh!” Tara let out a noise of surprise as MC pulled her and lifted her, perching her on one arm. Tara kept herself steady by keeping her hands on the hunter’s shoulders, and indeed, they were strong.

MC walked calmly. She was silent the entire time, not because she was thinking, but because the scent of Tara’s perfume was making her go insane. Tara tended to wear the same perfum everyday. It was sweet, sugary. Something like sugar cookie, though admittedly, she didn’t actually remember the name on the bottle, despite Tara telling her. This perfume however, MC assumed, was used for special occasions. It was heavier, but not like a cologne. It was just less sweet like sugar and more like the sweetness of fruit, more like a well balanced wine. Something a deep red color and full bodied. And as put together as MC was, she felt perverse at how the scent made her mouth water.

Tara was carried to an alleyway, set down carefully near the opening of it. It wasn’t that wide, wet stone dimly lit by a distant streetlight in between two brick buildings. MC settled somewhat in the middle and used one of the walls to lean her back against, sighing as she sank against it. Tara moved in further with her. She swallowed as she watched the light shade MC’s face, her hair falling gracefully against the brick.

“Why are we in an alley?” Tara whispered. She didn’t need to, again, the streets were barren. Like a ghost town. The only company they might’ve had was maybe the occasional bird or stray cat that’d been too nonchalant to care about the metaflux in the air. But it just felt right to whisper. MC glanced over and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, I don’t think we’re allowed in one of the buildings. But being out in the open feels like a bad idea.” She snorted. Tara couldn’t help but giggle at the answer and leaned on the opposite wall. There was just barely enough space for them both. Even standing upright, they were touching. Just faintly. But enough for MC to notice.

“Besides,” she spoke up again, making Tara look at her. “We’ve got more privacy this way. I can hear you here, unlike in the bar.” She hummed. And it was a true statement, but she said it with some kind of softness that made Tara’s chest feel strange. “I guess we should make the most of it, since the girls night out idea is kinda ruined.” She admitted. MC looked over Tara again, eyes slowly tracing up and down. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, then shifted in place, so that she stood directly in front of Tara.

Tara looked down slightly at her. She was taller but only by a few inches, thanks to MC’s heels. She swallowed seeing MC’s breathing. Her dress was strapless, tight to her bust and fitted everywhere else. And Tara watched the subtle shift in her coworker’s breasts from her breathing, and the narrowness of the alleyway made it to where Tara could feel the heat of MC’s body. It was, of course, impolite to stare at a woman’s cleavage, even if she was your best friend. But Tara wasn’t really thinking while she did it.

A giggle, not a laugh, but a breathy and quiet giggle made Tara snap out of it. She was met with the half lidded gaze and a slightly smug grin from MC. “Like’em? Made’em myself.” She patted the sides of her chest and Tara’s face exploded in red up to her ears. “Oh my gosh!” She covered her face, but she also couldn’t help but laugh. The air didn’t get awkward because they both found it funny. “I’m so sorry, I was being so obvious!” Tara dropped one of her hands and the other covered her mouth as she laughed. She always felt so comfortable with MC, it came with the best friend title.

They’d helped each other countless times with wardrobe malfunctions, in dressing rooms, the occasional bra hook mishaps. Of course Tara has seen her friend’s body, and vice versa. But in that moment, Tara felt the air change, and not the way it did when Wanderers were on the way. The electric buzzing feeling that signaled danger. It was something else as she watched MC tilt her head and shift.

She raised her hand and gently tugged Tara’s hand away from her face, holding it carefully. A beat of intense silence remained. “You’re gorgeous.” MC said earnestly. Tara’s breath hitched. It was different from past compliments, she didn’t know why it just felt different. Intense. And maybe it was because the way her best friend was looking at her, like a cat about to pounce on prey.

Tara had begun breathing shakily, and the gap between them seemed to lessen by the second. Pushing the brunette into the wall and the dichotomy between hard brick and soft curves was something that made her feverish.

“You’re…you’re really pretty too.” Tara said, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. MC’s gaze broke from Tara’s lipgloss covered lips and up to her eyes again, long enough to smile. “You’re sweet.” She cooed quietly. Tara audibly shivered. A few centimeters and she’d have her mouth stained with MC’s lipstick shade. She almost went to ask a question, she wasn’t entirely sure which one, but it didn’t end up mattering.

Tara sighed and her knees buckled a bit when the other woman pressed a deep, impassioned kiss to her mouth, still holding one of her hands so delicately. The brick wall kept her from sliding to the stone path below. She was so warm, and so soft. Tara had what she called a boyfriend and a half in the past. Juvenile relationships that didn’t really go anywhere, and she couldn’t bring herself to be sad about it when she reminisced. It just never gave the spark she’d heard from other’s experiences or the romance books she loved so much.

Every time she asked her tarot cards for romance advice, she’d pull some that told her good things were coming her way but she’d need to be patient. But she also always, every single time, without fail, pulled The Empress, upright.

The Empress, upright, was a feminine card. In both the divine world and the material one. Associated with what was womanly. The birth of new experiences, the fruitfulness of creation, fertility blessings, creativity, and new opportunities. It also represented maternity and abundance. Oftentimes, when pulled under the question of romance, it represented a deep commitment from a sensual, supportive, and nurturing partner. One that'd be quite in touch with their feminine side.

That one always perplexed her but also made her excited for the mysterious lover the universe apparently had planned. Someone certain to be everything she sought in a partner. When she was a teenager, she’d admittedly dreamed of it being Captain Jenna. The way a lot of girls loved or lusted after celebrities or teachers sometimes. She still had a little girlish crush on her commander.

But this had to be what the cards meant. Feeling her closest confidant’’s body heat soak into the fabric of her dress, a delicate grip from strong hands that was encouraging her to lean in more. Sliding down her ribs and to her hips, MC’s thumbs delicately rubbing over the seams of her dress.

Tara whined subconsciously when the other woman pulled back to let them both breathe. Pulse wild as MC looked up at her with wide pupils and heavy breaths, her chest pushed against Tara’s upper abdomen, and the way they pushed against her made Tara struggle not to drool.

“Sorry, T, I couldn’t resist.” Despite the apology, MC didn’t look all that sorry. Her smile was sweet but also lined with something mischievous. She leaned up again and pressed a shorter, but no less intense kiss to Tara’s mouth, groaning quietly at the cherry flavoring. “Been wanting to kiss you for months.” She admitted against the woman’s mouth, leaning to peck the corner of Tara’s mouth this time. Tara placed her hands on MC’s shoulders as she leaned into a kiss left on the soft, squishy part of her cheek. “R-really? Months?” She asked. “Mmhmmm~ Probably longer, but I only noticed it recently.” MC hummed as she kissed down Tara’s cheek, to her jaw.

She trailed one hand up Tara’s side, the touch so light it made Tara shiver. Finally MC’s fingers pushed some of the soft, short hair out of her way, in order to place a kiss on the space just below Tara’s ear. Unable to bite back a smile when Tara let out a whimper. The brunette had admitted one night during a sleepover, during a game of twenty questions, that one of her weak points was her ears. It had been a cute and silly story. The woman explained how she wore clip-on earrings for so long because she’d squirm away too much from any piercing gun until she was nineteen.

“H-hey! No fair!” Tara hiccupped when she felt teeth delicately nipping at the cartilage of her ear, which was flushed a bright red. “Who said I needed to be fair?” MC replied quietly with a little laugh, trailing her hand back down Tara’s body, this time following the line of her spine until she reached the woman’s waist. Spreading her fingers to get a steady hold, pulling Tara closer, if even possible. Taking advantage of the off shoulder cut of Tara’s dress to peck a little mark on the brunette’s shoulder. A tiny scar from a childhood event.

“You’re- you’re really bold all of a sudden.” Tara acknowledged, but her arms had moved to wrap around the other’s neck. Her body was essentially supported by MC’s strength and her upper back against the building’s wall. “Hard to hold back, especially with you all dolled up like this.” MC said as she left more kisses along Tara’s shoulder and collarbone. Technically, this was risky. They were out in the open, in an area with high metaflux readings and Wanderer sightings. And to top it off, the association was likely going to be sending other officers to take over for the two women.

They both knew that. And despite that, Tara still ended up whimpering and moaning into heavy kisses given to her by…was best friend the term to use now? A question for later, she supposed as MC’s hands came down to her thighs, keeping her steady as MC’s leg came to rest between hers. Not only for stability, since Tara’s legs had gone weak and useless now, but clearly for Tara’s enjoyment.

MC smiled as she pressed a kiss to Tara’s skin, just above where the fabric of her dress hid her petite bust. Watching the taller woman outright moan at the, quite frankly subtle, pressure applied to her core. “Sensitive are we?” She whispered, also out of breath and fevered. “Don’t tease!” Tara complained between clenched teeth, her breath hitching when the pressure from MC’s leg grew harsher. As if it represented permission, Tara got more handsy in response. Pulling MC by her face for more kisses, before quickly pushing her hands down to cop a handful. Clearly something she’d been clearly craving to do. She got an appreciative groan for her efforts.

It dawned on Tara in the midst of her lustful haze that the attention had been rather one sided. So she tried to move, and return the favor. She felt the other woman hum appreciatively when her knee slid in between, mimicking MC’s actions as best she could. Tara hissed between her teeth and whined loudly when she felt MC nip at her shoulder, leaving an obvious hickey no doubt, as if that’d distract from MC’s right hand sliding under Tara’s skirt to palm over her thigh and hip.

“Shh shh shh, can’t be too loud, baby.” MC cooed, kissing the line of Tara’s jawbone. “It’s not my fault! You’re so-“ She groaned again when teeth met her skin, grinding her hips more aggressively into MC’s knee. Everything was tense and tight, burning and she couldn’t tell if it was the metaflux or just her that made the air feel like a live wire.

“Someone sounds like they’re about to finish. You can go ahead, sweetheart.” The new pet names made Tara throb even worse. Her pulse was running wild and it wasn’t just thumping in her chest or the side of her neck. “N-not yet not yet.” Tara shook her head and began peppering MC’s cheek and temple on damp kisses. “Awww you don’t gotta worry baby, you know what? Mm, as soon as we’re done? I’ll take you back home, okay?” The huntress promised as she gripped Tara’s waist, aiding her along, even if the girl had left a visible wet patch on her thigh muscle. The promise made Tara’s knees buckle again, much to the other woman’s amusement.

“Uh huh, I’ll take you up to my place.” MC kissed along Tara’s neck as she kept talking, all words and no thought. “We can take it slower, and I can see you all bare and proper. God, what I’d give to taste you. Could I do that, huh? Would you let me?”

Tara nodded frantically as she tried to kiss MC again, though her heavy panting and moaning left it a bit moot. “Aww aren’t you sweet. You wanna return the favor, baby? Huh?” The thought alone made Tara push her head back against the wall and sob. MC let out a breathy laugh against Tara’s neck, kissing up the line of the brunette’s throat. “C’mon sweetheart, c’mon. Lemme see it, lemme see you break. I wanna know I’ve done right by my favorite girl.” She encouraged, praising and kissing until Tara’s body began to twitch and her noises grew quicker and quicker.

Til Tara tipped over the edge, and the sudden snap of it made her go almost completely limp. Her muscles had been so strained from fighting and then the treacherous wait for bliss. Because it had been just barely not enough for so long. Having her selfishly wanting more the entire time, knowing she couldn’t have it. But she got a piece of relief and she was once again so grateful for her coworkers strong arms, keeping her from falling to the dirty ground.

Tara let out a sleepy noise when she felt butterfly kisses against her cheeks, whispered praises and loving caresses of her hips and sore thighs. She blinked lazily as her vision came back, looking down to MC, who was already smiling up at her. Settled against her breastbone. “Hey pretty girl, welcome back to earth.” She teased.

“…s-so we go to your place?” Tara slurred. She couldn’t help but smile tiredly as MC tossed back her head in a laugh, genuine and full of love. “Yeah, yeah baby. We go back to my place, as soon as our replacements get here.” The reminder of work made Tara complain via a whine and a scowl. “I knoooow I know, it’s not fun.” Her partner replied, gently coaxing Tara into standing on her own, adjusting the brunette’s clothes as she went.

“My head hurts.” Tara mumbled. “You kinda thumped your skull toward the end there. I’ll take a look when we get back to the apartment.” MC said, being extra gentle when fixing Tara’s hair. Smiling and cooing affectionately when the woman hugged her tightly, returning the gesture.

By the time their coworkers showed up to cover the scene, they were out of the alley and instead on a bench. Which probably would’ve been a better place to rest in hindsight. Neither of them had a car, but MC did have a Hunter Association bike. She’d met Tara at the bar after the girl took a taxi. Now, Tara got the privilege of a free ride back to the bar, being carried by MC in one arm, her heels hanging off of the woman’s fingers, until she was set on the back of the bike.There was only one helmet but Tara could not, despite her valiant effort, convince MC to be the one to wear it.

She held onto her partner’s waist tightly as the bike zipped down the road to MC’s apartment. Giving her some ample time to think. She stayed in her thoughts even when they were in the elevator, and she only spoke once in MC’s apartment, watching the woman lock the door. “Sooo…” Tara started, clasping her hands behind her back. MC turned slowly and came to rest her hands on her hips curiously. “Sooo?” She mimicked. Tara rocked her weight from her heel to the balls of her feet a few times as she thought of what to say.

“What does this make us?” She asked, a bit shyly. But her insecurities simmered down to nothing when MC smiled. “Well, it’s definitely more than coworkers. And best friends can be close, but I don’t know if best friends are usually uh…cum on your thigh in an alleyway close-” "Oh my gosh.” Tara put her face in her hands, listening to a jovial laugh. Warm and gentle hands delicately encouraged her to show her face again, met with a sweet smile and a hopeful gaze.

“There’s a word I’m thinking of. And I mean, friend is part of the word.” She said. Tara snorted and giggled. “Is it…girlfriends?” She asked. MC gasped and picked Tara suddenly up by the waist.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner! She’s a winner ladies and gents!” The woman declared, all while Tara laughed. She was let down gently, keeping her arms around MC’s neck, and the MC’s hands around her waist. A moment of blissful and joyful silence passed between them, before Tara bit at her lip. She gently turned a dangling earring between her index and thumb as it hung from MC’s ear, slowly pulling her gaze to her girlfriend’s. “Second question.” She whispered.

“Go for it, pretty girl.” MC replied. “Sooo, about your plan about what we would do when we got here…something about doing it uhm, right?” Tara teased. She let out a squeak and a laugh when she was suddenly pulled over a sturdy shoulder. She kept laughing when she was gently tossed on top of a plush mattress, only stopping when the weight of her girlfriend came up on top of her, pressing a kiss to her mouth again. “Hey Tara?” MC whispered.

“Hmm?” “Remember to thank your cards after all this.”

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seethesin · 2 years ago

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peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #villanelle imagine #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #killing eve #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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incognitoleeknow · 7 months ago

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The College Blonde

Synopsis:

After getting stuck trying make your assignment deadline, you find your life taking a quick turn for the pleasurable when you meet a stunning blonde who seems to be just the thing you needed to reignite your creativity.

Pairing: Dom!Femreader x Sub!Felix

Genre: Porn w/o plot, smut

Word count: 3.2k

College AU. Porn without plot. Lust at first sight. Strangers to lovers. Jeongin makes a cameo in the beginning as MC's best friend. Pleasure-dom reader. Submissive Felix. Mommy kink (Felix calls reader "mommy" once). Slight dacryphilia. Light orgasm denial. Reader uses nicknames like "good boy, kitten". Body worship. Blowjob (Male receiving). Corruption kink. Exhibitionism (sex in public). Y/N POV.

A/n: This is my first time writing a fic so be as brutal as you wish. Also, I'm not a native english speaker and I spell like a rake so grammatical errors and spelling errors are bound to be found. You have been warned. Enjoy!

Explicit content, adult themes, suitable for 18+ only.

This is an original work. Do not repost, re-upload or otherwise redistribute.

Last updated: April, 2025. (Spelling check)

"Thank you for cheering me up today. I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

You took an elongated sip from your americano, sighing in delight as you felt the icy liquid pass your tongue, temporarily relieving you from the blistering summer heat.

"You didn't leave me much of a choice now, did you?" Jeongin said as a playful smirk creeped up the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, Yeah?" You looked up with a raised eyebrow, taking a small break from the date with your iced americano.

"We both know you could never say 'no' to me." You flickered your eyebrows in a playful display of challenge, a satisfactory smile taking form on your plump lips.

Sighing in defeat, Jeongin leaned back into the soft leather cushions of the Cafe chair. Followed by a soft chuckle as he said,

"Yeah well, you got me there I guess. So how's the paper coming along?" Concern in his voice apparent, albeit unnecessary.

You knew he was referring to this semester's paper. And even though it started off as a fun and easy assignment, you had now hit the dreaded fictional wall. Apparently any topic could get you feeling bored and filled with anxiety, given lack of creativity.

A small bump in the road, you were sure. The typical cycle of creative progress. For inspiration surely is lucrative albeit a fleeting thing, and you suppose you would have to simply wait, until creativity decided to grace your mind with its presence once again.

Insert Jeongin and your eager request to meet him for coffee. You were best friends and had been since the second week of college. You had been late, as you usually were, running across campus with hurried steps in futile hopes of getting to the lecture hall before your professor.

That same morning, however, your sleep ridden brain failed to remember how to tie your shoelaces. Instead opting for the much faster approach of simply tucking said laces into the sides, between your shoe and your feet. Resulting in the typical sitcom fall-over-your-own-feet plot, successfully yeeting your body towards the ground at a horrifying speed.

Standing just a few feet away observing the borderline comical fall, Jeongin hurried over to you and asked if you were okay.

A quick visit to the nurses office, thanks to repeatedly insisting on Jeongin's part, you found yourself earning a sprained wrist along with your first college friend.

"Y/N?" Jeongin asked with slight concern.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I must've spaced out for a second. What was the question again?" You asked as you shook your head, slowly blinking your eyes, trying to snap back to reality.

"You seem stressed, are you okay?" He said as he leaned forward, taking your hands in his own.

"Nah, it's not as bad as it might appear. I think I just need to blow off some steam, you know?" You gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, thankful for his genuine concern.

"Some steam, ey?" Mischievous smile returning to his lips along with a playful eyebrow raise.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. I just need to have a night out with friends or something." You said, shaking off Jeongin's suggestive sarcasm.

Although you would have lied if you would have said that the thought of a steamy night with a stranger did not intrigue you.

To be completely honest with yourself, the thought alone made you clench around nothing. But where would you even find someone? On campus? Not a fucking chance.

***

With a huge smile on your lips, you waved goodbye to your friend, feeling somewhat relieved for the first time in a hot minute.

You took a deep breath, letting the scent of greenery and sunshine envelope your senses. You could feel your muscles slowly relaxing as you stretched your body, arms high above your head.

With a newly given optimism and drive, courtesy of your bff, you decided to take the opportunity to go to the campus library, in hopes of finding some additional inspiration for your paper.

Walking with slow, unhurried steps you went through the campus park, taking in the scenery around you, coming to a stop before the fountain placed in the center of the grounds.

You had always liked this fountain and the majestic water display it provided.

Taking a few minutes to admire the way the water elegantly sprayed from the unpolished steel structure. Your mood brightened by the way the droplets formed an array of colors in the sunlight, gleefully watching as they bounced playfully against the wet surface and reconnected with the marbled pool at the base.

Indeed, the soothing sound of water hitting the wet surface was your favorite. Surely nothing could be more relaxing than this.

Closing your eyes, you let the world disappear into the background as time seemingly came to a halt around you.

Ah, piece of mind...

You exhaled a deep breath with the feeling of an oncoming gentle, warm summer breeze.

The presence of another soul beside you, made you quickly snap back to reality however, effectively bursting the ethereal bubble you created with a loud 'pop'.

A hint of annoyance crossed your features, as you slowly cracked an eye open to see the person responsible.

Your annoyance was quickly replaced by sheer astonishment followed by a hushed gasp as your eyes took in the creature standing beside you. If you did not know any better, you would have sworn you were looking at an angel. He was long, muscular in built with broad shoulders and long, blond traces elegantly falling along his sharp jawline. Beautiful, wooden eyes and a galaxy of freckles displayed across rose tinted cheeks. He was staring ahead, at the fountain no doubt, seemingly oblivious to your less than stellar reaction to his visuals.

You forced yourself out of your trance. Feeling somewhat embarrassed by your blatant display of lack of self-control. You absent-mindedly looked at your watch trying to, unsuccessfully, appear unaffected by the stunning stranger.

"Shit!"

Your sudden exclamation startles the poor boy beside you, making his eyes follow you in confused horror as you took off sprinting towards the library, remembering your upcoming assignment deadline.

***

Time sure flies fast when you are looking at a whole God damn meal. Unfortunately time moves slower than a fucking snail when you are doing an assignment you do not have even the 10th of as much of an interest doing.

With the deadline for your paper being only a couple of weeks away, you felt the pressure of adulthood on you. With a sigh, you closed yet another book you found failed to provide you with the information you needed. Pushing back your chair, you got up to start the umpteenth round of browsing the many sections of the library.

You walked towards the deepest end of the library, the part reserved for professors who once or twice a year came to refresh their memory of some long forgotten trivia or, the occasional horny campus couple looking to spice up their sexual endeavors. You suppose it was the perfect place for privacy, given the lack of sunlight as well as the lack of efficient lighting of space. Leaving visitors with less than pleasant experience, at least if you were actually looking for something.

You went from hardback to hardback, squinting your eyes trying to decipher the titles, looking for that one book Jeongin said "will definitely help you".

Trolleys with books crammed the aisle, no doubt to the fault of the newly appointed campus librarian who always seemed to be more interested in hitting on whatever cute girl walked past, instead of actually doing his job. You made a mental note to remind him of his duties at a later time.

Without much attention spared to the snug space that surrounded you, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt as your face connected with something halfway through the giant bookshelf.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you" You said reflexively as you lifted your gaze to meet the person in front of you.

"No worries, mate" the deep voiced, blonde stranger replied, flashing an innocent smile that might as well have blinded you.

You instantly recognized him, and of course anyone would. The beauty of this man was unforgettable, to say the least. You were a bit taken aback by his deep voice, the depth of it unexpected, given his angelic face.

You gave a polite nod his way and he smiled as he returned to reading the book in his hands.

Not wanting to disturb his reading session, you quietly moved to get past him, to continue your search. The small passageway and seemingly endlessly littered books and trolleys making your efforts damn near impossible.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but I really need to get to the other side" you flashed an apologetic smile while pointing past the blonde with your finger as if the reason for you needing to get past him was not blithely clear already.

He followed the gesture of your hand, and quickly answered.

"Oh, Yeah. Of course, go ahead. Miss...?"

"Y/N." You quickly finished his sentence. "And you are..?"

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you Y/N." he smiled as he turned, pressing his body as tightly as he could against one of the bookshelves, signaling with his hands for you to go past him.

"Thank you." You said gratefully, adding a small head-bow. As you took a step closer, you angled your body, making pulling it flush against his, thinking it to be the lesser of two evils.

Your bodies painfully flushed together as you tried to wiggle your way past him and the unfortunately placed trolly, that for whatever reason seemed to be welded to the floor. His hands moved to hold the sides of your t-shirt in an attempt to help stabilize your steps.

His cologne engulfed your senses with the close proximity, making you clench around nothing as you could feel wetness starting to form between your legs as your body unconsciously moved an inch closer to the man in front of you.

You dared a glance at him, pleasantly surprised at the sight you were met with.

Felix's cheeks had flushed a pink hue, eyes closed in an apparent attempt at self-restraint, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Cute...

Your body moved as if on cue, your mind not even registering your movements before your hands made contact with the flushed blonde before you, tracing feather light, experimental touches across the sides of his torso, gliding up to settle on the pecks of his chest. His grip on your shirt tightened as a barely audible whimper escaped his lips.

The delighted smirk on your face met by his surprised one. Seemingly unable to register the sound that had previously escaped him.

"I- I'm Sorry..." he cleared his throat, embarrassed eyes turning away as his small voice trailed off mid-sentence.

Perfect...

A wicked smile on your lips, you leaned into his ear and whispered,

"That's one hell of a delicious sound you got there, Kitten" you leaned back to look at him as his eyes snapped back to meet yours, unsure if he had heard you right.

Your lustful eyes made him swallow thickly. You felt his cock twitch against your core and the color of his cheeks turned from pink to a deep crimson, spreading all the way to his ears. You licked your lips. His breath hitching in anticipation as you moved to close the distance between you.

You raised your hands to cup his burning cheeks, trapping him in a passionate kiss, taking away whatever little resolve he had as he melted into your touch.

One hand taking a firm grip of the roots of his hair, gently pulling him back, deepening the kiss, the other tracing down his chest, past his chiseled abs, stopping at the apparent bulge to stroke some much needed relief over his strained core. The sound of wet kisses and whimpers filling the tight space between bookshelves.

You broke the kiss to give room for a much needed oxygen boost. Your lungs desperately deprived of air, and by the looks of it, you were not the only one. Felix was panting helplessly, pleading eyes begging you not to stop.

"Tell me what you want" voice hushed and sultry, devilish eyes meeting his hooded ones. Felix broke eye contact, seemingly embarrassed of the thought of voicing his desires. You pressed your chest to his, your warm breath making him shutter as it fanned over the shell of his ear.

"Use your words Kitten, and I'll make you feel real good, yeah?"

Moving slowly downward, you let your tongue taste his neck before leaving a trail of wet kisses along his collarbone.

You unbuttoned his pants, letting your hand slip inside the leathery material. Teasingly stroking his length as you coaxed the boy to speak.

"I want to... ah... t-touch you." he finally mustered between staggered breaths. His husky, submissive tone sent a shot of electricity straight to your core, making your cunt throb.

"If you want to touch me, you'll have to

earn it, Kitten." Crouching down to your knees, you placed your hands on the back of his thighs. Stroking reassuring circles with your thumbs before teasing digits followed the outline of his clothed muscles, stopping by the hem of his pants.

You swiftly removed the piece of clothing, freeing his cock with a slight bounce and left the fabric to pool around his ankles.

His breath clung to his lungs, turning into a relieved moan as he felt you wrap your hand around his base, gently gripping him. His muscles tensed beneath your hand as you applied a bit more pressure. You kept eye contact with him as you reached out to taste his twitching cock. Going base to tip in one painfully slow drag with your hot, wet tongue, you eventually shut your eyes. A satisfied hum escaped your throat as the salty precum connected with your taste buds.

As you opened your eyes to reap the fruits of your labor, you felt his member twitch expectantly in your hands as your eyes met. Hooded eyes filled with lustful anticipation, his body trembled with your every touch in the most delicious display of sinful submission.

Oh, what a delectable scene to behold.

You moved to grip the hem of his shirt pulling it upwards, exposing his sculpture abs with it. You took your time admiring the way his honey glossed skin prickled as you applied feather light kisses to them. He really must have been hand crafted by Venus herself. His waist was slim, shoulder wide. He was not just pretty, he was gorgeous. You had to mentally slap yourself to keep yourself focused.

"Here Kitten, be a good boy and hold this in your mouth for me." Felix wasted no time following your command, his hand trembled as he reached to take the fabric out of your way.

"Words Kitten..." you commanded, voice low and hushed.

"Y-yes, Mommy" he breathlessly stifled out as he placed the fabric between his teeth.

The sudden impromptu nickname surprised you.

It was an unexpected answer to say the least, albeit not entirely unwelcome. You would not have guessed he had it in him based on your first impression of him, but then again, you would not have guessed him to be this submissive either, so you supposed you should not be so taken aback by it. You should never judge a book by its cover after all.

You scuffed. A subtle pleased smirk gracing your features before responding to his enthusiasm with a faint,

"Good boy."

You wrapped your plump lips around his length, slowly lowering yourself over him, swirling your tongue around the tip as you went down.

You moved your hand to cup his balls, gently playing with them before you started to apply gentle pressure, stroking the underside of his length.

"I-I can't... ah... so.. so good!" Subtle beads of pleasure starting to form at the corners of his eyes.

Felix leaned his head back against the heavy bookshelf as his hands gently fell to the top of your head, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. He offered no pressure, no aim to guide your movements. His shaky hands only set out to find a place of rest in a desperate attempt to ground himself. His hips squirmed helplessly with the building pleasure of the tortuous assault of your mouth to his core.

You let his cock fall out of your mouth with a noticeable 'pop' and Felix looked like he was ready to do the same. His hands were trembling as he desperately tried to hold on to what little sanity he had left.

"No cumming now, Kitten. You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you?" Your hands continued to teasingly stroke his cock as you spoke, making it difficult for the poor boy to form a coherent answer.

"I-... ah.. I can't..." gentle tears blurred his vision. He could feel the unsought of his release creeping menacingly close, as he struggled to get away from your touch, not wanting the pleasure to end.

You quickly released your grip of him and watched him whimper as the sudden inaction chased his high away. His chest heaved with want, its color matching the flush of his pretty star sprinkled cheeks as he tried to break through the fog of unadulterated bliss.

"P-please.." Felix managed to let out between sobs, voice small and pleading. Bringing your tongue back to the tip of his cock, you teased him with small, wet Kitten licks before taking the length of him into your mouth. You bobbed your head in a hurried fashion, feeling his soft head bouncing off the back of your throat.

Felix moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, making the shirt fall from his mouth. He quickly replaced it with his fist in a desperate, albeit futile, attempt to hold back screams while the other gripped his shirt anew, unable to handle the pleasure your mouth conditioned him with.

His beautiful moans and hitched breaths spurring you on as you quickened your ministries. You could feel the wetness dripping from your neglected sex, unable to deny the effects his pleas had on you.

"Cum for me Kitten" you said breathlessly, before returning to suck on his length with newly found determination.

That was seemingly all the permission Felix needed, making his walls of fragile attempt to restrain come crashing down before your very eyes. Cumming with the most deliciously sinful broken moans you had ever heard.

His orgasm sent electricity flowing through every nerve, muscles flexing and relaxing by their own accord as pearls of sweat dripped from his temples, down to his chiseled pecs. White flashes of hot bliss washing over him in waves. Cock twitching violently, coating your mouth with stripes of warm, delectable release.

You sucked him through his high, making sure to milk every last drop of his essence before swallowing, unwilling to let any of his delicious nectar go to waste.

You stood from your kneeling position, legs a tad shaky from the tiring position and carpeted concrete. You used your thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, before licking it clean.

Felix looked at your suggestive move, lingering chock and exhaustion from his intensive release, apparent on his stunning features.

He looked like he was going to cum again, cock unrelentingly hard, twitching as a result of your blatant display of insatiable lust.

"Thanks for the meal, Kitten." You winked before leaving to get your things.

What the fuck did I just do?

***

Thank you so much for reading my fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it by reblogging and liking my post. Be sure to let me know if you'd like a part two.

Stay dark my friends.

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fangirlwriting-stories · 2 months ago

Text

Stanley Pines’ Quick and Easy Guide for how to Avert an Apocalypse

Summary: Stanley Pines is the last person to label himself as the guy to save the world. Especially because the world is so fucked at this point, no one can do it. He stopped believing it possible about half an hour after he witnessed a giant yellow triangle take a bite out of the planet— yeah, he has no idea either, thanks.

He plans for the maybe-week the world has left to stick to feasible goals, like “eat one last meal,” and “don’t die until you get to do it yourself.” But just as the second of those is about to fall through, he’s grabbed by a man with a weird tape measure, whisked off to another time, and told that none of this is supposed to have happened. And that they’re apparently trusting the fate of the world to… him?

They insist that he’s the guy for the job, apparently based on exactly how the triangle got the chance to end the world in the first place. It was, according to them, one idiotic schmuck who let himself get conned. They just need Stan to kill the guy before that happens.

And, sure. It’s not like Stan’s life could get any more insane than it already has. Who do they need him to kill exactly?

…Who do they need him to kill, exactly?

Author's Note: This is the story I tried so hard to avoid writing, but it would. not. stop. bugging me. So here you all go. I'm very glad to have written it and I had a ton of fun with it, which always ends up being the case. It's fully completed at this point, so I will post an update every other Saturday.

Additionally, all the credit to Rayish, who helped beta parts of this story and rubber duck with me when I was really stuck. Find her blog here!

Masterlist

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The thing about the end of the world, is that it takes its time.

Stan’s known this for ages. Getting dumped by Carla wasn’t the end of the world. Watching her fall for some hippie loser was the end of the world. Damaging Ford’s perpetual motion machine wasn’t the end of the world. Him showing up the next night, furious and hating Stan, was the end of the world. Even getting kicked out wasn’t the end of the world. The slow spiraling realization that he wasn’t worth anything and would never get to go back was the end of the world.

And a giant triangle appearing out of nowhere to draw a smiley face across the North American continent and then taking a bite out of half the planet wasn’t the end of the world— although admittedly, it is a little more flashy than all of Stan’s previous examples.

No, the end of the world came in the days after.

The resulting natural disasters, from volcanic eruptions and horrendous earthquakes to the mantle of the earth starting to spill out onto the crust. The ensuing panic and desperation of all of the people unlucky enough to survive the original attack. Stan was one, because of course he was. The universe could never be so kind as to give him an easy death.

Ma and Pa might be alive too. He isn’t sure. New Jersey is far enough away from the original “bite zone” that they might have made it out, if they weren’t in the area crushed by the smiley face.

God, this is a weird apocalypse.

It’s also possible, however, that both of them are gone, because if they were visiting either of Stan’s brothers, they would be.

Shermie, in California.

Ford, in Oregon.

Neither of them stood a chance.

Not that it matters either way. Stan wouldn’t be able to get to New Jersey, for numerous reasons.

First of all, he’d starve to death before he’d get there, as all available resources vanished before most people could think about them, whether from natural causes or looting and hoarding. Any kind of official communication died around the same time, not that Stan would have listened to it anyway. The streets turned into a hellscape that matched up to the canyons left from whatever part of the smiley face hadn’t been bitten off. There were even more thugs and shady figures about than Stan was used to having to deal with.

And of course, there’s the fact that Filbrick Pines is absolutely stubborn enough to not have “the end of the world” on his list of reasons to let Stan back into the house.

No, Stan is on his own for however long his life lasts. Or, well, almost on his own. Because the apocalypse couldn’t seem to throw Stan a bone after killing almost every person he still gave a shit about.

Nope, the thing hadn’t even managed to take Rico off his plate. Despite the fact that most of his goons split as soon as they all watched the end of the world go down together, Stan is still running from the man himself. What on the half-earth that’s left Rico could possibly hope to get from Stan now is anyone’s guess. Before the apocalypse, he got it. He wanted the money Stan owed him. But there’s no use for money now, and there’ll be even less of one as time continues to run out. Any sensible person would lie down and die.

Except Rico isn’t a sensible person, and when it comes down to it, Stan isn’t either. He still ran, after all. He’s not sure he knows how to do anything else but try to survive. It’s all he’s known these past ten years. He can’t shut it off just because— god, what the hell had happened? No one had been able to explain it, and no one ever would at this rate. Because while Stan may not be a scientist like Ford, he sure does know how to bet on long odds, and given the current ones they’ve got, he gives the world a week and a half, tops.

So, with the long life expectancy of next Thursday to look forward to, everything else he could possibly value now meaning nothing, and zero chance to get past the smile-canyons and back to whatever might have been left of his family, Stan is doing the only thing he can think of to prolong his life. And that’s head right for the end of the earth.

Maybe if he gets close enough to the point where the planet drops off into the mantle, Rico will leave him alone. And then he’ll… fuck if he knows. Sit back and watch everything crumble until it takes him with it, probably.

The part of this plan that really sucks, however, is that Stan can’t drive a car all the way to the edge of the world. He’s known for a couple hundred miles now that his time with the Stanleymobile is limited, and when the sky catches fire, he’s finally forced to leave it at the side of the road.

Well, it’s not the sky’s fault, exactly, though the smoke doesn’t help with visibility. The main problem is the potholes. They’d been getting worse and worse for a while, and now he’s stopped just before a stretch of road with too many large holes and broken and crumbled sections that he can’t see a way to get through.

Stan lets the car shudder to a stop just in front of the first hole he can’t force his car over, then sighs and shuts off the ignition. He slips the keys in his pocket as a memento.

He starts to push open the car door, and immediately pauses to cough his way through the terrible quality of the air outside. It’s about the same as the air around Pa when he could afford cigars, except about a hundred times worse. Long-term, it’s probably not great to breathe in, but Stan isn’t too worried about lung cancer these days.

After he manages to adjust to the smoke, he pushes the car door the rest of the way open and steps out onto what’s left of the highway he’s been traveling down. He can see the ruined remains of a city ahead of him. Given how much of New Mexico was bitten off, and how close he’s actually able to get to the part that was, it’s probably Roswell. There are worse places to reach the end of the line.

California, for instance.

Or Oregon.

Stan turns back to the Stanleymobile, and pats her a couple of times on the steering wheel. “You did good,” he says, because he has to say something. It’s too monumentous of a moment to leave to silence. The Stanleymobile has been all he’s had for the past decade, he can’t just leave her without thanking her for all she’s done for him.

He reaches out to close the door, then hesitates for another moment. There’s not much in the car worth taking. He’s got his knuckle dusters in his pocket, and has had them there for long before the world ended. He stopped and grabbed that squirrel that had fallen on the windshield a couple dozen miles back, dead from either smoke inhalation or starvation. It’ll make for a good— well, it’ll make for a last meal. There’s bound to be a fire somewhere in the city for him to cook it with, even if it’s just an already-lit pile of rubble.

But that’s about it. Pretty much everything else in the car is trash that came from before the world ended, or products that are now even more useless. Everything except…

Stan pulls the driver’s side visor down. The photo of him and Ford boxing isn’t in very good shape. Not that it was in great shape before, but it was in “hasn’t been through an apocalypse” shape. If he takes it with him, it’ll probably get crushed or burnt or otherwise lost. It definitely won’t stay in this “good” of shape.

But the other option is to leave it in the Stanleymobile, to not carry it with him. Abandon Ford’s memory to a car on the side of the road.

Both of his brothers are dead, and he doesn’t have any photos of Shermie. This is the best he can do.

Stan reaches out and pulls the photo gently off the visor. He tucks the strips of tape that held it there around to the back of the photo rather than risk tearing it pulling them off. He puts the photo in his jacket next to his knuckle dusters, takes a deep breath, pauses to cough through the smoke, and then starts picking his way through the remains of the road in front of him.

Now that he’s not trying to peer through both smoke and a filthy windshield, it’s slightly easier to see. There’s a couple other cars abandoned on the crumbling road, but none of them are worth trying to hotwire. Either the car itself is too destroyed, or the road around it is. The city in front of him is a mess of crumbling and collapsing buildings. It doesn’t look like there were a ton of skyscrapers in the first place, but what is still there would hardly count anymore. The air smells strongly of smoke and fire, and the sky is bright red to match. There looks to be some burnt-out shells of trees just inside the city limits, to contrast with the desert Stan’s been driving through. The state of them ruins any hope of finding water here, but he had some yesterday, and this is going to be his final stop one way or another.

Stan picks his way around the cars as he tries to plan out his next move. He doesn’t expect to find many people alive in the city, except for Rico, if he doesn’t give up and finally leave Stan to his own devices. Stan doesn’t know how likely that is. Rico might not be a sensible person, but he’s always had goons to do most of his work for him. Stan’s not sure if he’s enough of a risk taker to keep following him here.

It’s probably safer to keep acting as If he is, though. And that means the first thing Stan needs to do is get rid of this squirrel.

The building rubble doesn’t seem too bad as Stan reaches the edge of the city, though he’d wager a bet it’s worse in the center of downtown. That’s also probably where he’s going to have to go to find a fire secluded enough that Rico won’t find it, though, so he starts to make his way around the rubble that’s there, which is easy enough for now. There’s some pieces he has to climb over, but most of the concrete he can walk around, and the holes aren’t deep enough that he has to climb down into them, just step.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize the real problem, however, that being that very quickly once he starts into the city he has to hold his sleeve over his mouth to prevent coughing from all of the smoke. There’s not a chance he’s going to be able to make it to the center of the city. He’ll have to find something on fire around here or find one of the tree husks and start one. And given that most of the smoke seems to be coming from closer to the center of the city, the second option is probably his best.

Lighting a fire might as well be lighting up a giant neon sign that says to Rico “Here I am!”, but if he does it fast enough he might be able to eat the squirrel and find a space to hide. And he really needs to eat the squirrel. He ran out of food in his car almost three days ago, he has to eat something soon.

Stan casts his gaze around until he finds a decently large tree sitting on the side of the road. It’s hollowed out and looks very dry, so he’ll have to be careful enough when starting the fire to leave himself an easy escape route, but it’ll serve his purposes just fine.

Stan pulls out his knuckle dusters as he walks over towards the tree, but then pauses for a second and sets them back in his pocket. He reaches up and yanks one of the still-intact branches down, long enough that he can cook the squirrel at a distance. He sets it down behind him, then grabs another to use as a piece of kindling. He pulls his knuckle dusters back out, then flicks one of them against the concrete below him a couple times until he gets sparks, aiming them for the second branch. After a couple tries, it catches, and he picks it up and sets it inside the tree husk. It doesn’t take long for the whole thing to catch, but it looks like it’s going to burn bright and fast, so Stan steps back just far enough to stick the squirrel onto the first branch he grabbed, then holds it out over the fire like he’s roasting a marshmallow.

He has no idea what a properly cooked squirrel looks like, but it’s not like he has to worry too much about long term effects. It just has to be edible.

The fire is burning up fast, however, so after a minute or so, Stan decides to cook the squirrel the way Ma likes to do marshmallows— catch it on fire.

The smell of cooking meat hits his nose as soon as the squirrel catches, and Stan takes as deep a breath as he dares with all the smoke around, savouring it for just a moment. It’s not going to take too before the squirrel will be tough and black if he doesn’t get rid of the fire. But he doubts blowing on it like a marshmallow is going to work in this case, so instead he waves the stick back and forth harshly until the fire goes out, then blows the final remaining embers onto the ground below him.

Alright then, food acquired. He should probably pick a new location to eat it, though.

He picks his knuckle dusters up from the ground and slips them back into his pocket, then walks past the fire, aiming for a good hiding spot that isn’t too close to the center of the city.

Finally, he finds a spot where he can lean against a building that looks stable enough to not fall down, and sits back against it. He pulls one of the legs of the squirrel and takes a bite. It’s small enough that his teeth hit the bone, and it certainly doesn’t taste like it was cooked at a five star restaurant, but it’s the first food he’s had in days, and the first cooked food he’s had in who knows how long. Stan can’t quite help a pleased groan at the taste, closing his eyes to savor it.

He should really know better than to do things like that.

“There you are, Hal.”

Stan’s eyes snap open, and he’s on his feet before he even knows where Rico is. A second later he spots him, standing at the entrance to the street, knife in hand. Honestly, come on. He can’t bring a knife to a knuckle dusters fight.

Stan’s not doubting his chances too much, however, because Rico has definitely looked better. The hand gripping the knife isn’t exactly holding it steady, and his legs look like they’re about to collapse out from under him. While the idea of seeing Rico like this would have made him laugh a couple weeks ago, Stan isn’t too surprised to see it now. He doubts Rico has had as much experience as him dealing with hunger, being the head of a formly-very-scary drug empire. Prison probably helped, but it’s been a while since then, and going three days without food isn’t a skill you can pick right back up. Stan’s been working on his skillset in that regard for over a decade, thank you very much.

The thought strikes him, a little incredible— he could beat Rico. He might be able to kill him, right here and now, and then enjoy his squirrel in peace. And man, is the idea tempting. Rico has put him through a lot. If the apocalypse hadn’t happened, he’d probably still be trying to run from him, panicking about a debt he has no hope of paying back, a debt that could not matter less now. Rico would still have hoards of goons at his disposal, most of whom Stan doesn’t know by name, all of whom would kill him without a second thought, either to impress Rico or to pay down debts of their own. Stan has a literal knife scar in his back from Rico. He has a set of poorly made dentures that work just as well as he needs them to and not any better. He has a slew of bad memories and nightmares that he doubts are ever going away. The idea of getting to pay Rico back for all of that is… well, shit.

It’s strangely disappointing.

What the hell would he get for it now? A week and a half of struggling through hell trying to find another malnourished squirrel to cook? Dammit, Rico. How do you manage to take the fun out of killing you?

“Rico, come on,” Stan says anyway, because if he’s not going to kill him he really doesn’t want to fight him. “What are you even going to get out of this?”

“How about that food you’re hoarding for yourself,” Rico growls, taking a shaky step forward.

Stan pulls off another leg and the tail and then leans the stick the rest of the squirrel is sitting on against the building next to him.

“Come share it with me,” he says, which feels patently insane, but he says it anyway.

Rico seems to think it’s insane too, judging by the slight hysteria that takes over his face. Stan takes a couple steps back away from the squirrel, so Rico knows he won’t try to jump him when he gets close. He puts his hands up, holding nothing but the parts of the squirrel he took for himself. He even left Rico the majority of the meat, which is just unfair, but Rico would definitely try to argue for more if he didn’t.

For a long moment, the two of them just look at each other. Rico’s always been good with evaluating people just like Stan is. Stan can’t help but wonder what’s going through his head. Not much is going through his, except for how tired he is and how much he just wants to sit and eat the squirrel and how little he wants to fight about it.

“Come on,” Stan says. “You can stay over there, I’ll stay over here. Just— just sit with me.”

Rico watches him for another long pause. Finally, though he doesn’t lower the knife, he takes a small step towards the stick on the building. Stan doesn’t move or lower his hands until he reaches it, and picks it up. He peers at Stan suspiciously, then looks back at the squirrel.

“How did you guess,” Stan deadpans, because he knows what Rico is thinking. “I poisoned just the top of it in the seconds after I sat down, with my giant supply of poison that I’ve acquired during the apocalypse.” As if to prove his point, he takes another bite of the squirrel leg he’d been eating before.

Rico huffs, like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the good point Stan’s made. But finally, after another second, he sits down with the stick.

Stan feels the tension in his shoulders rush out of them, more than a little amazed that worked. He sits down right where he’s standing, and goes back to eating the squirrel leg, though he doesn’t close his eyes again this time.

It doesn’t take long before he realizes the other problem with this plan, however, that being that sitting across from Rico and trying to calmly eat a meal isn’t really something he can just do. Rico seems to all but attack the part of the squirrel he was given, not really seeming to want to savor it like Stan is with his, and watching him do that is both bizarre and unsettling. In the end, Stan keeps the majority of his gaze on his own meat and his peripheral view on Rico, and works his way through one squirrel leg, then the second.

Rico doesn’t say much, which is probably good, because Stan can’t think of much the two of them would have to talk about. What is he supposed to say to the guy who’s wanted him dead for ages? “Hey, how are you handling the apocalypse?” The answer is written in his shaking legs and the desperation in his eyes that Stan hasn’t seen since they were escaping prison together.

Maybe this is where Rico’s at too, though, because as Stan continues eating, the tension slowly seems to drain out of the air around them. When he casts a glance back up at Rico, he finds him eating his meat and not paying Stan much attention at all.

For a moment, the hysteria of the situation gets to him. He’s sitting surrounded by burning rubble, eating meat from a malnourished squirrel, with Rico of all people. A laugh bubbles up in Stan’s throat, and he just barely manages to swallow it down.

It’s after Stan finishes the second leg, however, that his luck takes another turn, one he probably should have seen coming. Rico stands up, and Stan does too before he even really processes what’s happening, gaze flicking to him. Rico’s got his knife back out.

“Give me the tail,” he says.

Yeah. Figures.

Stan looks down at the tail, trying to debate how little he wants to fight versus how hungry he still is. Apparently his second of debate is a second too long however, because Rico starts for him with the knife.

“Oh, come on, man,” Stan says, stepping backwards. But it doesn’t matter at this point. Rico’s either going to kill him and take the tail, or take the tail when Stan gives it to him, then go right back to killing him afterwards.

And, well. Stan’s hungry.

So he shoves the entire tail in his mouth, trying to chew past the less pleasant texture of the tail fur, and slips his hands into his pockets for his knuckle dusters.

Rico gives a cry of desperate rage, and sprints right at him.

Stan dives to the side just in time to avoid the knife and swallows the last bit of the squirrel. Running back the way he came isn’t going to do any good. At this point, it’s pretty clear Rico isn’t going to be outrun. Stan’s going to have to fight him, and see what happens.

He turns to face Rico as he runs back at him again, and ducks under the knife before bringing his left hook up against Rico’s jaw. The knuckle dusters clang against bone, and Rico cries out and stumbles back.

Stan aims another fist for the side of his head, but Rico manages to take a couple extra steps back with his stumble, leaving Stan’s fist to hit empty air.

Rico takes another swing with his knife, and Stan takes another step to the side. He aims again for Rico’s head, but Rico sees him coming this time.

He steps far enough away to leave Stan stumbling for a minute, which gives Rico time to make it behind him.

Stan feels a rough grab at his arm, and aims a blind elbow back behind him. He hits something, though he hears more of a muffled grunt instead of a cry of pain, and the arm doesn’t let go.

So instead, he switches gears and spins himself around, twisting his arm but allowing him to see where Rico is at least. Just in time, it seems, because Rico’s knife is coming straight for Stan’s head.

Stan manages to duck just far enough to avoid it, though his wrist starts to protest.

Stan aims his free hand upwards as the knife passes over his head, but Rico’s grip on it is too tight for his knuckle dusters to knock it away.

Rico’s arm now hovers unnaturally over Stan’s, which gives Stan just long enough to aim a right kick at Rico’s arm. Unfortunately, it doesn’t hit as hard as he’d like, and Rico has too much time to tighten his grip again.

Stan spins back around before Rico can yank him closer, which gets rid of his visual but untwists his arm, and aims another elbow behind him, this one higher and towards where he remembers the face.

He hits what feels like a nose with a loud crack, and Rico cries out in pain. But instead of letting go, he brings the knife back around from his other side, and Stan feels a large slice across the back of his elbow.

He bites down on his own cry and dodges the knife’s return blow for his face. It whistles as it passes over his nose.

He can all but see Rico swinging the knife back around towards his neck, but his attempt to knock it out of his hand didn’t go well, and his elbows to the face haven’t lessened the grip on his arm.

Stan throws his head back against Rico’s face, a final attempt to get him to let go if he hits his nose again. But Rico must lean his head back just far enough to avoid it, because all that happens is Stan’s neck snaps painfully.

Rico’s other hand grabs his hair and he’s yanked back into Rico’s chest, where he does not want to be, he’s not going to make it out of here like this.

He leans forward, preparing to try and snap his head back again, but the knife is coming too fast towards his throat, and Stan has just enough time to process that this might be it, he might be ducking out of the apocalypse a week and a half early, but instead something far more strange happens.

Out of nowhere, a muscular man in ugly black and gray armor with bright green gloves appears in front of both him and Rico.

Clearly neither of them were expecting it, because they both give twin noises of surprise, and Rico changes the direction of his knife. The man, however, does not seem at all interested in Rico, and instead reaches out and grabs Stan by his free arm.

Before Stan can even attempt to figure out how the hell to fight two guys when he was barely handling one, the man grabs something attached to his belt. It looks sort of like a gun, but far more futuristic looking than Stan’s ever seen.

He aims it at Rico’s arm and fires, and to Stan’s horror, the entire arm disintegrates and the knife clatters to the ground.

Rico shrieks, animalistic and pained, and doesn’t stop.

The man, however, doesn’t react except to grab Stan and yank him forward, away from Rico. All of Stan’s instincts start screaming run, despite how little that will likely matter in a couple seconds, but before he can even try, the man grabs something else from his belt. Is that a tape measure?

The man lets go of Stan momentarily, pulls the tape measure out almost as far as it seems to go, and then reaches forward to grab Stan’s arm again.

He hits something on top of the tape measure, and everything around them vanishes all at once.

…

Stan immediately tries to wrench his arm away, and is surprised to find no resistance as he does so. In fact, the man from before, still there, just lets him pull free and take a couple steps back, not seeming to object in the slightest.

“What— what the hell,” Stan snaps, hands going up in front of his face, as if they’re going to do anything against the futuristic laser gun whatever thing that just disintegrated Rico’s arm. “Who are you? Where am I? What’s—”

“Stanley, please, calm down,” comes a new voice. “We can explain everything.”

Stanley.

“No one’s supposed to know that name,” Stan snaps, though he doesn’t take his gaze off the first guy with the laser gun. “Rico doesn’t know that name. Who are you?”

“I’m happy to explain everything,” says the new voice. “Just please, lower your hands and talk with us for a bit.”

“Not until that gun gets put away,” Stan snaps, keeping his gaze firmly on the first guy. Now that he’s not running from a knife, he notices he’s wearing what looks like a name tag that says “Lolph,” which, what kind of name is that?

Either way, Lolph sighs, lowers his gun, and straps it back to his belt. Stan narrows his eyes slightly. He wasn’t expecting him to actually do that.

“Alright, there,” the new voice says, a note of attempted soothing in his voice that Stan isn’t particularly a fan of. “Guns are away. Can we talk now?”

Stan glares at Lolph for another couple seconds before finally casting his gaze around at the rest of where he’s ended up.

There’s not a ton of fun aspects to the room. It looks more like a holding cell, which, to be fair, could very well be where he is. The room is featureless and dark, with the only things there being three chairs to his right, himself and the two men in ugly armor, and a square table in between the chairs. Lolph stands opposing Stan, with his gun and tape measure both clipped to his belt, and some weird green eye piece that looks like suspiciously like a gun scope. He doesn’t look particularly happy to be there. On the other side of the chairs stands the other agent. His name tag reads “Dundgren.” He’s got dark skin, as opposed to Lolph’s pale variety. He’s got a green eye piece too, and a scar on his other eye. He’s got the same gun, tape measure, and muscles as Lolph, but he’s done all the talking so far, and he’s holding a third of those tape measure things, so Stan’s willing to bet he’s the one in charge.

Stan levels his gaze back at him, trying to gauge what his intentions are. “Where are we, and why did you bring me here?” he asks.

“Well, I would hope that latter answer would be fairly obvious,” Dundgren says, raising an eyebrow. “You were about to die.”

Stan scoffs and crosses his arms. “No I wasn’t,” he says, aiming for an “overconfident idiot” tone.

A lot of people have been about to die lately. Stan hasn’t heard of a sudden rise in guardian angels with teleporting tape measures.

Dundgren gives Stan an unamused look. “The man was aiming a knife at your neck. An injury like that in your time period is a death sentence.”

“Please, I almost had him.” In his time period?

Dundgren rolls his eyes, and a little bit of the tension in his shoulders vanishes. Good. Let your guard down.

“As for the first question,” Dundgren continues. “That’s a little more complicated.”

“Great,” Stan says, walking over towards one of the chairs— the one alone on its side of the square table, clearly meant for him. He plops down in it, then kicks his feet up on the table and folds his hands behind his head. “You don’t mind if I sit then, do you? I haven’t gotten a chance to relax in a while.”

“No, please,” Dundgren says, though Stan can hear the subtle disgust in his voice. Likely at the dirt Stan is now getting all over the table. On the other side of the room, Lolph makes less of an effort to hide his disapproval, and lets out an exasperated sigh.

After a second, however, both of them walk forward and take the two chairs on the opposite side of the table.

“Alright,” Dundgren says. “There isn’t really a way to ease into this. You’re not in your own time anymore.”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me Lolphy here came and grabbed me and we time traveled, yeah?”

Both of them seem surprised.

“Well, yes,” Dundgren says. “Usually people are more shocked.”

“Don’t call me Lolphy,” Lolph mutters.

“Buddy, not too long ago a giant nacho chip took a bite out of the planet,” Stan says, ignoring Lolph’s comment. “At this point I’m leaving everything on the table.”

Both of them at least have the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Well, yes,” Dundgren says again. “You’re in what we call a time pocket, it’s a place time agents can go outside of the normal time stream if the period they’re trying to reach is unavailable for some reason. But to get back to the Bill Cipher incident—”

“Who?”

Dundgren grimaces. “The giant nacho chip,” he says, with some difficulty.

Stan snorts. “Yeah, I figured, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Dundgren gives him an unamused look.

“Come on, man, go easy on me,” Stan says. “I’ve been dealing with an apocalypse. What about the nacho chip?”

“None of that was supposed to happen,” Lolph says, sounding frustrated. “Can we get on with this explanation?”

Dundgren shoots him a look, and Stan pulls his hands out from behind his head, attention officially piqued.

“What do you mean ‘none of that was supposed to happen?’” he asks.

Dundgren sighs. “Well, suffice to say Lolph and I are from more than nine days into the future, which is how long your current timeline has left.”

Stan tries very hard not to show anything on his face. “Huh,” he says, “neat.”

Lolph does not seem particularly fond of that response. Stan does not particularly care. He doesn’t want to know how long he has left. He’d wanted to live in blissful ignorance while he tried to gather up the courage to take care of himself first. Thanks a lot, asshole future guys.

“How does that not bother you?” Lolph snaps. “Do you have any idea how much is riding on you?”

Stan plans to shoot back some kind of comment that he stopped being bothered after he’d finished hyperventilating the first time, the day after the apocalypse started. Instead, his attention is immediately drawn to Dundgren, who’s giving Lolph an extremely frustrated look.

So something important is riding on him, then.

Well, he could think of a couple better options they should have picked first.

“Why would I?” he says, putting his hands carelessly behind his head again. “Neither of you have actually bothered to explain anything.”

“We’re getting there,” Dundgren says, sounding significantly more tense. “The point is no, the apocalypse that you’ve been living through was not supposed to have happened. We were in a time pocket like this when the anomaly occurred, so we have a chance to fix it, even though the future we came from is technically gone. We are reaching out to you in an attempt to stop the apocalypse from occurring.”

Stan coughs out a surprised laugh. “Me?” he asks. “Interesting choice.”

“Are you saying you won’t do it?” Lolph snaps.

“Yeesh, calm down, Lolphy. Didn’t say anything of the sort.” Stan glances over at Dundgren and rolls his eyes, as if to say, “This guy, right?”

Dundgren does not seem amused.

“Look, I’m not saying I wouldn’t be willing to help, necessarily,” Stan says. “I get it. End of the world and all that. Generally bad. But what makes you think I can do anything? That Bill guy was so huge that I doubt he could even, you know, see me trying to stop him.”

“The apocalypse was not caused by Bill Cipher,” Dundgren says.

Stan blinks at him. “Uh. Did you guys, like, read the timeline screwup wrong? ‘Cause he’s the one who ate everything.”

Dundgren sighs, and looks back at Stan. The calculating he’s doing is obvious on his face.

“If left to his own devices,” he says slowly. “Bill would not have been able to invade this dimension at all.”

This dimension? Implying other dimensions? Stan would ask for a second to wrap his head around that one, but Dundgren is already continuing to talk. So, other dimensions. Sure, why not.

“The fact that he was able to was due entirely to the help of one man, who he tricked into building a gateway into this dimension.”

“That— wait,” Stan says. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re telling me the entire apocalypse was caused by one idiot who let himself get conned?”

“Yes,” Dundgren says plainly.

Stan opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. And this time, at least, Dundgren seems willing to let him process, which is good, because Stan needs to.

One person. A single individual ended the entire world. That’s… well, that’s just unfair on a number of levels.

It’s not like Stan doesn’t know how cons work. You can convince people to do some pretty stupid things. Hell, he’s convinced people to do some pretty stupid things before. But there’s usually a point, a line you have to be careful not to cross, or you give it all away. You have to learn how to walk that line of not coming off to a victim as too good to be true, or too obviously trying to screw them over. You have to make sure you sound believable.

And hey, call Stan crazy, but he would have thought most people’s lines stopped before “the end of the fucking world.”

Or at least, he would have thought that before now.

Stan pulls his feet off the table, and drops them onto the floor in front of him. He lowers his hands to his lap, and runs them along his legs.

“Well,” he says. “I guess a conveniently timed bus would have saved everyone a lot of grief, huh.”

“Funny you bring that up,” Lolph says, only to earn another ‘shut up’ look from Dundgren.

Stan narrows his eyes slightly. “What do you mean?”

Dundgren looks back at him, clearly searching for very specific words.

“We were hoping,” he says finally. “That you could help us create a conveniently timed bus situation.”

“You want me to kill the guy?” Stan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Stan narrows his eyes again. “What other manner of speaking is there? You want me to kill the guy.”

Dundgren sighs. “Yes. It is the easiest and most reliable way to prevent all of this.”

Stan looks from Dundgren to Lolph and back, but doesn’t find any more answers on either of their faces. “Why me?” he asks.

“Our options are… limited,” Dundgren says. Stan looks at him for a minute, but he doesn’t say anything else. He could easily be talking about the “end of the world” thing, but if that was the case, why not just say that? On that matter, why not grab Rico instead of him? He’d be much more willing to kill someone, especially if it benefitted him.

“You won’t even vanish from existence, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lolph says, drawing Stan’s gaze. “Not with the individualized merger in the time tape.”

“The who what now?”

“We’ve built an individualized timeline merger into the time tape,” Dundgren says, tone very clipped and irritable at this point.

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Okay…?”

Lolph sighs, as if Stan’s a particularly slow child. “When you go back, there would be two versions of you. But with the merger, you’ll both combine into one form as soon as you land in the set time. So that way you’ll be able to continue living after you’ve saved the world, even though your timeline technically doesn’t exist. It’ll even bring your car to you, just for ease of travel. So if you—”

All of the alarm bells that Stan’s been counting up quietly in his head start shrieking, and he holds up a hand. “Wait. Stop.”

Lolph stops.

“Why would you do that?” Stan asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Stan says, talking like they’re particularly slow children, “that I am going to be dead in a week, when the rest of the world finishes going up in flames. What do I care if I go back to save everything and then someone else lives on in my place? I won’t be around to see it either way. At this point, saving the world is just practical.”

Dundgren and Lolph exchange a glance. Dundgren’s face has an air of “I told you so” to it.

Stan raises himself as tall as he can, and crosses his arms. “Okay, that’s it. Why do you need me to do this so bad, what are you asking me to do, and why are you trying so hard to sweeten the deal?”

Both of them look back at Stan, and Dundgren sighs. “The person who caused the apocalypse,” he says.

“What about ‘em.”

The agent takes a breath, and Stan recognizes the look of a man who’s really not going to like what he has to say next.

“It’s your brother.”

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #dundgren gravity falls #lolph gravity falls #bill cipher #rico gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #time travel #my fic

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phantoms-lair · 1 year ago

Text

Fredogawa - Enter the PizzaPlex

@pixlokita you wanted more of this AU so Happy Birthday

((From my DCxFNAF:SB))

((Also I never posted part 2, so, uh...here?))

"So we are stuck here?" Freddy asked.

"For now." Conan looked annoyed. They were supposed to catch their connecting flight to Hawaii here, but a storm over the ocean was making it impossible. The clear blue skies around them just made the reason seem so incongruous. "Thankfully we're already in the states so we won't have our visas checked or anything. Especially since you look mostly Caucasian and we both speak perfect English."

"Your accent might need a bit more practice," Freddy said gently. "I have the advantage of switching my language module. Well, there is nothing we can do about the weather." Freddy shrugged gamely. "Why don't we 'do the tourist thing' until a flight is available to meet with your Great Aunt and Uncle."

That's one thing Conan appreciated about him. As an entertainment bot, he knew how to commit to a bit. They were impossible far away from anyone who might know them, but he kept their identities, as well as his parents identities relevant to theirs, up.

"Sure Dad. What's around here?" he asked, also staying in character.

"Let's see." Freddy pulled out his phone and did a quick search. "Oh." His entire demeanor fell.

"What's wrong?" Conan asked concerned. He'd seen few things get under his 'dad's' skin like this.

"The biggest tourist spot in this area is...a Freddy Fazbear's PizzaPlex."

Yeah, that would do it. "We don't have to go, I'm sure there are other things we could do."

"No, I - I want to see. what it could have been like? How many people get the chance to see what might have happened if their lives had gone according to plan. And this one is even bigger than the one in Japan. Here I - The other Freddy has a whole band. It is strange and frightening, but I want to see."

Conan wasn't sure if he could say the same. If he could see a different Kudo Shinichi who'd never been shrunk, never had to lie to Ran...all in all he'd just rather not. But this was Freddy's choice, not his. "Sure Dad, sounds like fun." He gave Freddy his "I'm a little kid smile, which Freddy returned with a genuine one.

The Pizzaplex wasn't far from the air pad, and when they got there both stared at the building for a moment. 'Bigger' was an understatement. The Pizzaplex in Beika was the size of a good sized restaurant. This was the size of a mall.

"Fazbear Entertainment must be doing well in America." Conan commented.

Freddy nodded. "Shall we?"

Conan held his hand, slipping his face into that of a little kid excited for an afternoon with his father. They walked through the giant glass doors and that where everything went wrong.

They had barely stepped foot into the Pizzaplex when Conan froze in place. Freddy did a quick scan of his son and noticed in addition to his paling skin his heartrate had skyrocketed and his breathing had quickened to a worrying degree.

He knelt down next to his son. "Conan, are you okay?"

He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't for Conan to grab onto him like a koala, gripping his clothes in fear while small sniffles escaped from him. None of this was standard Conan behavior.

"Is your son alright?" a concerned lady in a Fazbear uniform asked.

"I think he's overwhelmed." he responded, wondering why the woman suddenly looked surprised." He stood, holding Conan to him. "I'll take him to the parking lot and see if that helps."

Thankfully as soon as he exited the doors Conan's death grip on him relaxed, thought it wasn't gone completely. His breathing evened out and his pulse rate dropped to normal.

"Hey there, superstar. You okay?" Freddy asked, rubbing Conan's back soothingly.

"No." Conan croaked. He took several deep breaths before he continued. "I...I've trained my detective instincts a lot."

"You have," Freddy agreed.

"And I've gotten them to the point where if someone's feeling a large amount of bloodlust or malice I can tell. Not who, and it wouldn't be permissible evidence in court even if I did know who, but...I don't feel it everytime but when I do it's never wrong."

That didn't sound like something that should be physically possible to Freddy, but now wasn't the time for that. "Is that what happened when you entered the building?"

But Conan shook his head. "No, it was.." Haibara used smell as her example, and Freddy was made to be a musician. "Think of it like a sound. Usually when I pick up on malice it's like a sudden note out of silence, a stinger on a violin. It's shocking and I have to pay attention to it. Walking into the Pizzaplex..." Conan gulped. "It was like stepping out of a sensory deprivation chamber into a cacophony. Loud horns, screeching violins, hands slamming on a keyboard. A thousand overwhelming notes of malice, death, violence. And they just kept playing. I've never felt anything even remotely resembling that."

"Do you think something bad is going to happen?" Freddy asked gravely.

"I think," Conan gulped, trying to make sense of the whirling feelings going on inside him. "I think something bads been happening for a while."

"Can we tell to the police?"

"No. We have no evidence other than me having a panic attack, which they'll be even less likely to listen to due to my age. And if they look into either of us they might realize we entered the country illegally."

Freddy thought a moment. Then he sighed. He wanted nothing more than to lick up his son, turn his back, and leave this place forever. But the thought of leaving victims, most likely children, made his servos twist. And he knew his son. Knew if he tried to leave Conan would just turn around and sneak back in to handle it himself. And the thought of Conan going there alone if this was anything like was happened at his Pizzaplex..."We are leaving."

Conan opened his mouth to argue.

"For now." Freddy appended. "We will get food and rest and give you time to recover. We will return shortly before the last big show. If we cannot find anything to give to the police, we will hide until closing in one of the recharge chambers. Though I have been altered to no longer require them, I should still register as a Fazbear Entertainment Animatronic and you would not be harmed in my stomach hatch. We can investigate after it is clear. The Pizzaplex is hugely busy. If something bad is ongoing, it will not be happening during opening hours."

"Thank you," Conan whispered.

#Fredogawa and Son #Detective Conan #FNAF:SB #Ghost Writing #Imagine the systems confusion when it reads a Freddy in a recharge chamber AND a Freddy onstage.#Very Suspicious #Better try and put them in Safe Mode just in case #:P

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good-beanswrites · 3 months ago

Text

Silly LCSyS piece after Kyanako pointed out I was just picturing Deep Cover drabble part 2 when I was making up my headcanons about her new restraints 😅A bit of Kotoko's serious thoughts on them, but this is mostly me having fun and procrastinating my other au writing asfsadf

Kotoko peered out into the hall. Once, twice, and a third time before she finally stepped out of the dressing room. She should have known someone would still find a way to sneak up on her. And of course, out of everyone, it had to be Mahiru – the one person she’d been trying to avoid since the new scripts went out.

She could only hope her glare offset any panic Mahiru had seen while scanning her new restraints up and down.

“Kotoko-chan…”

Though ready to spit that she didn’t need any of the woman’s pity, the words caught in her throat seeing how her cheeks were flushed.

“You look… Well…” Her eyes ran over the different pieces, beginning with the uniform belts, then down to her leg guards, then finally back up to the muzzle that she was scowling through.

Still blushing, Mahiru’s expression twisted to a deep pout. “It’s no fair! Mahiru should be there!”

“Eh? You should be where?”

“In the prison, silly! Who’s going to help you with the things you need?” She raised her hands to cup Kotoko’s cheeks. “You need someone like me to help! I can help comb your hair in the mornings, and feed you meals. Things like that!”

Why would she want to do any of those things? This new uniform only proved it with its animalistic elements and preparation for violence. She looked like a rabid dog – the very rabid dog that had killed Mahiru. Being stuck in this facility must be driving her stir-crazy…

“Tch, like I would ever let you do that.”

She only giggled in reply, tapping a finger to the end of the muzzle. “Oh, but that’s just it! You couldn’t stop me~”

She said she had somewhere to be and left quickly, but not quick enough for Kotoko to try and fail to sputter some kind of protest. She remained frozen with her jaw hanging open from the interaction.

In her bafflement, she forgot to return to her hiding spot of the dressing room. Mikoto spotted her as soon as he came around the corner.

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She tried to ignore the similar shine in his eyes. “Have you seen Jackalope?”

“Break room, I think.” He gestured his hand vaguely to her. “While you’re at it, can you ask him if I can get one too? Man, if I got to put on something like that…” Where did Milgram find all these weirdoes? Didn’t they understand the gravity of what she was wearing?

“This is the last thing you’d want. It’ll only make everyone stand around to gawk at how dangerous you are.”

“And…?”

He seemed intent on gawking a bit himself, which she had neither the time nor the patience for. With a huff, she left him.

She resumed her creeping through the facility. She thought she would succeed without another incident, until she spotted Muu and Yuno coming out of the break room toward her.

Kotoko offered a solemn nod to her fellow guilty prisoner. Muu also had something in the way of her face and shuffled along with her feet impaired. Instead of responding to the camaraderie, however, Muu’s eyes were flicking frantically away.

“O-oh! Hi, Kotoko-san…”

Yuno, too, was making a face. Why had she even expected anyone to react properly to the sight?

“I… I like your uniform.”

“You like it?” Kotoko’s fists clenched inside her sleeves. “Why does everyone keep looking at me like that? It’s supposed to make me look scary – like a monster! It’s evil and villainous and you should want to run from me! It’s supposed to make me look dangerous!”

“It’s working alright,” Yuno mused.

She lowered her voice to a growl. “Then why aren’t you running?”

Muu shook her head, able to look condescending even to those older than her. “Haah… you’re always so dramatic, Kotoko-san.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your outfit suits you well.”

Kotoko wouldn’t call this an “outfit,” but she let Muu continue.

“It makes you look dangerous, sure, but that’s because it makes you look strong. Capable.” She heaved a sigh. “Now, as well as making Muu jealous, you’ve made us late.”

She and Yuno continued down the hall, unaware of the strength they’d put into Kotoko’s stiff step. She still planned on hurrying back to her room to tear off the restraints as soon as possible, but the thought that it wasn’t wholly scaring people off gave her confidence to at least walk into the break room with her head held high.

Inside, Jackalope was speaking to Fuuta, who was trying on his new accessories and taking long sips from his drink after a long recording session.

Kotoko stood as tall as she could in the doorway. She cleared her throat.

Jackalope received a faceful of sprayed water.

#milgram #lights camera sing your sins #kotoko yuzuriha #mahiru shiina #mikoto kayano #muu kusunoki #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #kotoko would be taking it all so seriously and feel like a monster #and the whole time shes having an emo moment about it everyone else is just like. i think i hauve covid 😳#as much as i love their canon dynamics i do love a good poorly-hidden 03 and 06 crush on her.....#but i do think muu would be jealous because her restraints make her look weak - like something that needs to be punished #while kotokos make her look strong and like something that needs to be contained #0909 is jealous because they both think the other would look hot 👍#😂😂😂#drabbles

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justjams2003 · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii I'd like to request something about Chris Hemsworth......idk if your into kpop groups or if you like it or not but if you want to accept my request please kindly do a little research on it here's the story

So the reader is a part of a kpop girl group and her and Chris are dating secretly...he was also seen attending the readers group concert but the fans thought it was just because they are good friends that's why but reality is something that they are dating but fans some how people find out and start freaking out lol...... I'll leave the ending to you

Thank you so much for taking your time and reading this if you don't like the idea please feel free to ignore I totally understand....

Hi, girly pop! Sorry that this one took me like forever and a day. But I hope it's to your liking!

Pairing: Chris Hemsworth x Kpop idol!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, kissing, but nothing dirty actually happens. Wet cat eyes. Babygirl Chris Hemsworth. The use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed something

Word count: 1,8k+ Undeited

Divider by: @princessantisocial

The studio lights cause the sweat to bead down your forehead. Your group’s makeup artist is quick to fix this. She wipes the sweat off and then brushes some powder there again. “Are you alright?” She asks, her black brows furrow together while she fixes the creases around your nose.

Korean is like English to you now and you don’t even need to translate it anymore. “I’m just like a really big fan so, I’m a bit nervous.” She smiles and then takes a step back. She nods, proud of her work. Jisoo giggles, she is listening in on the conversation. You give her a slight shove. “Don’t even start.”

She listens to your warning but she does give you a knowing wink. You feel your heartbeat rise when the other studio door opens and The Avengers Endgame actors start to fill the room. They’re on the Korean leg of their press tour. And your band released a song for the movie. And one of the actors has been your crush since the first Thor movie came out.

You’re sitting right in front of where Chris is supposed to be sitting. Where usually there’d be an interviewer and an interviewee, now you’re both interviewing each other. You sit with the cards in front of you, each member has their own cards. You notice his presence by his delicious scent. Your head is slow to look up but you’re instantly hit with his bright blue eyes.

You sit up straighter, and your breath gets stuck in your chest. And when he sits down you realise you have to breathe and have no choice but to let out a shaky puff of air. Your eyes glance at your managers, their eyes look dangerous and you know that this isn’t your image. You’re supposed to be the fun one, the confident one.

The cameraman nods, three, two, one. “Hi, we’re BLACKPINK.” Your group says in unison, some making finger hearts and others a peace sign. Then it’s your turn to speak. “And we’re here to interview The Avengers Endgame cast.” Okay, yeah, it’s cool, you’ve got this. You’re sure you look cool as can be.

You watch his every move. The way he scratches his beard when he thinks about his reply to a question. The way his bright blue eyes linger on you before quickly looking away when you notice. How he leans in when you speak. Licking his lips as if he stopping himself from saying something.

Or when he leans back in his chair. His hips move forward as he gets comfortable. The way his slacks stretch around his huge thighs. His thighs make you think of all sorts of filthy things. You imagine yourself in his lap, his big hands on your hips. You can just see yourself bucking into the seams of his pants and-

He speaks and your eyes snap up to him. He’s looking straight at you, did he see the lust in your eyes? “I have a question.” Chris’ voice is like hot lava against your back. “Let’s hear it.” You reply almost automatically, so badly just wanting to talk to him. His bright blue eyes fall down to his cards, they scan over the words as he reads them over.

“Which Avenger is each member’s favourite Avenger?” Of course, this has to be the one that he asks. But he’s got this sly grin about it. Previous interviews flash through your mind. You try to think of all the times you’ve gushed over him and you can feel your face turn the same colour as the pink skirt you’re wearing.

The four other BLACKPINK member’s heads all turn to you. They all have this shit-eating grin on their face. “Go on, tell him,” Lisa speaks, urging you on. Chris raises his brow and then RDJ interrupts. “Y/N, is there something you’d like to tell us?” Then all of the girls begin giggling. You bite your lip, trying to fight off the smile.

“It’s sort of a...inside joke that I’m kind of...obsessed with Thor.” His eyes go big and he forms a sort of shit-eating grin. His muscular arm reaches back and rests on the chair’s top railing. You feel just about ready for the floor to swallow you whole. But luckily Jisoo saves you the embarrassment. “My favourite is Wanda, 'cause she’s a badass girl.”

🪞♡₊˚ 🥐・₊✧ ホットチョコレート

“Y/N, we’ve got some good news and some bad news.” The director of your new music video speaks. He’s holding his clipboard like always. You can’t really nod since there are about three different people working on your look for the music video. Luckily you don’t have to.

“You know how we have that scene where we have you lean against a guy’s chest?” Again he speaks without a reply from you. “Well, that guy cancelled. But strangely enough, we got a call right after they cancelled asking to be their replacement.” Your brows furrow together but then your director steps aside.

It’s not very hard to see the Chris Hemsworth being oiled up by one of your makeup artists. Those wave blue eyes find you the second you see him. You can feel yourself turn bright red. He just looks so good and you can feel your hands itch to touch him.

Your heart is racing in your ears. Chris looks so delicious lying on the set. It’s a messy bed, his abs flex as he gets comfortable in the bed. He holds out his hand for you. His hand is so much bigger than yours and so warm too. He’s so gentle when he guides your hips against his. His body heat makes your blushing cheeks so much worse.

“Just breathe.” He whispers into your ear, his fingers tickling your waist. You try your best to touch him as little as possible. “How can I?” You mumble looking into the camera while they set it up. “Just imagine this is every day for us. Imagine that my hands are always on you like this.” Your breath hitches and the thought only makes your cheeks redder.

The director speaks, he uses his fingers to count down to one. Then the music begins playing. You lip-sync to the song, you’re in your element, and you remind yourself just how long you’ve been working on this song. But then his lips are on your neck and for just a few seconds you lose focus.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter when the cameras cut. A sigh escapes you and you lean back looking up at him. “That’s not very professional of you.” You scoff but you’re quickly shut up when his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. “How can I be professional when you’re looking at me like that, looking like this?”

His breath smells so minty and his lips look so soft when he speaks. Breathing feels almost unnatural around him. His fingers pinch your chin and force you to look up at him. His eyes look so stormy when he speaks. “How old are you, little girl?” You understand completely how he feels when he says it’s hard to stay professional.

“25.” You reply to him. He lets out a groan and then grabs you by the hips. He pulls you closer, higher up, adjusting so just you’re no longer lying on his groin. “Okay, we’re ready to start again.”

🪞♡₊˚ 🥐・₊✧ ホットチョコレート

His lips are on yours and his hands are all over your body. “Chris...” You mutter into his neck. He pushes you further against the wall. You’re trapped in his arms, in his scent, in his touch. “We shouldn’t be doing this...I’m not allowed to date.” Again you try to get his attention but Chris is just too furious for you.

He had you cornered after the shoot. Quickly had you in some storage closet. His rugged voice and smooth touch had your knees weak and you just couldn’t resist when he placed the softest gentlest kiss on your lips. It was like his mouth was made of delicious cotton candy. And he tastes just as sweet.

He sighs, seeing just how serious you are. His hand swipes across his lips. Trying to get rid of the feeling of your lips on his. “Come to my house. No one will see. Just me and you.” He suggests, his big blue eyes look to be pleading with you. Like he needs you more than he needs air. You sigh, crossing your arms. The way he looks at you...you just can’t say no.

“Please.” It’s like a punch in the gut when his voice cracks. Begging to see you just once more. How are you ever supposed to resist? But the thought of your managers finding out...it could cost you your job. “If anyone asks, we’re just friends. I know the routine. I know how I’ll have to hide.”

A sigh escapes you. He’s so smooth with his words, he knows exactly what to say. “Okay, but just this once.”

🪞♡₊˚ 🥐・₊✧ ホットチョコレート

His laugh is like intoxicating incense that makes your head swirl. And when he’s done laughing he fiddles with the rings on his fingers and the watch around his wrist. You look down at the empty plate. Your stomach feels full and your heart too. Your cheeks hurt from just how much he’s made you laugh.

You look around at his big house. You took the first opportunity you could find to head to Australia and see him. Each time that the thought crossed your mind of just ignoring him you’d see those eyes and the way his voice broke. Begging for you to just see him. Now, you’re glad you came.

Chris’ house is so empty. Everything looks like it’s come straight out of an Architectural digest. Like it’s been thoroughly cleaned before you came. Very few signs of someone living there. You can’t really imagine someone living here. “Don’t you get lonely, all on your own?” You ask, finally returning to him. It’s as if he just can’t stop looking at you. When you see him, he sees you.

“I’m rarely home...don’t you get lonely?” He leans his chin on his intertwined hands. You smirk, eyes all over him. “I’m rarely home.” You repeat his words to him. “But...” Again a sigh escapes you. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long. I haven’t eaten this good in so long...” His hand slowly creeps up, grabbing yours in his.

You feel this sort of magnetic draw towards him. Like the whole world just spins around him. When he smiles, you smile. When he laughs, you laugh. You feel sort of at home. Talking to him moves so smoothly. And everything inside of your heart and soul is telling you to-

“Stay.” Chris’ deep Australian accent cuts off your obsessive ramblings. It’s as if he’s reading your mind...

🪞♡₊˚ 🥐・₊✧ ホットチョコレート

#chris hemsworth character #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris hemsworth x y/n #Jam's Request #JustJamswrites #kpop #blackpink #kpop blackpink #Chris Hemsworth x kpop

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dawnoftime22 · 1 year ago

Text

"and all the things I didn't do."

| W.M -> N.R

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 10

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, drinking, alcohol, mental breakdown, and a very short moment of a creep approaching R in a bar scene.

Summary: Hanging out at the gentle redhead's apartment for a while was fun, but what happens when you happen to encounter something that makes you drop everything and fall apart?

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 5.7k

Category: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

A/N: this was...definitely supposed to be longer, but I didn't get to finish half of it, aaand it would have a lot more things to unpack soooo, I'm gonna have to separate it into another chapter... have fun tho!<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 31/05/2024, 8:15 AM |

| Finished on 06/05/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 9 Chapter 11 ->

"Yours were the hand I danced with."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Her arm slips around your waist. In the dead of night with the streets empty, your felt her body leaning in closer, up until your lips meet for a soft, tender kiss.

For a short moment, that was it. Your heart stuttered and you couldn't help but return the gentle gesture within seconds.

When you slowly pulled back, the two of you were quiet, but she ended up only smirking and turning back to her apartment's door to unlock it. Your lips were parted as you were left to reel your mind over what had happened.

But with the door open in front of you, leading right to the home of the redhead who just gave you an entire day to remember along with the tingle of her action, you inhale a deep breath and move to walk in.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The morning came with you waking up on the couch, a yawn escaping your mouth as you sat up. Your mind was still tkaing in that you were in Nat's apartment, sitting in borrowed clothing.

You groggily get off the couch, standing up to stretch. The front door opens with a click, capturing your attention in a quick second.

Nat was revealed from behind the door, wearing her jogging outfit and holding what seemed to be a brown paper bag that had you tilting your head curiously.

Her green eyes traveled to you as she took off her shoes, saying a gentle "Hey," before returning her keys back to her pocket and closing the front door.

The fact that she had even come from the front door and not the bedroom surprised you further really, she hadn't made a single sound that was loud enough to wake you. Unless you were that deep in sleep. She was like a cat, padding its quiet paws.

Speaking of, there was a black, slim cat sitting perched up at a nearby window. It had been laying there, silently resting. You wouldn't have noticed it if not for the sunlight, making itself visible from the shadows...or the yellow eyes that would often reveal themselves, scanning the room for any threats.

Nat walked across the room, making her way to the kitchen and setting down the paper bag before rolling it open and peeking inside to make sure all the contents she got was in there.

While she was there, she also grabbed a glass of water, drinking it and rehydrating herself from her small running session that also included an extra part of going to a bakery somewhere. You watched her quietly, a small smile raising on your lips.

"I got you some croissant and some sausage rolls." Her voice was calm as it sounded out through the space. She grabs a sausage roll out, gesturing it slightly as she talked and took a bite out of it.

"If you like them, that is. If not, then you can just leave them on the table." She grabs the paper bag once more and sat down next to you, putting it in front of you. Your eyes stared at it for a moment, but with your raised lips you grab one sausage roll too.

"I'll try some." She watches as you take a bite, staring for a moment before getting her attention pulled by the black cat, sneakily and curiously walking closer by the couch.

Thank god for it, or she might have just stared a moment too longer. You in the meanwhile, hummed in delightment, the little treat hitting your taste buds in all the right ways.

"These are delicious," you said, now grabbing a croissant and trying it, making sure not to accidentally get any crumbs on the couch. It was faint, but there was the smallest smile on her face as she leaned back.

"Have you texted your friend?" Nat asks, getting the tv remote while her cat jumped up in her lap, almost blending in with her black joggers.

You check your phone, seeing the messages Kate sent you...along with a winky face. You had to hold back from rolling your eyes at her or shaking your head, knowing she's probably doing it just to make you stay longer.

"Mm. Yeah, she's still not home. She said she'll be back home at 2 pm." You turned off your phone and set it aside, continuing to eat the food in your hands.

"For now, I'm stuck with you," you said, nearly in a whisper. Your head turned to look at the redhead once more, her hands going through the fur of the small cat friend in her lap as you had talked.

"Well, I don't have anything to do, so..." she tilts her head, her gaze slowly traveling to you. When she looks back at the tv, you raised your eyebrows, but get comfortable on the couch anyways, choosing a movie with her.

Within the few minutes of the movie, you stared at her side profile. She was so beautiful, focused on the movie. Your mind couldn't help but drift back off to last night's memory-- Down in the dark cold streets, where lips touched with warmth. And last night...You hadn't spoken about it at all, as if it was something you dreamt when you slept in the car. And you were about to think it was a dream.

Your thoughts were bothered by the black cat stretching over to meet you, moving to curl up beside you on the couch, making you blink.

Hesitantly, you reach out to pet it, first letting it sniff your hand gently before it obliged and relaxed, making you slowly rest your hand upon it. The yellow eyes closed, and you almost feel its head tilting to lean into your hand.

"Does it have a name?" You asked, making Nat look to you, taking her eyes off the screen of the tv. The fur was soft, running against your skin like nothing.

"Liho," she said gently and simply, but now she couldn't look away. The sight of you so close to her small friend had her heart beating a little faster and swelling up. You hum, continuing to gently pet Liho's head, eliciting small purrs from its throat.

A sudden sound of an explosion came from the movie, Nat having set an action movie on, getting her attention back on the story and causing both you and Liho to snap your heads towards the sound.

Time goes by like this, all three of you, comfortable on the couch with no interruptions...almost.

As your focus drifted off, the scene being quiet with aimless talking, your eyes skimmed around the space. As you do, you notice a camera she's left on the small table, just beside you.

While she was very much into the movie and distracted, you gently grabbed the device, your fingertips brushing against the metal. It clicked on with a slide, the screen showing a high quality view of wherever you pointed it.

Gently, your teeth bit into your lower lip, and you smiled, sneakily taking a picture of Nat from the side, the screen momentarily flashing black, an indication that it processed it successfully.

At the first shot, she didn't notice, but then in the corner of her vision, she realizes you were holding something up and pointing it at her, until she sees that it was her camera in your hands.

The smallest smile raised up on her lips, and you were fast to grab a picture of that too. She heard the click, the quiet scene in the movie making it all the more obvious.

"Stop!" she lightly said with a chuckle, looking to you. You had already taken another shot, smiling cheekily at the camera screen while her cheeks dusted pink.

You put the camera down with a small giggle, and Nat quickly grabbed it to put it away from you. She was looking at the screen, possibly deleting the photos, but you couldn't tell.

Nonetheless, you went back to watching the movie, your hand mindlessly going through Liho's fur. At times you play around with the cat, its paws gently touching your skin.

As you were absolutely lost in the story playing on the tv, she holds up the camera and pushes down on the button, successfully capturing a photo of you and Liho, unbeknownst to you.

"I got you!" She exclaimed with her own giggle, looking proudly at the still moment sitting in the screen.

You looked at her and smiled, shaking your head at how determined she was to get you back.

After hours later, you managed to get back to Kate's apartment, settling back into bed with a content sigh from the day with Nat.

Your sleep was peaceful, and the day after that too, your walk nearly having a gentle jump in it from how...better everything somehow seemed.

You were walking back to the apartment, having went to grab a hot chocolate from the local cafe and just simply going for a walk.

But a touch of a hand on your shoulder had you turning around, your eyes widening as you took a step back.

You thought to see someone you've seen in the past days. Or a stranger tapping for something you might have dropped.

But...of course. After all this time. You should have expected it would happen someday.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize it isn't an illusion. Green eyes stared at you, not with red hair but with brown hair. The piercing round eyes a clear contrast to the calm almond shaped eyes you got used to.

"Y/N...Hi," her voice comes out. This was a dream. You had to be dreaming. What else could have been happening? Your breath got caught on nothing but your very own air.

"Wha--...What are you doing here?" You said. The volume of your words were faint, your face obvious that you were at a complete loss as to how she had just randomly showed up.

"I..." She seemed like she didn't have a reason at all, as if she was here for nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at her, your shoulder getting brushed by a stranger this time, which had you stepping aside to let people have more space to walk in.

"I thought to grab myself a vacation." And out of all the places she chose, it was New York, you thought. She was holding a plastic container in her hand, inside, being some cake rolls.

"And...I wanted to talk to you." Ah. She chose it with the knowledge that you were here. Even better. You sighed softly, diverting your gaze to the concrete floor. It took everything in you to not simply walk away and not deal with this situation at all.

She bit her lip and swallowed down her nervous feelings, but it had no help as you look back at her. You still had that same gaze with her, full of softness. But it also had drops of sadness.

"How did you know where I was?" You asked. You haven't posted anything in ages, and Kate hasn't had you in a photo or video of her instagram story.

Wanda looks down for a moment, taking in a deep breath. You shifted your weight to your other leg, slipping your hand in your pockets.

"...You forgot to turn off your location," she revealed, not making eye contact with you for a moment. You, in the meanwhile, moved your head forward for a second and raised your eyebrows.

"What?" was all you simply said, blinking. That was far of what you expected from her. You would've thought maybe she heard from Carol, or something.

“You tracked me down?” You asked straightforwardly, and her eyes widened as she shook her head quickly, defending herself of the accusation.

“No! No, it’s not like that I…Your live location on our messages. I saw it, and you didn’t turn it off," she says, through small stutters and hand gestures. You only stared at her, trying to decipher the truth.

"But I didn't...follow you here like a stalker, I swear." She sighed, having hoped the conversation was going to start differently when she saw you.

"So you just happened to run into me?" Your shoulders went up slightly as you said your sentence, lost on how to make sense of the situation.

"It's not a lie," she said simply, and you couldn't have it in yourself to really trust her, though at this point, you didn't even care to know how she found you anymore.

You pressed your lips together, looking off to the streets. It went quiet for a moment, as if the heat of the flame that died months ago was sparking up again, and it definitely wasn't the light of love.

"I just...” She starts, running her hand through her hair for a moment as she gathered herself together to speak with you.

"I miss you. And I still love you." The words came out like a flowing river, but the second you heard the words, you were trying to hold your eyes from becoming a river themselves.

"Wanda, don't..." Your voice was quiet, teary almost. You had taken a small step back, and Wanda kept her eyes on you, hoping you weren't going to walk away all at once, leading to her losing you completely.

“I was wrong. I didn't—“ She tried continuing, her own eyes filling with tears, but you cut her off, shaking your head.

"You can't just say that." You had spiked back, and it was cutting her heart further, but its true. You didn't want to hear any more, yet she wanted to do the opposite. Wanda lowers her head guiltily, as if she was being scolded.

"I'm sorry..." She gazed down at the sidewalk, slowly losing her resolve. You didn't look at her at all, and it was obvious your heart might crumble if she continhed any further.

The open space was loud with unspoken words. And a car honking...and people's footsteps. You were in the middle of the street, it wasn't exactly the best place to have a conversation like this.

She had realized how precious you were to her only after you were gone. She was the one who had stopped giving, lost her will to keep it alive simply because she couldn't tell if her heart still wanted you.

"...But I do still care for you." She said, looking up at you once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. You didn't want to hurt her, but there was no easy way to settle this down.

"We were happy. For four whole years, and you just decided to break it. You broke my heart, Wands." The nickname had come out so easily, only because you were on the verge of crying. You tone was nearly sharp and your volume was just a little loud. Some people passing by seemed to have turned their heads, and you noted to try and keep your calm. Wanda took a deep breath, her mind only acting on nothing but impulse.

"We were on a break." At that, you had to bite your tongue, your face losing any color it had left. The second she finished her sentence, she regretted it and she paused, completely shutting her mouth as she realized what she said.

You swallowed back some words, your mind going over just how much she had left you broken. Was that what that was? Could she have wanted a break so the two of you could process your feelings properly or just so she could have an excuse? Whatever happened to that girl she was with? Had she found out too, and broke it off with her?

"A break doesn't mean we weren't still together," you whispered shakily. The conversation was a mess, and you were sure you'll go into a downward spiral as soon as you get into Kate's apartment.

"Please, I swear I won't do it again, and if I could, I would change how everything happened. If there's anything I could do to fix it, I'll do it." You couldn't believe it. She was begging for you to take her back-- The silenced reply she had given you when you left.

"I am not having this conversation with you." You said, desperately needing to end this when you still could while she, needed you.

"I get it, but...it's over. I'm sorry." She was too late. It had been months before, where she left you lost and confused and now its been months after you had broken up.

Wanda went quiet, processing your words and how much you truly did not want her back anymore. You swore you saw her lip tremble for just a mere moment, and your heart ached at the sight.

She wanted so badly. So, so badly to keep in touch with you at least, but both of you knew it would only lead to bad news.

"Okay," she nods slowly, a small tear escaping the corner of her eye that she quickly wiped away, definitely not wanting to appear crying at the side of the street.

"I won't bother you anymore." She said sincerely and quietly. You clenched your jaw. It felt like a void altogether once again. Your heart pointed to her but your mind knew better.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You had to hold back a choked sob, slowly turning around to continue your path that was interrupted long ago.

"...Bye." She whispered under her breath, and you had just barely heard it from behind you, mixed with many other noises.

You kept walking forward, kept your hands in your pockets, trying your best to blink back your tears as you sniffled. You were sure your nose was red, and it wasn't from the freezing temperatures.

If you hadn't met the redhead you knew now, maybe you had considered going back to her. Maybe. But you couldn't bare to go through it again, the nights spent waiting for her to come home or when she would brush you off.

You don't remember how many times you've gone to Nat's apartment or met her anymore. But who's counting anyway? She didn't have any bad traits so far, so you wouldn't have a reason to stop. It's been months since the breakoff with Wanda, until she showed up again earlier.

You sighed and ran your hands over your face, finally arriving to the front of Kate's apartment. You went in, not greeted by the sound of clinking coming from a dog's collar but with the sight of Kate in the kitchen, making...brownies?

The golden retriever was napping, possibly getting bored of waiting for you to come back or was tired of watching over Kate, making sure she did the recipe right. And also interested, since she rarely ever did cook.

"Hey," Kate looked up from her mixture, hearing you open the door and close it, kicking your shoes off. Her eyes flickered from you and the bowl.

"Hey." You said simply and quietly back with a small wave of your hand, not wondering what she was doing, or barely even looking at her as you padded off to your room.

Odd. Kate watches you go with her eyebrows slowly furrowing in concern. She'll note to ask you about it later, for now counting it as maybe you having a bad day and needing space.

You gently shut the door behind you, resting your back and your head against it. Your breath quickly hitches and you gasp, a choked sob finally leaving your lips quietly as you closed your eyes.

You slid down against the door, curling up on the floor with your legs close to your body. It was no surprise you'd be here, having a mental breakdown when the sudden appearance of someone you thought you'd never see again happened.

Salty liquid ran down from your nose, mixing with your tears, and you try wiping it away with your hands, but it didn't give anything. It was all unending.

Tomorrow it was evening. You had fallen into bed messily last night and now you were still laid down in bed. Of course, you had treated yourself to your needed meals properly, with Kate gently scolding you and urging you to get out your room.

It was quiet as you mindlessly went through your phone, your body weak on the soft mattress that held you.

You were getting bored, that was for sure. Laying in bed being in a void for hours. You could watch a movie in the living room, cook...or go out and have some fresh air, but with what had happened yesterday, that was the last thing you wanted to do now.

Then an idea popped up in your head, and you thought it over. it wasn't the best idea, but to you, you had nothing better to do.

You were there again, in Nat's messages, opening it so you could type a sentence to her.

Hey, wanna hang out at a bar somewhere later?

You don't expect her to accept, and you almost don't want her to, knowing you'll probably only make yourself feel worse. But there's no turning back now.

Nat was surprised when she got the message, her eyebrows raising for a moment. You weren't always that bold to straight up ask to go out, but she was free, simply sitting at her desk with Liho in her lap as she sorted out some papers.

Sure.

She replied simply, not asking questions other than the planned time and where you'll meet, thinking you were simply wanting some fun.

She didn't know why she was still meeting you. She never liked to do...anything with anyone, yet you somehow caught her eyes. Maybe it was the fact you bumped into each other, but that help of hers with the umbrella was...intentional. She could have gone to any other person, but she saw you.

You got up and out of bed, getting the energy to go to your closet and picking out a set of clothes to wear.

Once you had changed, you made sure your phone and keys were in your pockets befoee you peek out your room. You find the space to be empty, and Kate's bedroom door closed. She was asleep, probably.

You went out the apartment quietly, making sure not even a creak was heard with how aware Lucky was of his surroundings.

Since your car was indeed...still at the airport way over in another state, you had to call a cab, getting it to bring you to the bar. The drive was short, but peaceful. There was light rain, enough to make it colder, but not necessary for an umbrella.

When you get out, you go to the entrance, seeing the brightly lit bar. Before going in, you looked around for a moment, seeing the sheen of shine from the rain on the street.

Then, there across from you in your vision, Nat comes out from another cab herself, fixing her signature leather jacket.

Her lips were painted red from her lipstick, and you couldn't help but stare at her appearance. When she saw you and walked closer, you blinked yourself out of staring.

"Hey, you good?" She asked, stepping in front of you, and you quickly nod, moving to let people in the bar and to go in yourself.

"Yeah. Yeah...lets go in," you said, going to go hold the door open for her. She hums and walks in with you, the bar instantly coming up with loads of noises of people talking, glasses clinking and being thudded against the wooden tables, and the tv hanging near the corner.

The two of you sat at the front bar, ordering some drinks so the night could start properly. You leaned against the wood, the seat being surprisingly comfortable as you turned to look at her.

"You look stunning tonight, you know," you said in a whisper, but she heard it, her cheeks hinting the smallest blush. Your eyes went over how the lighting portrayed her, illuminating her features perfectly.

"Thank you. You're not too far yourself." She replied. You weren't too far at all actually. It was hard for her to pull her eyes away from you, too.

When the bartender slides your drinks to you both, you grab the glass, starting to drink it while she took a few sips, her gaze locked on you.

You stifled a sigh for a moment. Your mind was still stuck on yesterday, and you have someone right next to you you could share your troubles to.

But her? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Especially with it being about your ex. And you couldn't deny this was simply a getaway to escape, how much you wanted to distract yourself from thinking about her at all, wondering how she was doing.

The two of you had your fun, getting to know each other better with small laughs and stares that lasted longer than whenever you were sober. Your insides were completely and utterly intoxicated by the drinks, getting caught up in the moment.

As the night progressed with the moon high in the sky, she couldn't help but notice how many drinks you started to grab, your words slowly starting to slur further and further in time.

"And that's enough for you," just as your glass brushed against your lips, she gently took it out your hands, your skin brushing just slightly, but you couldn't focus on that at the moment when you get surprised.

"Wha- No..." You said softly, disappointment evident in your voice as you tried to reach back for the drink, the glass still being half full, but she pulled it back.

"Mm-mm. You're already wasted," she shook her head, putting the drink down, but still out of reach from you. You pouted, your shoulders slumping, and she fought herself back from smiling, but at the same time she was concerned of your wellbeing.

Nat turns to the bartender, "Put it on my tab," she said, then pushed herself off the seat to stand and gently wrap her arm around your body, pulling you along with her so she could get out of the bar.

Before she could get to the door though, someone comes up close to you, saying, "What's someone like you doin' here?"

You scrunched your face in disgust. Even though you were very much drunk, you were aware enough to move backwards from them.

"Back off," she growled, pulling you closer to her by your waist as she gave them a deathening glare. Her grip was tight, protective, and almost possessive.

"Alright, I didn't do nothin'." The person puts their hands up and stepped back, retreating to their own place when they realized you were definitely not alone. Nat rolled her eyes and continued to get you out the bar.

With relief, she lets out a breath, the two of you stepping onto the cold sidewalks once more. The rain had disappeared, but the aftermath definitely had it being colder.

Nat grabs her phone out from her pocket, thinking to maybe call your friend Kate. She could get a cab for both of you, either sending you home safely or helping you get to her apartment.

But, when she sees your flushed face that was doozy with the toxins running in you, and the littlest of touches you give her or how you leaned to her body, she knew she couldn't trust herself to resist from you just yet. At least, from a kiss. Or anything she couldn't bare to imagine. Sure, she was far more sober than you, but she has had a couple drinks herself.

When she searches her contacts, she realizes she doesn't have Kate's number saved. Damn it. But just as she was about to give up and grab the cab, she hears your phone ringing with a call from your pocket.

You were drunkenly surprised, reaching in to grab your phone and flimsily holding it. She purses her lips and reached out to grab it from you, knowing you definitely won't have a conversation, much less, on the phone well, but also it nearly slipped out of your hands.

"Hey--" Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at her with yet another pout. Nat's heart melted, but she shushed you gently, putting up a finger to stop you from protesting.

Then, she looks at the screen, a sigh softly leaving her lips once more in relief, seeing it was Kate. She picks it up, putting it to her ear as she held you.

"Hello? Y/N?" Kate's voice came through the phone, sounding worried. You did leave her without her knowledge and didn't leave a note, but Nat didn't know that.

"Hey, it's Nat," she said naturally, making it clear it wasn't you or a stranger talking so she wasn't confused.

"Oh. O-Oh-- Sorry, am I interrupting something...?" Kate stuttered, and Nat's face heated up when she realized what Kate might be assuming, but she had enough courage in her to reply.

"No, no. We're at a bar. Um, do you think you can...come pick them up? I didn't bring my car," she said, hoping to everything Kate would say yes, as a good friend would.

"A bar? Okay, yeah, I'll...I'll be there." Nat heard keys rattling and movement, and nodded being reassured that you'll be safe home later.

"Thank you," was all she said before pulling the phone away from her ear and ending the call. Just as she did, she saw you were walking along the patterned tiles of the sidewalk, making sure your feet were in the squares and not hitting lines. It was a silly sight to say the least.

Well, that was, until you had almost slipped and fell, but her eyes widened and she quickly went forward to capture you, holding you up.

"Okay, you'll be alright, любов (love)," she said, accidentally spilling out a russian nickname from her lips, and you looked at her weirdly, awfully confused.

"You're talking funny," your words come out slurred and with a laugh, but it was understandable enough. She lets out a nearly nervous chuckle as you pointed at her with your finger.

"Am I? I think you're just drunk." She said, trying to play it off while at the same time keeping ahold of you, making sure you don't fall from your drunken state.

"No, you are. Or were..." you whispered gently, and in a way it made her heartbeat falter for a second. If only you weren't so vulnerable at the moment. She'd have confessed right then and there.

Kate's car soon pulls up to the side of the road, and not long after she arrives, her door opens and she gets out. Both you and Nat watched, your bodies visibly shuddering and trembling slightly from the coolness of the night.

"Hey, sorry if I took a while, is everything alright?" Kate said, her voice quick, and in just a bit of a panic. She knew just as much as the redhead did, but she was more worried, knowing you've had the brightest days with Nat as of late.

"Yeah, they've just...drunk a little too much." Nat purses her lips, patting your back lightly. She was concerned. Perhaps you just got stuck in the haze or just wanted to have some fun, but, even so, she wouldn't have drunk that much alcohol unless she was having a bad day.

Kate nods, going closer so she could grab ahold of you gently, starting to get you to her car. "Thank you for taking care of them," she said, looking over her shoulder as you sat in the passenger seat.

"No problem. Just get them home safe," her voice was husky, different than what Kate had thought, and she was definitely as pretty as you had made her out to be.

"I will," she reassured Nat, closing your car door and then going off to the driver's seat. Nat watched as the car started to move, her eyebrows pressured down on her eyes as her heart beated with concern for you.

As long as you were safe.

The drive home was quiet, Kate glancing over to you every now and then and seeing you doing a "whoa" to the streetlights passing by. Yup. You were going to be miserable in the morning.

When you arrive, she helps you out and into her apartment, her heart skipping beats every now and then whenever you would nearly slip from being so drunk. You were worrying the hell out of the woman, thats for sure.

"Gosh, Y/N, you need to control yourself a little," she murmured, laying you in bed, yet you fell against the sheets, parts of your body all over the place with your hair.

"I can't." You breathed out. Kate's concern was etched onto her features, rising in level. You got more comfortable, but it was barely any movement. The raven haired girl kneels down beside you, trying to find a reason as to your sudden change in behaviour since yesterday.

"Wanda..." You slurred her name, and instantly, Kate's face scrunched up in confusion and shock at the sudden mention, her eyes widening.

"What?" She asked, making sure she wasn't hearing things. If she didn't, maybe it was the alcohol, making your mind spin in unbelievable ways.

"Wanda...saw me in the streets and talked to me," you said slowly, your eyes slowly faltering with being able to keep themselves open. Kate took in the new information with high awareness.

"What did she want?" She asked, but you were dozily falling asleep already, and if she didn't get this out from you, you might never share it.

"Hey, what did she want?" she repeated, gently tapping your cheek with her palm. That roused you awake once more with a hum, but barely in a half awake state.

"To...to getmeback..." your words slurred, mumbled sleepily in a breath before you closed your eyes once more, Kate was taking a deep breath in the meanwhile.

"Oookay, now go back to sleep. You're...not looking too great, Y/N," she said, patting your shoulder before pulling away and standing up. But you had already fallen asleep, gentle snores coming from you.

She stared at you, seeing how small you looked. Then, she pulled up the covers to warm you up, having seen the small shivers on your skin before sighing softly.

What was she going to do with you?

end of chapter 10. <3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 9 Chapter 11 ->

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knickynoo · 9 months ago

Text

Back to the Future Part III, The Novel by Craig Shaw Gardner: Thoughts, commentary, and general ramblings

Part 1: Marty-themed nightmares and lots of cowboy talk

• So! We all know how this one starts. Marty's just come running down the street; he announced he’s back from the future, and Doc is out cold.

• Marty brings Doc home, and while Doc is unconscious, we get to go inside his head for a little dream sequence! And if I may say so: it’s a travesty that this wasn’t in the movie. He has a nightmare that there are Marties everywhere, and he can’t get away from them. Everywhere he turns, there’s A Marty staring back at him. His escape from the horde of Marties only comes when the “Howdy Doody Time” theme song starts, and he wakes up. Since the song also wakes up Doc in the movie, I’d like to believe he was also having Marty Nightmares.

Also, this reminds me of that one post. I can't track down the original to include a link, but I do have a screenshot saved, so that'll have to do.

• Meanwhile, Marty is over on the couch having Cowboy Dreams. He dreams he’s in the Old West with Clint Eastwood and is woken up by the sound of Doc talking into his tape recorder.

• As Doc reads the letter, Marty sits quietly in a chair, intently listening to the whole thing, which is very un-Marty if you ask me. Very glad we ended up with Movie Marty wandering all over the place and touching everything, as it should be.

• Ok, the book earns a point for having both Doc and Marty get emotional to the point of actual tears after reading his letter. Doc is sniffling and wiping tears away, and Marty is described as, “trying hard to keep his lower lip from quivering.” They should have cranked up the emotion for the movie scene.

• Also, I somehow purchased a version of the novelization that was printed in Great Britain, so I’m continuously running into different spellings, such as “centre” and “favourite.” My inner voice narrating as I read is occasionally speaking with an accent because of this. Adds to the fun, I guess.

• Once they locate the DeLorean in the mine, it says, “Doc and Marty grinned at each other,” then they just get to work uncovering it. This is interesting to me because it contrasts so much from the actual movie scene where these supposed grins are replaced with a look of awe from Doc and a look of what I can only describe as horror/fear in Marty. It’s one of my favorite scenes of part III because of their reactions, actually. It's almost as if the realization that the car has been there for so long, and that the older version of the guy standing next to him had stood in that very spot to hide way back in 1885 is a little too overwhelming for Marty. It's a great moment. Next time you watch part III, really focus in on their expressions during this quick little scene.

• Book Marty does NOT stumble over the word “schematic.”

• When Doc tells Marty that he always wanted to be a cowboy, he mentions that he spent a few summers working at Statler’s Ranch, where he learned how to ride horses and shoot guns. In the DeLorean Manual (you know I always have to bring up this book; it’s a treasure trove) Doc says he learned these skills because his father sent him away to “wilderness camp.”

• Got a chuckle at what follows Doc talking about those summers working at the ranch: “Marty got the oddest look on his face. He was probably trying to imagine Doc Brown as a cowboy.”

• Marty then asks Doc how he ended up becoming a scientist instead. Which is kind of an odd choice. Are you to expect me to believe that Marty doesn’t already know the story of how Doc went into science?? This is something I assume 1980s Doc would have told him in their first week or so of knowing each other.

• Marty, initially wary at Doc being “stuck” in 1885 has a change of heart after hearing Doc talk so enthusiastically about his older self getting to live out his cowboy dreams. He says, “Doc, if you’re happy, then I’m happy. It’ll be a whole lot easier for me to go back to 1985 knowing you’re living it up in 1885.” I actually think this is a wonderful addition that might have been nice in the movie. It just…it displays their relationship so nicely. Marty doesn’t WANT to lose his best friend, but he values Doc’s own happiness above his own. To Doc, he isn’t stuck or condemned to a life in the Old West. He’s living out his childhood dream! If you’re happy, then I’m happy. It’s such a beautiful way to reframe the situation.

That seems like a good place to leave things for now.

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #doc brown #bttf iii: the novel

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elvisabutler · 2 years ago

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fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2100 you didn't see any other word count. warnings: cockwarming! p in v sex ( unprotected ). public play. mildly excessive baby talk. use of buntyn and nungen and princess as nicknames. mild embarrassment kink? author’s note: welcome to day 11 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, public play with big daddy elvis presley x reader. sorry this took a minute, i've been incredibly exhausted lately and so it's made finishing things a bit of an adventure. quick notes for this fic, this is a sort of au, in that i placed it in a mythical place where elvis doesn't die in 77 and is free of his vegas residency in the 70s. so maybe call it a nebulous 78 to 80? reader is implied to have been with him for years and you can read it as having an age difference but it's in my head as not having one. basically this is secretly a reader version of quiet on the set's future and i'm not sorry for it. beyond that if y'all have left me a comment on any of my fics or anything i'm going to get back to them. when i tell you i've been exhausted it's been a lot. without further ado, i hope y'all like this. also pick if you want austin elvis or real elvis the end.

There's something funny about how Elvis would prefer the two of you to be private. There is something truly and genuinely hilarious to you about the fact that he preferred the two of you to be private. His argument has always been that the happiest he ever is in his life is during those private moments with the people he loves. You always argue that he can't show you off like you know he wants to if you're being private and yet he'll flash that little twinkle in his eye and ignore your protests. So much of his life isn't private but the love he has for you— the love between the two of you is supposed to be private. An oasis for him to relax in as much as he does in Hawai‘i.

Despite all of this you know so very well how much he cares for you and how much he loves you. And if you were being entirely honest, the privacy makes the times he does want to show you off all the more special. Indeed it makes the times he does feel like delightful surprises.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to come play poker with him and the boys. It's been a long time since you've enjoyed that sort of thing and you've missed it. Truthfully it's been a while since Elvis has even been in Vegas, memories of how he almost was stuck in a revolving door of engagements here cluttering his mind and giving him a nightmare or two. So having him enjoying time with friends and you seems like a perfect recipe for a night. Of course, you should know better by now, know how Elvis always has something up his sleeve. A playful little trick he can play with that glint in his eye.

"Where's my chair, Mr. Presley?" You ask, not bothering with his nickname or his first name. There always was something fun about how he acted a bit like an admonished schoolboy when you called him Mr. Presley. "Can't very well play poker if I don't have a chair."

Elvis looks at you and gives you that sly smile you know so very well by now as he pats his lap, thigh jiggling just a tad as he does. There's that glint in his eyes that spells trouble of the best and worst kind. "Ya got a chair right here, Princess. Nice 'n plush too."

You'd think after all these years and after seeing his body through so many changes that you wouldn't be affected by the jiggle of his thigh and the open v of his legs. Yet, you're a woman who knows what she wants and you're the woman he put a ring on all those years ago. Most of the things he does get you more hot under the collar than they have any right to. This is one of those things. You feel your pussy clench around nothing and despite yourself you rub your thighs together even as you're standing.

"Are we playing as a team, then? Us against the boys?" The questions roll off your lips with an ease and familiarity only you manage when it comes to him. "Otherwise I think you'd be able to cheat."

As you speak, you've started to walk closer to him and finally find yourself at arm's length. Elvis wastes no time in grabbing your arm and pulling you flush against his lap, his thighs cushioning your behind and his cock stirring ever so slightly under his stomach. A gasp leaves your lips unexpectedly.

His arm wraps around your waist, making sure you don't move too much while he talks. "My wife accusin' me of cheatin' at cards. I could take ya thinkin' I'd step out on ya but I would never cheat at poker."

The soft rumble of a laugh courses through your body and has you following suit as you shift in his lap. "I let you step out and you let me as a present. But I know you're a sore loser who can't focus when I'm here."

You turn your head just slightly, watching as Elvis's eyes practically dance with mirth. He's mercurial as all get out when he wants to be but he can take some good-natured teasing when it comes from you. It's why you've worked well all these years.

"Now honey, my yittle nungen, I know you're still smartin' from that game ya lost against me 'bout a week ago but that ain't no reason to be tellin' lies about my sportsmanship."

A defense is on the tip of your tongue when you feel Elvis's warm hand against your thigh, slipping under your dress that you decided to wear today. That warmth does away with the words in such a quick fashion that you find yourself biting your lip to keep from sighing. "Elvis."

You say his name in a feather soft whisper as his friends start to trickle into the room. You've been in a situation like this before, when you were younger and somehow just as randy as you were now but Elvis hadn't done something like this in ages. He hadn't even thought to tease you like this in ages.

As if he isn't paying attention, he merely hums at your whisper of his name and uses his arm to maneuver your crotch against his cock, the flowing fabric of your dress hiding his actions from prying eyes. You don't know when or how he managed to free his cock from the confines of his pants and yet he has. That hand that innocently is burning against your thigh has crept up to your panties and with the ease of someone who knows your body like the back of their hand, he moves them just enough to the side to slide inside of you.

"Goddamn. Didn't expect ya to be so wet. Was hopin' but— Lord almighty, ya gonna stain my pants if ya move." Ironically you choose just that moment to move, attempting to get off of him for a moment before his grip on your waist stops you. "Nungen, you be a good girl for yer Buntyn and stay put. Can't have 'em seein' Lil Elvis, now can we?"

You feel the heat of mild embarrassment and excitement flush through your body as a shiver racks it. A shake of your head is the only answer you can manage for a moment. "You want me to sit like this for the whole game, baby?"

Elvis nuzzles his lips against your neck, his eyes taking in his friends pulling out their seats and sitting down, none the wiser to what was happening in his lap. They wave at you and you, ever the courteous host wave back and even smile, saying hello as Elvis mumbles words into your neck. He doesn't need to greet everyone, not while he's buried inside of you, his cock leaking precum like he's ready to fuck you on the table instead of just letting you sit on his cock. Besides, they know better than to disturb him when the two of you are wrapped up in one another.

The chair isn't close enough to the table and you move to drag it a little closer, or drag both you and Elvis a little closer only to have what feels like the world's loudest squelch come from between your thighs. No one looks at the pair of you as if they heard it but to Elvis and you it might as well have been a shout. You let out a shaky breath as you shift to try and make yourself comfortable. Elvis's legs open up just a bit more to make sure you're where you need to be, even as he thrusts just a tad. "Gotta stay still. Gonna, if ya move— I might just take ya on this table, damn the game."

You can't help but swallow at the idea, your mouth filling with saliva at the mere idea of being flipped thrown onto the table, pussy exposed to people you and him call friends. It's primal and practically voyeuristic and the sort of thing both you and Elvis aren't incredibly fond of with your relationship and yet. Yet it fills you with such arousal you feel it actually dampening his pants as the game starts.

Elvis isn't the worst of poker players but in combination with you, he's nigh unstoppable. Of course, maybe that's because everyone else's eyes are on you, wondering why you haven't moved to the empty chair next to Elvis. Jerry— who's there on a surprise visit is closest to the two of you and raises an eyebrow as he looks at his cards and then at you. You clench around Elvis's cock in a bit of worry.

"Is it a little warm in here?" A simple question to everyone but from the way he's staring both of you down it's not meant to be one. Both you and Elvis open your mouth before you kiss Elvis to stop whatever one liner is about to leave his lips.

"With how cold he keeps it in here? The only reason I don't need a jacket is because of his body heat," you practically titter out a laugh, the fear of being caught heightening your arousal even further. You feel your clit throbbing as everyone laughs at your joke.

Jerry rolls his eyes and shakes his head looking down at your lap. Still, the game is going nicely, with Elvis winning more hands than not and you trying to grab at a free hand to get some form of relief. After what feels like an eternity Elvis finally has his hand move between your legs, his calloused fingers brushing up against your aching little clit.

"Haven't teased ya like this in years, have I, Princess?" Elvis murmurs against your ear, feeling your vagina clench around him. "Haven't shown everyone how good ya are for me for a long time, have I? Haven't made 'em realize why I couldn't forget 'bout ya."

Your answer is a hum caused by you biting your lip to keep the cry that threatens to escape your lips at the pressure of his fingers against you. It's not enough for Elvis though, he knows you can control yourself better than he ever can. "Darlin' use ya words."

"It's been too long," you choke out the words, one of your hands moving to grip his meaty thigh and the other to grip at the table. You can feel your walls fluttering around Elvis, feel your body tensing up as it chasing something you know he won't give you in public. The face you make when he pulls an orgasm from you is one that's strictly between the two of you. Yet you're so wound up that you fear you'll be leaning over the table for support as soon as he says the word. In an attempt to alleviate something, anything you try and bounce only to have him nip at your ear.

"Ask me nicely, Nungen. Ask me nicely. Give 'em their game and their show. Remind 'em I caught ya jus' the same as ya caught me." His voice is more of a grunt as he slides a set of chips into the pot wordlessly. "Show 'em what I get in bed every night. What 'm wakin' up to every night 'less ya let me stray. Show 'em what I see after I've eaten my dessert.

Despite the way you're biting your lips so hard they're practically bleeding a noise that sounds like a scream forces its way out of your lungs and mouth as you clench around Elvis. You feel a gush that you only identify with times you've been played with so much by Elvis that you make a mess of every sheet you have. His pants are ruined but they'd be anyway from how you feel a warm rush of his cum follow yours. Through the grace of God himself you don't fall onto the table, instead stabilizing yourself using Elvis's thigh and somehow his lap in general. Your breath takes a few minutes to even out, even as everyone watches you and Elvis panting as if you've run a marathon. There's a knowing look that crosses everyone's face but everyone is too scared to speak until finally you smile and smooth out your dress as if you plan on standing up.

"This is why you're losing boys, you can't pay attention the game."

You make no effort to get off of Elvis's lap.

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7 @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @arabellalightning505, @doll-elvis guarantee i'm missing someone. i tried the end. also i clearly added this originally. also you want to be added just ask me. i keep forgetting people or losing people in these and just it's a mess.

#elvis presley #ally writes #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #big daddy elvis #ally's wet hot smut summer #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #austin elvis smut #austin elvis x reader

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thetomorrowshow · 8 months ago

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Whumptober 7 - only for emergencies

title: in which gem is the only one with normal eyes

fandom: hermitcraft smp

cw: blood and injuries, mild gore, mild cannibalism (idk if it really counts as cannibalism tho...)

“Oh, we’ll be out of here pretty quick!” Scar declared confidently. “Xisuma won’t rest until he finds us.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Pearl questioned. Gem elbowed her.

Scar just waved her off. “If he doesn’t, then I have a back-up plan. But only for emergencies, I’m sure it’ll never come to that!”

They were stuck in here, in this concrete room, a sink and a bucket in the corner. The door was heavy and locked; the only comfort they had were three ragged blankets, which they had each dragged to separate spots in the room, marking their claim for somewhere to rest.

Gem had never been kidnapped before. Not officially, by someone who wasn’t a Hermit. But there was a first time for everything!

“I’m sorry, guys,” Pearl said after a long moment, the little feelers on her head twitching. “I shouldn’t have gone out in public with y’all.”

“Don’t say that,” Gem reprimanded, smacking Pearl on the arm.

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you!” insisted Scar.

“I just . . . if I hadn’t, then maybe—”

“Then we wouldn’t have gotten to go on this fun field trip!”

Scar grinned. “I love fun field trips. Don’t you, Pearl?”

Pearl rolled her eyes, but at least she was smiling. “Whatever.”

“My mom packed me cookies for this field trip,” Scar stage-whispered to Gem. “But I’m willing to trade.”

“My mom just gave me money to buy food.”

“Oh, that’s way better! Now my sandwich looks boring.”

“What kind of sandwich?”

“Classic peanut butter. But I’ve also—”

“I didn’t think I was kidnapped with children,” Pearl said drily. “Do you two mind?”

Scar grimaced. “I think we made the bus driver mad.”

“We? That was all—”

“I wish the torture would start, already.”

They came for Pearl a couple of hours later, by Gem’s watch.

They’d been out on the Hub for a game of lazer tag, of all things. It was supposed to be Gem, Pearl, and Impulse, but Impulse had dropped out last second, and Scar had happened to have a coupon to the lazer tag place, so the three of them went instead.

There was another group in the arena with them, college-age kids, and they all managed to have a good time together. They had seemed like nice kids.

Gem would never stop berating herself for not paying much attention to the way one of them kept staring at Pearl’s antennae. People noticed her—it wasn’t normal at all for an alien to be found on a public world. They usually kept to themselves, as far as Gem knew.

She’d never met one other than Pearl, at any rate, nor had she known anyone who had. In fact, many people didn’t believe they even existed. The Hermitcraft server was split on the issue, with certain people like Ren and Keralis sure of their existence, and others like Cleo and Mumbo fairly dubious.

Pearl had shown up near the beginning of Season 8, and that had put a definitive end to that casual debate.

Gem had honestly forgotten how uncommon aliens were. When you lived with one like Pearl for as long as she had, it became normal. When Pearl had asked about lazer tag, she hadn’t hesitated to find a place where they could go play. She hadn’t even thought about Pearl’s less common features.

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Gem said now, fiddling with the band of her watch. She’d noticed the way that kid was looking at Pearl, but she hadn’t thought anything of it. How could she have ignored it?

Scar shrugged. “Yeah. I forgot that aliens aren’t a thing.”

“Me too.”

“Are you keeping track of how long she’s gone?”

Gem nodded. “Forty minutes, now. How long do you think until Doc and Xisuma find us?”

“Well, they took us to another world,” Scar said contemplatively. “Last time someone got kidnapped, it was . . . Grian, I think? And that only lasted a couple of days, Xisuma tracked him down fast.”

“Do people get kidnapped a lot on Hermitcraft?”

“Usually one per season, at least! Didn’t you notice when I got kidnapped last season?”

“You—what?”

Scar waved nonchalantly. “Yes, yes, I missed a Boatem company meeting for it! I was gone for . . . a week? Maybe less.”

Now that he mentioned it, she did vaguely remember hearing that Scar spent an extended period of time off-world. She didn’t know that he’d been kidnapped, though.

“So it took Xisuma a week to find you?” she said, skipping over Scar’s kidnapping for now.

“Oh, no. Xisuma didn’t find me, I broke out. I mostly stuck around so long because I needed a vacation.”

“So . . . he might not find us within the week?”

“He will! He usually figures it out, at least.”

Gem groaned in frustration, buried her face in her knees. “I hope Pearl doesn't mind waiting.”

She was really trying not to think about Pearl, about what they might have been doing to her. Pearl was strong, that was for sure, but Gem had never seen her in a situation like this. Were they experimenting on her? Observing her?

There was surely some black market out there for aliens. Would it come to that? Were they just showing Pearl to potential buyers?

Were they hurting her?

She couldn’t let herself think about it. Hopefully, Pearl would be returned to them. It was silly to think she wouldn’t be—they were presumably using Gem and Scar as leverage to get Pearl to do what they wanted. As long as the two of them were still here and fine, Pearl was likely also still here somewhere, and not auctioned off to some highest bidder.

That was what was important. Pearl was here, and they were here, and Xisuma was going to get them out of there.

If Gem hadn’t been told, she probably wouldn’t have guessed that Pearl was an alien.

There were plenty of hybrids on Hermitcraft—avian, blaze, dog—, so Gem would have willingly believed that Pearl was some kind of bug hybrid. It wasn’t too far-fetched. She had antennae, and spines on her arms, she could crawl up walls.

The only thing that gave her pause was her eyes.

Pearl’s eyes reflected a galaxy. They spun with stars and planets and darkness, and Gem once spent all day comparing an image of their galaxy to the one in Pearl’s eyes and had found nothing similar in them. She wondered sometimes if the galaxy changed, if there was any way to map what her eyes displayed.

She wondered what Pearl saw.

Her eyes were the most beautiful things Gem had ever seen, and now, as she gently brushed Pearl’s hair back from her forehead, she wished she would open those eyes.

“Why are they keeping us around?” Scar murmured, tucking his blanket around Pearl. They only had the one thin blanket each, but Scar just buttoned up his shirt to protect against the cold.

“I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.”

Pearl groaned, shifted just slightly in Gem’s arms. “It’s because of me,” she said, not opening her eyes.

“Hm?”

“I get energy. From people. They want me to be . . . healthy.”

“Oh,” Scar said. “You’re an extrovert?”

Pearl snorted, finally opened her eyes. Yep, those stars still spun. “I draw energy from people,” she clarified. “It’s how I stay alive, being near others. They keep you here so that I can eat your delicious energy.”

“Yum,” Gem said.

“Yum yum,” Pearl confirmed. Her antennae wiggled. “I absorb it through my antennae.”

Pearl already looked a little healthier than she had when they first threw her back in the cell, and sure enough, Gem was feeling a bit sleepy.

She hadn’t looked too roughed-up, thankfully. A couple of bandages on her inner elbows and hands, a woozy look on her face. Just some tests run, probably. She’d been gone for about six hours.

But this was only the first day. What would happen tomorrow?

“Maybe we should break ourselves out,” Gem suggested. “It can’t be that hard, right? How many guards were there, Pearl?”

Pearl shrugged, her eyes slipping closed again.

Scar tugged on his sleeves. “We should wait,” he said. “I mean, Xisuma’s going to find us any day!”

Gem bit her tongue. She didn’t like to sit around and wait. She liked to get to the action, do things herself, make a push when others weren’t expecting it.

But Scar felt like they should wait, and they weren’t hurting Pearl too badly. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to wait.

Gem clenched her fist and just pulled Pearl closer.

“You know the drill, up against the wall.”

Every day, three people entered the room.

Scar and Gem would scoot to the back of the cell, sitting on the floor with their hands above their heads, pressed to the wall. One man would stand close to them, a stun gun trained on them. The other two would haul Pearl up by her arms and leave, the third backing up behind them. The third man always locked the door.

Gem could easily take out three men. No problem.

Every day, three people entered the room. Four went out.

This was the seventh day, and she was getting really sick of waiting.

“I’m gonna go for it tomorrow,” she told Scar. Scar shook his head rapidly, hiding a yawn.

“No—no, we should wait,” he insisted. “It’s only been a week, Xisuma’s—”

“You said to wait a week,” Gem countered. “I waited a week. Nobody’s found us.”

“We don’t have any weapons!”

“All of the guards have swords and stun guns. I’m GeminiSlay, I can take one down with my bare hands, then take his weapon!”

“I—look, I have a plan if it gets bad,” Scar said, wringing his hands. “But it isn’t bad, yet, and we just have to wait a little longer.”

Gem sighed. Sure, it wasn’t too bad so far, but Pearl was still suffering.

She now had dark bruises trailing up the insides of her arms, the evidence of many blood draws or IVs. Clinical stitched-up lines marked her arms and bare feet, and Gem was sure that she’d been cut open and stitched back up in more places than that, but she held her clothes closed (her shirt had been sliced down the back for easy removal) and shook her head whenever Gem asked if she wanted help with wounds.

She didn’t really talk much, not anymore. She just rested against their shoulders and slept. Gem and Scar usually fell asleep quickly, her drain on their energy pulling them down as well.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it was still bad. They had spent days here, leaning on one another, their energy dwindling more and more as Pearl required more from them. They only got fed once a day, and the sink in the corner of the room provided water but there was nothing to drink with, and cupping their hands barely got anything.

Plus, Gem had a base to be building. She didn’t have weeks to spend locked up in here.

“I’m going to attack,” Gem decided. Scar grimaced, buried his face into his knees. “Tomorrow, when they come to get Pearl. If you want to help, you can.”

Scar didn’t respond.

So Gem just settled in with her singular blanket and started planning.

It went perfectly.

Until it didn’t.

Gem launched herself at the first guard through the door, wresting his stun gun from his grip. She turned it on him, holding down the trigger until he was writhing on the ground. Then she hit the following guard in the face with the hilt of the gun—and she aimed for the third one—

But it wasn’t right.

There wasn’t just a third guard.

A fourth guard followed in, then a fifth.

Coming straight for her.

Before Gem knew what was happening, she was down, electricity burning through her spasming body. She gasped—her vision went red, flashing, the only sound that echoed through her ears was a distant screaming—

Then it ended, and Gem took in a ragged breath, the world returning under layers of static.

“No more standing, for this one,” a too-loud voice growled. Gem wrenched open her eyes, looked up—

A blurry guard was holding a club over her leg—

He swung, landed with a deafening crack, and Gem screamed and screamed and screamed.

She couldn’t breathe past the pain for far too long. Long enough that black spots floated in front of her eyes, long enough that her chest strained with the lack of oxygen. She gritted her teeth hard enough that one of them gave under the strain, but after several swelling moments, she managed to draw in a breath.

“Okay, can you hear me? Gem, Gem, how many fingers am I holding up?”

She blinked several times, but couldn’t quite keep her eyes open. It hurt so much, sickening pulses spreading out from her left leg, and then it hurt even worse and fire flashed through her brain—

“It’s me, it’s okay, I’m just—I think it’s broken, and we should probably set it but I don’t know how to do that—can you look at me, Gem?”

“Hurts,” she managed, tears squeezing out of her closed eyes.

“I know, I know . . . oh, Gem, oh, this is bad—this is so bad—”

Gem swallowed, then finally forced her eyes open.

Scar was there, leaning over her, hands fluttering as he tried to decide what to do first. Eventually, he just kneeled beside her head, pulling her into his lap. Gem couldn’t restrain a small noise in the back of her throat as even that movement shifted her leg a tiny bit, but she leaned into Scar, desperate for any comfort that might help ease the pain. He wiped her forehead with his sleeve, brushing back strands of hair.

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry, Gem. This is pretty bad, huh? I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

“I’m worrying,” she choked out. Scar chuckled nervously.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Gem slept most of that day, but by the evening, she was more-or-less conscious and able to think through the pain. Her leg was definitely broken, but they didn’t dare set it, not without a doctor present.

She and Scar didn’t talk. Scar sat in the back corner and picked at his nails, glancing around anxiously every once in a while. Gem rested on the ground, trying not to so much as twitch her leg.

When Pearl was thrown back in, though, they were silent for a different reason.

One of her antennae was missing.

It was cut off, messy stitches closing the wound, and Gem could do nothing but gape as Pearl lay in a slumped heap on the floor, her singular antenna barely twitching.

“Oh, Pearl,” Scar said at long last, breaking the silence and diving to Pearl’s side. “Oh, Pearl. I’m so sorry.”

Pearl’s shoulders trembled in a move so foreign that Gem had never seen it before, couldn’t reconcile it with her Pearl—

She was crying. Gem saw it, briefly, as Scar lifted her into his lap—Pearl’s eyes leaked sparkling tears, each one like a miniature star rolling down her cheek.

Then Pearl’s face was hidden in Scar’s chest, and Gem almost believed that she had imagined it. Pearl didn’t cry—all the time that they’ve been here, she’d smiled and laughed almost like it was any other day (albeit more tired and with a few more winces).

If Pearl was crying, that meant things were really bad.

“They—” Pearl choked out, voice muffled by Scar’s shirt.

“Sh, sh,” he hushed. “We’ve got you.”

“They—they’re mapping my eyes,” she cried. “They can’t—they’ll find—they’ll find my home!”

Gem had never asked Pearl where she came from, how she found herself on Hermitcraft, and she never shared that information voluntarily.

Maybe it was to protect her past.

Maybe it was to protect her family.

“Scar,” Gem whispered. When he looked up, she tried to convey to him that this was serious, far too serious to wait any longer. She nodded her head toward Pearl, then toward her own leg.

Scar’s face fell. He bit his lip, glanced between Pearl and Gem.

After a moment, he nodded to himself, coming to some sort of decision.

“I’ll get us out of here,” Scar murmured, gently stroking Pearl’s hair. “I’ve got it, don’t you worry about a thing.”

When the guards came in the next morning, Scar didn’t move from his spot against the left wall of the room, swathed in the darkest shadows that the cell had.

“Against the back wall,” the one with the stun gun commanded, aiming it at him.

Scar smiled, just visible in the darkness. It was a smile that would be considered friendly, jovial, if the person didn’t know Scar.

Gem knew Scar. She recognized that smile from a million miles away. It was the smile he wore when he was about to close a shady deal, when someone played right into his hands, when he was in games of death.

It was hungry.

“Move!”

“No, thank you,” said Scar cordially. “I think you’ll move, actually. Right back out of here, if you want to live.”

Gem blinked, surprised at his level threats. She hugged Pearl a bit tighter, her friend limp in her arms.

The guard snorted. “Yeah, right. You have until the count of three to get against that wall.”

Scar sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said regretfully.

“One.”

“Y’know, it’s always count of three. Why not count of five? Or six?”

“Two.”

“Just wondering! Gem, you might want to close your eyes.”

“Three.”

The guard strode toward Scar, gun out, finger on the trigger.

Gem did not close her eyes. Pearl didn’t look, face still buried in Gem’s shoulder, but Gem watched. She wasn’t afraid of a little bloodshed, and she had no clue what Scar was planning.

Did he really think that he could take the guards on his own, when Gem had failed so definitively just the day before? What did he have that she didn’t?

Suddenly, Scar’s eyes shone from the shadows.

And they shone blue.

Scar leapt at the guard, fangs—since when did he have fangs?—bared in a snarl, and Gem barely had time to blink before Scar’s teeth were ripping into the guard’s throat, tearing it out entirely with frankly impressive jaw strength.

The other two men shouted—one guard got out his own stun gun and hit Scar with a bolt of electricity, but Scar took it in stride without so much as a flinch. His skin rippled, fading blue to match his eyes, and as Gem watched, leathery blue wings burst from his back, shredding his shirt.

The guards barely had a chance to scream before Scar was on top of them, slashing through their flesh with his sharp teeth and black claws (sprouting from his fingertips, still growing longer and longer). He destroyed them in a matter of seconds, blood and viscera flying everywhere, spraying across Gem’s face. She choked, wiped off her eyes, then noticed, with a sense of growing horror, that Scar had stopped to—to eat one of the bodies, digging a hole into his chest and pulling out fistfuls of flesh with reckless abandon.

She opened her mouth to call to him, but no sound came out. Her lips trembled, her breath caught in her throat.

Was this creature still Scar? Blue and terrifying, wings flapping and long claws stuffed into a body, his pointed teeth dripping with blood. His hair was the same, his features still Scar’s (but for the eyes, piercing and ice-blue), the scars on his face unchanged.

Would he recognize her if she spoke to him? Or would he attack them, too?

How had Scar become this—this monster?

Another guard ran up to the cell, but instead of entering, they slammed the door shut, locking it.

That didn’t seem to do more than mildly annoy Scar and distract him from his meal. He growled animalistically, then scampered (and he moved oddly, launching himself from all-fours to flight in a couple of steps, his hands and feet pushing him along even as his wings carried him) to the door. Without warning, he stabbed his claws into the metal of the door and tore through it like it was nothing more than a leaf of paper.

Then he turned, his glowing eyes lighting on Gem and Pearl.

Gem couldn’t help it—she flinched away, pulling Pearl closer to herself. She didn’t know if Scar was a danger to her or not, but after what she just saw, she wasn’t prepared to be seen as a friend.

Oddly enough, Scar’s face twisted in regret. He offered a shrug—rather downplayed by the blood coating him. “Sorry,” he said, and his voice was entirely Scar’s (if with a bit of a lisp from the longer teeth). “I didn’t want—I didn’t want it to come to this.”

Gem wasn’t a squeamish person, but she still avoided looking down at the mutilated bodies. She couldn’t stand to think of literally eating a person—what had Scar become?

“I—I’ll explain later,” Scar said, as if he had heard her thoughts. “I’ll go find a communicator. And destroy their stuff.”

He dashed off down the hall.

Pearl moved against her, tipping her head back. “I’m tired,” she mumbled.

“I know,” Gem said, trying not to gag at the scent of blood that had begun to permeate the room. She swallowed, pushing down her fear. “We’re going home. Scar’s getting us home.”

That was all Pearl needed to hear. She fully slumped against Gem, dead asleep. Gem gently rubbed her back, buried her nose in her hair (carefully avoiding the stump of her antenna).

She hoped they got out of there quickly.

Pearl spent a lot more time resting than she ever had. Gem figured it was something similar to chronic fatigue, now that she was missing half of her main source of energy.

When she asked if it would grow back, Pearl had just shrugged.

“Only if I go back home.”

“Are you going to do that?”

“Probably not. It’s far away.”

Pearl still managed to create massive builds practically overnight, though, so Gem assumed it didn’t bother her too much.

Gem’s leg was still recovering, a month out from their week in captivity. It had been broken severely enough that she’d needed pins to hold the bones together, which put her at six weeks minimum in the cast. It limited her sparring and building abilities, but she did what she could on crutches to keep her skills from getting rusty.

She couldn’t spend all her time practicing, though, in order to let her body recover, so she ended up filling a lot of her time with meditation. Her impatience is what got her leg broken, after all, and she’d been beating herself up about it ever since.

Scar joined her, sometimes, at various points of interest across her base where she could look out over the valley and Pearl across the way. He would sit beside her in silence, oddly contemplative as he, too, stared at Pearl’s builds.

Gem understood, now, why Scar hadn’t wanted to act except in case of emergency. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her like that, either.

He had fully transformed back into something human (she wasn’t sure that he was human, though) by the time rescue arrived, and Cub had taken one look at the gore and taken Scar straight to his base on Hermitcraft, ignoring Xisuma’s insistence that he get checked over for injuries.

Now, as they sat on a hill, a couple of feet between them, Gem wondered what Cub knew.

Scar sighed beside her.

She wasn’t scared of him. She wondered if that was what he thought, that he kept sitting with her and sending her terribly guilty and forlorn looks because he expected to be faced with fear and disgust.

She wasn’t scared. It had been—well, it had been a shock, and she still hadn’t quite gotten the image of Scar eating a human body out of her head, but she wasn’t scared.

She just felt . . . awkward, bringing it up. Scar clearly hadn’t wanted them to see that part of him. He probably felt vulnerable, rejected. Why he kept hanging around her, she didn’t know, but she had to get rid of the barrier between them.

“How’s Scarland coming along?” she asked one day, kicking her good leg a little.

As simple as it sounded, that did it. That broke the ice, and Scar started rambling about something or other, and the next morning when she settled down to meditate, Scar was already there with blueprints in hand.

She stared at his fingers as he pointed out different aspects of his design, her mind’s eye momentarily seeing a blackened claw glistening with blood.

Well. If she ever needed help to murder someone, she knew who she was calling.

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graves4girls · 2 years ago

Text

☆ 18+ me & u | miguel o'hara

✮ wc. 4.4k ⚠︎ warning(s): 18+, unprotected, pre/noncanon, teensy tiny bit of possessive reader, fem!reader i got carried away with this so it's hella long but idgaf cuz i had sm fun writing it so if it gets rambly sorry :(( also if u can't tell by this i'm excited for halloween ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

You smear the black gloss across your lips, one arm stabilizing yourself as you stand bent over the vanity, fixing the small imperfections of your makeup. You cap the lipgloss and drop it into your makeup bag, straightening to eye your outfit in the mirror, fixing the ears secured to the top of your head. A knock at your bedroom door pulls you from admiring yourself any further, moving to pull the door open, smiling at the tower of a man behind it.

"You ready?"

"For what?"

Your eyebrows knit together, crossing your arms over your chest. "The costume party! You said you were going."

His eyes run over your frame, eyebrows raising at the provocative costume. "I decided I don't want to. All it's gonna be is drunk people dry humping and vomiting everywhere."

You frown.

"We were supposed to go together. You can't just back out. You promised."

"I'm breaking it, then. I'm sure you'll have fun without me."

You drop your arms to your sides, sighing. "You're driving me then. And I need to make a pit stop at the party store. I need one more thing for my costume."

He grumbles quietly but nods nonetheless, letting you slip past him and down the hall.

You push the car door open as he shuts the engine off, but you don't get out, looking back at him.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Why would I go in? You're the one who wanted to come here."

"What if I need help getting something off a high shelf?"

He rolls his eyes at the lame excuse, biting back a grin. "That's what the workers are for."

"Just, come in with me. It'll be quick."

He reluctantly steps out of the car, following close behind you.

You skim through the aisles, eyes locking on the bright red and blue of one particular costume hanging on the wall, and you reach to pull it down, scanning the size. He notices you eyeing the package, stepping closer.

"What do you need that for?"

You hum, giving him a grin. "I don't. But you do. You'd look so cute in this."

He gapes at you for a moment, waving a hand in the air as he shakes his head furiously.

"You're fucking crazy if you think I'd ever wear that. I'm not ten years old. And I told you I'm not going to the stupid party."

"Come on! I'll pay for it–just come with me. I really want you to go."

He stares at you for a few moments in silence, small scowl etched into his features and his big arms folded over his chest. The way you look up at him with those big, pretty eyes, and the way you're practically begging him to go makes him weak, and you smile when he drops his head with a sigh.

"I can't believe you're actually making me go to a costume party dressed as goddamn Spiderman. Was this the only reason you made me drive you here?"

"No, I still need a cat tail."

You pull him along by his hand through the crowds of people and drag him up the stairs, in search of an empty room.

"What are you guys supposed to be?"

You turn to the voice, smiling at them.

"I'm a black cat. He didn't have time to change yet, but he's gonna be Spiderman." You can tell he's already regretting giving in to your batting eyelashes and pouty lip, not acknowledging the person whatsoever. "Is there anywhere he can change? Bathroom or something?"

"There's one down the hall, to the right. Hopefully nobody's hogging it yet."

You nod and yank him towards the room, knocking before pushing it open when you get no response. You shove the costume against his chest, toothy grin stuck to your face.

"You're way too happy about this. You owe me."

"Whatever, just hurry up. They're gonna have a contest later for best costumes and I'm gonna nominate you."

"¡Oye, no empujes tu suerte-!"

You push him back and slam the door shut, giggling at the way he groans.

"Almost done?"

You can hear shuffling behind the door.

"Uh–yeah. It's just a little…tight. This was the biggest size they had?"

The door creaks open, and he peeks his head around to look at you.

"Yeah. It can't be that bad. Show me." He pulls the door open, and you hide your laugh behind your hand at the sight of him. "See, I told you! You look cute."

"You're laughing. I look ridiculous."

"I'm serious! Give me a spin."

Another incredulous look, but he obliges when he realizes you mean it, popping your hip out as you shift your weight. He turns slowly, and you can't keep your eyes from drifting lower, taking in the way the thin material hugs his ass perfectly, along with the rest of him, really. You whistle at him as he turns back to face you, mischievous and teasing.

"Watch it. I'll ditch your ass if you keep that shit up." He points a finger at you, but you wave him off, pushing his hand down.

"Where's the mask?"

"I'm not wearing it. This is bad enough."

"You're wearing the goddamn mask. You're not Spiderman without the mask. Put it on."

You can't place it, but every girl that ogles at him and feels him up tightens something in your chest. He's not even trying to be the center of attention, yet girls are flocking to get close to him. You're supposed to be dancing with your friends, but you're too busy glaring at the Barbie hanging off his arm to enjoy the music anymore.

"Hey, what's your problem?" One of your friends bumps against your shoulder, eyes following your gaze, and she sighs. "Ignore them. You're here to have fun."

You huff quietly, fixing your cat ears.

"I know, but he's supposed to be my Spiderman. He should be over here, with me."

"Holy shit, you are pathetic. C'mon, let's get some drinks."

You tear your eyes away from the sight, sulking into the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

"Just some juice or something. I'm not in the mood to get drunk anymore."

You take the solo cup from her hands, taking a sip and turning to eye the crowd from the threshold of the kitchen doorway, getting small glimpses of him through the silhouettes of people dancing. His mask is pulled back to show his pretty face, pieces of messy curls falling into his face as he laughs at something you're too far to hear. Honestly, you can't really blame them completely, he does look gorgeous, strong muscles straining against the cheap material of the costume, leaned cooly against the wall with his arms over his chest. You decide to cut his conversation with Harley Quinn short, curating a quick cocktail and leaving your friend to call after you, slipping past inflatable dinosaurs and far too many half-assed skeletons to snake between them.

"Hey! I brought you a drink."

His eyes flicker from the cup to you once, twice, before he squints.

"Why? What'd you do to it?"

You swat at his chest, holding it out further to him. "Nothing, you dick. I'm being nice. I did drag you here."

He takes the cup from you hesitantly, searching the concoction for any sign of foul play, before taking a sip, and you mentally note the absence of the pig-tailed girl that'd been heckling him.

"You've been getting a lot of attention tonight, huh?"

He glares at you, gently swirling his cup.

"I can't get two seconds alone. I don't know how you like these kinds of things."

"Well, try actually doing something rather than sitting in a corner acting all mysterious. And put the mask on."

You reach out to grab his free hand, gently pulling in an attempt to get him to follow you.

"And where exactly are you bringing me?"

"The dance floor. I know you've got a little something up your sleeve."

He holds a finger up as he takes another sip.

"Let me finish my drink, and I'll meet you out there."

"Promise? And don't break it this time."

"Promise. Ahora déjame en paz."

You drop his hand, smiling as you skip away to find your friends once more.

You jump a bit when you feel big hands catch your hips, and you're about to swing at the person that seems to think it's okay to grab random girls when his deep voice rumbles in your ear.

"Having fun?"

You look over your shoulder to find that big eyed mask staring down at you, nodding with a smile.

"Took you long enough. And you kept your promise."

You turn to face him, but he keeps his hands on your hips, and your face heats up a bit at the contact.

"I got a little held up. And you'll never guess who it was."

You scrunch your face, tilting your head a bit. "Who?"

"Another black cat. But like, Marvel's Black Cat. She had the whole get-up, claws and everything."

You heat up even more.

"Oh, really? That's funny."

"Yeah, she was trying to get my number and shit."

You suck your teeth. "And shit? What else was she trying to get?" You tease him, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Nothing like that, you weirdo. Are we gonna dance, or what?"

You give him a half-hearted smirk as he clears his throat, brushing his hands away to turn to your friend.

Your friend's hanging off of you, drunkenly babbling and giggling, and you decide to recuperate away from the crowd, patting a hand against Miguel's shoulder.

"Help me bring her somewhere quieter. She needs to sober up."

He picks her from your shoulder with ease, following you away from the loud music and up into an empty bedroom. You retrieve some cold water as he sets her on the bed, and she plops back with a laugh.

"Hey, drink this. You're fucking plastered."

She refuses it at first, but with minimal fighting, she eventually chugs the drink and falls against your shoulder.

Her boyfriend collects her soon enough, conveniently leaving you and Spiderman to linger in the quiet room.

"You seem to be having a good time. Aren't you happy I made you come?"

He plops onto the bed with a huff, pushing the mask up and raising his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't say happy, but I'm not not happy. I mean, I like seeing you have fun."

You step closer to the mirror hanging on the door, prodding at your makeup.

"Yeah? You looked pretty thrilled out there."

He watches you from his spot, leaning back on one of his palms. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing my makeup. She smudged it when she was grabbing at me."

"You look fine."

You give him a look from the side of your eye, pulling out a small lip gloss from your bra cup and twisting it open. "That's not the compliment you think it is."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I meant. You look pretty. You can't even tell it's messed up."

You close the small tube and set it down on the wardrobe, running your hands down your sides to feel the shiny faux leather fabric of the bodysuit. You can feel his eyes on you, running all over your body, and suddenly there's a tight coil in your stomach.

"Did you ever give that girl your number?"

His eyes snap to your face when you turn to look down at him, brows knit together.

"Who, Black Cat? No, no, she's not my type. And I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend. I've seen her around campus a few times with the same guy."

You hum quietly.

"What about Harley Quinn? She's cute."

He shrugs. "She's just in my genetics class. She was just asking about an assignment. Nothing nefarious." He sits up, a small smirk working its way onto his lips. "Why are you grilling me all of a sudden? Are you trying to hook me up with someone?"

You shake your head with a grin, cheeks heating up. "No! I'm just wondering. I mean, girls have been hanging off of you all night. Surely you gave one of them your number, or something?"

He chuckles quietly, toying with the fabric on his leg. "No, I don't go handing out my number to random girls."

"Sure."

"What about you? Don't you have guys all over you?"

You scoff, moving to sit next to him.

"Hardly. I'll be lucky if I get one guy asking for my number before I leave. And the clock is ticking. It's already almost midnight."

He's looking at you, staring, and you don't want to look back.

"I think they're just intimidated. They think you'll reject them." His voice is quieter, softer, but it still rumbles deep in his chest.

"Shut up."

He leans closer.

"I'm serious." His hand comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, lingering before it drops back to his side. "You look stunning. I mean, you're always gorgeous, but you look especially good in black leather."

Your whole body feels like a furnace, scorching with the sudden tension in the air, and you stare down at your lap.

"Thanks."

"Oye. Mírame." His hand comes up once more to grab your chin, turning your head to face him. "I mean it."

Your eyes fall to his lips for a moment, nodding softly.

"I know." Your own voice betrays you, nearly a whisper as you find his gaze.

He's kissing you before you can say anything else, big hand cupping the side of your face as his nose bumps against yours, and your hands are quick to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. He leans into you, nearly knocking you over if it weren't for his hold on you, desperate to get more of you. He's hoisting you into his lap, hands grabbing at your hips as your tongue slips into his mouth, and he's letting a low groan fall from his lips. He can't pull you close enough, strong arms constricting around your waist as your hands frame his face, only pulling back when your lungs nearly burn.

"You should've done that a long time ago."

He chuckles against your lips, brown eyes boring into your own, pupils blown wide. "I was waiting for the right time."

You drop another heated kiss to his flushed lips, humming into his mouth when he rolls your hips down into his own.

"You really wanna do this here?"

"I don't think I can hold out any longer. I need you, now."

You rock down against him with another kiss.

"Whatever you say, Spiderman."

Your hands are moving to tug off his costume, leaving him in tight briefs that leave little to the imagination. He shifts your position to pin you below him, stuffing his face into your neck to let his lips find your throat, and your hands are tangling in his messy hair, black nails massaging his scalp. His fingers crawl down your side to grab one of your thighs, hooking your leg over his hip as he drops his head lower to litter your collarbones with kisses, nipping gently at the exposed skin.

Your hands fall from his hair to feel along the muscle of his chest, down his abs until they bump into the elastic band of his briefs, stilling against the fabric. His hips roll into your light touch, begging for something to rub against, and your hand drops lower to brush your fingers against him through the thin cotton, earning a quiet groan that melts into your skin. He draws back to take you in for a moment, kissing you, eager and hot, and a big hand snakes between you to delicately pull the zipper of your bodysuit down, shoving open the piece to let the warm air hit your bare chest.

You slip your hand beneath his briefs to wrap your fingers around him, heavy in your hold, lazily running your fingers up the underside of his shaft. He's tugging at the sleeves of the bodysuit to push it down your arms, trailing kisses down your sternum as he does so, only pulling away to discard the garment beside you on the bed, immediately latching back onto you while one of his hands slowly inches lower to ghost over your cunt. He nudges aside the lacy black panties that just barely conceal you, his thick fingers exploring you, rolling over your clit a few times before they're soaking in your juices, pulling a quiet keen from your plump lips. He muffles your soft noises against his lips, his other hand sliding up your neck to cup the side of your face, and the way he's moving against you so languidly feels far more intimate than just any other fuck. He's being careful with you, taking in every mewl and whine you make, fingers working you perfectly, as if he already knows every part of you and how to touch you just right.

"You doing okay?" He bumps the tip of his nose to yours, warm breath fanning across your lips.

You nod, letting a hand come up to nestle in his hair. "I'm doing more than okay. Feels really good."

His thumb rubs circles into your clit, palm pushing against you when your hips begin to lift from the mattress, keeping you in place below him.

You need something else. It's not enough.

"Mmph–Miguel…" You manage to whimper out his name, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. "I…" Your words melt into another moan, eyelids fighting to stay open.

"Hmm? What is it, gorgeous? Tell me." He caresses the side of your face, calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I want you…I want you to fuck me. Please." Your cheeks burn, no doubt scalding to the touch as you stare up at him through your long lashes, gnawing at your bottom lip.

He seems to short-circuit at your plea for a moment or two before he gives an avid nod, smooshing another kiss to your lips. "I'll give you anything you want if you keep asking like that. God, you are fuckin' perfect."

His hand slips from between your thighs to grab at your panties, and the sound of the lace tearing apart pulls you out of your mind for a second.

"Miguel! Are you that impatient? Those were my favorite pair!" You can't hide the little giggle that carries your words, hands wrapping around his forearms.

"I'll buy you a new pair." He dismisses your comment with a kiss to your jaw, throwing the pathetic string of lace aside.

He drags the tip of his cock along your slick folds a couple times before he's stretching you open, big hands catching the back of your knees to push your legs back towards your head, groaning low in his throat at the way your warm walls hug him tight. Your own hands grab at his strong arms, clinging to his wrists as he slowly rolls his hips into your own, and you bite back a moan when he bottoms out, stilling against you. He's big, but the stretch feels so good. Filling you to the hilt, overtaking all your senses as he cages you beneath him, nothing else on your mind but him.

"This alright?" He leans down to press little kisses to your cheek, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing shapes into the back of your knees.

"Mhm." You can't find the strength to conjure up anything intelligible, mind foggy with the little grunts he makes that make you want to squirm.

His deep moans and hums tickle your skin, nose pressed into your neck as he rocks into you. His hands drop to the mattress, letting your legs hook over his big shoulders instead, and your nails dig into his biceps, clawing at him. His slow thrusts grow more eager, rocking you against the sheets as he lifts his head to look at you, watching your expression pinch and contort whenever he brushes that sweet spot.

Your eyes water when his hips snap against you, faster and more brutal with every roll of his hips, teeth nearly drawing blood as they sink into your plump bottom lip, swollen from his constant need to be kissing you. One of his hands has snuck between your legs once more to pay special attention to your clit, making you a whimpering, mumbling mess below him. His other hand finds its way up to hold your chin, his thumb slipping between your lips to settle on your warm tongue, and you gently suck on the digit as your eyes find his.

"Fuck…I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep looking at me like that."

Your eyebrows knit together when he hits that sweet spot inside you, a pathetically loud moan ripping through your vocal chords as your hips jerk. The bedframe screams with every rough slam of his hips, and he revels in every whine and hiccup that leaves your pretty lips, smearing his spit-slick thumb across your jawbone. His hips grow more erratic with every moment that passes, carelessly drilling into you in a desperate attempt to chase that high. His praises have devolved into gravelly mumbles, nose bridge pressed against your jaw as his warm breath hits your sticky skin, and one of your hands fumbles to wrap around his neck, keeping him close to you. His fingers work your clit tirelessly, a silent plea for you to finish, cock bullying your tight walls.

His hips stutter as he comes, giving one more deep slam of his hips before filling you completely, panting heavy and uneven as he continues to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He slowly tilts his head to stick lazy, hot kisses to the underside of your jaw, urging you on as your legs begin to tremble. He grins against your skin when your thighs shake, coating his fingers in your juices as your orgasm hits you, comforting you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth as you come down. He lets your legs fall to frame his hips as he pulls out of you, bringing his hand up to run along your stomach, over your chest and curling behind your neck, thumbing over your jawline as your eyes tentatively find his.

"There you are, pretty girl. How're we feeling?" He looks almost lovestruck, his expression so tooth-rottingly sweet it makes your stomach do flips.

You hum quietly, leaning into his hold. "Perfect. A little tired, though."

He smiles at you, dropping a kiss to the tip of your nose that has you smiling right back at him.

He pulls himself away from you leisurely, running a hand down your side before getting up from the mattress, eyeing the mess of clothes scattered across the room. You sit up, leaning back on the heels of your palms as he moves to pick up his briefs. You both jump at the sudden knock on the door, and you panic when the doorknob twists.

"Hey, Miguel! You in here? You-!"

His reflexes are quick enough to slam the door shut before whoever it was barging in could catch a glimpse of the filthy scene, eyes wide and head snapping towards you to find your own expression just as alarmed.

"What the fuck, man?! Knock first!"

"I did, dude!"

He growls quietly. "Well, wait for me to respond! You don't go around swinging doors open! I'll be down in a bit! Christ…" He twists the lock on the doorknob, running a hand down his face.

You're already pulling your clothes back on by the time he turns around, pulling the zipper up as he slips on his briefs.

"Sorry. I should've made sure it was locked earlier."

You shake your head, waving him off and pushing him away from the door to look in the mirror, eyes widening at your reflection.

"Holy shit. My makeup is fucked." There's black streaks of dried tears staining your hot cheeks, lip gloss smeared and cat ears askew.

He stands behind you, and you want to disappear. This is what was under him that whole time? Utterly mortifying.

"Here, let me help. Look at me."

You shamefully spin around, avoiding his eyes as his hands come up to hold your face. His thumbs run over the black marks on your face, gently wiping at them as you sigh.

"What are you sighing about?"

He continues to swipe at the messy makeup, rubbing his finger under your lips to pick up the excess gloss.

"Why didn't you tell me I looked like shit?"

He hums softly, holding you still. "Cause you don't. You look pretty. Some messy makeup isn't gonna change that." He leans closer to your ear, his breath tickling your skin. "And in all honesty, it was really hot."

You push him away with an amused giggle. "Whatever. Let me at least put some more lip gloss on." You grab the tube from the wardrobe, but he picks it from your hand before you can turn back to the mirror. "What the hell-?"

"Shh. Just let me do it." You roll your eyes but let him tilt your head back, smearing the shiny gloss across your lips. "Can I give you one more kiss before we go out there?"

He dips his head to stick one last long kiss to your soft lips when you begrudgingly nod, flattening your hair and fixing your ears when he draws back. You turn back to the mirror, pleasantly surprised at his handiwork.

"Oh my god, the contest! Hurry up and get dressed! I totally forgot about it."

He groans as you stuff your lip gloss back into the cup of your bodysuit, pulling on the tight spandex costume and following you out of the quiet room. The subtle looks you get as you pull him down the stairs makes you both giddy and horrified, keeping your head down as you shove past people. You can hear someone on the stereo system saying something about the runner up winner, and you deflate a bit.

"Dammit! We missed it."

He nuzzles his face into your neck as he comes up behind you, sighing. "Well, since it's too late for the contest, why don't we get out of here? I think we both could use some sleep"

You hum in a quiet agreement, letting him pull you out the rowdy house and into the cool night air.

"And don't think you don't still owe me for putting me in this stupid costume."

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