Tw Age Gap - Tumblr Posts
Can’t Wait To Blow My Candles Out
dilf!Ken Ryuguji x f!reader
Genre: Smut Notes: happy birthday to my love 💕 Warnings: 18+, dubcon, age gap, divorce mention, cheating??, coercion, size difference, fingering, oral (f receiving), virgin!reader, virginity loss, shower sex, dacryphilia, breeding kink, creampie, impregnation, corruption, pet names, sir!kink, daddy!kink, praise, mutual masturbation, forced orgasms. Words: 5k
networks: @planetonet @tometpd
The collapse of a marriage was something Ken Ryuguji never thought he’d experience in his life, but also knew was a long time coming. He’d been married to his wife for ten years – and in that time he’d fathered two sons to her. Two sons that she took with her to her mother’s house after their final blazing row. He couldn’t blame her. The penthouse given its current atmosphere was no place for two young children. But God damn it, he’s lonely.
Happy birthday, Ken Ryuguji.
Afficher davantage
getting called kiddo while sub topping… oiuggghhhh…
Royalty, stepcest AU. 👑
: rape/non-con, stepcest, age difference (reader's age is unspecified while könig is aged mid-fifties.) MDNI 18+
Princess!Stepdaughter!Reader x King!Stepdad!König.
King!Stepdad!König believes that he has complete and full ownership over his beloved daughter. He doesn't let other men get too close, I mean, he doesn't even allow you to stand outside during daylight. All day, you're locked inside your bedroom, protected by knights and your own overprotective father who's intentions are far from pure.
At first, you don't notice his stomach-churning behaviour, how his gaze turns sexual from friendly in a matter of seconds when you're wearing something even slightly revealing. He's the King, and although you're his Princess, you hold no power in comparison to him. When you're awoken in the middle of the night to König slamming into your cunt repetitively, the agonising and splitting stretch between your thighs, you're ordered to lay there and take it while he comforts you and wipes away your tears. The mixture of his caring, fatherly behaviour combined with his cruel, brutal rapey actions leave you dumbfounded, dizzy, and choking on your words and cries.
King!Stepdad!König who spoils you rotten. He'll buy you whatever you wish, but in return, he demands your throat. Some Knights even defend König and are complicit in his rape. They'll hold you down against the ground on your knees while König ruthlessly grinds down your throat until a bulge forms in your neck, while you're gagging and gurgling on his dick. You mistake that tight sensation in your stomach as disgust, when in reality, it's your body betraying your mind and reacting to König's acts.
All you can really do is look up at the guards for pity while König orders them out of the bedroom, to have complete privacy with his stepdaughter, to ruthlessly brutalise and mutilate your tight, sloppy cunt until your cheeks are raw and tear-stained. :(
Don't worry, he has no plans to arrange a marriage anyways. You'll serve König as a form of amusement and pleasure, won't you, Prinzessin?
HIII I SUPER LOVE UR WORKS!! can u do a stepdad!konig that got her stepdaughter!reader pregnant hksisjsjs
Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mention of abortion, breeding kink, age gap, age difference, tell me if I missed any.
You’d been… shockingly quiet these past days. Cooped up in your room with little to no interaction with both him and your mother, or with Horangi unless they imposed themselves on you, knocking until you broke in and forced you to listen to them. Mumbling incoherent and sobbing writes that left him confused at most hours despite having heard everything from your pleading cries and grumbling moans when he fucked you in your bed. Or the sudden cold shoulder you gave everyone : him, your stepfather; Horangi, his best friend; and your mother.
Your rapid change had affected more than him, he supposed, having being forced to comfort your mother when you wouldn’t leave your room unless absolutely necessary. He had to whisper reassurances, mumble out promises that you were fine and kiss her worried tears away like a loving husband would, caring and tender and perfect, but he was getting sick of this act he had to play. She was a means to an end, someone König used to reach his goal. Cruel, some would say, but so was life, and he wasn’t averse to bend the world around him to fit the mould of his small paradise.
He wasn’t mad —no, how could he when you were being so good? You stayed home, within an arm’s length from him and Horangi, and oh, so accessible to both their hunger and affection. So near that you were seconds away when he or Horangi needed some entertainment when sitting in the office and writing reports became too boring —repetitive and uninspiring. His access to you had grown exponentially, and so had his needs, seeing that you were always home.
He was - would be - proud, truly proud if not for the oddness of it all. The sudden isolation, the sudden silence, the sudden introverted behaviour. It was as if his once bright Schatzi turned into a lonely hermit. König had his worries, ones that he openly shared with Horangi when in your presence, catching the nausea you felt, the morning sickness and the quiet apprehension about their need to question you over and over.
But it hadn’t clicked in their minds how weirdly coincidental it all was, they were seemingly oblivious to your plight —confused and worried, but all so, so confused about your behaviour. Most questions went unanswered, inquiries ignored and worried glances shrugged. It was a mystery when you wouldn’t tell him anything, keeping your lips sealed and silent while you did… whatever it was you kept hushed in your bedroom.
Until he stumbled into a pregnancy test, used and accompanied by an old receipt that dated to a week or two prior. It all made sense then, the small clues he picked up left and right aligning to fit a certain scenario. One that both he and Horangi had been striving to reach for a while now. He now had an oversight over all your actions: the pregnancy test, the isolation, the many tabs about abortions and paper clips for different clinics and hospitals.
Now that he knew, König could finally take action like he was taught. He would plan and strategise to further your pregnancy with or without your explicit consent. He will have this child.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami
Older-boyfriend!König who people mistake as your father. Every time it happens, König's cheeks flush a pretty pink and he has to look away from your loving eyes. He can't hide the obvious effect it has on him. It feeds into his unhealthy obsession with being called ‘daddy’.
Older-boyfriend!König who is nothing but a freakish, pathetic outcast to most. He's only ever been in one relationship before you, which ended pretty quickly because of how awkward, socially anxious, and creepy he was. He's ridiculously overprotective when it comes to those he loves, and he does his best to protect you from all danger, even if that means guilt tripping you into staying inside for an entire weekend and ordering food to your house, so that you're protected by König and beneath his watchful gaze.
Older-boyfriend!König who loves training and teaching you. To say that König can become kinky is an total understatement. He has quite a few fetishes, some that he fantasies of trying out on you. The thought of putting a collar (with his name embroidered and stitched on the front, of course...) around your neck and training your little throat leaves him with an aching boner that can only be soothed with your lips or slick, dripping pussy. König is inexperienced when it comes to actually having sex, but he knows all the right things to say to get you squirming and moaning out.
College teacher Geto who has you infront of the class with your legs spread, pushing dildos in more and more, rubbing your clit, bringing you to several orgasms as he explains about the Vagina, going in depth as he uses your body as an explanation and all you can do is lie there in embarrassment…
(Had this in the drafts for a few days, hello.)
So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Toshinori and an older male reader in an Aladdin AU please? I imagine Toshinori as a street rat who unintentionally seeks refuge from the reader who runs an inn. But the reader decides to extend his stat after learning of Toshinori's life and falling in love with him. What do you think?
Helping hand
Pairing: Toshinori Yagi x m!reader (Alladin AU)
Warnings: mentions of stealing, age gap (nothing illegal though), if there's anything I should add, let me know!
A/N: I am so sorry for the delay, I know it's been literal months since you originally requested this, but mental health got in the way and I just now found the energy to create again. I hope you understand. But I was definitely very excited for this! It's a completely new concept and a brilliant idea! (I also hope Toshi is not too ooc) Hope it is to your liking!
It was a nice day. The sky was blue, the birds were chirping, and the air was fresh. Children were happily playing in the streets, while their parents were either working, walking through the market or tending to their chores.
Not Toshinori though. The young man weaved expertly through the hords of people, only sometimes bumping into them. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins and he felt the familiar rush that made him feel alive. Not far behind him, the reason Toshi was on the run at the moment, was a man. A guard. Heavily armored and currently seething. His weapons were weighing him down, but he was still fueled by anger and that made him that much more dangerous.
But Toshi was young and agile and he knew the streets like no one else. The city was his domain, even if the guards thought otherwise. They didn't know nearly as many hiding spots and alleyways one could use to escape like he did.
All of this because of a stupid apple. Toshinori was just trying to help! The young man knew of many orphaned children that were left on the streets. Anone with a heart would want to help those little rascals and Toshinori wasn't an exception. He might not had money himself, but what's one apple for one child? He thought he had it planned well, that nobody would see what he was trying to do, but reality proved him wrong. The owner of the stand with fruit had caught him red handed. Toshinori tried to explain, but the man just wouldn't listen. Just when their argument was starting to get heated, the man started shouting to alert the guards. And to Toshi's luck, he was successful.
And, well, now they're here. Running mindlessly without a plan. Maybe try to run as long as he could to tire the guard down. But he wasn't sure if that would work, because he knew that he was a pretty well known person amongst the guards. Maybe he could lose him if he'd round the corner and then hide somewhere. Toshi's expression shifted into one of determination. He willed his legs to move faster and when the man behind him expected it the least, he quickly turned around the corner.
The young man wanted to cheer when he successfully rounded the corner without tripping, but his stunt wasn't yet pulled. He still needed to hide somewhere. Trying to search for a good escape route while running proved to be quite difficult though. Toshinori managed to get in a few meters before his vest got stuck in something. At first he thought it might have been a branch, but a branch wouldn't be pulling him backwards. No, Toshinori realized, somebody had caught his vest and was now dragging him somewhere.
The blonde tried to squirm free out of his captor's grasp, but to no avail. His assailant had a grip on him like a vice. It didn't take even a minute before Toshi was thrown into a room, the door falling shut and locked behind him. Toshinori threw himself at the door, but no amount of force would force it open.
Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere this way, the young man took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and took a look around the room. It was dark, with small windows right at the ceiling, that nobody could crawl through. The room was barren, save for a few crates in which were various vegetables and other foods requiring cold temperatures as to not get spoiled.
It was then that it dawned on Toshinori where he was. In a cellar. Somebody has locked him in their cellar. Why? Did they want to get the guards and hand him over like a lost dog? Was it for a reward? Toshinori couldn't find a better logical answer. But what should he do now? He looked towards the door again. It was clear that rattling would get him nowhere. But maybe he could break it down? Was he strong enough? Did he have any other choice? He definitely was not about to go to jail because of a stupid apple.
Taking one last deep breath, Toshinori backed away to the opposite wall and turned his shoulder towards the only thing keeping him away from freedom. And then he ran. At some point the young man closed his eyes, not wanting to know how close he was to a painful impact. But instead of hard wood, his shoulder met something firm, but softer than wood, something very much alive. And then the ground was swept from under his feet and Toshi found himself, and whoever he crashed into, plummeting towards the ground.
The person under him let out a pained oof. Toshinori risked a quick glance at the person. It was a man, older than Toshi, with a clean visage and clothes. A respectable citizen. Though at first glance he would not take him for someone who would hand over a person for a reward, but looks could deceive.
Toshi tried to scramble away, but the man under him hugged him tightly to his chest. Toshi squirmed and wiggled, but that was all he could do to not attract attention to himself. The guards were probably still nearby, so he had to be quiet.
"Oh would you stop it already?" The man under him hissed. He had a very nice voice, Toshi realized and for a moment he stopped his attempts at getting free. "You are a determined one aren't you? Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you." the man continued. Toshinori listened, his muscles still stiff, but not resisting anymore. "There, there. Easy. Now, I'll let go of you, but you have to promise me to not run away from me, alright?" the man asked. Toshinori took a deep breath "How do I know you're not gonna call the guards even if I do as you ask?" The man was silent for a moment "There's no way to know. You just gotta trust me." Toshinori thought for a moment. He couldn't escape this man if he tried, and he'd hand him over with force or he could save himself from the potential pain and let himself get arrested easily.
"Alright. I won't run." he said, resignation clear in his voice. He could feel the man's arms loosening their hold on him, before letting go completely. "Attaboy." the man smiled and sat up. The two men spent a few seconds looking each other in the eye, before the younger man carefully climed away from above the other.
The other man stood up with a grunt and offered a hand to Toshi. He looked at it with suspicion, before taking it. The older man helped Toshi stand up before looking him over for any injuries. "My name's (Y/N)." the older man introuced himself. Toshinori gaped at him. Just what was going on? Did he not want to hand him over to the guards? He was starting to believe it. "My name's-" "Toshinori. I know." (Y/N) nodded. Toshinori was surprised "How did you..." "More people know you than you would think, Toshi. You have nothing and yet you still help all those little kids running around begging for food. All the merchants know to be wary of you, because you steal their goods. I myself had noticed you many times at the marketplace. I think you're a good man, Toshi. So I wanted to help." (Y/N) explained.
Toshi's jaw went slack as he stared at the older man in front of him. He knew he had a reputation, but was he really that famous? He had to admit, it was kind of impressive. "Well...Thank you for the help." Toshi said with uncertainty, not sure what how to act in front of his saviour. "You're very welcome." (Y/N) laughed wholeheartedly. "So...I guess I'll...go." Toshi mumbled as he squeezed past (Y/N). But before he could manage more than a few steps, the older man grabbed his arm. Toshinori turned to face him, seeing a broody expression on his face "I don't think that's a good idea. The guards are probably searching all over town for you." He released Toshinori's arm, allowing the younger man to turn to him fully. "Well, what do you suggest I do?"
(Y/N) thought for a minute, his hand supporting his chin, before he snapped his fingers, a glint in his eyes "I tell you what. You can stay here for a few days. In turn, you can help around this place." Toshinori slowly nodded his head. He didn't know where exactly he was, what he was going to help out with or if he'd be able to do it, but did he have a better option? Seeing the young man's hesitation, (Y/N) quickly added "Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know. Now come, I'll show you around." he gestured for Toshi to follow him as he began to lead him out of the cellar.
As soon as they walked out of that dim room, Toshi knew exactly where he was now. It seemed that (Y/N) was an inkeeper. And the inn he owned was a very nice one. Not that Toshi had ever been in the establishment before, but from what he knew, no one has ever complained about it before. And the longer the older man showed him around, the prettier the place seemed. It had nice atmosphere, it was clean, totally different from what Toshi was used to. (Y/N) then took him upstairs, where there were rooms for rent. Down the hallway, there was a door. The inkeeper brought out a set of keys from a pocket of the pants he was wearing and unlocked it.
Behind it was a small room, full of brooms and other cleaning supplies. (Y/N) bashfully chuckled and scratched the back of his neck "I know it isn't much, but we'll clean out all this stuff, I'll put some spare bedding and I think it could make a nice cozy bedroom." Toshinori was in awe. He was going to be housed, possibly even fed and clothed and for what? Keeping the place clean? The longer the younger mn kept silent, the more anxious (Y/N) got "Look, I know it's not the best, but I think it would be better for you to keep a low profile, at least for now-"
His rant was interrupted by a certain blonde throwing himself at the inkeeper. His arms wrapped around the older man's waist tightly and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. A second later, (Y/N) collected himself again and reciprocated the warm hug, chuckling awkwardly "Alright, alright, it's not a big deal."
The next few days were...chaotic. Toshinori was free for most of the day, but in the evening, when the patrons left for the night or retired to their rented rooms, (Y/N) went to get Toshi and started teaching him, one thing at a time. First tasks were fairly easy. Sweeping the floors was easy, as well as mopping, the only problem was taking the time to do it properly. The inkeeper let Toshinori perfect individual tasks everyday, and so a few days turned into a few weeks and those turned into a few months. In that time, Toshinori learned not only to sweep and mop the floors, but to dust the shelves, wash the glasses and bottles so that they shined like diamonds.
What the young man noticed though was the lack of other staff in the inn. He wondered if (Y/N) managed to run the entire establishment all by himself. And for so long too... This revelation sparked determination to help his new friend as much as he could. But, as time went on, Toshinori slowly realised this desire to help (Y/N) was not fueled by the need to repay him anymore. No. As the two got too know each other better, the young blonde found out just how kind and amaying the inkeeper was. Toshi found himself enjoying every moment spent with the older man, dreading the day when he'd be forced to leave.
Once the young man got a hold of the tasks inside the inn, (Y/N) went on to teach him how to do chores that had to be done outside as well. Watering the flowers that decorated the outer windowsills was easy, (Y/N) even drew a chart for Toshi, to avoid over or underwatering them.
One lazy afternoon, the older man took Toshinori out to the back of the inn, where a chopping block stood in the corner with an axe stuck into it, next to a stack of logs.
"You know, while the weather is usually pretty warm during daytime, at night, temperatures can drop drastically. So it's always good to have some chopped wood on hand, just in case." (Y/N) smiled and grabbed one of the logs "You see, you have to place it on top of the chopping block vertically, like this." he said while showing Toshi carefully what to do. "The wood has natural grains and will split along them. Cutting against them would make the whole thing just harder." the older man then grabbed the handle of the axe and wiggled it out of the chopping block "Now, the best way to chop wood is to stand with your legs appart, so that you're steady on your feet. Then, you grab the axe like so" he began to explain, holding the axe with one hand in front of the other. Then, he touched the middle of the log with the sharp side and slowly brought the tool over his head, making sure Toshi is watching from time to time. Although he didn't have to worry about that. It seemed the young man was hooked, listening intently to every word. "Then, when you swing the axe, the hand closer to the head should slide down the wooden shaft towards the other. I can't really explain to you how that helps, but it does." (Y/N) laughed with a shrug of his shoulders. Then, he flexed his arms and with a quick swoosh, he brought swung the axe at the log, splitting it in half with ease. Toshinori couldn't help but blush. The inkeeper was always kind and peaceful. Although it was obvious, looking back, Toshi never thought that under his warm exterior, his friend was hiding such strength.
Turning to the younger man, (Y/N) noticed the slight tint to the blonde's cheeks and chuckled again "Come on, no need to be shy. Nobody's great at this the first try, I know I wasn't. But I'll help you with it, don't worry." (Y/N) said as he grabbed Toshi's arm and dragged him over to the chopping block. The young man hesitantly grabbed the wooden handle of the axe, memories of (Y/N)'s hands on it flashing at the front of his mind. And then he felt the older man's hands on his own, adjusting Toshi's hands gently, making his breath hitch. If (Y/N) had noticed his friend's flustered behaviour, he didn't mention it.
"Now raise your arms, yes, just like that." (Y/N) encouraged Toshinori to raise his arms, praising him soflty when he did so. "Keep your arms extended..." he muttered, correcting the young man's posture. Toshinori took a shaky breath, trying to concentrate on the log in front of him and not his friend standing right behind him. What was wrong with him anyway? He got so flustered and for what? (Y/N) was just trying to help him. Furrowing his eyebrows, Toshi's grip on the axe handle hardenend and he swung down with all his might, as if that would chase his inapropriate thoughts away.
Unfortunately, the blade missed the center of the log and instead of splitting it in half it fell of the chopping block, rolling to the side. (Y/N) wanted go laugh it off, but when he saw the frown on his younger friend's face, he opted to pat him on the back "Don't worry about it! If you're not feeling it, I can do it for you and you can try another time! Go rest Toshi." he smiled at the blonde, who sowly began walking towards the back entrance to the inn.
Just when the young man got back to his room, he felt guilt gnawing at his insides, squeezing his heart. Not only was it rude to just walk out on his friend like that, without any explanation or goodbye, but now (Y/N) was most likely worried about him as well. But...he couldn't stay there. Not when he was so close. It felt...different, somehow. Different than when Toshi would hug (Y/N) in excitement or when they'd share playful banter, accompanied by a friendly punch to the shoulder or nudge to the side with an elbow. Toshinori needed to get his thoughts straight. Figure out what the hell he was feeling and since when did these feelings start. But, to battle the guilt he was feeling, he could ponder his emotion while doing something productive.
When darkness fell and the outside world quieted down, (Y/N) came back to the inn. With a heavy sigh he fell into one of the chairs and let out a sigh. Toshinori, who was just finishing up with polishing the glasses and bottles watched how his friend slowly relaxed, letting go the stress of another day of hard work. His breathing slowed and for a moment, the younger man thought he was going to fall asleep. Quietly, as to not scare him, Toshi made his way over to (Y/N), and gently touched his shoulder "Are you alright?"
(Y/N) slowly opened his eyes and smiled tiredly at the younger man "Yes, don't worry." "But you look really tired..." Toshinori muttered worriedly. "Well, you know, it was a long day. And," the inn keeper chuckled "If we're being honest, I'm not as young as I used to be..." "Yeah yeah, whatever grandpa." Toshinori playfully rolled his eyes. "You keep running your mouth like that and I'll show you what this grandpa can do!" (Y/N) threatened with a laugh. "Oh really? Not so old now, eh?" the younger man smirked, cocking his head to the side, eyes slightly squinted. (Y/N), realiying he's been caught, scratched the back of his neck nervously "Heh, you got me. Well, I guess it ain't so bad. I mean, I managed to run this place all by myself up until now. But having you here is pretty nice. It's nice to be able to split the work. And you're company has been nothing but pleasant as well." the inn keeper winked at Toshinori cheekily, before his smile turned sheepish again "Though I still think it'd be handy to be a bit younger. All these years I was so caught up in work, I didn't have any time to actually get to know anyone. Until you, that is." (Y/N) chuckled nervously "I always noticed you sneaking around the market with those little ones. They absolutely adored you, you know? Running after you like little chickens after their mother hen. Heh. And you'd always get in trouble because of them and for what? So that you could make one kid happy? I just..." the older man sighed "I guess I kind of...admired you? I actually looked forward to seeing you every week at the market. How you smiled at those rascals...Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't know how to approach you? It sounds crazy, but it's true." (Y/N) laughed and patted Toshi, who at that point dragged a chair beside him and was intently listening, on the shoulder "But then I saw you running from that damned guard and I knew he was hellbent on catching you. I guess I acted on impulse that day, when I dragged you in that cellar...But you know what? I'm glad I did. And I'm glad I actually got to know you, because it makes all those years of solitute worth it!"
And at that point, (Y/N)'s smile was so radiant that before Toshinori could think, he found himself pressing his lips to his in what could have been a kiss, if the young man didn't come to his senses and jerked away, leaving it only a quick peck.
Looking back on it, both would agree it must've been a hilarious sight to any outsider, were they to look in one of the windows. Two men, sitting next to each other, facing each other with wide eyes and mouths slightly agape, both their faces heated and brains short circuiting.
"I- I'm sorry! I didn't...I wasn't...It's not-" the blonde tried to stutter out, but his voice died inside his throat when he saw another big smile stretch on his...friend's? Could he even call him that still? Face. Feeling a smile of his own tugging at his lips, he said softly "I guess I acted on impulse as well."
OMMGG I LOVE TINA AND LOUISe SQUEALS AND DIES
ship dynamics ft incest
so amazingly written hello??? wtf:
“You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strafe to his blind eye, painting you transparent. HE COJLD SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU.”
THE LAST PART. my god you tumblr writers and your brains. this was so magnificent to read? thank you for sharing go commission lune rn they are literaly amazing
don’t say it’s unholy, if I let you come hold me (pt 1)
⟡ -- leon finds you drowning your grief in the back of a bar just outside of town. but don't worry, he won't blow your cover.
w/c: 2.1k
warnings: themes of coping with grief and depression, implied underage drinking and unhealthy coping mechanisms, vendetta leon, leon is just a wee bit morally grey here just due to the point in his life this is staged during, no sex but explicit language, leon is readers dad's coworker/friend, angst - eventual sex
a/n: okay, I've been sitting on this baby for a hot minute just because of how self indulgent it is iaqhdsiuwsjih. I wanted to make this longer before I released it, but I think I'm going to just continue this in parts (and even then, don't hold me to that lol judgwiuhd !!). again, please heed warnings, and if you are uncomfortable with any themes presented, please just don't read!
playlist: unholy (hey violet), disconnect (she wants revenge), discipline (nine inch nails), paralyzer (finger eleven)
You shouldn’t be here.
By all legal and ethical means, morality aside, you should be at the library, studying for a final you know damn well you won’t be passing. Or better yet, at home. Maybe poured over a mug of tea, that blend your mom has made you since you were a kid. Some shitty romcom playing in the background, ignored as you doze off surrounded by papers, scattered around the dining table like any other honorable, dutiful college student. Not some… dingy, shithole bar outside the parameters of your hometown.
(One you know your dad doesn’t frequent with colleagues. One you know is just outside the radius of people that would see you here, know you enough to know you shouldn’t be here.)
Maybe you would be back home right now, studying until you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, if not for what happened. The “would’ve” “could’ve” and “should’ve”s are stacked high in your brain, like a mountain of now unattainable possibilities laid bare, slain by the events of recent nights. Something so chilling, so bone shattering and brain dissolving you just can’t manage to wrap your head around it.
‘Shock’, right?
That was the operative term for the numbness that has recently buzzed dully in your limbs, the heaviness of your own weight whenever you roll out of bed every day. The term itself is thrown around so flippantly, so easily outside the walls of a hospital, a clinic. General medical common knowledge be damned, everyone knows what shock is.
'Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. Generations passed down worth of indoctrination gone moot by one, unholy union. It’s coming home and finding your husband in bed with another woman, that blonde bitch at his front desk. The one he told you not to worry about? Yeah, that one.
It’s the unspeakable, the unimaginable striking. It’s blinding, horrid in how it leaves you.. Empty. You’re compelled to apologize for its effects on your nervous system.
Sorry guys, I promise I’m sad. I know I don’t look it, I’m taking it out on all this- shit lying around. I’ve been meaning to throw this out for ages you know. Guess I finally have a reason now, huh? No, I don’t know how much sleep I’ve gotten the past week, it’s probably fine. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. That’ll make me feel worse. Now, if you would, let me go finish my manic episode in peace, will you-?
Could you blame this too as to why you finally dug out that fake ID your friends coerced you into agreeing to?
This wasn’t like you, not one bit. I mean, really, sitting in the back of some gnarly bar, surrounded with the sorts of people Daddy always warned you about? The sorts of people that only came out after dark, that hung around till dawn when they would then go back to dwell in whatever crevice of the city they called home until dusk? Maybe this was moms genes catching up with you – the predisposed ones you always knew would come to bite you in the ass. Maybe you should go check your eyes, don’t people's pupils dilate when they’re manic? “Crazy eyes'' those people on Tiktok would call them, right?
“Unwidin’, huh?”
His voice calls through the air between you like he might’ve well been standing yards away. It takes you a moment longer than maybe appropriate to track his distance, his place at your side at the bartop. Glancing over, you first get a look at his hand, gesturing to the drink in front of you, the cigarette dangling between your fingers. The one that was currently beginning to slip in your weakened grip, speaking of.
They’re long, nimble. Broad hands, worn at the tips, smooth along the meat of his palms. Even under the hazy atmosphere surrounding you, you can make out the glint of the watch up his sleeve – probably expensive, if the quality of the leather of his jacket sleeve has anything to say about it. Look at you. Even buzzed like this, you were spotting the finer details. A daddy’s girl with daddy’s tolerance.
Despite yourself, you nod numbly, head heavy on the bracket of your neck. A sign directly arguing with the idea of your tolerance – or rather, lack thereof – but it can't be as noticeable as your brain is attempting to trick you into believing, right?
Leon settles into the stool next to you, and you don’t so much as cast him a proper glance. Maybe that’s why he finds himself sitting down. You looked out of place, like a damn kicked puppy with your head drowning in a few shots worth in the back of this bar. It was a wonder no one else had approached you up till this point, especially given the time of night. It was hard not to feel like your guardian angel.
“We both know this ain’t the healthiest way to do it.” He says as he flags the bartender down.
Touche, mystery man.
Well, alright. Technically you knew the guy. You vaguely recognized him as one of Dad’s colleagues through the haze of your buzz. It was too sweet to interrupt, you find yourself completely unfazed in the face of the inevitable consequences that would come from your fathers colleague finding you here.
If anything, you couldn’t complain.
His voice was nice. Beyond “nice” actually. If you were any more wasted, you’d take him for a certain type of actor. More specifically, the ones you listen to late at night. The ones that speak to you behind pseudonyms and expensive microphones, nestled into crevices of the internet any mentally stable person wouldn’t dream of wandering into.
You know better than to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds, even despite the dregs of nicotine floating through your blood coaxing you towards such a mental image.
Finally, you brave a glance over your shoulder at him. He’s pretty. Real pretty. How are you only just noticing how sharp his eyes are? They look darker under this bar's lighting, that typically professional, almost playful glint in his gaze nowhere to be found. It had been a few years since you’d last seen him… maybe it was age finally starting to jade him.
Not that you knew the specifics. He was easily older than you by a decade and some change. And clearly all too happy to bypass all niceties in this situation. Damn. Did you look that bad? He was pretty enough to be an angel, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he had a better head sitting on his shoulders than a better half of the people in here.
A huff of soft breath leaves through your nose, tendrils of smoke swirling out of your system with the action. Shaking your head, you dip it, taking another long drag from your quickly burning cigarette, an excuse to try and string together some sort of response that won’t make an ass out of you. Or actually, anything that didn’t scream “you’re hot and I don’t know how to conduct myself around good natured, attractive men” would do just fine. Those damn eyes of his… it was a mistake, letting your gazes lock. His eyes alone were enough to make your stomach flip.
“Well,” you mutter, not daring to look back at him. “This is better than my plan b for the night.”
You don’t so much as flinch when the bartender comes over, taking an order he murmurs in a tone you want spoken against the shell of your ear from behind. Your periphery catches the actions of the bartender pouring his order into a short glass, bronze in color.
Whiskey. Of course.
Reaching for the middle of the table, you stub your cigarette in a conveniently placed ashtray. Sure, you were a little fucked up in a way you’ve never been before tonight, but you had manners.
Meanwhile, Leon is doing what he does best. Observing. He tries his best not to make it obvious how he watches your hand wobbles when you lift it. He watched the subtle change in your expression when he called to you, how your head bobbed when he sat down. Anyone else would be paying attention to how quickly you recoiled with the action, as if self conscious of your dragged reaction time. However, he had spotted the tension in your slouched shoulders. A reaction rooted in self preservation, a fear of judgment. It was enough to tell him just how many shots you probably had in your system.
He was no stranger to girls like you, ‘situations’ such as the one he was currently sitting next to.
It was a familiar, cliche dance – the unspoken, drowning struggles of a near stranger on display, insecurities risen to the surface like hemorrhaged blood under thinned skin. It was written all over you. You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strife to his blind eye, painting you transparent. He could see right through you. You were running from something. Likely attempting to drown, bury it somewhere deep if not for just a night or so.
“‘Plan B’?” he questions, tone calm, even almost lighthearted. It betrays his sharp gaze, perceptive and on guard as ever. As if he were approaching an injured doe in the wild. Not that he’s done much hunting lately. He’s found that meat off the streets bleeds more freely than the skin of doe’s and rabbits does in present times.
A wry smile tugs at your lips, almost as if you figured he’d press the topic. It was already too much to ask that he didn’t mention your connection to his coworker, how Leon knew you were definitely not supposed to be somewhere like this, and he had managed to uphold that silent prayer.
Maybe your otherwise handicapped condition was blurring whatever lines that stood between you right now, the lines that constructed what he should be doing, finding you here without a legitimate ID. He should be outing you to the bartender, dragging you out of this place by the scruff of your neck with your dad dialed into his phone.
He shouldn’t be… entertaining you, right? Could you go so far as to call his complacent presence.. Encouragement?
Taking a seat beside you, joining you in your mission to drown your ache, your pain. Keeping you calm under his gaze, as if a sedative rolled off him in gentle waves. His throat bobs around his sip of whiskey, and you can’t help how your gaze lingers on the action.
“Plan B consisted of finding someone to fuck me into next week,” you mutter dryly, as if the admission of your half hearted ‘plans’ for tonight left a sour taste in even your mouth. It wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t what you did. For fucks sake, you weren’t even supposed to have gotten this far, knee deep in an actively self destructive decision. But life sure did have one hell of a way of knocking you one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction, didn’t it?
No. That’s an excuse. A shitty one, at that. It's an excuse you've heard your dad mutter under his breath when he slouches into the couch with a beer in hand.
This is a poor choice, and you knew this was a poor choice. And yet, that didn’t stop you from walking your happy ass into this bar, nose up and full of talked up confidence you poured into yourself in the parking lot. No amount of tugging and pulling and pleading your guilty conscience did on your brain would stop you, not this time. You knew that getting into an Uber to haul you outside the lines of town would seal your fate to the whims of this bar. How classy.
If Leon was a worse man, he’d take your words at face value. (Or maybe he’s just damned with all that thorough training he’s been rung through. It’s practically impossible not to read people nowadays. Even alcohol has ceased to debilitate him of this begrudgingly equipped set of skills that was all but pummeled into him.)
His gaze wavers. Flickers, almost with a wash of amusement for a moment. You were trying oh so hard, taking that clipped, short tone with him, all but puffing your chest with this aura of mental toughness you likely wanted to think you had. It was cute, really. But oh, the lacing of desperation in your tone... The sweet vulnerability in your breath… every hairline fracture your already cracking front is bleeding.
He doesn’t have to be a bloodhound to want to dig for more. He just can’t help himself.
thank you for reading! I have emergency commissions open, so if you enjoyed this piece, please consider taking a look at my menu or rb’ing :^)
“ ‘Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. ”
this mf lune when it comes to writing gas in 2 k words:
don’t say it’s unholy, if I let you come hold me (pt 1)
⟡ -- leon finds you drowning your grief in the back of a bar just outside of town. but don't worry, he won't blow your cover.
w/c: 2.1k
warnings: themes of coping with grief and depression, implied underage drinking and unhealthy coping mechanisms, vendetta leon, leon is just a wee bit morally grey here just due to the point in his life this is staged during, no sex but explicit language, leon is readers dad's coworker/friend, angst - eventual sex
a/n: okay, I've been sitting on this baby for a hot minute just because of how self indulgent it is iaqhdsiuwsjih. I wanted to make this longer before I released it, but I think I'm going to just continue this in parts (and even then, don't hold me to that lol judgwiuhd !!). again, please heed warnings, and if you are uncomfortable with any themes presented, please just don't read!
playlist: unholy (hey violet), disconnect (she wants revenge), discipline (nine inch nails), paralyzer (finger eleven)
You shouldn’t be here.
By all legal and ethical means, morality aside, you should be at the library, studying for a final you know damn well you won’t be passing. Or better yet, at home. Maybe poured over a mug of tea, that blend your mom has made you since you were a kid. Some shitty romcom playing in the background, ignored as you doze off surrounded by papers, scattered around the dining table like any other honorable, dutiful college student. Not some… dingy, shithole bar outside the parameters of your hometown.
(One you know your dad doesn’t frequent with colleagues. One you know is just outside the radius of people that would see you here, know you enough to know you shouldn’t be here.)
Maybe you would be back home right now, studying until you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, if not for what happened. The “would’ve” “could’ve” and “should’ve”s are stacked high in your brain, like a mountain of now unattainable possibilities laid bare, slain by the events of recent nights. Something so chilling, so bone shattering and brain dissolving you just can’t manage to wrap your head around it.
‘Shock’, right?
That was the operative term for the numbness that has recently buzzed dully in your limbs, the heaviness of your own weight whenever you roll out of bed every day. The term itself is thrown around so flippantly, so easily outside the walls of a hospital, a clinic. General medical common knowledge be damned, everyone knows what shock is.
'Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. Generations passed down worth of indoctrination gone moot by one, unholy union. It’s coming home and finding your husband in bed with another woman, that blonde bitch at his front desk. The one he told you not to worry about? Yeah, that one.
It’s the unspeakable, the unimaginable striking. It’s blinding, horrid in how it leaves you.. Empty. You’re compelled to apologize for its effects on your nervous system.
Sorry guys, I promise I’m sad. I know I don’t look it, I’m taking it out on all this- shit lying around. I’ve been meaning to throw this out for ages you know. Guess I finally have a reason now, huh? No, I don’t know how much sleep I’ve gotten the past week, it’s probably fine. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. That’ll make me feel worse. Now, if you would, let me go finish my manic episode in peace, will you-?
Could you blame this too as to why you finally dug out that fake ID your friends coerced you into agreeing to?
This wasn’t like you, not one bit. I mean, really, sitting in the back of some gnarly bar, surrounded with the sorts of people Daddy always warned you about? The sorts of people that only came out after dark, that hung around till dawn when they would then go back to dwell in whatever crevice of the city they called home until dusk? Maybe this was moms genes catching up with you – the predisposed ones you always knew would come to bite you in the ass. Maybe you should go check your eyes, don’t people's pupils dilate when they’re manic? “Crazy eyes'' those people on Tiktok would call them, right?
“Unwidin’, huh?”
His voice calls through the air between you like he might’ve well been standing yards away. It takes you a moment longer than maybe appropriate to track his distance, his place at your side at the bartop. Glancing over, you first get a look at his hand, gesturing to the drink in front of you, the cigarette dangling between your fingers. The one that was currently beginning to slip in your weakened grip, speaking of.
They’re long, nimble. Broad hands, worn at the tips, smooth along the meat of his palms. Even under the hazy atmosphere surrounding you, you can make out the glint of the watch up his sleeve – probably expensive, if the quality of the leather of his jacket sleeve has anything to say about it. Look at you. Even buzzed like this, you were spotting the finer details. A daddy’s girl with daddy’s tolerance.
Despite yourself, you nod numbly, head heavy on the bracket of your neck. A sign directly arguing with the idea of your tolerance – or rather, lack thereof – but it can't be as noticeable as your brain is attempting to trick you into believing, right?
Leon settles into the stool next to you, and you don’t so much as cast him a proper glance. Maybe that’s why he finds himself sitting down. You looked out of place, like a damn kicked puppy with your head drowning in a few shots worth in the back of this bar. It was a wonder no one else had approached you up till this point, especially given the time of night. It was hard not to feel like your guardian angel.
“We both know this ain’t the healthiest way to do it.” He says as he flags the bartender down.
Touche, mystery man.
Well, alright. Technically you knew the guy. You vaguely recognized him as one of Dad’s colleagues through the haze of your buzz. It was too sweet to interrupt, you find yourself completely unfazed in the face of the inevitable consequences that would come from your fathers colleague finding you here.
If anything, you couldn’t complain.
His voice was nice. Beyond “nice” actually. If you were any more wasted, you’d take him for a certain type of actor. More specifically, the ones you listen to late at night. The ones that speak to you behind pseudonyms and expensive microphones, nestled into crevices of the internet any mentally stable person wouldn’t dream of wandering into.
You know better than to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds, even despite the dregs of nicotine floating through your blood coaxing you towards such a mental image.
Finally, you brave a glance over your shoulder at him. He’s pretty. Real pretty. How are you only just noticing how sharp his eyes are? They look darker under this bar's lighting, that typically professional, almost playful glint in his gaze nowhere to be found. It had been a few years since you’d last seen him… maybe it was age finally starting to jade him.
Not that you knew the specifics. He was easily older than you by a decade and some change. And clearly all too happy to bypass all niceties in this situation. Damn. Did you look that bad? He was pretty enough to be an angel, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he had a better head sitting on his shoulders than a better half of the people in here.
A huff of soft breath leaves through your nose, tendrils of smoke swirling out of your system with the action. Shaking your head, you dip it, taking another long drag from your quickly burning cigarette, an excuse to try and string together some sort of response that won’t make an ass out of you. Or actually, anything that didn’t scream “you’re hot and I don’t know how to conduct myself around good natured, attractive men” would do just fine. Those damn eyes of his… it was a mistake, letting your gazes lock. His eyes alone were enough to make your stomach flip.
“Well,” you mutter, not daring to look back at him. “This is better than my plan b for the night.”
You don’t so much as flinch when the bartender comes over, taking an order he murmurs in a tone you want spoken against the shell of your ear from behind. Your periphery catches the actions of the bartender pouring his order into a short glass, bronze in color.
Whiskey. Of course.
Reaching for the middle of the table, you stub your cigarette in a conveniently placed ashtray. Sure, you were a little fucked up in a way you’ve never been before tonight, but you had manners.
Meanwhile, Leon is doing what he does best. Observing. He tries his best not to make it obvious how he watches your hand wobbles when you lift it. He watched the subtle change in your expression when he called to you, how your head bobbed when he sat down. Anyone else would be paying attention to how quickly you recoiled with the action, as if self conscious of your dragged reaction time. However, he had spotted the tension in your slouched shoulders. A reaction rooted in self preservation, a fear of judgment. It was enough to tell him just how many shots you probably had in your system.
He was no stranger to girls like you, ‘situations’ such as the one he was currently sitting next to.
It was a familiar, cliche dance – the unspoken, drowning struggles of a near stranger on display, insecurities risen to the surface like hemorrhaged blood under thinned skin. It was written all over you. You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strife to his blind eye, painting you transparent. He could see right through you. You were running from something. Likely attempting to drown, bury it somewhere deep if not for just a night or so.
“‘Plan B’?” he questions, tone calm, even almost lighthearted. It betrays his sharp gaze, perceptive and on guard as ever. As if he were approaching an injured doe in the wild. Not that he’s done much hunting lately. He’s found that meat off the streets bleeds more freely than the skin of doe’s and rabbits does in present times.
A wry smile tugs at your lips, almost as if you figured he’d press the topic. It was already too much to ask that he didn’t mention your connection to his coworker, how Leon knew you were definitely not supposed to be somewhere like this, and he had managed to uphold that silent prayer.
Maybe your otherwise handicapped condition was blurring whatever lines that stood between you right now, the lines that constructed what he should be doing, finding you here without a legitimate ID. He should be outing you to the bartender, dragging you out of this place by the scruff of your neck with your dad dialed into his phone.
He shouldn’t be… entertaining you, right? Could you go so far as to call his complacent presence.. Encouragement?
Taking a seat beside you, joining you in your mission to drown your ache, your pain. Keeping you calm under his gaze, as if a sedative rolled off him in gentle waves. His throat bobs around his sip of whiskey, and you can’t help how your gaze lingers on the action.
“Plan B consisted of finding someone to fuck me into next week,” you mutter dryly, as if the admission of your half hearted ‘plans’ for tonight left a sour taste in even your mouth. It wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t what you did. For fucks sake, you weren’t even supposed to have gotten this far, knee deep in an actively self destructive decision. But life sure did have one hell of a way of knocking you one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction, didn’t it?
No. That’s an excuse. A shitty one, at that. It's an excuse you've heard your dad mutter under his breath when he slouches into the couch with a beer in hand.
This is a poor choice, and you knew this was a poor choice. And yet, that didn’t stop you from walking your happy ass into this bar, nose up and full of talked up confidence you poured into yourself in the parking lot. No amount of tugging and pulling and pleading your guilty conscience did on your brain would stop you, not this time. You knew that getting into an Uber to haul you outside the lines of town would seal your fate to the whims of this bar. How classy.
If Leon was a worse man, he’d take your words at face value. (Or maybe he’s just damned with all that thorough training he’s been rung through. It’s practically impossible not to read people nowadays. Even alcohol has ceased to debilitate him of this begrudgingly equipped set of skills that was all but pummeled into him.)
His gaze wavers. Flickers, almost with a wash of amusement for a moment. You were trying oh so hard, taking that clipped, short tone with him, all but puffing your chest with this aura of mental toughness you likely wanted to think you had. It was cute, really. But oh, the lacing of desperation in your tone... The sweet vulnerability in your breath… every hairline fracture your already cracking front is bleeding.
He doesn’t have to be a bloodhound to want to dig for more. He just can’t help himself.
thank you for reading! I have emergency commissions open, so if you enjoyed this piece, please consider taking a look at my menu or rb’ing :^)
i need u all to hear me out on this pls pls pls pls pls pls pls
not proofread! contains; chubby!fem! reader, unprotected sex, age gap like rlly big too, praise, rlly soft sex.
dad's bsf! miguel who always calls you kiddie names like 'little bug' and 'niñita' whenever you greet him at the door, only to be met with big pouts and crossed arms while you yell '''m not a kid anymore, miguel! 'm twenty one now!' he never takes you seriously despite this. just pats your head with a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.
dad's bsf! miguel who insists on driving you home after your classes end. you tell him 'it's okay! i live on campus!' but no matter how much you try to convince him you were okay with walking, he ends up taking you any because 'little bugs like you can't walk out here alone', though a part of him knows that's an excuse.
dad's bsf! miguel who can't put a tie on correctly for the life of him. you always get irritated when you see his messy tie before he leaves with your dad for a night of partying. 'you're just like dad!' you tell him. you always tug him down by his tie, your cute chubby hands working on the tie while miguel looked down at you with a smile, ignoring your annoyed grumbles.
dad's bsf! miguel who always insists that your father should go easy on you when you two get into a small fight. 'she's still a baby girl, compa. be easy on her'. he says with kind eyes as he watches you sniffle in the hallway. 'she's twenty one with car payments due, miguel, my god'. despite your father's scolding, you know you can always count on mr. o'hara to comfort you.
dad's bsf! miguel who can't say no to you. his best friend tells him that you're older now, he doesn't need to approve everything you do. miguel tells his best friend that he knows and he'll do better, but he can't help it when you bat your eyelashes so prettily at him and ask him for things in your sweet, honey voice. 'please, mr. o'hara?'
dad's bsf! miguel who spoils you. and i mean spoils you. you want a new phone? you got it, just don't tell your dad. you need a ride to sneak out somewhere? okay, just don't tell your dad. you want that new bathing suit at the mall? sure, just show mister o'hara what it looks like first. that's not weird! he wants to make sure it's a material good enough for you.
dad's bsf! miguel who always scolds you when you wear revealing clothing. 'it's just not appropriate' he tells you as he gazes a bit too long at your tummy sticking out from the cropped long sleeve you were wearing. 'why do you care?' you roll your eyes. the words 'you're not my dad' fly out of your mouth as you shove him aside to leave with your friends. he always watches your hips sway as you walk out.
dad's bsf! miguel who comforts you after a big breakup. fat tears roll down your cheeks as you sobbed in miguel's chest, him holding you up on his lap with a sympathetic look in his eye. 'i loved him s'much!' you cried as you shifted in miguel's lap to hold onto him better. he winces, and you think it's because his leg fell asleep, but you couldn't be more wrong. miguel bumped his leg up 'n' down as he soothed you. 'he's stupid, doesn't know what he's missing out on, niñita'.
dad's bsf! miguel who spends days with you after the fact to make you feel better. he's around every day with the excuse of helping around the house to your father when in reality he sneaks away into your room comforting you and laughing at stupid movies while you were cuddled up against his chest.
dad's bsf! miguel who finds you dancing around on the streets drunk with your friends. you’re crying and laughing at the same time while your friends tried to calm you down, concerning miguel, so he decided to let the other poor girls go home while he dealt with you. he laid a warm, comforting hand on the chub of your thigh as you cried, not knowing how hot it made you feel.
dad's bsf! miguel who gets whiplash when you confess that you like him. like, like him. you're drunk and your words are slurred but he can still make out your shaky-voiced confession of 'always imagined you when he fucked me, mr. o'hara'. even though he felt the same, you were still his best friend's daughter, plus you were drunk. he takes you to his house and tucks you into his bed while he lies awake on his couch contemplating what the hell just happened.
dad's bsf! miguel who wakes up to you in one of his shirts, one he had left out for you the night before. you stood in front of his place on the couch, twiddling your fingers and muttering a small, slightly teary-eyed apology.
dad's bsf! miguel who consoles you with an embrace as you embarrassingly admit everything you said was true. he tells you 'it's okay, little bug' and 'there's nothing to be embarrassed about'. when you cry and tell him that you were sorry and that you know he didn't feel the same, his heart aches a bit. of course he feels the same, don't feel bad! he doesn't know what possesses him to do so, but he leans in and kisses you. it's sweet and short, but you return it.
dad's bsf! miguel who holds you tight while he kisses you, his hips snapping as he drills into your cunt, his eyes shut tight in bliss. 'love you, love you so much, niñita. love you 'n' this pussy'. he muttered into your ear. you sniffled and nodded in a daze as you held him tighter, your breasts pressed up against him. he held your soft sides and groaned as he felt the tip of his cock hit your cervix.
'been wantin' you for so long, little bug. wanting to give mi niña what she deserves'. he sucked in air through his teeth as he felt your soft hand against his cheek. he opened his eyes, making eye contact with you through the small tears in his eyes forming. you gave him a shaky smile, giving him a small peck with a giggle.
the moment was so intimate it made miguel feel warm. he returned the smile and watched as you bit your lip. 'i love you, mr. o'hara'. you whispered to him, your walls tightening around his cock. miguel let out a broken moan, his eyes still focused on you.
'i love you too, little bug'.
this was a bit much but i hope u enjoyed!! i wrote this during class while stressing about a test so i apologize if this lacked but yea ;P
Still one of his toys
The three of them having sex would heal my inner child.
Actually, heal THIS child instead.
as you walk into the bathroom of the club, you are greeted by a sight of a young man, a beautiful one at that. the latter turns his head in your direction, quickly sizing you up as he leans against the sink, putting his phone in his pocket. you walk past him, clearly in no rush, though trying to keep focused. “don't you look lonely, hm?” he spoke up, eyes following your each step.
You walked to the urinal, just really wanting to take a piss. it was what you came here for in the first place. 'a potential client,' the younger thought, pushing himself off of the sink. 'i really need that fuckin' money. he looks rich too,' his eyes roamed over your back. “you and I both could use some company.”
“no thank you, I'm too old for you.” you answered nonchalantly, finishing up your business, zipping up your pants as you turned around and walked to the sink. the moment you started washing your hands, the latter broke the silence. “does that really matter?” he took a tentative step closer to you, his hands at his sides.
you spared the guy a glance, giving him a knowing look. “yes, so no.” the guy groaned in response, furrowing his brows. “you straight or somethin'?” he inquired, clearly frustrated. the more he worked, the easier it will be for his mother at home. he needed that stupid, goddamned money. you finished washing your hands, drying them off on your pants. “i do have a thing for men, don't you worry. but, men, not boys.” you said firmly, turning to face your body in his direction. “i ain't no boy. i'm a grown man, ya dickhead.” he argued, placing his hands on his hips. “c'mon, just accept the service, dude. you look hella tense, you could use the release. i promise i'd take good care of you.”
“i could use the release? really? you're saying that like you mean it out of the goodness in your heart. you just tryin' to butter me up for a better pay.” you called him out, tilting your head to the side slightly. “though maybe you're right.” you said simply. maybe you could use the release after all. being a single father was more draining that you'd expect it to be. being a father in general is exhausting. why not treat yourself just this once? even if it is given by a younger guy in a random club. the other slowly got closer to you, placing his hand on your crotch as he started palming you through your pants.
“i am doing this for money. men are nasty, the younger we are, the better they pay, the more they use.” he said, looking down at his hand. “seems like you're no different.” a smirk splayed over his lips. you leaned back, hands placed on the edge of the counter. “i figured i deserved a moment of relief. wouldn't have confided in you for that if i didn't feel bad about your desperation for money.” you retorted, tilting your head back slightly. “mm, 'kay old man, just accept that you're nasty.” he mumbled out lightheartedly, getting on his knees, his hands resting on your thighs. he looked at the bulge in your pants for a moment, debating. did he really need that extra money..
“make me feel good and i'll triple the payment of your charges.”
the moment that sentence left your mouth, all hesitation and second thoughts disappeared from the guy's head. “better keep that promise.” he said as he unzipped your pants, pulling them lower, together with your underwear. “better make it worth agreeing to your services.” you shot back, your body relaxing as your eyes fluttered closed. “aren't you feisty for an old man?” he taunted, taking your half-hard cock out. his eyes flicked from your face to your length. 'jeez.' he thought, eyes a little wide as he took in your size. “feisty? wouldn't say that's what i am, but it keeps you on your toes, doesn't it?” your voice was a lower tone now, smoother and huskier. the other didn't respond, his hand wrapping around your length as he dragged it up and down in a slow motion. “you're allowed to touch me if you want.” he muttered out, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.
“oh, am i now?” you breathed out, relishing the feeling of the younger's soft hand on your cock, his slender fingers wrapped around it. you were getting progressively harder. then you looked down at the guy, bringing your hand to the back of his head, resting your palm against it. “you wanna get started or are you gonna take your time?” you questioned, fingers lazily playing with his locks. he grumbled out a simple curse, a little unprepared but it didn't matter to him. he circled his tongue around your tip, the action teasing. his hand continued stroking you as he slowly and cautiously took you into his mouth. the feeling of his hot and wet cavern sent a small wave of heat right in your lower stomach. fuck.
he slowly started taking you deeper into his mouth, making sure to not use his teeth. he got hit in the face for that last time. you breathed out a small sigh, leaning against the sink, both of your hands now gently playing with the other's hair. to be honest, he thought you were going to push his head forward, be rough with him, but no, you were patient. you let him do this at his own pace. thinking you weren't pleased, the younger guy took all of you in, letting out quiet gag, his lips pressing to your base. “shit.” you murmured, furrowing your brows a little, the suddenness making you twitch slightly.
'oh, he liked that.' the latter thought, sucking you off now. he continuously gagged as he reached your base, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears spilling. you were huge, there was no doubt about that. your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping oh so lightly, it didn't even sting for him. he used his tongue in a different way that you've ever experienced, and god did that feel amazing. “just like that, yeah.. good boy,” you murmured, softly gazing down at the younger kneeling down in front of you. the two of you made eye contact for the first time since he started, and something in you sparked. a pretty boy, taking you fully, sucking you off properly, making you feel good.. you really needed that. perhaps you were going to become a returning client if he kept it up.
the younger guy quickened his pace, his hands back to your clothed thighs, gripping tighter than before, as if to ground himself as he took you in his mouth. you shifted your hips, subconsciously pushing forward a little. as a result, he groaned around you and his teeth graced your cock. the guy cursed himself out mentally at the action, prepared to either be pushed away and left without any payment or get roughed up. instead what he got was a shaky grunt from you and the feeling of you twitching in his mouth more.
it wasn't long before you came, the younger's work was exceptional. you didn't cum down his throat though, as much as you wanted to. you pulled out of course, as he was still a complete stranger to you. “i would've swallowed.” he said, his voice a little hoarse and breath heavy as he looked up at your through his eyelashes, a little frustrated. “let me fuck you and I'll give you a grand, hm?” you suggested simply as the other got to his feet. when he processed the question, he froze, looking at you slightly wide-eyed. “what?”
just a thought, not proof-read at all.
word count: 1,307