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kurooh · 4 months ago

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PLAYING DANGEROUS ★ N. KENTO

⊹ ₊˚. OCTOBER 4TH. seven minutes in heaven doesn’t seem like all that until you end up in a tight closet with an officer who’s had his eyes on you all night.

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, everyone is above 21, oral sex [m receiving], deepthroating, light role play, alcohol, crying, light satosugu, wc is 3.1k

xoxo, juno ★ this was bootyhole but it was the first fic of the month 💔 next week will hopefully be better

🎃 LIFE OF THE PARTY MLIST.

since you’d arrived to the party with your friends from jujutsu tech—shoko and utahime—you’d felt someone’s eyes on you. as you stood with a red solo cup in hand, talking with your friends, you’d gotten goosebumps a few times on your rather exposed skin . .

the three of you had chosen to dress as the plastics from the mean girls, some costumes more showy than others. shoko had opted to wear karen’s mouse costume, with some black tights to match the look better. utahime wore gretchen’s black cat costume, the black suit loose on her and adjusted to cover her collarbone area more to her liking. between the two of them, you were the star of the show — pink bunny ears glittering on your head, tits pushed up and over the hem of the top, the bottom part of the suit tight on your ass and cut high on the sides of your thighs. honestly, you really hadn’t meant to wear something this revealing; there were issues with shipping and handling, resulting in a smaller size of the costume arriving just before the party.

“girls!” utahime whines, looking left and right at the people drinking and dancing. “what should we do first? it’s too loud over here!”

“what?” shoko calls, even though the three of you are standing right beside one another. “utahime, i can’t hear you.”

you and shoko share a giggle when utahime stamps her foot on the ground, grabs your wrists, and tugs you over to a sitting area, away from the music. your drink nearly sloshes over the rim of the cup and spills onto your chest. someone dressed in a police officer costume shoots you an indistinguishable look just as you save it. their eyes are an olive green, the rest of their features hidden by the party lights and their costume. once you sit down altogether, utahime lets out a huff.

“i said, what should we do?”

“drink and dance,” you answer immediately, tossing your cup back and taking a swig of your drink. it stings a little as it goes down. what was it again? some kind of fruity concoction with all kinds of liquor mixed by the frat boys from inarizaki college or something.

“but that drink is nasty!” she complains, wrinkling her nose as you offer her the cup.

“i need a smoke break,” shoko sighs deeply, fumbling around in her pocket.

“shoko, we’ve been here for less than fifteen minutes,” you remind her, patting her arm before utahime launches into an anti-smoking lecture. “at least wait a little longer, then i’ll come with you.”

she rolls her eyes, squeezing the box hard as she pushes it back into her pocket. “fine. let’s get some drinks and try to dance then, yeah?”

the three of you shuffle back to the dance floor, pushing past the drunk people and couples making out to get to the table of bottles.

“want me to mix you something up, utahime?” a jujutsu tech student whose voice you’ve heard before is mischievous and teasing. judging by the way utahime slams the bottle of vodka down on the table, it’s definitely that gojo she’s always ranting about.

“get out, gojo!” she snaps, extending her arm and pointing towards the other side of the crowd. he disappears into the crowd with a cackle, and the three of you return to pouring and filling your cups. you take a gulp of your drink, pulling the cup away from your lips with a gasp, surprised by the burn in your throat and slightly sickening after taste.

“you alright?” comes a deep voice from behind you, and a person is offering you a sealed bottle of water. you turn quickly, almost bare ass brushing against a strong body.

“y-yeah, thanks,” you say appreciatively, looking up into the face you’d seen earlier. at this point, you’re sure that this is a man you’ve seen somewhere before; maybe you’d heard about him from utahime and shoko?

you shake the feeling off, flashing the officer a smile before turning away to invite your friends onto the dance floor. it takes utahime some time to warm up, taking careful sips from her drink and sticking close to shoko, who sways lightly to the music, probably thinking about her upcoming smoke break.

as you dance, spinning occasionally to the music, you can’t seem to stop noticing that officer from earlier. he’s always standing in a corner somewhere, or he’s talking to his friends without focusing on them, clearly caught up with you and your costume.

“shoko!” calls a relaxed voice you manage to hear over the music, and then all three of you are walking over to the sitting area again. “been calling you for a while, c’mon now.”

“what’s up, geto?” she asks tiredly, tugging her cigarette box from her pocket and catching the lighter he tosses her.

“well, i—”

“knock it off, gojo,” the tall officer pushes gojo from earlier off him, sending him tumbling into geto. his dark hair is long and neatly arranged to go with his costume.

“suguru!” gojo shouts, clearly drunk as he clings to the front of geto’s costume. “thank goodness you caught me, nanami’s being so rude! i just suggested we could play seven minutes in heaven.”

“is that right?” he laughs, nudging gojo off and sitting on the couch, then gesturing for the police officer to take a seat too. gojo sits down quickly, much to the officer’s obvious disdain.

“idiots,” utahime huffs, shaking her head and making her cat ears wiggle. she looks over to a smoking shoko and fans the plumes out of the air. “don’t you agree?”

“of course, utahime,” she replies, nudging you lightly. she introduces you to the men, who all wave politely, besides the officer, who carefully looks at you.

“nanami’s not a big fan of parties,” gojo says, sticking his tongue out and rifling around for a beer bottle on the floor. he comes back with something half full and sucks the remaining liquid down, then triumphantly places it in the center of the coffee table.

nanami looks to the side, the brim of his cop hat obscuring his eyes. “i’m not interested.”

“come onnnn, nanami,” gojo whines, staring hard, blue eyes wide open in an effort to convince him. “you probably won’t get picked anyway!”

you stifle a giggle at that, and nanami looks away further, crossing a leg over another. but he can’t resist looking from the corner of his eye when gojo spins the bottle and it lands on his friend beside him. geto smiles softly as a drunk gojo yanks him over to the closet nearby, then pushes him inside first.

“those two,” shoko shakes her head, taking a drag on her cigarette. “gojo’s so embarrassing when he’s drunk.”

“uh, hey,” you rise from your seat beside the girls and awkwardly sit beside nanami, who graces you with eye contact that makes you sweat all over. “i just wanted to say thanks for the water when i was choking earlier.”

“it’s no problem,” he says politely, slightly glancing down at your chest and the rest of your body although he fights hard not to.

your cheeks warm and you clear your throat, folding your hands on top of your thighs. “so, you’re from jujutsu tech?”

“i am,” he affirms, making no move to say anything more.

you really hope you don’t get nanami in the game. a few minutes later, gojo and geto come back from the closet, laughing hysterically.

“did you desecrate the closet so we don’t have to play anymore?” shoko asks sarcastically, putting out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray that utahime holds for her.

geto can’t stop cackling, gasping between each one and gripping his chest. “oh my god! satoru got in the closet, tripped, and banged his head on the wall so hard he—”

everyone starts to laugh and geto struggles to finish his story while gojo takes a seat beside nanami to listen. “h-he made the lightbulb fall down and it broke, so now it’s just dark. we spent all the time cleaning up the glass for you guys.”

gojo claps his hands loudly, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck. “ahem!” he clears his throat obnoxiously and points at the coffee table and beer bottle. “nanami, ‘s your turn.”

“i said i’m not interested,” the officer bites, and gojo groans loudly, annoyed.

“convince him!”

everyone but nanami collectively laughs, and geto starts up with that lighthearted and breezy tone of his. “nanami, i’m sure you’ll end up having fun.”

shoko offers a smile, “i don’t like parties any more than you do and yet i’m playing.”

“fine,” he grumbles, snatching the beer bottle from a cheering gojo and putting it down on the table. glass moves against glass as nanami spins it hard; it goes around the table a few times before slowing on utahime, who desperately chants no no no! to everyone’s surprise, including your own, it stops on you.

you look up from the bottle and nanami does too, then you both slowly stand and start to walk over to the closet. you’re trailing behind the officer and looking back nervously.

“good luck,” shoko salutes you, taking a shot from utahime’s cup in your honor.

“thanks,” you nod, slowly following the officer to the closet, padding along the floor silently. a chill pinpricks down your spine as he holds the door open for you, allowing you to walk into the dark closet first. nanami shuffles in beside you, clearing his throat as his body brushes against yours.

“hi,” you say, swallowing nervously. it’s loud enough for nanami to hear, and he raises an eyebrow in the dark. “ah, i didn’t expect to end up in here together.”

“you’d rather be with gojo?” nanami scoffs, sounding insulted although he softens at your frantic response.

“oh my god, no! absolutely not, i was thinking of shoko or something.”

nanami genuinely laughs, leaning back against the wall with a tired sigh. “he forced me to come along, you know. i wanted to stay in the dorms and watch movies or something.”

“well, now you’re here,” you say, hands smoothing over the front of your costume. “might as well play the game, huh? this is supposed to be seven minutes in heaven.”

“i don’t mind talking,” nanami answers, shifting his body. there’s a metallic jingling sound that comes from his waist, which piques your curiosity.

“what’s that?” you ask, nodding towards his waist. he can’t see you, but understands you nonetheless.

“oh, they’re handcuffs,” he pulls them from their holder and swings them on a finger. “supposed to go along with my costume, i guess.”

“do they work?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried them.”

your body burns hot as the words leave your mouth, “put them on me and let’s see if they do.” where is this suggestion even coming from? you couldn’t blame this on the drinking, not when you’ve maintained sober conversation for as long as you have.

nanami laughs loudly, before realizing how serious you are. “shit, you’re serious?”

“i am if you are.”

“if we can’t get these off, it’ll be hell to explain,” nanami warns, before you turn around and offer your hands. the cool metal goes onto your wrists easily, clicking as he locks them. now he’s the one swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry as he realizes the dirty implication. you’re close enough to see each other even though it’s dark, and his olive eyes catch yours for a single moment.

“i swear i’m a good girl, officer,” you tease with a glossy pout, leaning in close enough to his face that he can smell the sweet scents of your lip product and perfumed skin. nanami’s quick to play along, even against his better judgment. you’re real pretty and easy to get carried away thinking about . . he can’t help but feel his cock squeeze in his pants.

“typically good girls aren’t in handcuffs,” he clicks his tongue, fighting back a smile.

“these are tight, officer,” you whine, turning around and pressing your ass into him rather confidently. nanami’s breath hitches in his throat and he allows himself to ghost his fingers along your wrists and the cool metal that binds them together.

“i’m afraid i can’t let you go.”

“no rings on your fingers?” you ask, segueing into a question about his status before you push him further. “ever thought of messing around with a bunny girl?”

“no, work is my focus,” nanami replies smoothly, choosing to let himself enjoy the moment. “and no, i didn’t, not until i met you.”

you giggle, pushing against him. “i need a yes or a no.”

“yes,” he groans, hips twisting against your body; you feel his hard on through ironed pants, pressing into your bare thighs. “wait a minute, you’re the one in cuffs here. you should be begging me to let you go.”

“i don’t need my hands to show you why you should let me go.” your voice is flirty and unashamed, words practically dripping with a sweetness so intoxicating he’s giving in without another word.

“you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you? go ahead and show me why you should be free, girl.”

it all happens fast — before he can register just what’s happening, you’re on your knees in front of him, tugging at his belt with your teeth. he’s extremely impressed, watching through squinted eyes as you tug on the leather and get it out of the buckle.

“a little help, officer?” you lean your head against his thigh, bunny ears slipping back and off your head.

“i thought you didn’t need your hands,” nanami challenges, undoing his belt and letting it hang from his pants. “the rest is all you, princess.”

with your teeth, you tug on his pants and then yank until the button’s undone. you bite down on the zipper and pull it down, then grab onto the hem of his pants and pull it to his knees, all with only your mouth. by the end of it, nanami’s left panting, heaving for air to the point where he has to unbutton his shirt.

you’re good, aren’t you? nanami is speechless.

his gray boxers are next, tight on his hard cock and outlining it deliciously. as they come off, his cock bounces out and almost hits you in the face. you audibly gasp, saliva pooling in your mouth.

is it possible for a dick to look this delicious?

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you assure him, slipping out of character for a moment as you look up at him genuinely. “your cock just looks so good.”

“show me what you mean.”

as you go in towards his tip, he tenses and lifts his cock expectantly, clearing his throat wordlessly. his balls are rounded nicely and feel heavy as you take them into your mouth with a moan, sucking lightly at them and running your tongue along the sensitive skin.

“that’s a good start,” nanami huffs, hips nearly bucking into your face.

from there, you run your tongue along the underside of his cock until you’re at his tip and taking him inside your mouth in one fluid movement.

“god— fuck,” nanami chokes on his words, groaning loudly and biting down onto his lip to quiet himself immediately afterwards. “shit, take it deeper.”

sticky slick pools in your underwear, and you clench up hard the second his palm touches the back of your head and pushes forward forcefully. you’ve got stars in your eyes and so does he as his cock presses deeper into your throat, tip hitting the back of it and making you choke.

“a mouth like this,” he tosses his head back and it lands with a soft thump against the wall, “deserves to be thoroughly fucked.”

nanami’s fingers twist in your hair tightly, and he holds you in place as he fucks his cock down your throat. you choke, tears making your eyes glassy, and you shake a little as you look up at him.

“you can take it.”

even though his cock is absolutely stuffing your throat and blocking off your air supply, his words are trustworthy. you’d made it this far, hadn’t you?

your throat bulges from the size of his cock, stretching out to accommodate his size eagerly. something about being used like this is fulfilling, in a way; it’s rough and satisfying in the best ways possible.

above you, nanami tears his shirt open further, buttons flying every which way from the force. he’s groaning, body sweltering with heat and muscles taut with tension and focus. it’s almost primal, the way he yanks you up by the hair and uses your throat, chasing the orgasm like a dragon.

“fuuuck,” he lets out, watching as tears and mascara rush down your cheeks and make dark tracks on your skin. “you’re a real good girl—hey now, stay still.” you gurgle something, bubbly spit rushing down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

“don’t worry, princess,” his voice is gravelly as he reassures you, his eyes rolling back while yours close in preparation. “i-i’m gonna cum soon, okay?”

nanami feels you open your mouth wider, hears the clink of the handcuffs as you push closer to him. he can feel the cum fill his cock with pressure as it rises to his tip; he pounds out his orgasm in your throat, hips banging into your face and stuttering when he finally falls over the edge. he’s too deep for you to taste the cum, and you only feel its warmth as you greedily swallow it all, moaning quietly at the sensation. his cock leaves your mouth with a pop, a glossy string of spit connecting his tip with your lips.

“don’t look at me like that,” nanami’s voice is shaky as he lifts your chin and closes his eyes when he sees your face, “it makes me want to fuck your throat again.”

“do you get it now, officer?” you rasp, throat sore. “feeling better?”

“yes and yes,” a breathless laugh and he’s leaning in to give you a kiss. nanami’s lips barely brush against yours when you’re both startled by the bang of the door slamming open.

“we totally forgot about you guys!” gojo shouts, before seeing what’s really in front of him.

#kurooh’s kinktober 🎃#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #kinktober

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contamination-zone · 21 days ago

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nother fic yayyy

contains: platonic fresh and nightmare. Cuddling. Joint pain [for fresh :<] ~1,000 words

He was back, smarmy grin on his face and eyewateringly bright outfit everywhere else. It contrasted heavily with the deep well of suffering emanating from “his” SOUL.

An oxymoron; the only way Nightmare could describe it.

Still, negativity was negativity, no matter how… colorful the package was.

“Exited to see lil old me bro?”

“Hardly.”

It laughed, the noises all bright neons in the air. Enthusiasm mixing with cruelty. It wasn’t as cheery as usual.

“Lierrrr!”

Within barely a second it was closer than he’d usually let anyone, crowding into his space and almost looming. Terribly reminded of a cat greeting its owner, Nightmare didn’t think to refute it.

It seemed one of them was thinking of his answer though, Fresh letting out a victorious crow when he didn’t immediately snarl an insult.

“You did, didn’t ya? We love ta’ see bonds between bros, bro!”

As if it wasn’t close enough, it pressed against his side. He let it, the negativity pouring out more than worth it.

“I would hesitate to call what we have a ‘bond.’” He finally answered it, disinterest weaved carefully through his voice.

“Whatever you say,” Fresh snickered, face leaning down to rest on his shoulder. It seemed in a particularly clingy mood today, though that seemed like everyday, lately.

Hyper aware of its movements, Nightmare couldn’t help but notice something was a bit off. A certain stiffness the parasite didn’t normally have, teeth a hint too straight and claws blunt.

It pressed further into him, barley not sinking into his negativity, almost nervous…

“Bad day?”

It startled, clearly displeased, and ignored his question entirely. Expected, exposing weakness to Nightmare wasn’t usually in anybody’s best interest. “Nah, my day’s been totes tubular. We don’t needa talk about me anyway. You got any cool plans, bro?”

“Work. In fact, I’d prefer to be alone for it.” He wasn’t going to let it play hard to get.

“…”

“If you require my presence,” he hummed in a way he knew made him sound like an asshole, “you can always inform me.”

He started walking, pace leisurely as he made his way to his office. It fell instep right behind him, silent, considering.

“C’mon, you always like a bro to help ya’ think things through, don’cba boss?”

“I’m not so incompetent as to require that.”

It huffed, clearly displeased.

He made it to his office with the parasite on his heels, and made quick work of gathering some of the most pressing paperwork. It continued prattling off behind him.

“Don’t harsh the paperwork vibe by kicking me out, octo-bro. Sure hanging out would help with that pro-duct-tality”

It grumbled and huffed, trying to annoy a reaction out of him. Cute.

“If it’s only entertainment you want, you can always bother other inhabitants of this castle, parasite.”

That actually got a growl out of it.

With a quick motion he also grabbed few pens and a stamp before he turned on his heel and walked right back out of his office.

Fresh didn’t seem to notice how far off his normal schedule he was acting, pressing close once more. It was so tempting to push it off.

“Are you saying you can’t, broski? The top dog of negativity, unable to amuse a simple lil’ dude?”

“You’re nearly 7 feet tall.”

“Yeah man! Just a little guy!” It grinned.

He let out an amused huff despite himself, finally arriving at their destination.

He fished the key to his room out of his pocket and made quick work of making his way in, one of his tentacles aground Fresh’s wrist pulling it after him.

The fact that this was when it finally noticed he wasn’t doing his normal paperwork routine was a testament to how out of it it must have been. It let out a little click at the back of its throat, confused.

“What’s with this?” A moment later.

Nightmare pulled it further into his room, “didn’t you say you’d prefer to ‘hang out’?”

A slight tug, more a test to see if he’d let go than an earnest attempt to shake his grip. He didn’t let go.

“Preev hang-outs weren’t like this, bro-tato.”

He ignored its words. Sticking out a tentacle easily tripped it, making it land on his plush bed with a thump.

He followed at his own pace, getting all his equipment set up on his nightstand as Fresh rolled into its side to look at him. It’s voice was squeaky, “Again! What is the deal bro?! I am not the type of guy you bring to your crib. I don’t even do this typa’ thing!”

He rolled his eyes as he made himself comfortable. “You misunderstand me if you think I’m trying to bed you. You merely seem under the weather.”

It grumbled, its brows furrowing and teeth baring. Before it could start spouting some bullshit about being in ‘tip-top shape,’ he reached over and settled its head on his lap, hands moving to massage at its neck vertebrae.

It’s mouth let out a squeaky breath of air instead of a retort, and he chuckled. His tentacles reached down to wrap around its joints, and the way it went limp at his cold ministrations let him know he’d been right: joint pain.

It whines, “This is so un-radical bro…”

“Is it?” He grabbed his clipboard and started doing paperwork, letting his tentacles slowly wrap further around the other skeleton. The little shudders it let out only made him tighten his grip.

A little rumbly purr started up, and which seemed to disquiet Fresh even further.

“Un-radical…” it repeated.

“Of course,” he looked down at it, face a bit flushed and purring like a motor, “‘Un-radical.”

“It was just a bad switch, it’ll pass.” It grumbled, “You really don’t need to do all… this stuff for it.”

Information; he tried not to look like he was paying more attention. He let out an acknowledging noise.

“You listening? Just said you didn’t need to do this.”

“And if I want to?” Was out before he could think.

It stiffened the same time as him. This wasn’t what their relationship was supposed to be like.

They were both using the other: Fresh for protection and Nightmare for a free meal. It was comforting, expected. I they could always count on the other acting in their own self interest.

“Because… more contact more negativity, yeah?”

“Yes.” No.

It relaxed, taking that instead of the possibility of him caring, “whatever. I guess I’ll stay for your sa-“

He retracted most of his tentacles, making it whine.

“Fine fine! I’ll stay for my sake.”

“Good boy.” He continued his ministrations, feeling it relax back into him a moment later. Pretenses dropped, it didn’t hesitate to push as far into his space as it could get. A bit too close for him to do his paper-work with maximum productivity but he couldn’t say he minded too much.

#Fresh #Fresh sans #Fresh!sans #Nightmare #nightmare sans #nightmare!sans #fresh & nightmare #utmv #undertale multiverse #puppy barks

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triple-tree-ranch · 11 months ago

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Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last month. The day after she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith' in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help and I recognized her right away.

Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I'm easy to find. I am wherever there is love.

Love, God

Don't say you're too busy to forward this. Just go ahead and do it

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kenananamin · 1 year ago

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Nanami as a girl dad

Nanami is a girl dad, I will not argue or fight on this but if you think he's not... i got news for you ANYWAYS these are my Nanami headcanons as the best husband and dad and what he would do as a girl dad during pregnancy, birth, and actually raising the baby

takes a personal day off work to take you to your doctor's appointments then takes you to brunch and a movie. will hold your hand the whole time

fought HR/managers/supervisors/ANYONE for as much paternity leave as he could get

asked if he could work from home bc he doesn't want to miss a single moment of your pregnancy or newborn baby

sits on the floor to talk to his baby girl and holds your tummy saying that he's holding her hand

made 20 copies of the sonogram picture and kept them all. there's a copy in his wallet, behind his phone case, in the glove compartment, and in every suit jacket pocket close to his heart. he likes to brag about his girls (you and baby)

comes back from the store with more diapers and wipes bc "we need to be prepared"

bookmarks blog posts talking about how to bond with your baby

reads every book he can and asks the doctor more questions than any other dad who comes into the office

will ask anyone he trusts for advice, but gets defensive when someone tells him to do something differently

takes naps with his head on your lap and his lips touching your belly

has two hospital bags ready in the closet but has an emergency one in the trunk... just in case

does not sleep the whole time you're in labor even when the nurses tell him to "rest before the baby gets here"... that gets him more excited and doesn't let him sleep

tells you to dig your nails into his arm if you need to when you start pushing. kisses your entire face when the baby starts to cry and rushes to the nurse holding her to ask if they could stamp the baby's feet on his shirt/gown before cleaning her (a/n: my dad did this with me and it is the cutest thing ever. we still have the gown with the tiny feet stamped on there)

carefully takes off the shirt/gown and immediately wants to do skin-to-skin contact after you hold the baby first

follows baby to the hospital nursery and takes pictures of sleeping baby to change his wallpaper

changes wallpaper every two days bc "she did something cute" or "sticking her tongue out" or "giving me the stink eye"

loves waking up with her at night bc besides letting you rest... it's daddy-daughter time so don't interrupt

demonstrates what tummy time is while she lays on her baby bouncer (you laugh bc it's ridiculous and she's only a couple weeks old)

buys scrapbook and disposable cameras to start an album (the first of a hundred probably)

buys special clips for crib blankets to be tight and immovable around mattress bc he kept reading about possible suffocation

either way, does not like for her to sleep in her own room so he buys an extra baby moses to put in your room

has an extra diaper bag in his car bc he likes impromptu trips to let mommy rest

sulking when he has to go back to work

finds remote job within the next month

sits baby down on his lap while be works and she plays with her toy

throws an intimate 1st bday party first then a second one the next weekend to invite anyone he's ever talked to and brag about his family

literally kicks his feet and giggles with his daughter then stands up to be the most intimidating man to anyone else

tears of joy when you're pregnant again and sobs when they say it's a girl

carries his girls with him everywhere he goes

is proud that he's raising strong women who will learn how to fight for themselves. keeps reminding himself that he's raising the next generation and that fuels a fire deep inside him

let's the girls play with his hair and put all the clips they can find around the house on his head

lets his fingers and toes be horribly painted while he reads the newspaper and leaves the house with those nails

gets teary eyed on the first day of school and waits outside the school the whole day for a week (paid time off used)

can only do simple pony tails and braids but loves waking the girls up, sitting them on his lap and doing their hair while you get them dressed

making cute lunches for the girls with you is one of his favorite parts of the day

likes dressing the girls alike or the same and has a strange obsession with buying them overalls

loves playing barbie with them and lowkey has a favorite barbie

goes toy shopping behind mommy's back and tells the girls that this is the only secret that they can ever ever keep

randomly brings back flowers for every single one of his girls

takes his girls (you and daughters) on group and individual dates

makes the girls sign a contract written in crayon stating they "will love daddy forever"... frames it and puts it in his office

cries tears of joy AGAIN when you're pregnant with another girl... and looks for a bigger house

rips off door side where he was marking the girl's height and puts it in the new house. he did not believe in marking/tracing it on another thin piece of wood and said he wanted the original

takes everyone out for dessert every Friday and checks in on each kid to see how they're feeling and if they're ok

never misses a single game, recital, rehearsal, practice, ANYTHING

takes his daughters to their first self-defense class

does not believe in violence and does not condone it... but will first ask the girls if they won the fight (strongly insinuates that he will be disappointed if someone kicks their ass)

corrects the girls when needed and has a special look to tell them to stop messing around

later goes to apologize if he ever uses the look

will ask the girls for a sleepover and will throw every blanket on the floor to make one huge bed

tells the girls to follow him as he does repairs around the house or on the car bc they "need to know how it all works and how to deal with it"

is shocked when you're pregnant again (even though he likes to do a certain something that leads to babies) but is REALLY SHOCKED when it's a boy this time

reminds the girls that they have to be nice and helpful with their brother

starts all the reading and bookmarking all over again, but his time on how to raise a gentleman

raises the best little dude and let's the girls show him everything he has shown them so far

okaaaay okay i know i said he's a girl dad and a girl dad only buuuuut Nanami would raise the best little gentleman ever. AND IMAGINE A MINI NANAMI?!! ... but he's still a girl dad first and foremost

extras:

would absolutely praise his wife and randomly thank her for giving him a family

will wear a disguise and follow daughters to first date

refuses to parentify any of his kids and wants to let them be kids

constantly reminds them that they only get to be kids for a short amount of time then they have to be adults for the rest of their lives. so be silly

is always down for a quiet drive if anyone needs to clear their head

dreads the day when he will no longer he able to carry his kids on his shoulders

has already made mental plans for every possible situation the kids may create, even the absolutely crazy ones his brain has imagined

is very open w the girls and talks about safety in intimacy

leaves cute notes during bad or iffy days and writes motivational quotes on their mirrors with dry-erase markers

loves when you say he's a dilf

tries to talk to them about the stock market

passes his budgeting king crown to the kids

feels super cool when his kids brag to their friends about him, even puffs his chest a little bit

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aphiewrites · 2 months ago

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Pairing: season 1!Viktor x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: literally just fluff, being asked out lmao, first time writing, no mentions of y/n, not proofread,

Word count: idk

a/n: y’all i used to write fanfics, but i haven’t in sOOOOOO long. I literally apologize, on my knees, begging, if like this is bad. i wanted to pick up writing again bc arcane has just inspired me especially viktor if u know what i mean. ahaha. pls dont criticize me so harshly i will cry and stop writing but advise is appreciated. also grammar might be bad, its like a weakness for me cus english is my second language. anyways bye love u whoever reads this.

The clacking of your shoes echoes through the academy halls. The lights in the hallway barely emit a soft light in these dark hours. A guard stands at the end of the hallway, quietly dozing off and then catching himself awake when his head nods. He finally notices you with a box in your hands, a box filled with trinkets such as gears, screws, and jagged handmade parts of machinery. He nods at you, passing him with a quick smile as you make a left to looming doors of the laboratory.

You quietly open the door, using your elbow to turn the long door handle. You push the door open with your foot and smoothly slide in. You nudge the door close with your foot aback and adjust your hold with the wooden box as to not drop anything. The laboratory is glowing a blue hue from the hexcore being mended on. There in the middle of the lab, you notice Viktor. Slouched and focused on the magical machinery, his arms twisting and turning to control the robotic arms that interacts with the hexcore. His hair is ruffled from the goggles that is on his face and from the frustration that he runs through his hair with his hands.

You slowly make your way over to his position, cautious of the laboratory environment as to not cause an incident. “Viktor, I brought your order of supplies,” you speak softly.

Viktor jolts from his focus and immediately lets go of the controls. He pulls back the goggles and turns to you, “ah! You can set that down anywhere. I hope you didn’t find much trouble getting those,” he speaks kindly, his accent smooth and alluring.

You set the box down on the table in the middle of the laboratory and you pause for a moment. You can’t help but smile at him, his face has marks from the goggles resting too long on his face, and his hair is just a giant jumbled mess. You walk over to him, reaching out to the top of his head to readjust the goggles and to fix the folded parts of hair.

Viktor gives you a flustered look but doesn’t say much of it and lets you adjust his look.

“I managed to haggle the price for most of the parts,” you gleefully share to him.

“That is good,” he says, continuing to watch you closely as you clean up a few more pieces.

You retreat back and put your hands behind, “I did have trouble finding one part, I had to check three different shops before I found one that had it available.”

“I could’ve done it myself, but thank you for going through that trouble for me,” he says with a gentle smile.

You chuckle, “I’m happy to help around, Viktor. It keeps me busy instead of waiting around in an office to stamp papers.” Viktor and you share a light laugh. “Oh, before I forget…” You dip your hands into the pocket of your coat and place down the change you obtained from haggling beside him on the desk. “I would’ve dropped it off earlier, but I got caught up on the stamping and I’d figured you’d still be here,” you ramble.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a pause in the conversation. You didn’t notice how loud the hexcore hums until this silence. The silence is edging the line of awkward and comfortable silence until you cut in quick.

“So… Are you planning on clocking out soon?” Your eyes shift to the side as you question.

“There is still much work to do.” His head lowers, eyes looking down on his hands that are nervously soothing each finger.

“I don’t want to sound like Jayce right now, but I think you should take a break and come back to this in the morning.”

He sighs, “I am well aware,” he runs his hand through the back of his head, his other arm leaning on his knee, and his leg is now bouncing.

“Come on, you will have more space in that brain of yours to think once you’ve rested,” you outreach a hand.

“Fatigue is not the issue, it is you taking up more space in my head.”

You freeze in your place, dumbfounded. You aren’t sure if you heard that right, but you aren’t sure if he means it in the way you think. Does he despise your presence? Does he want you to leave so he can work more? Or does he find some sort of affection towards you?

He finally looks up at you to analyze your reaction, arms resting at his knees.

He must’ve realized your confusion on your face but he speaks up again, “Will you have dinner with me?”

You, never in a million years, would expect Viktor to make such a bold move on you. Your face is burning and heart is beating like a large drum inside of you.

“Um… Isn’t it a little late for dinner, Vik?” You awkwardly state. “Besides… I should probably sleep soon… and you too…”

Yours and Viktor’s face turn to shock from what you just said. You immediately curse yourself in the inside, it sounded more like a way to kindly reject him, but you swear to yourself it was out of concern for the man to rest as well instead of ruining his sleep schedule more.

Viktor straightens himself in the chair, trying to compose himself, “ah, yes. I’m sorry to bother you with nonsense—“

“No! no, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come off as a rejection.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Is it not?”

“No! I would love to have dinner with you! I was just saying you should rest, you’ve been working all day.” Did it get even more hot in this room? You think. Your face is burning even more than before and it feels like a sweat is about to drop from your forehead.

Viktor picks up his cane from the side of the desk and stands up.

Oh god. He’s coming over.

He stands right in front of you, looming. Bodies close, not touching, but you swear you can feel the warmth radiate off of him. The scent of his cologne fills your nose due to the close proximity. You can see the overconfidence that has kicked into him and you wish you could melt right at this second. He just stares at you for a while without saying anything. A smile creeping up on his face and it almost scares you because what else is going to come out from that mouth that’s going to send you into a frenzy?

“Well, perhaps I will rest tonight to keep your brain from worrying, and maybe a date tomorrow?” He slyly asks.

You blink a few times before gaining the composure to respond, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay cooped up in this lab tomorrow?” You snarkily remark.

“Jayce will do the work.” He grins.

“A date it is then,” you smile back.

“I’m glad,” he brushes off a piece of dust from your cheek then backs up. “I will head out now then, goodnight.” He says as he slowly walks towards the door.

“Wait a minute, have you eaten at all tonight?” You turn to him.

He stops halfway to the door, awkwardly as if he was caught stealing something, “No, but I was going to head to a little shop to pickup a meal,” he gives an innocent honest, almost goofy, smile.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Let’s go together then,” you catch up to him and follow him through the door.

———

“So, if we’re eating dinner right now, does that mean there will be no date tomorrow?” Viktor asks, half a sandwich in hand.

“Dinner, we rest, then date, okay?” You smirk.

He grins, “Okay, good.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor lol #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #league of legends #arcane #jayce talis #viktor league of legends #viktor nation #viktor machine herald

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fullmetalfisting · 3 months ago

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I had the weirdest interaction with a lady at the post office today. I go in to buy a roll of stamps. Pull the $100 out of my hoodie pocket. The lady’s like “did you just print this off this morning?”

I’m like “ha, ha” bc how else are you supposed to respond to something like that.

She’s like “this bill doesn’t look right.”

She like. Makes a production out of using the counterfeit pen all while “i don’t know why you people don’t get jobs like everyone else”

I’m standing there like. I literally don’t care about whatever imagined drama is happening. Can you give me my stamps and change lady

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jymwahuwu · 1 year ago

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After watching the animation, I felt uncomfortable and had thoughts about handcuffs. just found a reason to be handcuffed and spanked by Wriothesley 🥵🙏💦💦

CW: yandere, forced imprisonment, abuse of power, non-consensual spanking, humiliation

For a whole week… you were uncooperative, stamping your feet in front of Wriothesley's face, arguing with him, or responding with perfunctory- "yes-yes", "got it.", "you're right again anyway". Why? He keeps you in this underwater prison and factory, restricting your freedom. He smiled lightly and gracefully, patting you on the head as if you just weren't mature enough. Like just punched the pillow with his fist, it was completely useless. The anger in your chest burned even brighter.

You were sulking that day, slowly poking at the food with your fork in the cafeteria, thinking about how to escape the Fortress of Meropide. A young and sweet voice sounded next to you. "You look unhappy. Cheer up. Want a milkshake?" "No, thank you." You replied quickly, without even glancing at who the person was. In the corner of your vision, a blue milkshake approaches you, and you turn around irritably.

"I told you no…" Inadvertently, your elbow touched the cup, and the whole cup fell to the ground and broke. You were startled to realize that it was the head nurse, Sigewinne. Guilt builds in you, and you're about to apologize and pick up the pieces, but you hear that annoying voice - Wriothesley's. His boots appear before you. "Wow, what a big scene. Do you mind explaining it?"

Sigewinne waved her hand and raised head to look at Wriothesley. "I'm fine, Your Grace."

Rebellion takes a place in your heart. You swallowed your apology and sneered. "I broke it."

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, come to the office with me. Sigewinne, don't pick up the debris. I will ask people to clean it." Sigewinne gave you a worried look and explained. "It's really just an accident, not intentional, Your Grace…"

"Don't worry." He gave a reassuring smile. "Just going to the office to chat."

As soon as you entered the office, you heard the door being locked. Your heart skipped a beat, but you still maintained a stoic look.

Wriothesley walked slowly from the door to you, hugged his arm, and asked in a relaxed tone. "You've been very rude lately. What's wrong?"

You can't believe Wriothesley is actually asking this - "Don't you know you're the reason! When am I going to get out of jail! Why I have no idea how long my sentence will be extended!"

"This is what happens when someone disobeys." Administrator said, taking something out of his pocket. "And now I'm right. You don't look like you're fit to be released from prison."

He quickly lifted the back of your hand, and then with a sound, the handcuff locked your right hand. You suddenly broke into a cold sweat, but your other hand was grabbed and locked in the same way. "W-what do you want to do!" accompanied by a chuckle. "You look better this way, but it's not enough."

Wriothesley sat down leisurely, stretched out his hand, and pulled you onto his lap. As you screamed, a chill ran down your butt, and the covering material was pulled down. But he still felt that it was not enough, and even took off your underwear, not even allowing the underwear to stay on your calves, but threw it on the desk. Before this, you had never known that Wriothesley's strength was so irresistible and powerful. He always allowed you to push him away a little.

A hard slap on your ass. Terrified, you straightened your legs and kicked them, as if that would relieve the pain, but it didn't. "How dare you - how dare you spank me! Wriothesley, I will teach you a lesson once I get out!"

"Ha-I'm waiting." He said, holding back the laughter in his throat. "But now, you're being spanked by me, so watch your words."

The slaps landed on your butt one after another, and his thick arms were waving, showing no mercy, as the loud slapping sound proved. The pain urged your eyes to fill with tears, and you wanted to struggle, but the cold handcuffs reminded you of your position. "Stop this…you have no right to do this…"

"I have. And no one can stop me from doing this." While holding your waist, his big, rough hand slapped your right butt three times in a row. Just when you thought you had adapted… pain. You sobbed quietly, sniffling.

After the slap lasted… you don't know, 2 minutes or 5 minutes later? It seemed like a lifetime, and finally it stopped. "Poor you." The palm touched your heated butt and rubbed it gently, "It's all swollen. If you were obedient, it wouldn't be like this, right?"

"Asshole…" you just struggled to curse in a low voice, "um, let's start again." These few understatement words gave you a huge warning. The slaps started again, even harder than before. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to stop him. "…wait, wait, I'm sorry!! Don't start over!!"

"Ah, too late," he snickered, not stopping to spank. "Well, I can even hear you scolding me in your heart. Just be good, even a little bit, okay?"

What follows is a long afternoon. Wriothesley didn't spank you continuously, but kept you on his lap. He reviews the documents and signs and adds notes. Occasionally, he thinks of you and waves his arms to educate you. You were like a poor little pet, on his lap, with tears hanging from your eyelashes, your hands locked in handcuffs, and butt is swollen and radiating heat.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley

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liillyliilly · 7 months ago

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I Need A Challenge

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 3804 synopsis; she writes a scathing review of ushijima's volleyball skills. how else should he respond if not by inviting her out to dinner?

She was tired of people like him. People who had no reason to be so stereotypically perfect. Everyone knows the type, comically good looking, is a prodigy in their one specific thing, acting so nonchalant that it ends up becoming their token personality trait. It was all so boring to her.

Which is why, as she was taking notes in the most recent Volleyball Nations League game, she wrote down some very harsh words for her analysis of star spiker Ushijima Wakatoshi. It was just the brutally honest truth of the world, she reasoned. Her editor, after reading the article she wrote at the game, almost dropped their jaw in shock at what she had written.

“This is really,” Editor Xhou sucked in some air through his teeth, “This is almost borderline libel material.”

She inspected her nails, shrugging as Xhou kept talking to her.

“I mean, you said that he is, and I quote from your own words, ‘Ushijima is the default setting for a volleyball player, there’s nothing too particularly unique’. You want me to let the paper publish this?” Xhou leans back into his office chair, pushing his glasses up and sighing.

“I write the truth, and the truth is that when Ushijima is on the court, you always know the exact plays he’ll make, the exact moves he’ll execute. The result is consistently the same. The games are too predictable when he plays.” She stands up from the seat opposite to Xhou.

Xhou sets the paper on his desk, checking that she really is okay with the article having her name attached to it.

A thumbs up is the only response she gives to her supervisor.

Xhou stamps the paper with his name, and faxes the documents to the coordinator putting together the sports magazine review for this issue. He wonders if the legal team is going to get involved again, he remembers the last player she reviewed, he was crushed and had to move to Alaska to play in a much smaller league. Xhou fully believes he’s going to get the magazine sued for letting her article fly.

Tendou finishes his squat set, hanging up the weights with a heave. Ushijima finishes his hundredth bicep curl, finally finishing his repetitions of this exercise.

Tendou pokes some fun, “I'm so sad for people without legs, they have to skip leg day.” He muses, trying to see what reaction or comment his best friend will make. Tendou twists and flexes in the full length mirrors lining the gym.

Ushijima only responds with a nod. He checks his phone, only to see that he’s received a little over four hundred notifications and counting. The beeping and noises start to pile up. Tendou peeks over Ushijima’s shoulder and gasps, he steals Ushijima’s phone away and immediately investigates what all the hustle and bustle could be related to.

“You should probably read this article, I think the writer has it out for your throat Wakatoshi.” Tendou grimaces while handing the phone back.

He skims the article, viewing the main talking points and major issues the author brings to light about his play style. His boring, everyday genius playstyle. He’s read criticisms of his volleyball skills before, but this one doesn’t seem too targeted solely about him, just using him as the mechanism to get a broader point across about the lack of challenges in volleyball recently. He chuckles at one of her comments, reading it aloud.

“Monster generation? I need a real challenge from these players, but all they’re giving me is platinum dreams without true passion and anger for the sport. I want them foaming at the mouth with new tricks, but I’m getting the same exact game over and over again.” Tendou cringes as Ushijima reads the words out loud. Ushijima stifles another chuckle.

Ushijima tucks his phone into his pocket, picking up his duffel bag. “I like her. She knows volleyball.”

It wasn’t just her comments, it was also the name of the author that Ushijima liked.

Tendou drops his water bottle in response to Ushijima’s behavior, stunned at the openness of amusement he has for the article and for the investment he has for this particular reporter.

Ushijima’s manager says that she’ll have a cease and desist letter issued to the paper for publishing such a slanderous piece. Ushijima proposes an entirely different solution.

She didn’t expect to be sitting at a restaurant, pencil and paper in hand, waiting for someone she just dragged through the mud to arrive so they could share a meal and an interview.

It was winter, and her reading glasses had fogged up slightly in the difference between the outdoors temperature and the warmth of the restaurant. The main features of the restaurant was the Western Style dining choices and decor, it reminded her almost of a hibachi place, but instead of Japanese food it was just a bunch of American and European dishes.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Ushijima pulls out his chair and settles into it, grabbing his glass of water so he can drink from it.

“High school seemed so long ago, but yes it is nice to see you again Wakatoshi. Sorry for the piece, your name just carries the right amount of importance to get my bigger points across.” She crosses her legs, setting her pencil behind her ear. The waiter comes around and takes their orders. He asks for the salmon, and she gets the house soup.

“No, I totally get it. But the statement about how people just continually eat up the single dish I serve? I thought you would’ve found a better analogy for my consistency on the court.” He just smiles at her, watching her move the pencil from behind her ear to her mouth so she could chew on it a little. One of her tells of when she was deeply thinking about how to respond to something.

Ushijima remembers all the stories she would write back in high school, ranging from sports analysis of Shiratorizawa clubs for her journalism extracurricular to getting paid to write love letters from person to person. She garnered enough money to pay for a new laptop and her entire wishlist of stationery items.

He remembers her lending him a pen once during class, it was a weightier metal pen. The ink was so black he was sure it was made of pure darkness. While he admired the pen she went into a rant talking about the pen itself, the quality of it and how it took forever to be delivered to her. They both got chastised by the teacher for having a side conversation and had to sit outside the classroom. But they ended up talking outside the classroom despite being told not to.

“Like you’d know what a good analogy looks like.” She hides her smirk behind a spoonful of soup. Ushijima appreciates her ability to be unapologetic, her honesty and bluntness matching his own linguistic traits.

They talk for three hours, about volleyball, life after high school, the article she wrote, about friends and the situations they found themselves in. Ushijima talks about Tendou and his chocolatier aspirations, she brings up Semi Eita’s new album that actually sounded truly alternative and unique.

He remembers her having a crush on Semi throughout high school. He didn’t really see why she would sit at their practices sometimes, just sighing wistfully, before freezing and turning flustered when Semi tried to make conversation like a normal person. But when Semi was seen to be a slight habitual complainer, she grew a distaste for him. Ushijima was sure that Semi was her longest crush, clocking in at around two months or so.

Ushijima did enjoy that she came to their practices sometimes, because then he could ask her about her pen collection and she would openly, loudly, and enthusiastically layer on every detail she could fit into her remarks. And she was someone who asked him about his favorite things, primarily volleyball but also about reading the advertisements in the Weekly Shonen Jump Magazine. Or about how good a runner’s high could feel sometimes.

Around her, he could share without fear of being misunderstood. She just accepted what she heard, and then analyzed it, taking her time and asking clarifying questions. He did his best to emulate her mannerisms and tact within their conversations, usually failing, but she didn’t mind.

She did openly declare an aversion for him throughout high school, that genius powerhouses should never be entertained with acknowledgement. What others considered harsh from her was almost like beaming encouragement for him. It was like she was telling him, if he didn’t continually improve and advance then the stagnation would leave him in the dust. A push in the right direction was more accurate of why she would say what she did about him.

He takes the bill from her, puts his gold debit card on the clipboard, and returns it to the waiter before she can even open her purse. Rolling her eyes, she sets some bills on the table and slides it over to him. Glaring at him until he accepts the cash and puts the bills into his wallet.

“Are you dating anyone right now?” Ushijima inquires while they walk down the street to get to the train station. The night air leaves a chill around the two of them. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, and she had her arms folded over her body.

Snow falls from the sky, catching the lights and making streaks of color burst in small flickers like fireflies. The piled up snow in the roads hadn’t yet been plowed thoroughly, and wasn’t sullied with pollution that made it yellow and black. The snow was much more like a blanket.

“Listen, I’m what people consider easy to love but hard to please. Most people say they felt like they were never enough for me when we were dating.” She bites on her bottom lip a little. It’s a confusing feeling to be unnerved by him, and she feels even more uneasy when she realizes that she’s speaking too openly. “I don’t intentionally degrade those I date, I just, I have high expectations. I don’t give many second chances.”

His breath comes out in puffs of white, winter nipping at his nose which makes him feel uncomfortable. He wonders if she’s as cold as him. He knew that she had high expectations, none of the boys at their high school got remotely close to being romantically involved with her. She wanted more than what most people could offer. She wanted someone who was as open as her.

She feels a little guilty about her article now. Maybe she pushed the words a little too much on his bad qualities. Ushijima really wasn’t that bad, he was just dependable and rational, which crafted his playstyle of being an ultimate pillar of strength for a team. Why shouldn’t a team go with the most reliable way of scoring points? Then she shooed the thought. If volleyball wanted to keep being popular, it needed to evolve.

“I liked your article a lot.” He offers, segwaying the conversation, knowing her thoughts better than she knew them. “Power goes far, but even then, there’s ceilings that need to be broken. There’s talents that need to be unearthed, planted, and then allowed to bloom.”

They sit on the bench under the covering for the train station. The screen shows that the train she needs to take will come in around ten minutes.

“Thanks. My editor was worried you were going to sue me for what I wrote.” She laughs a little, rubbing her hands against her thighs to build up some lingering heat in her hands and her body.

He passes her his gloves from his jacket pocket. Making a small hum he waves them in front of her. She accepts and embraces the black fleece covering her fingers.

“Oh, no, there’s no way I’d want you to be sued. But I do want you to add another part to the article.” He blows some air onto his hands, rubbing them together. She raises an eyebrow inquisitively, turning towards him on the bench.

Once he had finished reading her piece on Ushijima’s game, he went through and read all her other articles. He found out her favorite current player was actually Hinata Shouyou, the energetic innovator. She had written about his unique approach, due to natural athleticism. Also about his experience in Brazilian beach volleyball making his defense skills unique in the field of both Japanese volleyball and on a global scale. It was all about Hinata this, Hinata that. But could the ultimate decoy ever compare to the pillar of strength?

“What do you want me to change? I can’t make any promises.”

“Say I’m your number one, because I don’t do last place.” Ushijima lifted her chin up, looking right into her eyes. He inspects her face, the small miniscule motions her features display show that she’s listening, actively listening. “Did I ever mention that you’re the only one that has my attention?”

She really was. The only reporter he cared to give quotes to after big games, the only girl who he ever wondered if there was any possibility to develop a relationship with. He was hooked on every word she wrote, every interview she hosted online. She was in his world, but never overlapped her social circle with his for longer than an hour at best.

She swallows thickly, “I’m sorry to say this, but I really am unimpressed by your playstyle.”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand from her chin to the side of her neck. He can feel the way her pulse is racing under her skin.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Her train arrived. She ducked under his hand and made her way onto the train. Before the sliding door closes, she motions him closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Then show me your talents. I need a challenger for my first place.”

Tendou lies on his stomach on the floor, Ushijima is reviewing some plays written by his coach. He scans for any play that could show off his left hand spikes, or any play that he could try and improvise a receive if he wasn’t on the front row rotation. The plays are different from what he’s used to. But his coach said that they were all optional, and that Ushijima’s playstyle was perfectly fine as it was. But ‘fine as is’ doesn’t earn him any accolades in her book.

Tendou perks up, “I always felt like fighting had romantic undertones.” He references what Ushijima had told him about how the dinner with his reporter went last week.

“But I don’t want to fight her? I’d hardly call a slight disagreement a fight.” Ushijima sets aside the packet he had been studying.

He opens his phone and refreshes the webpage for the newspaper she worked for. When nothing pops up under her name, he goes to the calendar page to see if she’d be attending an upcoming game he’d be playing in. He sets his phone aside when he realizes she will in fact be in attendance.

“But you do want to fight for her ‘first place’ hottie player ranking.” Tendou kicks his feet in the air, crossing his feet and tapping the top of his head.

Ushijima stands up and goes to check his closet, seeing if he needs to get a tighter jersey for the upcoming game. “She never used the word ‘hottie’ when talking about her favorite player.”

“So you admit that you do want to be her favorite player?”

Ushijima finishes trying on the jersey over his long sleeve compression shirt, the jersey fitted better than he remembered. He tugs on the front of the uniform. Then what Tendou said clicks for him.

Ushijima blinks, “I do want to be her favorite player.” He doesn’t see why he would deny that observation. Being her favorite player would be the ideal situation for him.

Tendou rolls over onto his back and wiggles his pointer fingers in the air, “You want to be more than just her favorite player.” He sings the words in a teasing manner.

“Maybe I do.”

One time, near the end of high school, she was talking during lunch. Her friends were uninterested, wanting to discuss boys or homework instead of her critical worldview analysis. Her table was right next to the table that Ushijima and Tendou were sitting at, their volleyball friends already outside tossing around a ball.

Ushijima listened in, drinking his milk while Tendou ate chicken nuggets. When her voice got quieter, almost to the point of fading out entirely due to her slowly realizing her friends were not as interested in the conversation as she was, Ushijima leaned in subconsciously, trying to catch her words.

Tendou pinched Ushijima, telling him that if he wanted to listen to her, he should ask her to come sit with them. Ushijima froze. So Tendou invited her to come sit with them. Placing her lunch tray down, she ate a carrot, sensing Ushijima’s hesitance and Tendou’s eagerness.

It was Ushijima that spoke first, “Keep going. You remind me of someone. He said almost the same thing, about his worthless pride and not forgetting about it.”

She brightens. Continuing her dissection of the value of pride, she refers to Ushijima as a reference point for pride. Using him in her examples and demonstrations of her illustrative examples. Around the third time she says his family name, he makes another request.

“You can just call me Wakatoshi.”

Tendou drops his chicken nugget, but quickly regains his pace in eating the arms off the dinosaurs.

She says his name, once and then twice. Letting it settle onto her tongue and leave a trace of what a first name basis could mean. Pondering on that instead of her newest philosophy interest is quickly dropped. She only ever calls him by his name from then on.

Needless to say, the next game he plays at, she’s there, with her notepad and pen. Each receive, hit, serve, and toss is carefully recorded on her paper.

He doesn’t do anything too off the typical, but he does try new things his coach had mentioned. Pressuring an opponent’s highest scorer more, trying a few block kills when he’s in the right rotation, scoring some points off the tip of the blockers hands instead of cutting right through their attempts to defend. He’s more tired after this game than his last one. Yet, he had more fun this time around. His teammates seemed thrilled with the results of never having a gap less than five points.

After the game, before he goes to the locker room to debrief with the team and change into regular clothes, he stalks his way over to her. She’s talking to another reporter that had been sitting in the media section, but the other reporter just elbows her lightly when he notices Ushijima making an attempt to approach. The other man slowly walks away, bidding her a farewell.

She’s still sitting on the bench, cheekily covering her notes with her hand, and writing something down. When he takes a place next to her, he spreads his legs a little, expanding his presence and bumping their thighs into each other. She initially retracts from the touch, but relaxes into it.

He’s aware that his body is thinly sheened with sweat. It drips from the hair at his nape down his back and soaks into his player kit. She brings her notepad up to her face, looking at him over the spiral binding of the paper. Trying to hide her comments and analysis of the game, which had been overwhelmingly positive for Ushijima.

“What’s your professional opinion of the game?” He uses a finger to push down her notepad that was covering her nose. A streak of ink and pencil lead was across her cheek and nose. He brought his thumb up and wiped away the markings. At first swipe, nothing moved, so he slid his thumb over again with just a little more pressure.

“It was entertaining in a different sense. Rather than being solely athletic entertainment.” She licks her own thumb and finishes wiping away all the marks that she could feel him trying to get rid of. She misses a sliver on the apple of her cheek but he doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way that it makes her seem less intimidating and more adorable.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Well, when a certain player keeps trying to make eye contact during the game, when he should instead be invested in the game, it does pose some interesting investigative questions.”

At this point, Ushijima slid his hand to her thigh, asking her to explain further, “Such as?”

“When will he get up the nerve to ask her on a date? Will he take her for a ride in that brand new car he got? Does he need glasses from how frequently it seemed he scrutinized the audience in search of her?” She pauses, then continues, “And will he be mad if she writes something about how attentive the setter was during the game?”

“Soon, for the date. Most definitely a long car ride to the mountains. His vision is actually perfectly 20/20, he just wanted to make sure she was having a good time by observing her reactions. No comments for the setter, he’s a rookie, and much less attentive than an older, more experienced player.”

She hums a little in regards to his answers to her inquiries. Soon, she tugs on the back of his hand, the hand that was resting on her thigh. She bites the cap off her pen, waving the pen in the air, close enough to his skin for him to understand the point of what she was communicating.

The pen tickled the skin of his hand, but he liked the way she put one hand under his to make his hand rest flat so she could write her piece on his body. Capping the pen back up, she tucked it behind her ear.

Written on his hand was a series of numbers, along with a small doodle of a volleyball.

Getting up from her spot on the media bench, she leaves him with a short statement.

“I liked your response to my challenge. Keep making the Monster Generation bloom with each game Wakatoshi.” She halts for a moment, then turns back to him, “You can be my number one on those conditions. Blooming the Monsters and responding to my challenges.”

He’d return every challenge she gave him if it meant he could be hers.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding.

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary.

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be.

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer.

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static.

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss.

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot.

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone.

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?"

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup.

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job.

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse.

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up.

"Yes, sir, I think--"

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no."

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you.

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes."

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned.

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen.

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through.

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place.

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.”

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.”

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?”

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.”

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--”

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering.

“Pine.”

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.”

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.”

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.”

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time?

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #nick fowler x reader #jonathan pine x reader #series #drabble #office space #the 355 #the night manager #au #bad bosses

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tinosawruswrites · 9 months ago

Text

A Punishment Fitting the Crime

Magistrate Astarion x Rogue Fem!Tav precanon One-Shot

Word count ~ 8600

Synopsis:

Tav is a petty criminal that got caught and is sentenced by magistrate Astarion Ancunín (prevampirism) in the privacy of his office.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

Rogue thief (Fem)Tav, Pre-vampirism Magistrate Astarion, DomAstarion, Sub(Fem)Tav, power play, minor dubcon, bdsm, sexgames with punishments, blowjob, hairpulling, spanking, edging, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, nippleplay

(If the tags are lacking, feel free to suggest any!)

Other notes:

Tav's looks are left ambiguous but her height is mentioned once as being a head shorter than Astarion.

Magistrate Ancunín’s office was located on the top floor of the court house building. Tav made her way up the numerous rows of polished marble stairs, almost compelled to count them from sheer boredom as she went.

The air was clean, almost sharp, with a lingering node of citrus to it, making it relatively easy to inhale while keeping up her steady pace.

Choosing to wear a light jacket, simple pants and shoes had been the right call after all, compromising style for comfort and ease of movement. If she got too hot after the climb, she could simply remove the jacket and still look presentable in her unassuming, common variety undershirt.

The high arched ceiling above her bent with the elevation like a strange, wide funnel, guiding her further along as water would through a pipe – except water would have refused to defy gravity and slid down the stairs.

Such was the life as a sentient, bipedal being. A continuous struggle against the laws of nature.

And regular law, Tav supposed.

Her case had been deemed too insignificant for a full trial. She was to receive a quick and efficient ruling by visiting the chosen magistrate’s office instead, and that happened to be this magistrate Astarion Ancunín.

Their immaculate signature decorated the bottom of the summons letter right next to the official stamp of the courts, both of them equally as artificial in both size and decorum. The way the A’s in magistrate Ancunín’s name had been written to dominate all the other smaller letters signaled Tav everything she ought to know about the man.

Another pompous, bigger than they actually were, holier-than-thou prick that loved to punish bad people and get paid to do so, maybe even keep a shifty side business giving out less harsh punishments and shorter sentences depending on how much gold his pockets got lined up with.

Then again, it was an open secret there were corrupt officials within the courts and that you either knew the right people or had to get really lucky to “do business” with them, as they said.

Nothing too unusual for Tav. Being a rogue sometimes happened to rope her in some less than legal gigs by working for shady people in need of light feet, nimble fingers and keen eyes for suspicious things.

She didn’t care where her skills were needed or who they were for, just that she got compensated for a job well done, like any good, hard working citizen – it wasn’t directly her fault if a customer had an enforced vault with mysterious origins that needed cracking open, or a particular door in the Upper City in need of unlocking without anyone finding out about it. At dead of night. When the owners were on holiday.

Those were all circumstantial details at best and did not in fact make her a criminal.

Tav’s inner justification to absolve herself of any guilt worked wonders for her confidence. Convincing the magistrate ordered to rule her legal punishment for allegedly: “Getting caught giving an aiding hand in breaking in to a high noble’s Summer palace and trespassing” did not.

It was a different thing entirely to lie to oneself and succeed, than to lie to an agent of law and walk away free of charges.

Tav finally reached the top of the stairs panting lightly and found herself standing inside another long, all too bright and polished hallway, almost an exact copy of the ones she passed below. All the whiteness was thankfully broken by the occasional dark paneled door and extravagant painting depicting some form of righteousness or an act of justice being given out.

She peered down at the letter and started systematically checking every door for the right name on a golden placate next to it. A large, vertically slim window opened a view into the dark city at the end of the corridor. Tav peered at the lit streetlamps glowing in the growing darkness leading away from the building she was in.

A road to freedom.

Alas, if she managed to wiggle herself off the hook and get away with a slap on the wrist, that was.

It was late in the standards of a regular day worker and Tav had to wonder if there had been an increase in petty crimes, or if it was an effect of some new government policy for a magistrate to be working this late into the evening. It was so late in fact, that there was barely anyone around, not even guards apparently, except for the random ones patrolling the hallways every now and then.

Must have been a real harsh pay cut to everyone.

Tav found the corresponding name and placate next to the door at the end of the hallway. She peered at the letter again and read the instructions stating her to arrive before the designated time, knock on the door and wait for it to be opened before entering. Otherwise, she was to sit aside and wait until she was let in.

Clenching her fists, Tav took a deep breath before tapping a couple stern knocks on the door and waited.

No response.

She looked around and found herself to be alone, then stepped closer and pressed her ear against the door to listen.

No sounds could be heard through the door. Either the room was empty, or the walls were magically enchanted to keep all sounds inside. Potentially to keep any incriminating statements out of curious outsider ears. She stepped back when a distant metal clinking echoed down the hallway. She took a quick seat at one of the small wooden stools lined next to the wall.

A lonesome guard wandered down the hallway, gloved hands balled to tight fists at their side, weapon ready at their hip, face like carved stone, stiff and unreadable. The guard marched before Tav, gave her a tired little smile, turned around and marched back the way they came from.

The metal clinking of the guard’s feet grew distant, finally disappearing into the distance. Tav was left alone once again.

Her gaze wandered around the space, the white walls, unassuming braziers and finally the sizable painting on the end wall of the corridor. It depicted a blindfolded maiden holding a golden scale – a common depiction of fair justice.

She peered at the woman’s covered eyes, wondering if justice was served blindly and without prejudice even by tired, overworked magistrates that were forced to work late into the evening.

She hoped the magistrate had at least been well fed, having heard terrible things about verdicts changing drastically depending whether a judge was hungry or not.

Time oozed by like thick oil and there was still no answer from the door beside her. Tav checked the letter in her hands for the time and date, comparing them to her pocket time-piece and the small calendar handily plastered above the magistrate’s name placate.

All was correct.

She had arrived on time, did as instructed and waited for an answer, and now it was way past her appointment and it wasn’t her fault that the proceedings would take longer. She seated herself once more and smirked smugly, pondering on using the magistrate’s potentially exhausted state to negotiate herself out out as quickly as possible.

Maybe, just maybe he would be so pent up from today’s proceedings he’d just dismiss her case altogether and they could both just go home.

The door clanked open and an older gnome exited. Tav made brief eye contact with him, recognizing them from another gig she partook in months ago.

This one was a peppy, we-can-do it kind of guy, but his current state reflected worn out desperation, like his spirits had been broken and what remained of them had been chewed out to the bones. He shut the door and turned away wordlessly, dragging his feet down the corridor, away from Tav and magistrate Ancunín’s office.

Tav swallowed nervously.

She recalled the gnome only had a small part in the gig, working as the handyman offering tools for the group. If the man responsible for tool handling looked like he had been sentenced for life, what would her door opening services get her?

The rope?

Tav felt a cold sweat rise to her neck and she gripped the edge of her stool until her knuckles turned white.

Perhaps she should have started being more honest with herself and admitted to having wandered to the wrong side of the law before someone else forced the truth upon her face like this.

The door cracked open again and Tav jumped to her feet, back stiff as a statue.

Magistrate Ancunín looked exactly what she had expected him to be and nothing like it at the same time.

Curly, silver locks swiped back from his face. One loose curl elegantly leaning over the right side of his forehead, as if by design, not accident. Pointy, pink tipped elf ears poking from under a tuft of more, unruly curls lining the side of his face. Two piercing gray eyes, glaring tiredly at her under stern eyebrows.

A handsome – No, beautiful – collection of features.

Tav felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks, shocked at the surprisingly young looking magistrate’s beauty.

Magistrate Ancunín’s lips formed an unreadable, straight line, prominent laugh lines caging it on both sides of his face. He looked Tav up and down briefly. A wry, forced smile climbed upon his lips, bringing his laugh lines more into view.

“You’re late.” He stated coldly.

Tav’s eyes widened and whatever brief attraction she had for the man evaporated. She wanted to retort back and correct him, but bit her tongue instead.

“Inside.” The magistrate ordered and waved an uninterested hand at her before returning inside his office.

Tav forced a smile on her lips, determined not to show her displeasure and in turn prod the clearly very impatient magistrate further. She followed suit and shut the door as she went, quickly making her way deeper into the office.

The room was spacious and surrounded by heavy, tall bookshelves housing heavy, tall books of law. Miscellaneous scrolls poked out here and there in between them both, with an occasional paper and envelope to accompany them.

The middle of the office was left empty, decorated by an ornamental red carpet, handmade and expensive by the looks of it. At the end of the room sat a heavy mahogany desk littered with documents, letters, an inkwell, quills and a lone, uneaten red apple of all things.

An odd, magically infused crystal lamp provided dim light to the otherwise dark room from the side. Heavy purple curtains covered any leaking light from the streetlamps outside behind the magistrate’s desk, clouding most of the back room in darkness.

Magistrate Ancunín sat behind his desk on his immaculate, leather chair. Head leaned against his bowed elbows and crossed fingers, hiding his mouth from view, gray eyes inspecting Tav keenly.

Tav stood in the middle of the dim room, waiting for further orders.

“Sit.” Magistrate Ancunín commanded.

Tav grabbed the vacant chair in front of the desk and took a seat, polite smile still forced on her lips.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Tav felt like retorting and asking the man the same back, still miffed by the unjustified ruling over her punctuality. He could as well be leaning on her to recite her misdemeanors to him instead of having had prepared accordingly. That, or maybe he was testing her. Or worse, enjoyed verbally tormenting her before slamming a merciless guilty verdict on her.

She smiled and tilted her head, stealing a glance at the side.

“I believe the exact wording was: For aiding in breaking and entering. Oh, and trespassing.”

“Correct.” The magistrate said and picked up the document in front of him and looked it over.

He flapped the paper down and gave Tav a sly side smirk.

“...In addition to suspicions of aiding in other similar activities, not limited to: Breaking and entering. Robbery. Theft. Smuggling. Fencing stolen property and evading law enforcement. Oh. And trespassing.” He added and leaned back on his chair.

Tav’s smile broke a little and a scowl threatened to take over. She willed her face to stay neutral.

“Ah, but the key lies in the wording itself, your honor; suspicions, not proof.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s gaze sparked with interest and he leaned over the desk again.

“Observant one, aren’t you? It must have been bad luck on your end for getting caught that night. Otherwise, I have an inkling you wouldn’t be gracing me with your presence here. In this late hour. In my humble office.”

Tav smiled and read the tired frustration seeping between the magistrate’s words and demeanor.

“Bad luck indeed. Must have been equally bad luck on your part to be stuck in my presence. In this late hour.Iin your humble office.” She repeated and placed a hand on the table, leaning in.

“I believe it’s all just an inconvenient, circumstantial little mishap. Not worth a full trial, certainly not big enough to steal more of your precious time, your honor.” Tav pleaded confidently.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned.

“And what would you suggest we do about this, inconvenient, little mishap stealing my precious time?”

Tav leaned in further, meeting the magistrate’s gaze head on.

“A slap on the wrist, as they say, and I will disappear. We’ll both be free to go home for the night.”

He laughed.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Tav leaned against the backrest, her smile now fully gone, replaced by a sullen frown.

“You see, while I appreciate your suggestion to save my time and yours, I however, cannot overlook the fact that this would benefit you more than me.” He mused and grabbed a pencil.

“It’s been a long, hard day and as much as I would love to let you go with a slap on the wrist and go home for the night, I believe there is a serious threat of you repeat offending and being sent back here to steal even more of my highly valuable, highly limited time again. A throughout punishment is in order, I’d say. To make sure you don’t forget why you don’t want to return to my office.” Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav a sadistic gaze.

It was like he was playing with his food, uninterested in eating it before it jumped up and down, flipped around, pranced and finally begged and pleaded how he liked, before he would even allow it to see his tongue – or declared he wasn’t hungry in the first place and left it to rot on his plate.

“Well?”

“Yes, your honor?”

“You aren’t going to counter my accusations? Plea to soften my verdict?”

“I haven’t heard you come to a clear verdict yet, sir.”

“Guilty. Now, what do you suppose would be a fitting punishment for your misdemeanors?” He arched a brow, tilting the pencil to start writing onto the document in front of him.

“The punishment should fit the crime I would assume. You tell me, your honor.”

“As you wish. I’ll just add in ‘arriving late’ and ‘refusal to cooperate’ to the list first…” The magistrate grabbed the pencil properly and pulled the document closer to himself.

“I wasn’t late.”

“Pardon?” His gaze snapped back to Tav.

“I wasn’t late. I was here before you were finished with your latest customer. I knocked on the door, didn’t hear and answer and sat down to wait, as instructed on the letter.” She pulled out the summons letter and placed it on the desk.

Magistrate Ancunín didn’t even glance at the letter she offered.

“Are you implying I am a liar?”

“Not implying sir, accusing would be the correct term.”

The magistrate sat back on his chair, eyes wide and wild.

“You’re accusing me of being a liar?”

“Yes, your honor. I think we both know you are.”

“Interesting.” He tilted his head.

“… And what will you do with this bold accusation of yours? Convince someone of my wicked ways? Put me on trial?”

“Well I-”

Tav knew this wasn’t a good idea. Even if she knew the magistrate was full of lies, she didn’t have a proper leg to stand on against him. He would just push her down with his superior power and influence, as all great men tended to do to those they perceived to be standing beneath them.

“… Forgive me. I think I spoke out of line, sir.”

“That’s more like it. I’ll correct my notes to read ‘complicit and cooperative’ instead.”

Tav remained silent.

“Now. Back to your punishment. What do you think I should do with you?”

“I don’t suppose letting me just go is an option?”

The magistrate chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“If it’s the verdict you come to, it would be the truth. After all, you aren’t a liar, sir.”

Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav an intense kind of stare. She stared equally as intensively back. He resumed playing with his pencil before setting it neatly on his desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned comfortably over the desk.

“You would be absolutely correct about that. Alas, the problem lies not in what the truth will be, but what you have on offer for me to enforce said truth.”

Tav perked up slightly. She had gotten lucky after all. Magistrate Ancunín might have been an asshole and a liar, but one of these traits would benefit her if she just knew the right cards to play.

“You don’t suppose some good old gold would settle all this?” She offered.

“Mmh. I doubt whatever amount it is you’re thinking is enough to make up for this.”

“How about community service then?”

“What kind of community service?”

Tav shrugged and peeked around the office.

“You need something opened very late at night, perhaps something small delivered some place without detection…” Tav listed nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

She returned her gaze to him. He looked slightly interested and more at ease, almost relaxed, if it wasn’t for the ever present frown on his brows. The man looked tired still, exhausted even. He was definitely overworked and hadn’t had a proper break in awhile. He was stressed, tense, like a piano string wrung up too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

“A massage…?”

“A massage?” The magistrate repeated in surprise.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you look rather... tense, sir.”

“You aren’t mistaken on that part.” He admitted with a raised brow.

“Would you allow me to relieve some of that tension, your honor?” Tav asked sweetly.

“Ever so polite, aren’t you, darling?” Magistrate Ancunín said with a smile.

The petname caught Tav by surprise and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. She blinked and forced a smile.

“Always, sir.”

“Why not? I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

Magistrate Ancunín stood up from his chair and gestured for Tav to stand up with him. She did as commanded and circled the desk to where he was. The magistrate moved his chair to the side to give them free roam near his desk.

He was over a head taller than Tav. His body was slim and his shoulders looked much broader in contrast thanks to it. The air around him gave off an atmosphere of patient authority, something one would expect from a man working in such a high position.

He wore a frill collared jacket made of the finest light blue silks. Silver threaded peonies adorned the front of it. Trails of ornamental threads ran along the cuts of the fabric, every piece carefully tailored to fit his shape.

His legs were covered by similarly colored straight trousers. Plain and uninteresting compared to his jacket that screamed wealth and dignity. His shiny leather shoes provided a dark contrast to the rest of his outfit, having a grounding effect to his looks.

A striking difference to what Tav was wearing. What she had on currently, were some of her more nicer clothes. It was like setting a polished sapphire and a nice, water smoothed stone next to one another. It clearly paid well to be a professional liar in the right place.

Tav settled behind him and the magistrate watched her each move from the edge of his vision. She reached her hands and gripped over the magistrate’s shoulders, starting to rub the firm, tense muscles there in circles.

“Mmmh.” Magistrate Ancunín hummed in pleasure.

“Is that good sir?”

“Very good, darling.”

Tav smiled at the praise and kept going. She worked the top of his shoulders, sometimes dipping over towards his collarbones, to the sides of his biceps and down his back, closer to his shoulder blades.

Even through his fine layers of clothes it was evident to Tav that this man was in excellent shape despite his lanky proportions. He started to noticeably relax the more she massaged him.

“...What else did you have on offer?”

Tav thought through the question as she continued to work on the magistrate’s stiff shoulders. She let her hands wander down along his arms a little.

“Perhaps I could ease the tension on some other parts of your body?” She offered.

The magistrate peeked over his shoulder before fully turning towards her. Tav removed her hands. The magistrate had an inquisitive brow lifted.

“Such as…?”

Tav felt a nervous sting in her stomach. She realized the accidentally loaded implications of her words and let her gaze fall to the man’s chest.

“Your pecks- I mean back, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you just adorable?”

Tav froze as a violent rush of heat flooded to her face. Magistrate Ancunín looked proud of himself and searched through her eyes, considering.

“It would be more efficient if I were to undress slightly, wouldn’t it?”

“Eh?”

Magistrate Ancunín smirked deviously and pulled his frilly collar loose and unbuttoned the top layer of his tailored coat. Tav followed his hands with her gaze and felt her heartbeat increase the more buttons popped open.

He pulled his coat off and settled it over the back of his chair, then started on his long sleeved undershirt.

Tav wanted to speak up and tell him it was enough, but she couldn’t. Something in her urged to remain silent and let the events unravel before her as they did. Soon, magistrate Ancunín stood before her shirtless, his well defined pecks and abdomen in full view.

Tav gawked at his perfect skin, her fingertips itching to reach and touch him. She looked him up and down, admiring his figure. The smile on magistrate Ancunín’s lips told her everything she had to know.

“Well, you aren’t just going to stand and gawk there?”

Tav blinked in an attempt to get her wits back, but the sight of magistrate Ancunín’s naked torso had chased most of them away, possibly permanently.

“Oh, of course sir.” Tav moved to stand behind him again.

The magistrate turned with her, staying face to face.

“Ah ah, not my back. You said pecks first, didn’t you?”

Tav froze and her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped at the half naked man’s muscular pecks and remained there.

“Yes. My mistake, sir.” She said half out of breath.

“You are absolved.”

Tav reached to touch magistrate Ancunín’s pecks and began massaging them in circular motions. She tried to keep her breathing calm despite her body’s increased need for more air. She faked appearing confident and stole glances up at the magistrate’s face every now and then, finding his eyes transfixed onto hers each time.

“You’re doing excellent, little pet.”

Tav couldn’t force down the smile and an accidental giggle escaped her. She tried to hide it with a loud clearing of her throat, but the magistrate had noticed it.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ih… forgive me sir, I didn’t mean…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

“We can’t have that, now can we? You are to be punished for your crimes, not rewarded for them. Although… if you behave, I suppose a little reward is in order…”

“A reward, sir?” Tav’s voice pitched from excitement.

“Punishment first, pet.” He nodded.

Tav locked eyes with him and nodded with him. He peeked down her body, then leaned close to her face.

“Strip.”

Tav’s eyes widened and she looked herself over. She studied the look on magistrate Ancunín’s eyes and determined he was serious.

“And… if I don’t?”

“Is this not what you want…?” He countered and lolled his head to the side curiously.

Tav felt heat surge to her loins. A pressure formed inside her lower abdomen and she was suddenly aware of the growing slickness between her legs. She sucked on her lips and nodded.

“Yes. Yes it is… your honor.”

“I thought so.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

“Now, strip.”

Tav bit her lower lip and stepped back, removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She began to unbutton her undershirt while magistrate Ancunín watched her with a smirk.

She struggled to hop out of her shoes and trousers, somewhat clumsily ridding herself of her clothes all at once. Soon, she stood before magistrate Ancunín in her underwear.

He gave her a questioning look.

“Naked.” He said.

The breath in Tav’s lungs halted and she nodded, slid the straps of her bras off her shoulders and reached behind to unbuckle them without question, setting her breasts free. Her nipples hardened against the cool air of the office.

She discarded her bra on top of the pile of her other clothes and pulled down her panties, letting them drop down to her ankles. Panting, she stepped out of them, feeling hot slickness rub along her inner thighs.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned and stepped forth.

“Why are you here?” He asked, slowly circling around her.

The repeat question caught Tav off guard.

“Because of my crimes, sir?”

“Because you’re a bad girl, no?”

“I’m…”

The situation she was in started to catch up to her. Tav realized she was inside the top floor of the court house, alone with a shirtless magistrate, naked. Like a scene straight from some cheap smut chapbook circled around Amn. This wasn’t how she expected things to go or how she would negotiate herself off trouble, but didn’t really mind how things looked for her currently.

“B-because I’m a bad girl… magistrate sir.” She panted with a smile, playing along.

“Bad girls need to be punished accordingly before they can become good girls. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín!”

“Good girl.”

Tav felt herself grow wetter over the praise and gnawed on her bottom lip harder. She watched as magistrate Ancunín stopped in front of her, his gray eyes dark. She focused on the way he slowly wet his lips before speaking up again.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful mouth you have, darling. Not only is your tongue clever with words, I’m sure you can put it to good use on other matters.” He alluded.

Tav nodded, stealing a glance down his front. He extended an arm and curled most of his fingers up into a fist, pointing down at the floor with his index finger.

“On your knees darling.”

Tav’s mouth gaped slightly and she obeyed wordlessly. She got on her knees and looked up at the magistrate as he approached. He unbuckled his belt. Tav ogled as he pulled the belt off and tossed it over the arm rest of his chair. Her eyes flickered down to the man’s crotch and the way his long, deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers.

Unsurprisingly, his underwear seemed to be as fine and expensive as the rest of his clothes, fitting the rest of his getup seamlessly. A man of style and principle. The blue and silver threads of his undergarments were stretched at the front, strained by the growing weight of his half erect cock underneath.

Tav let out a tiny whimper when magistrate Ancunín pulled out his heated flesh. The lean shaft of his cock was as pale as the rest of him and deliciously flushed closer to the tip. The word ‘elegant’ described it perfectly. His trousers folded below his ankles and he stepped out of them while adjusting his underwear lower.

“Lips apart, darling.”

Eyes adoringly fixated on the magistrate’s cock, Tav parted her lips as commanded.

“Lick.” Came the order.

Tav wiggled closer on her knees and leaned in, mouth open, tongue extended, hearing her pulse drum in her ears. She slithered the flat of her tongue from the underside of the magistrate’s engorged dick to its swollen tip with a sigh.

She repeated the action and peeked up momentarily to see the approving smirk on magistrate Ancunín’s face.

“That’s a good pet.” He praised and Tav felt something akin to butterflies flutter inside her chest.

Eager to hear more, she continued her ministrations and started to lap all over the magistrate’s cock. She began properly from the base, continued up the underside of his shaft, twirling around his cockhead and went back down to its base around the sides, then repeated the motions like a ritual.

Magistrate Ancunín’s breathing was starting to grow heftier, as was his hardened length. His erection reached it’s peak as Tav kept lavishing his member with the slick attention of her tongue, her own loins already soaking wet at this point.

A droplet of precum formed at the tip of magistrate Ancunín’s dick and Tav pulled back briefly to admire it.

“Suck.” Came the one word order from the slightly hoarse voice of the magistrate above.

Tav huffed hot air over the glistening wet tip and opened wide, let the cocktip slip between her lips and gave it a gentle suck.

Magistrate Ancunín tensed and let out a muffled growl. One of his hands found its way among Tav’s hair and grabbed a hold, before starting to pet through her soft locks gently, encouragingly.

Tav closed her eyes and swallowed more of the length in front of her, minding her teeth and carefully applying pressure with her lips and tongue. She began to bob her head back and forth slowly, listening to the tiny grunts of approval elicited by magistrate Ancunín above her.

She had experience sucking up to authority, but this was a new form of doing so entirely. Despite the clear, outrageous imbalance of power between them, she found herself feeling safe and pleased by the situation she was in – trouble like this was what she enjoyed finding herself in the most.

She felt oddly powerful down on her knees in front of him. The thought of being able to render a man of such high status as magistrate Ancunín into a whimpering mess just with her mouth excited her further.

The wet heat between her legs demanded attention and one of her hands slipped to soothe her aching clit. She got so lost among the pleasure of sucking the magistrate off while touching herself that she lost the rhythm of her mouth more than once.

A snap of fingers brought her out of her zone.

“What do you think you’re doing down there? Both hands where I can see them. Now.”

Tav furrowed her brows and huffed with her mouth stuffed with dick and removed the hand attending to her own growing need. She placed both of her hands up against the magistrate’s thighs and focused back on sucking him off.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Came the call from above.

Tav’s gaze snapped up and above, meeting magistrate Ancunín’s pleased gaze and self-satisfied grin. His gray eyes looked down upon her with a glint of sadistic joy, the thrill of having power over someone.

“You’re being such a good girl. Keep going.”

Tav couldn’t help the smile that wrung to the edges of her lips and blinked a couple times, slowly starting back up again. Her gaze ate in the way the magistrate above her shivered and twitched each time she pushed his length down as far as she could muster, feeling the hot flesh throb against her own.

Her fingers dug against the soft skin of magistrate Ancunín’s thighs, both in search of support and to heed the earlier command to keep her hands in his sight. The man above her shut his eyes, lost in his own pleasure, his surveillance of her growing lazy. She could easily slide one of her hands off his legs and he wouldn’t notice it returning between her legs.

Yet the new need to obey and be recognized as ‘a good girl’ somehow overpowered Tav’s natural urge to disobey – for now.

Magistrate Ancunín whimpered above Tav and held onto her head, gesturing for her to stop. She could tell he was close, having felt his flesh tremble and his balls constricting in anticipation of his release. He pulled back and shot Tav with a mirthful glance.

“On your feet.”

Tav swallowed the excess spit still in her mouth and licked her lips. She got up on her wobbly feet, knees feeling slightly achy from supporting her against the office’s hard plank flooring. A trail of hot wetness trickled down between her legs as she did.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The magistrate raised a brow.

Tav met his strong gaze and nodded sheepishly, lips still wet and gleaming.

“Bad girl.”

He raised his hand once again and gestured for her to turn around. Tav spun on her heels and found herself facing the magistrate’s work desk. Magistrate Ancunín reached past her and swiped the documents and items crowding the center of the desk to the sides, clearing empty space in the middle.

Tav stared at the shiny dark surface of the mahogany desk and was sure if it was polished a hint further, she could see the wild arousal burning behind her eyes reflected from it.

“Bend over it.” Magistrate Ancunín ordered.

Tav closed the gap between her and the desk, then laid her hands over its gleaming smooth surface to test it. She bent her upper body over it until the base of her legs stopped her from going any further along it. She felt a firm grip take a hold of the back of her head and gently force her face down against the table. Her chest and perk nipples squashed against the table’s cool surface. She sighed from the contact.

She felt another hand trail up her spine sensually, the magistrate’s surprisingly calloused palm feeling up the arch of her back and the dip between her shoulder blades.

A cool, leather shoe tapped below on the insides of her bare ankles, ushering them apart. With the domineering hand laid over her neck keeping her head in place, Tav felt cornered enough for the will to disobey rise back up again. She kept her feet where they were.

“No?” Asked the magistrate curiously.

Tav breathed against the hard desk, glancing back at the magistrate standing at the edges of her vision. She heard the floor creak lightly as he stepped closer and felt the heat of his flushed skin hover near hers.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” The magistrate asked softly, petting her hair.

Tav shook her head as best as she could and smirked disobediently.

Magistrate Ancunín tutted at her and she could barely make out the way he shook his head in disapproval. The hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip and pressed her face harder against the desk.

She whimpered.

“Quiet.”

She stilled and listened.

“Maybe I need to remind you why you should behave?”

Tav swallowed heavily and waited. She felt deft fingers slide between her thighs and brush over her wet folds to her neglected clit. Her hips shivered at the contact and her lungs let out a gasp. The fingers kept rubbing at her ache and the heat at her center wound up tighter. She let out a pleased moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

The magistrate’s clever fingers glided over her wet folds next, teasing around her hot entrance. Tav shivered at the growing feeling of emptiness around her yearning flesh. The fingers poked at the twitching entrance leading to her leaking canal, never breaching in deeper than that. Tav huffed out of frustration.

“Beg for it.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s touch froze near her entrance and Tav bit her lower lip in excited silence. She relaxed her lower back and parted her legs, sighing deeply before peeking back at the magistrate.

“Please, magistrate Ancunín?”

“Please what?”

“Please… feel up my cunt with your fingers, sir?”

“Hm. Better.”

Tav hummed as a warm digit slid up to the knuckle within her wetness and curled.

“A-ahh…!” She jerked at the sudden stimulus.

The magistrate kept rubbing at the roof of her depths, clearly aware of the sweetspot lingering around there. Tav’s legs shook with every jolt of pleasure, her hips starting to rock against the invading pressure.

“Hold still.”

Tav halted on her tracks, her breathing shallow and laboured. The finger inside of her pressed up against the ache and she struggled not to move.

“I’m certain you’re aware it could be something entirely different easing all this tension within you, yes?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín, I am aware.”

With a chuckle the magistrate rubbed his hard cock along her inner thigh and outer folds for emphasis. The finger inside of her curled again, applying more relieving pressure against her lustful ache. Tav sucked in her lips to keep her voice in.

“Ask for forgiveness and I might consider giving you more relief than just my finger.”

He rubbed his finger against her inner walls a couple more times before pulling out entirely. Tav whined as she felt the emptiness around her, the need throbbing inside of her, craving to be filled.

“Please forgive me, magistrate sir. I’ve… been such a bad girl and I must be punished.”

“As you wish, my sweet. Punished you shall be.”

Tav felt the comforting heat of magistrate Ancunín step away from her. He settled out of her view, but kept the hand over her neck firmly in place. Tav waited, listening to him rummage around his shelves.

Suddenly, an hourglass was placed in front of her face. The sand was all piled at the bottom and the magistrate’s fingers tilted it to show it off to her.

“This hourglass will be the length your punishment will last. You can endure until the last strand of sand has fallen, can’t you darling?”

The hourglass seemed relatively small and would last a minute, maximum of three, or more. Tav had no idea how long it would actually take, most definitely a calculated move on magistrate Ancunín’s part. Another devilish way to amp up her discomfort in addition to the sweet torture he was about to inflict upon her.

Tav bent the arm next to her face to see the item better and tried to look where magistrate Ancunín was.

“But you must not make a sound, otherwise I will tip the hourglass over again until you remain completely silent, understood? This is a punishment, after all. Knock on the desk once if you understand.”

Tav clenched her fingers into a fist and knocked on the desk once.

“Good. Now, as to not sully our fun little punishment game, knock repeatedly against the desk if it becomes too much to bear and I will stop. If you stop however, there will be no reward for you, unfortunately. Only good, obedient girls get rewarded. Knock once if you understand.”

Tave knocked once.

“Excellent. Now, lets play.” The magistrate said with a notable thrill in his voice.

Tav took a deep inhale and braced herself for what was to come. The hourglass in front of her was flipped and the sand began to drain.

A sharp smack hit her left buttock. She jolted from surprise. Another slap hit her right buttock and left it tingling the same way her left side did.

She knocked repeatedly against the desk before the third strike could land. The magistrate halted and leaned over her to peek at her face. Tav gave him a coy little smile.

“Sweetheart, are you testing me?” Magistrate Ancunín’s voice sounded playfully shocked.

Tav knocked once.

He chuckled delightfully.

“Do you want me to stop altogether or was this just a test? Knock once to stop, twice to continue.”

Tav watched as the sand in front of her in the hourglass kept draining. She knocked twice.

“Very well then, but ah, would you look at that. I left the hourglass running. Interrupting me like that will extend your punishment, I’m afraid.”

The magistrate resumed spanking Tav with his bare hand, lavishing both of her ass cheeks with plenty of attention. Tav managed to keep quiet through it all, feeling her ass start to tingle and warm up from the repeated strikes against it. The vibrations from each strike traveled to her folds and clit, granting her a teasingly small amount of stimulus that only served to increase the want in her.

The sand drained to the end and magistrate Ancunín paused to tip the hourglass over.

Each slap echoed inside the otherwise silent office of the magistrate as he continued on. He alternated between light and hard strikes, randomly switching between each ass cheek every now and then, pausing at times to create anticipation and hoping to catch Tav off guard.

The pain ebbing on Tav’s behind was starting to sting and she bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering. She panted hard against the wooden desk, her moist breath misting its gleaming surface. Eyes focused on the slowly draining hourglass in front of her, mustering herself to keep quiet.

Tav began to sweat from the heat of the situation, small droplets trickling down her back and sides in tandem to the heavy trickles of wetness seeping down between her thighs, smearing the hard wooden floor below.

She wanted to disobey so badly, but felt the pain on her backside starting to turn uncomfortably numb with each new spank. She licked her lips, glaring at the hourglass to drain faster, eager to taste the reward for enduring her punishment so well.

Then the final strand of sand fell and the spanking halted. She let out a loud hum of exhaustion, feeling her neglected cunt throb in need.

The hand over her neck was removed and she raised her head to peek over her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl. You endured so well despite the interruption at the start.”

Tav flashed a brief smile.

“Now then, as promised. Good girl’s get rewarded for their efforts.” Magistrate Ancunín said and moved to stand behind Tav.

His still erect cock slid under Tav’s swollen cunt and his hips pressed flush against her aching behind. She hissed at the contact.

“Shhhh… I’ll make it better soon. Now, what do we say when we want something?”

Magistrate Ancunín began to rub her aching ass cheeks with both hands while waiting for her reply.

“Please, sir?”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Your cock, sir. I need your cock inside of me, please?”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and nudged the head of his cock at Tav’s leaking entrance. He grabbed her hips and pushed in with little effort. Tav moaned wantonly and moved to accommodate him further. The magistrate sighed with pleasure and his grip on her hips tightened as he bottomed out. Tav felt his hot breath against her neck as he bent over her back.

“Oh, you sweet thing. So wet for me.” He panted and began to rock against her softly.

Tav gasped and wiggled under him, her knees shaking from their continuous efforts to stay afoot, backside still tender from the punishment.

“Mmhh… Hold still.” His hand snuck into Tav’s hair and yanked her head back.

Tav whimpered and stilled as best as she could. The magistrate continued to pound into her in languid motions, slow and relaxed, his cock hot and rigid inside Tav’s needy cunt. His grip on her hair kept her head bent back.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed the way the magistrate’s cock filled her, relieving the heated tension building inside of her. Her wet folds wrapped around him, tightening whenever he pulled out, relaxing as he pushed in, welcoming him back into her depths, begging him not to leave.

She felt the coil in her lower abdomen tighten and felt her release getting closer. Her breathing grew heavy and erratic. Her sweaty fingers grasped at the desk underneath it desperately, her head bent back by magistrate Ancunín’s hand pulling on her hair.

“M-magistrate… Ancunín…!” She whimpered breathlessly.

A broken yelp left her when the magistrate pulled out of her unprompted. His hand released her hair. She shivered and turned to look behind her.

“Turn over.” The magistrate panted.

Tav blinked and pushed herself up from the desk with some effort. She flipped over and magistrate Ancunín helped her lay down on her back on top of the desk. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs, aligning himself between them and pushed back inside her with a loud groan before crashing their lips together.

He licked at her upper lip and wasted no time pushing his tongue between her teeth and intertwined it with hers. She kissed him back with the same fervor, both of their moans muffled by each other’s hungry mouths.

Tav blinked at him through the kiss and watched as his face softened with pleasure. The tense frown was gone, replaced by a pleased furrow instead. He broke off and a broken string of spit fell onto Tav’s breasts. Magistrate Ancunín grinned as he gripped Tav’s sides and fucked into her harder.

“You were so obediently quiet before. I want to hear you scream in turn.” He panted and smirked wickedly.

He slammed his hips into Tav and her eyes rolled back in reaction to the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ahhh!” She moaned.

“Louder, darling. Nobody except me can hear you inside these walls.”

He slammed into her again.

“AhhHHHnh!”

“Louder.”

“AHHHHH MAGISTRATE ANCUNÍN!!!” Tav shouted blissfully.

“You’re so pretty when you say my name…”

Tav’s face contorted and her whole body shivered.

“M-magistrate… Ancun… ín… I’m going to… going to…!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, darling.”

Tav heaved in blissful frustration, her back arching off the desk, ass tender, legs shaking against the magistrate’s sides as she fought against her approaching orgasm. The magistrate slowed down to help her come down, his own body jerking every now and then to chase his own building release.

He stopped still and lifted his hands to play with Tav’s chest. He cupped both of her tits and massaged them, rubbing her perk nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and clawed around his desk for something to grab hold of. The magistrate chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

Tav whined and struggled for words.

“B-because I’m a… a bad girl, your honor…!”

The magistrate pinched her nipples and pulled on them while sliding out of her painfully slow.

“Do you want to be a bad girl?” He questioned and rubbed Tav’s nipples sensually.

Her head thrashed from one side to the other.

“N-no… sir!” She whined, her legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him back inside of her.

“I-I… I want to be a good girl!” Tav added and pleaded at the magistrate with her eyes, nodding frantically.

She was so agonizingly close. Her abdomen was beginning to hurt from the unfulfilled need. She felt her eyes grow moist from the tears that welled in them.

Magistrate Ancunín gave her a warm smile and gave her nipples one final pinch before releasing them. Tav sighed from the loss of contact, her chest now tingling the same way her ass was.

“You promise to remain a good girl after you leave my office?”

Tav nodded.

“Yes! Yes, I promise magistrate Ancunín sir!” She panted enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” He grinned and slammed back into her.

Tav screamed and threw her head back, letting her voice out in long, broken moans and whimpers as the magistrate began to fuck her in earnest. Her wet walls relaxed to let him in, allowing his length deeper inside.

“P-please… Magistrate Ancunín! Please let me cum!!” She pleaded weakly.

“Not yet, darling. You can hold off a little longer.”

Tav whined and nodded.

Magistrate Ancunín’s own voice broke out and he whined in rhythm to his hips. He hissed and bit his lip, his punishing pace losing focus.

Tav writhed under him, her wet folds pulsing from her barely held back release. She groaned almost painfully, tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes.

“Now darling, cum for me!” He commanded and Tav’s pleasure exploded beneath him.

She screamed his name from the bottom of her lungs and arched her back, her needy cunt milking his throbbing length. Magistrate Ancunín followed soon after, losing himself in her and let go with a husky little whimper. His whole body shook against Tav as his hips rocked into her, jerking the last of his pent up need into her.

He stilled and gasped for air, trickles of sweat now streaming down his face and chest. Tav panted under him, her eyes shut tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm still shook through her nerves. The magistrate pushed himself up, pulled away and stepped back shakily before slumping onto his leather chair.

Tav’s legs felt like uncontained liquid and as soon as they had nothing to support them, fell open and dangled over the firm mahogany desk she was laid on top of.

The office was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a good while before an oddly comforting silence took its place. Tav blinked up at the ceiling above, her heartbeat and breathing now calm and steady.

She finally came to enough to push herself up to sit on her still aching ass. She found magistrate Ancunín leaning on an elbow, seated comfortably on his leather chair, legs crossed, his underwear pulled back up and trousers firmly buttoned up again.

His chest was still rising and lowering noticeably heavy, his brows gleaming with sweat.

“I think this concludes your trial. I deem you free to go with a warning. This time.”

Tav managed a weak smile and inched herself off the desk. Her knees felt wobbly, her buttocks ached, and her nipples were swollen, but the pleasant heat now thrumming at her core made everything feel better. She was free to go and more than that, exhilarated by the success of their negotiations.

The magistrate allowed her a moment more of his time to clean up before exiting his office for the night.

On her way down the hall and the near infinite amount of stairs, Tav thought back on her little gigs at the edges of law and was glad to have trailed off to the wrong side of the law for once.

Feeling the combined fluids of their heated negotiations slick the insides of her underwear, she itched to be bad again, in hopes of finding herself back within magistrate Ancunín’s office to be reminded how to be a good girl once more.

320 notes · View notes

vonne-inc · 1 year ago

Text

product: yandere boss - stolen shirt.

gender neutral reader. masturbation with clothing. typical pervert stuff. (a little bit of) yandere behavior.

the day was quiet— the only sound was the clock ticking on the wall. tick, tick, tick, tick. a small reminder, one all too evident, that you weren't around. not now, at least.

even if your absence was temporary, he couldn't stand it. the growing need to see you was growing, and it was becoming unbearable. the only thing that kept him under control was knowing when you'd be back.

his body grew tense, looking at the ticking clock. five hours, nine minutes, and fifty-three seconds. it was still too long... still too much.

"sir?" his eyes snapped to the voice, his dilated pupils contracting. heels clicked against the floor, and soon, a plastic bag was set on his desk, "your lunch." staring at the bag, a familiar logo stamped on it, he quietly hummed.

as quickly as the substitute assistant came, she left. he paid no mind, focusing on the food. pulling the take-out container, his fingers skillfully opened it as he wafted in the smell. it was nothing expensive, rather cheap from a nearby restaurant. although it was special; a dish you commonly ordered.

ah, right. you.

his eyes flickered back to the clock. five hours, three minutes, and thirty-one seconds. only six minutes passed, "fuck..." he mumbled, the itching feeling growing again. his skin tingled, brows narrowed, and shoulders tensed.

pushing aside his lunch, letting it touch the end of his desk. he pulled his desk drawer out; a black, clean chest is shown into view. with a diligent motion, he grabs the key from his pocket and opens it with eager hands.

a sigh leaves his lips, pupils dilating once more as he spots the items inside. clothing, candid photos, perfumes, etcetera. all of it being yours. things to keep him managing whenever you're not around.

picking up one of the shirts he'd collected, unzipping it from its ziploc bag, he carefully takes the cloth and inhales your smell. it smelt just like you; your natural musk mixed with perfume.

the more he breathed in, his pants tightened as it showed his evident arousal. his legs spread wider, cock twitching, as his mind began to wander.

what would you do if you found him like this? force him to his knees and degrade him as he shows you how sorry he is? worshipping your sex with his mouth as he pleas for forgiveness.

would you let him bend you over his desk, fucking you with primal need? him whispering each perverted fantasy he's had of you; his assistant. praising you as he rips an orgasm from you repeatedly.

without thinking about it, his hands drag down his buttons shirt and toward his black pants. working at his belt, it falls loose as he slides his pants down— enough to free his cock.

the tip red, leaking with precum already, he begins to trace the veins of his length. his head throws back, eyes snapping shut as he continues. the stolen shirt had fallen from his grasp and hung on his lap, the smell still reaching his senses.

he reaches for it again, grasping it in his hand, while bucking his hip into the fabric. the loud groan resounded throughout his office. the act of your clothing being wrapped around his cock was enough to get him a needy mess.

his hand begins to stroke the cloth along his shaft, meeting the tip as it soaked in the precum forming. hips bucking up, digits balling into a fist around himself, he couldn't resist fucking into the shirt.

all he could imagine was what you'd look like with his cock thrusting inside of you. the way your face would contort, how your moans and gasps would sound, how stunning you would look riding him with his cum soaking your stomach and chest.

at that thought, he could feel the coil tightening. his grunts grew louder, eyes rolling into his skull. his thrusts became more erratic whilst his office chair squeaked underneath him.

ropes of white shot from his slit, soaking into the shirt and coating the end of his desk. cum hit his clothes, and he choked back a sob at the relief.

once he calmed down, he stared at the shirt in his grip that was still wrapped around his cock. before he thought about another perverted fantasy and become hard, he grabbed the ziploc and secured it back into the chest as he closed the drawer.

and while those hours without you were still unbearable, all that surrounded his thoughts was how much he couldn't wait to leave his newfound gift at your doorstep. he just knows that you'll be surprised to see your favorite shirt covered in his cum.

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baka-bakeneko · 1 year ago

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Enmesh - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x Fem Spider Scientist reader (afab biology)

a/n: venom venom venom miguel is the dirtiest and slimy but i'm loving this alot. also i ain't copin' to shit. (part two)

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, Spiderverse hopping, scientific discovery, symbiotic relationship (kinda), references to self-harm (destruction and/or suicide), obsessive Venom, just as obsessive and possessive Miguel O'Hara, consensual non-consent, breeding kink, missionary, oral sex, tentacle (not tentacles), anal fingering, no use of lube, creampie, hint to cervix penetration

wc: 4.24 k

synopsis: Miguel asks you, fellow scientist and spider-in-training, to investigate an anomaly that popped up on the radar.

Miguel had tasked you to follow a couple of Spiders out on patrols, due to the spike in anomalies on Earth TRN688. He’d attempted to go out to that verse himself, but was called to aid Spiderwoman.

You did as ordered, keeping close remarks in the New York you appeared in. Following the Spider you were partnered with, you kept up with your own built-in web slingers and scanned over the landscape with your anomaly tracker.

Miguel followed your tracking, monitoring the spikes in the radar and mapping the New York geography. He was distracted in his own task, enough so that Jessica pocketed his personal tracker on you.

You managed to stop on the same rooftop as Reilly, catching your breath with another scan of the radar.

“What’s up?” He asked, pulling off his mask to catch his breath.

You shrugged, narrowing your eyes at the tracker as a spike rose up in the landscape. “We need to get over there.”

You pointed across Central Park, directly over the water. “There’s a spike out there.”

Reilly exhaled, returning his mask back on and kicking off of the rooftop. “Let’s go.”

You scampered after him, looking over the ledge of the rooftop to see your companion free-falling into New York traffic before catching himself on a web at the last second. You released a shaky breath, shooting out a web and jumping from the ledge, swinging after the Spider.

Upon reaching the anomaly spike, you landed roughly on the scorched grass in Central Park. You pulled yourself up and walked around the crash site of the meteorite. Reilly landed carefully behind you, watching as you slowly approached the cracked open, smoking space rock.

You leaned forward to look at the rock, plain of anything significant.

A splash of shadow lurched out at you and, in the split second of you lurching back in shock, Reilly shot a heavy web out to stop it. The captured ooze writhed on the ground before your feet, slowly soaking in Reilly’s web until you stamped a foot to cut it off.

You dug through your research bag to find a vial large enough for the thing to fit in and bent to stuff it in. You screwed on a tamper seal, holding the vial up to your face as the ooze, dark as night, began to float within the glass like a lava lamp.

Your thumb folded over the front of the glass, watching as the ooze lurched in the direction of it like it tried to attack you.

“The fuck is that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. But it’s alive.”

“No shit. It almost ate you.” Reilly said, standing to fold his hand over the back of his neck. “O’Hara would’ve killed me if something happened to you.”

You tore your gaze away from the ooze to look at Reilly. “I appreciate you babysitting me. I’ll tell Miguel your contribution to my safety.”

Reilly dropped his arms to his side, then crossed them over his chest. “Is that all we came for?”

You pursed your lips, bringing the vial into your full hold. “I think so.”

You gave the ooze another curious look then straightened up the contents of your bag to put it in carefully.

“Let’s go show him what we found.”

As soon as you were back in headquarters, you bounded towards Miguel’s office. You held onto the strap of your bag carefully, slipping between the countless number of Spider-people in the direction of the epicenter.

You paused at the gate of Miguel’s office, catching your breath once again when you noticed it was occupied with a group.

“Hone— Miguel,” you corrected yourself, pushing yourself forward to Miguel’s platform.

Miguel was directed at the front of the group, looking down at them in pause of giving orders. His eyes slowly shifted over to you, noting your ragged breathing and flushed face.

“Dismissed.” He waved off the group in an instant, lowering the platform to allow you up. “What did you find? Are you okay?”

You nodded, immediately digging into your bag to retrieve the ooze vial. “Your anomaly…was a meteorite. This was found at the crash site.”

You held the vial up between the two of you, your view crossed between it and Miguel’s gaze. Your fingers held the top of the vial and the two of you watched as the ooze lashed up at where your fingers touched the glass.

“Shocking,” Miguel whispered, gripping the bottom of the vial in effort to get the ooze to react to his touch.

The ooze paused, homing itself at the top of the glass where you touched before drooping a glob down as if to test the waters at Miguel’s touch. The two of you watched as it stretched along the vial, touching both ends of the glass and thrumming slightly.

“What do you think it is?” You asked, wanting to hear another scientist’s theory.

“I’m not entirely sure. Is it dangerous?” Miguel asked, tugging the vial from your hold and rolling it in his palm.

You winced softly, watching your discovery slosh about the vial. “It lashed out at me when I arrived but Reilly caught it.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed, pulling his eyes from the ooze before meeting your gaze. “You’re okay?”

His free hand reached out, retracting his claws, and caressed your cheek. You grinned briefly, leaning into his touch.

“I’m fine. Web-slinger’s coming along great.”

Miguel hid a gulp, mirroring your grin before retreating his touch. “You did great, hermosa. I’m dismissing you.”

You nodded, your eyes cutting to the ooze vial in his palm. When you looked at it, the ooze reacted and lurched out in your direction.

“Okay. Will you be home for dinner?”

Miguel folded his lips together, looking down at the ooze vial then back at you. “I may be a bit late. Gonna see what makes this thing tick.”

While you wanted to stay to conduct research with Miguel, you knew that Lyla would be just as good as you in that aspect. You reached for your shoulder, tensing the muscle that throbbed in its place.

Raising on your toes, you leaned forward with bracing Miguel’s thick forearm. “Don’t be too late, okay? You need your sleep.”

You kissed his stubbled cheek, rested your forehead to his temple. “And I miss you.”

Miguel fought the deep exhale from his chest, turning in the direction of your mouth. He was tempted at your soft lips, his nose nudging yours. “I miss you too. I promise not to overdo it.”

“I’m holding you to that,” you whispered, pointing your pinkie finger out for Miguel to cross with his own.

He did so, noting your thumb circling the silicone band on your ring finger. “Get some rest.”

Miguel managed to find another container to move the ooze into. He tapped it into the jar and immediately flipped it over.

Watching the sludge dart to the bottom of the jar then below to the table. He forced his hand over the bottom of the jar to keep it from slipping free and marked its response to light.

Nothing.

Its response to water, a quick drop next to it made the ooze not react. Miguel glared at the sludge, shifting the jar back and forth for some sort of response from it.

"You're alive, I know you have a weakness."

When he spoke at it, the ooze seemed to perk up in the direction of his voice. Miguel quirked a brow, tilted his head. "You can hear."

The ooze fashioned its glob in the direction of Miguel's tilt, as if to mimic him. Miguel peeled the jar up and tentatively poked out to the ooze.

"Are you..." Miguel began, watching the ooze lash out to his finger and worm quickly up his arm.

"Whoa, slow down." He reached to stop the sludge but it disappeared under his palm.

Miguel still felt the crawl of the ooze on his body, over his skin and, then, under it. He fashioned his claws, ready to tear into his skin but took a deep breath.

"Lyla!" Miguel called out, looking around his office for his AI. "Run a diagnostic. Quickly."

Lyla blipped into being, scanning over Miguel as he took a few deep breaths in before he felt a sudden onset of heat.

"Mierde," he released in a pant, waving for Lyla to dissipate his suit for the full scan.

"What's wrong, Miguel?" Lyla asked, zipping around Miguel's head as she produced a virtual tablet. "Your temperature's raised to 125."

Miguel's stomach rumbled slightly, his throat growing dryer by the second. His mouth was drying, his tongue aching from the lack of moisture.

"What do you have so far?" Miguel asked, resting his hands on his hips and following Lyla round his head. He kept his breathing steady, blinking slowly while his heart pounded hard against his ribs.

"I-I'm checking," Lyla cut out her attitude, running through her tablet at the scrolling diagnostic. "What is this, Miguel?"

"The-the anomaly," Miguel muttered, snapping his fingers in the direction of the empty jar. "The thing understands words, cognizant of what I say."

Lyla nodded, looking up from her tablet. "I see. The thing is trying to make a nest in your chest, Miguel. It's attaching to your spinal cord."

Miguel gulped, straightening his stature. "Is it...aggressive?"

"Not as I've seen so far. The...thing is trying to inhabit your spleen and draw nutrients from it."

"No," Miguel grunted, immediately clenching his side and puncturing his skin with his claws. "Not if I have a say in it."

Hungry.

Miguel heard the word echo through his head, the word husking into his ear. He tilted his chin, raising his hand to Lyla. "It speaks."

Lyla raised her brows, scrolling through the tablet and stopping at a blip. "It appears to be receding from your spleen. Quick, say something."

Miguel deadpanned at Lyla, cocked his jaw as his body grew in chills. "What are you hungry for?"

Anything.

Miguel looked to Lyla as she turned the tablet towards him. He noted the ooze retreating back to his spinal cord, housing itself between his vertebrae.

"Do you have a name?"

We are Venom.

Miguel exhaled and Lyla resumed her final diagnostics.

"You say you eat anything, yet you garner for my spleen. Why?" Miguel asked, retracting his claws from his skin.

We eat anything. Humans are food.

"Why not eat me immediately?" Miguel asked.

You are with the woman. The scientist. We are symbiotic. We want the woman.

Miguel grit his teeth. "You can't eat her."

We do not wish to eat her. We want her to host us.

Miguel scoffed, waving for Lyla to retrieve his clothes. "Never going to happen. You want to stay with me, that's fine. But you're never getting her."

The ooze within him hummed, the noise reverberated down his spine and he tensed his top lip.

"That's the only way you'll stay. Otherwise, I will destroy you."

Not before destroying yourself first.

"So be it." Miguel cocked his jaw, unfolding his pants after they blipped into existence on his workstation. He gave a nod to Lyla. "I have nothing better to do anyways."

What about the woman?

"My woman," Miguel stressed, pulling on his pants. He reached for his shirt next, folding it over his head and pulling it over his torso.

Mi amor, you call her that. What does that mean?

Miguel scoffed, suddenly glancing to Lyla. "It tapped into my brain stem too?"

Lyla solemnly nodded. Miguel hid a roll of his eyes.

"It means 'my love'. My second language."

And hermosa?

Miguel shook his head. "'Beautiful'."

She is.

"Hey." Miguel snapped his fingers as he stared straightforward. "Venom, right? You...stay out of the way of her. If I recognize a single drop of you in her, I'll dissect myself to kill you. Do we understand each other?"

Venom laxed within Miguel, the closest form of contentedness he felt after the being melded into him.

Fine. We go home to her, though?

Miguel shut his eyes in slight disbelief. "Yes. We do. She's my fiancée."

Lucky.

You tried to stay up for Miguel, even after you climbed into bed. There was nothing to keep you in the meantime, after eating dinner and cleaning up the apartment, you waited.

It wasn't until your head jerked back up that you realized you had dozed off. And there was still no sign of Miguel. Shutting off your light, you returned to bed and soon fell asleep.

Miguel appeared in the bedroom when you were finally gone. He waited at the door, listening to you rustle between the sheets.

Venom demanded to be fed as soon as Miguel left headquarters. In order to keep his part of the deal, Miguel stopped at a convenience store and stocked up on roller hot dogs.

The taste of rolled-over grease settled wrong on his tongue, he gagged over not hacking the food back up.

"Why not chicken?" Miguel asked, on his way back to the apartment while suppressing a belch.

Chicken, no.

Miguel stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, staring at you splayed over the mattress. He chuckled, tugging at your big toe.

She's pretty.

"She's my everything," Miguel offered, kneeling onto the bed and moving over you.

She smells delicious.

Miguel cut his face to the side, snarling at the darkness of the room. "You stay out of my mind. She's private."

Venom growled within Miguel. He felt a soft wiggle in his side, acknowledging the familiar ooze that emanated from his skin.

We feel how you do about her.

Venom's appendage caressed Miguel's chin and his nostrils flared.

"I'm not open to sharing." Miguel retorted, his top lip peeling up to reveal his fang.

Who said anything about sharing? We share your body, Miguel. Everything else is one.

Miguel leaned down and rested his forehead to your stomach, nudging his nose along your skin. You stirred, your hand tensing.

"She's mine, only mine," Miguel whispered.

You wish to impregnate her.

Miguel slammed his eyes shut, teeth grit harder as he folded his bottom lip to your skin. "I want her through and through."

Touching.

Miguel tsked, kissing up your body as he applied his weight over you. Venom's appendage slithered over the bed and ghosted over your pillow.

"You don't get to touch her," Miguel ordered softly. "Not unless it's through me."

Your rules.

Venom retracted the appendage and Miguel kissed behind your ear.

"Hermosa, I'm home." Miguel whispered. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Your tired hand reached up to comb through Miguel's hair. "You're burning up, baby."

"I know." Miguel rolled his eyes, his hands planting at your hips. "Cool off with me."

You grinned, working up to waking. "Keep moving like this, I'll break out in a sweat too."

Miguel hummed, kissing across your cheek. "I miss you."

You arched into Miguel, feeling the heat of his body all over you like a rash. His crotch was raving with heat, pressed just over your panties.

"I missed you," you hissed back, feeling your body awaken to his touch.

Her sounds, they are delicious too.

Miguel bit at your earlobe, earning your coo. He bowed his head, forcing out a remark to Venom. "Stop it."

"I can't help it," you moaned, raising your leg.

"Mi amor." Miguel returned to your mouth and kissed you, feeling the anomaly within him ebbing up his throat.

He pulled back with a harsh swallow. His jaw cocked, Miguel reversed back down your body with kisses.

In your shirt, he muttered at Venom to stay in their lane. He bit at the waistband of your panties and peeled them down, lashing his tongue out to stripe your pubic bone.

You sighed, raising your hips for Miguel to pull your panties down. He did so, grinning devilishly as he did. The heat rose under his skin, feeling a prickle at the sight of your sex.

Miguel selfishly leaned in to kiss your inside thigh, dragging his lips along your skin before descending on your pussy. He didn't waste a moment, making a meal of your clit.

You edged awake, sitting up to tighten your grip on his hair. "Baby."

Miguel moaned into you, staring across your body to meet your tired eyes. Venom rattled in Miguel's chest, the ooze ready to lash out and gain his own taste of you.

Miguel pulled away, bit his own tongue to draw back the anomaly. You groaned, shifting your hips up to gain his mouth back.

"Stay," he hissed.

We want to taste.

You purred, grinding your hips back to the mattress. "So bossy."

Miguel flashed a grin at you, bowing back to resume between your legs. "Not a chance. Live in my wake," he muttered against your lips, kissing them before parting you with his tongue.

He forced his crotch to the bed, trying to work out his own pleasure while focusing on yours.

You want her. We want her too. We can help.

"Get bent," Miguel slopped, suctioning his mouth over your clit.

You crooned, breath picking up with each soft lap to your bundle of nerves. "Miguel, please..."

She begs for us.

"Not for you," Miguel offered, popping your clit from his mouth with another heated glare at you.

He shifted, grinding his pelvis against your heat. Your face pinched, a breathy groan escaping your lips. Your hands went to Miguel's hair, combing it from his face to see the lust driven in his eyes.

Instead of crimson lashing through his irises, it was obsidian. The black that pooled his pupils flashed then receded and you swallowed.

Miguel met your lips, allowed you to taste yourself on his tongue. Venom's appendage reappeared, slipping against your thigh as Miguel shifted out of his sweats.

His mouth occupied his demand for Venom to take a backseat. While he didn't understand the anomaly's obsession with you, he knew the need.

Hissing away from your kiss, Miguel bowed his head again. "Stay out of her," he whispered to himself.

She wants you, let us help please her.

"Not a chance," Miguel whispered, angling his stiffened cock against your entrance.

He sank in an inch, allowing you to adjust to his size. You squirmed, your hips lifting to earn more of him. "Please, baby. More."

You rocked your hips in effort to gain his friction. Miguel's hands at your hips held you still, hissing at the heat in his body. Venom ran laps along Miguel's spine, snarling and biting inside for a chance.

Miguel grabbed at the stray appendage of Venom slithering towards your ass and tossed it aside. He sank another inch into, adjusting to your clenching walls.

The heat from within you and the rising temperature of Venom made Miguel sweat out of his pants.

"Miguel, you okay?" You asked, taking note of the rivulets of sweat that doused his face.

The obsidian flashed in his eyes again, making him shed his shirt before going for yours next.

"I need to feel all of you," Miguel grunted, suddenly a man possessed.

The film of sweat on him slicked over your body, his hands gripping tighter in your hips as he sank further until you tensed. It was too much too soon, his size always being something to ease into.

Miguel ducked his head to your shoulder and recanted his hips. "Forgive me, mi amor. I'm starved for you."

His voice was laced with filth, the tone of him so needy and rough. He felt his throat was dragged through desertion to end at the fountain of you.

Miguel's arms caged over you, centering you in the middle of the bed while his skin dripped over yours. So open and naked, his eyes primal while he gulped at the sight of you.

She's so ripe.

Your legs melted further apart at Miguel's hips, your knees easing up while your stomach curled at the carnal stare that bore into you. You shared a soft swallow, feeling Miguel's throbbing cock nestled in your beating walls.

Venom's appendage snaked up your inner thigh, making your walls clench tighter, until a warmth settled between your cheeks.

Your hand reached down to examine the feeling, only to be caught by Miguel's hand on your wrist. You quirked, glancing between your bodies to acknowledge the warmth as Miguel's other hand wedged under your body and traced down your back.

He rested his palm to the small of your back, angling your hips to allow him more. You panted before his lips, feeling Miguel's fingers part your cheeks with a timid grin.

"I want to make you..."

Ours.

"Mine all over," he finished, leaning into your lips to peck. "Is that okay?"

You released a shaky breath and arched into Miguel's body. "Make me yours."

She's filthy. We like her.

"Stop me if it's too much," Miguel offered, finally relenting to Venom's appendage to take lead at your tighter hole.

At the same time, Miguel began to thrust softly into you. He readily eased your mind while Venom lapped the flexible appendage against your hole, making a movement like licking.

"Miguel," you gasped as Venom pushed in softly, testing the pucker of your ass.

Miguel nodded along with you, thrusting with your breaths and intoxicating himself between the two of them. He could taste Venom's excursion on his tongue, feeling the tight muscle slowly give way to the tip and thrust in.

The three of you vibrated on a similar wavelength, Miguel snarling as he fucked into and tasted you all at once. You wiggled at the slow drag of Miguel's assumed dry fingers in your ass, the feeling giving way to your slick being used as lube.

Venom pushed in softer, wiggling in soft half-circles to caress every sensitive wall. You cried into Miguel's mouth when both his fingers and his cock collided within you and sent a shockwave of pleasure to your system.

Your knees shook at Miguel's sides; he stared down at you, drinking in your demeanor while he and Venom made work of you.

She's beautiful.

"You're so beautiful," Miguel stole his words back from the anomaly as they echoed.

You smiled, drunk from the pleasure that vibrated through you. Miguel huffed against you, kissed your lips again as he ground his pelvis against your clit.

You felt another shock to your system, your toes curling as his fingers curved up to meet the thrusts of his cock.

Give her something good.

Miguel cut his eyes behind his lids, finally ignoring the alien and picking up his thrusts to meet your level of high. He was going to take you both over, not the anomaly obsessed.

Your hands gripped at Miguel's shoulders, not able to help the desperate clawing to his massive back to gain your standing. It was a fruitless effort, finding your hips rocking as Miguel's fingers ruined your ass and his cock paved through you.

"C-cum in me," you choked out, resting your forehead to Miguel's.

Make it good. Breed her.

Miguel ignored Venom's disturbed wants, only listened to you. He ground into you again, this time earning your body trembling as an orgasm tore through you.

It made a mess of you, your stomach heaving while your knees knocked at Miguel's sides. Your palms flattened to the small of Miguel's back, forcing his hips further into you. You rocked your hips to ride out your ecstasy, attempting to drive Miguel over at the same instance.

She's a keeper, alright.

Miguel mirthlessly scoffed, following the rock of your hips until the sweat broke out in another wave. He pushed into you, to the hilt, touching the white hot soft ring inside your pussy and came.

He doused your cervix with his cum, kissing at the womb's entrance with the desire to drive deeper into you. Miguel's mind raced, thinking of spelunking further, making you a whole new his.

At the same time, Venom slinked back to its recesses. Reeling back into Miguel, sated and quiet.

Miguel caught his breath over you, losing the strength in his arms and resting his full body against you. You panted just the same, staring up at the dark ceiling while your fingers combed through the nape of his hair. Your other hand traced up and down his spine, inadvertently petting the anomaly housed inside him.

"I," you began, lining your dry throat with a new coat of saliva. "I take it research wasn't a bust."

Miguel kissed at your neck, nuzzling his face in the crevice of your shoulder. "No, it wasn't. You...you brought me a blessing."

We're a blessing?

You edged your chin in to glance down at Miguel. "Really?" You asked, incredulous.

Miguel shook his head. "No, it's an actual pain in the ass. But worth further study."

You laughed softly then, resting your head back to the mattress. "Yeah, speaking of ass..."

Miguel tensed against you, ready for you to catch onto his secret play underneath the skin.

"I liked that," you admitted, rolling your eyes at the raw feeling of your hole, your walls still throbbing around Miguel's still-hard cock.

Of course she did.

Miguel grimaced at the anomaly's cocky nature echoed through him. He pecked at your skin. "I'll never do it again unless you want."

You blushed, shutting your eyes. "As long as I'm yours."

#miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara smut #venom symbiote #venom #symbiote #across the spiderverse #spiderman #marvel 2099

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thetravelingtyper · 11 months ago

Text

On The Same Page pt3 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

When Johnny drops in, you get an unexpected guest...

Part 2, Part 4, Masterlist

“You know what's coming on that playlist”

You look up from your breakfast,

“What do you mean…”

The song comes after David Bowies Magic Dance,

You groan as it plays:

Flicking through a little book of sex tips

Remember when the boys were all electric?

Now when she's told she's gonna get it

I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it

Clinging 'til I'm getting sentimental

Said she wasn't going but she went still

Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle

Was it a Mecca Dauber or a betting pencil?

“I swear this song.”

“You might as well let it play out, does it remind you of…”

“If you say his name I will personally shove my fist up your ass so far…”

The door dinging cuts you off as Soap enters carrying a Tupperware container, now clean and empty of your cookies. You had started a habit of baking for the man during afternoon tea.

The song continues dutifully under your negligence:

Oh, the boy's a slag, the best you ever had

The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams

Weren't as daft as they seem, not as daft as they seemed

My love, when you dream them up

“ I swear to god, Sam you have my phone change the damn song!”

“Having trouble lass?”

Soap reaches the counter and sets the container down, the music pauses for a moment as Sam thinks somewhere amongst the books, you hear his thoughts:

“Do not test me, Sammy!” You sigh before American Idiot by Green Day kicks. Thoroughly pleased you finally turn your attention to Soap.

“Heya Johnny, What are you up to?”

He grins and pulls a small object from his pocket, a flash of silver before handing it out to you. You take it and your face lights up.

“This is sick!”

You’re reverberating with excitement as in your hands is a bookmark. Not just any bookmark but a pewter bookmark with the stamping of an old English knight. It tickles your inner literature nerd. You look back up at Soap and he rubs the back of his head.

“Some customer left it at the bar a while ago and never came back for it so I figured you’d like it.”

He seems a little flustered and the motion makes your heart warm a little bit. You set the bookmark down and pass around the counter to hug him. His arms reach around you and he pats your back. A second passes and you suddenly feel a presence, you pull away and jump.

“Johnny”

“Steaming Jesus”

You weren't the only one startled as the man stood a little straighter at the voice instinctively.

He turns to the culprit, the man in black from earlier, whose dark eyes look between you and the Scot before looking down to Johnny.

“Bloody hell Ghost, might give a man a heart attack doin’ that. What are you doing here?”

You watch in curiosity as ‘ghost’s’ shoulders relax his eyes soften a little in a comfortable setting, It is clear the men are close as you watch a grin light up Soap’s. He waits a moment before answering in a thickly accented voice.

“Moved in recently down the street.” He offers little more,

“Aye we’re all neighbors then Lt.” Soap bumps a fist into the taller man’s chest and you want to giggle. Soap looks to you then and mentions to Ghost with his hands.

“This is, well was, my commanding officer when I served.”

You remember the non-classified moments soap told you, of a wraith of a man behind a skull. You examine the man before you.

He is built like a tank, you imagine him in combat gear and yeah you can see it. But there is something different about the man before you. Looking closer at his masked face you can see the traces of scars, along his arms as well, but this Ghost carried himself more freely, and like Soap you wondered if he was retired.

Ghost’s eye meets yours and you are flashed back to your dream. He regards you calmly before raising an ungloved hand. You blink and Soap himself seems a little taken aback,

“Simon, Simon Riley” He offers it simply and you take his hand. It's rough like Soap’s, but warm, and his eyes crinkle a little, he might be smiling under his mask.

“It means he…”

“That’ll do Johnny.”

The scot’s hands come up in surrender with a grin. Simon holds your hand for a moment longer before drawing his back to himself. You both watch each other for a moment before you turn away to Soap.

“Did you need anything else Soap?”

“No hen, you're fine, I need to get back to the bar. Drop in sometime yea Lt?”

“Sure, Johnny.”

And with that the man turns to leave, padding out before opening the door. You look back to find Simon unmoved and watching you. You are about to speak when the music pauses and you hear the blasted phone ring.

Sam comes around the corner and stops seeing you and Simon standing closer together.

“He’s calling again. How do you want to handle this?”

You clench your fists instinctively in frustration. You turn to Simon, and with a polite excuse me, you turn and take your phone from Sam. For the first time, you answer it.

There is silence on the line as if your ex is surprised his spam tact worked. Then his voice comes:

“Where are you?” You are seething at this point, but force yourself to calm down when Sam approaches and sets a hand on your shoulder shaking his head no. It's not worth it.

You look back to him nodding, I know.

“It doesn't matter James, leave me alone.”

“Listen I'm sorry…”

“I don’t care, stop calling from other numbers. We are over, we’ve been over.”

James on the other end hits a spike of temper. Because when he replies it is heated:

“Listen you little bitch…” You cringe and hold his yelling on the phone away from your ear. Sam offers to take it but you shake your head.

“He always accused me of cheating on him with you I don't want you to be dragged into this.”

The yelling continues for a moment and you pass a glance at Simon in apology but you find him tense, clearly listening and upset at the threats coming from the other end of the phone.

“I will track you down…” These words catch all of your eyes. A sense of dread hits you and hang up, unable to take any more abuse. You sigh, trying to release tension but your phone starts ringing again.

“Let me answer it.” The request is quiet but stern, your eyes widen and you look to Simon, his mask! At the moment of the ring, the man had taken off his mask revealing a young but chiseled face. He was clean-shaven, with short blonde hair swept back. He had a scar tracing from the side of his nose and over his lip. But he was quite handsome. In a bit of shock, you hand him your phone and he answers to hear yelling. But he remains quiet, waiting for James to shut up. A minute later when the phone goes quiet.

His voice changes, taking on a practiced authority, one you assumed came from his serving days.

“Stop calling this number.” It's not a request but a warning. There is silence as you and Sam look at each other, a chill running down your spine at Simon’s voice.

“Who is this? Where is she…”

“Not coming to the phone anymore, stop calling this number or there will be consequences.”

There is a tensioning silence before in a slightly different voice James asks,

“Who is this?”

Simon’s eyebrow shoots up, and he, he…almost looks amused.

“Her Partner now fuck off.” And with that bold declaration, Simon hangs up, an upturned smirk as he hands your phone back to you. It doesn't ring again.

Your mouth is agape taking the phone from him, you look to Sam but he's too busy admiring Simon, an eyebrow shoots way up.

“That was ballsy.” Your head shoots to him and you elbow your best friend.

“What he means to say is that you didn't have to do that.” Gratitude and an embarrassed admiration swells in you.

“I wanted to.” The confidence is evident in Simon’s reply as his eyes flicked between you and Sam.

“Oh! This is Sam, co-owner of this fine establishment and my best friend.” The two men shake hands briefly. Sam looks very pleased, sending you a secret look before he turns to head to the back.

“I need to get back to orders, you two have fun!” And with that, you are alone with your savior.

“You didn't need to do that-”

“He was threatening you, I won't let that stand dove.” It comes out strong and a light blush trails up your face. He regards you silently.

“Can I do anything for you, Simon? I appreciated that.”

“Tea sometimes and perhaps dinner.” He states it simply but the implications have your heart jumping.

“Sure…of course, did you need anything in the store I know you came in and looked around.”

“I set aside a hold a few days ago,”

Simon Riley, S.R. The thought clicks at the moment and you move to the counter and set aside your empty plate to pull out Twenty Thousand Leagues from the stack. The gilding gleams in the warm lights of the bookstore. Simon follows you to the counter.

“How often have you been in? Usually, only regulars know about the hold policy.”

Simon looks down at you before he answers,

“The past month so far.”

The past month? How the hell did I not take note of him? Well, I guess you subconsciously did. Hince him appearing in your dream.

“Huh. Good choice in Verne. He’s one of my favorites.”

“I know.” The simple answer stuns you for a moment before he explains,

“You read a lot.” He mentions to the side of the counter where a worn paperback of Journey to the Center of the Earth sits, halfway read. You look back at him and his eyes catch yours, and then you understand, biting your lip.

He’s been observing. How hadn't you noticed? Simon shifts his weight watching the gears in your head turn. You don't seem too distressed to have figured him out. The truth of the matter was he had wandered in while looking for Johnny’s place, wanting to drop in since he had moved into the city. After some time in a smaller town, he felt comfortable enough to stand the noise of London proper. So walking down the street he caught the sound of chattering and music earlier in the morning on a fine clear day.

Gathered around what seemed to be a small shop was a crowd of people eagerly waiting for entrance into the Fox’s Den Bookstore. The collection of people was of a mixed age. Simon noticed a few parents with young children, an older couple, and the rest around early to mid-20s. He looked down at his watch, he had some time, and a light-set curiosity built so he joined the edge of the crowd. He caught some chatter here and there:

“It's Tuesday! You know what that means!” A little girl, looking to be around 8 looked up at her mother and tugged her hand.

The mom smiled down and nodded, and a student next to them knelt and smiled at the girl.

“Blueberry muffins today right?”

The child nodded back excitedly and Simon’s battered heart stirred.

It was a few minutes later but at the ding of the bell, the door finally opened revealing a tall man, who he knew now to be Sam.

“Come on in everyone! Everything is set up in the back for today's book club! Thanks for coming!” Sam’s eyes scanned the crowd before clocking Simon in the back. With his height, tattoos, and scars he must have looked out of place. Simon hesitated as Sam observed him. The commanding presence of Ghost was still within him, but after a few years of being out of the force he had calmed and gotten used to life in a smaller town. Sometimes, however, when the beasts of his past reared up in his head, Simon felt disassociated and alone, like an outsider.

But Sam only watched and then smiled.

“Head on in big guy, grab a muffin, they're homemade,” Sam eyes his height, “well perhaps two.”

Simon nods. The man is American he thinks, Sam’s accent standing out. As he enters the bookstore he is met with an open area flanked by a wall on the left, a counter straight ahead guarding a door, then an expanse of bookshelves.

“Just head straight in and take a right at the counter, there is a path between the shelves to the sitting area. Just mind your step please.” And with that Sam shuts the door and enters behind Simon, going around and taking place at the counter.

Simon follows the directions, stepping past haphazard piles of books arranged in every sort of way. He seels a stack of all E titles, all aquamarine, then another of leather-bound tomes. His footsteps are muffled by a slightly tattered runner rug, he looks up to find the ceiling painted. A vision of heaven looks back but instead of angels, foxes run amongst the clouds. The art, obviously done with love raises an eyebrow but amuses Simon nonetheless. He moves along and finally makes it to the back of the store and there he finds you.

Everyone is sitting in a collection of chairs, stools, and even on the floor. The little girl from earlier sits entranced as you finish reading a children's book. Upon finishing she takes the book excitedly.

“You mean I can keep it!” She looks at you with puppy eyes and you laugh, a sound that is music to Simon's ears.

“Well considering I wrote the book, yes you can!”

The little girl is ecstatic and runs back to her mother who gives you a gracious smile. Your eyes catch Simon and you smile at him. He freezes and you point to the table set up with your homemade muffins.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Grab a muffin and join in!” He obediently does as he is told and one of the other children pats the spot next to them.

“You can sit here sir!”

Simon sits and so progresses book club, Simon’s heart-warming as you proceed to read. Every once in a while a patron calls your name (Simon takes note) and they ask a question which you answer. Meanwhile, Simon lowers his mask to take a bit of one (of the 3 muffins) he took. Upon the piece hitting his tongue he is transported back to brighter times.

Back in a small town in France, between deployments when he was just a tourist, he had stumbled upon a small family bakery. When he entered, the small wife of the baker ushered the large man to a small table. The following onslaught of pastries changed Simon on a fundamental level. After leaving the force, he took up baking trying to emulate the tastes he found. Safe to say he loved the muffins and unashamedly finished the 3 in front of him within a few minutes.

And there he was in the middle of a random book club. He found a comfortable space and taking another look at you, he would be back.

Simon shakes off the memory as you bag the book, he passes you payment and you hand it and the bag back to him. He checks his watch and mentions to the door.

“I have to go.”

You frown and his lips turn downward. You quickly react under the counter and scribble your phone number on a post-it note before passing it to him.

“Any friend of Johnnys is a friend of mine! Besides, next time you come I owe you tea. Maybe then we can have a proper sit-down and chat!” His hand brushes yours as he takes it and a tingle goes up your spine as his umber eyes meet yours.

He waits a moment, pulls his mask back on then turns around with a quiet goodbye, and a moment later he's gone.

You spend a moment watching his form disappear into the crowd. Sam takes the time to return from lurking in the back.

“Spooky huh?”

“I don’t think so, he's just quiet.”

You reply and your phone buzzes. Sitting under a notification from your mom is a little message of a skull. You smile and set your phone aside, hopeful for Simon’s return.

Taglist (The Cool Kids)

@ghostlythots

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #soap and reader #john soap mactavish #fanfiction #cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #Soft!Simon

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