#at least i managed to write my outline

[nougatbit]

spent all day beset by a headache that made it too hard to read. this is bad. i need to write another 5000 word essay in the next 8 days or so and i haven't started on research yet

[inkblackorchid]

Can I ask you something? Have you considered doing a fanfic of Aki facing odd against her hold black rose witch persona which I'm surprised wasn't a episode to begin with I mean the idea is too good to waste

The ask box is always open for a reason, my friend!

But to answer your question: Yes, I absolutely have considered the idea of Aki coming face to face with the Black Rose Witch and being forced to confront her own past in a very literal way. The problem with this scenario is mainly one: Logistics. Seeing as Aki can hardly physically split herself in two, making this possible would require supernatural shenanigans of some kind, if you ask me. And sure, 5Ds has plenty of those, but what to use? Time travel? (High potential to shoot yourself in the foot.) A sort of supernatural test of willpower? (Okay, sure, but where, why, and how?) Try to keep it simple, say it's just a nightmare and all in Aki's head? (Possible, but pretty basic.) Say Iliaster creates another signer double, and Aki has to take it down same as Jack took down his? (Runs the risk of being a rehash of the fake Jack episodes, unfortunately.)

Depending on how they're written, I don't necessarily think any of these options are better or worse than the other, and I agree, the opportunity to have Aki literally confront herself would have been great. As far as my own writing is concerned, my main issue, personally, would be where the hell to slot this into canon. Because writing it just as-is, with zero context and no place on the canon timeline, isn't my style. Therefore, I'd have to find a spot for this, and ideally give it some kind of nice payoff, too. And the way my Aki stuff is going right now, especially with the next, big fic I'm currently working on, I'm not sure I could fit this in anywhere. (At least not without making things seem really, really bloated in terms of plot threads and tension.)

That said, I have thought about it before, and may yet think more about it in the future. So I'm not categorically denying I'll ever write this. I'd just love to place it somewhere where it makes sense and haven't found that spot (nor the best way to execute this scenario) just yet.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

.

[aritany]

I'm sorry your writing strategy is WHAT?? I'm going to need a thorough explanation of this because I'm FASCINATED

[brian murphy voice] I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING WEIRD!!!

okay i did. but also! if it ain’t broke…

here’s how this crumbles cookie-wise. sometimes (as is currently the case) i feel like i am trying to hold onto a whole novel in my brain at once. this does not feel particularly good because the novel doesn’t belong in my brain it belongs Out There. so i make a very detailed outline and then i start at chapter 1, and i write to 100 words (give or take a few). then i move on to chapter 2 and write to 100 words. then to chapter 3 and so on until i have at least 100 words in each chapter. then once i’ve run through the whole book, i go back to the beginning and make sure each chapter is up to 200. then i’m usually in the Meat of each scene so i’ll get everything up to 500, then 1000, then 1500 and then usually i clock out of chapters around or just under the 2k mark.

this appeases the hyperactive part of my brain by making sure i’m never bored, and helps the project manager in my brain so i can keep track of many moving parts in the novel and also ensures that scenes at the end speak to scenes at the beginning since i’m (sort of) writing the whole book at once.

NOTE: sometimes i get lost in the sauce and write way past 100 or wherever im at, and that’s fine. it just means i probably skip that chapter during my next pass since it’ll be past my goal wc for each chapter of the run.

that is all. try it, if you want. i honestly don’t know how to write books any other way

[amongemeraldclouds]

"if you're going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first" | theodore nott | flufftober masterlist | 835 words

"Let's divide the project, do our part separately, and leave it at that," you stated, dropping your books on the desk beside Theo as if to punctuate your statement.

"Why hello to you too," Theo grinned, unperturbed by your stormy mood. Mostly because he knew it would further annoy you, and partly because he thought you were cute when you were annoyed. You may have been rivals who had the misfortune of being paired together for an important project, but he was not blind.

You settled yourself in the seat beside him, ignoring his sarcasm. Opening your book, you took out your pen to write down the project steps when Theo gave you a page he prepared that contained a detailed breakdown of what the project entailed and different steps you could take.

You reached in your bag to fish out your pair of reading glasses. Theo tried to ignore how adorable it made you look. He was already hyper aware of everything about you and the way you made him feel, he did not need to add more fuel to that flame.

You read the document and you hated to admit it, but it was excellent. It was another point he had won against you. Embarrassment crept up your cheeks as he managed to be a step ahead of you. "Well, this is certainly helpful," you said, trying to keep the neutral tone in your voice. You tried to hide how it ruffled you, except your blush revealed it all.

Theo reacted with a cocky grin, "stick with me y/n and you may learn a thing or two."

"I do just fine on my own," you narrowed your eyes.

"Except we do have to work on this project together. See that," he said, pointing to the third step he outlined in his document. You leaned in to read the section he indicated, your shoulders pressed together. The scent of his woodsy cologne invaded your senses and it took you by surprise.

You shifted your gaze from the page to his face. You blinked in surprise, he was so near. For the first time, you noticed his long lashes. The way his wavy hair fell near his eyes and you were tempted to brush it back. Suddenly curious how soft it would feel between your fingers.

Then he turned his gaze to you, piercing blue eyes stared intently into yours. It took your breath away. He often had a bored expression that you had no idea he could be this focused.

Your lips parted a few centimeters as your mind tried to snap you out of it. You were keenly aware this stare was longer than what was polite, but you couldn't find your way out of this maze.

It achieved the opposite effect as Theo's eyes shifted to your lips. From this close, he noticed how full they were. They looked so soft, he wanted to reach out with his lips just to confirm he was right. Heat bloomed within you as your heart pounded faster in your chest.

Seeming to catch himself, he looked back up, a secret desire swirling into ocean blue of his eyes. He cleared his throat, the spell of the moment over. Your eyes snapped back to the page as he took a second to remember his words.

"We need at least two pairs of hands to complete this step," he finished his sentence from earlier.

You sighed, deflated. There was truly no other way. "You might be right."

"What's that?" Theo leaned in, "you think I'm right?"

You scoffed, "don't get used to it.

He lowered his voice as he whispered in your ear, "but you know, if you're going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first."

Your eyes widened as you opened your mouth to speak then closed it a few times, the words lost in the recesses of your mind. You stopped when you realized it made you look like a fish out of water. "You can't tell me what to do," you countered.

Theo continued, "pretty girl like you, I wouldn't say no."

You blinked, "you think I'm pretty?"

"I have eyes, y/n. I know you think you're better than me but come on. I'm not blind," he replied, waving his hand to dismiss the topic.

He brought the conversation back to the project, dejected by your horror at the thought of going out with him. But with the way you looked at him earlier, he could have sworn you felt the same way he did.

Theo was uncertain and he hated not knowing. Part of his academic prowess lent itself to his innate curiosity about things. He shifted slightly in his seat so his leg brushed briefly against yours and he enjoyed the electric rush from the contact.

As you both wrote down your plans, he made a mental note of another one. You were a question he was going to answer before this project was over.

[l13]

♡miguel x reader x peter♡

a part 2 to this drabble

word count: around 3,1k

WARNINGS : NSFW 18+ ONLY, NO use of y/n, f!reader, voyeurism, cheating (peter on mj), HINTS on miguel x peter but nothing actually happens, blowjob (m receiving), masturbation, making out, swearing, spitting?(not really, YOU'LL SEE OK), miguel loves humiliating peter, miguel gets jealous and territorial very easily, lazy writing, also my first time writing anything close to a threesome so please be kind

a/n: SO SORRY this took so fucking long but I hope that y'all will still enjoy reading it<3

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

“Fuck, shit, fuck” Peter struggles to pull his pants back up as he turns around swiftly, a hand securely holding on to the front of his sweats as he gulps nervously “Miguel, my man! Fancy seeing you here… look, it’s not what it-”

“Cut the shit, Peter.” Miguel says with crossed arms, “At least have the balls to face the consequences of your… perversions.” he would have looked intimidating if it weren’t for his disheveled look–hair messy, chest rising and falling rapidly (who's he kidding, peter was still scared shitless).

“Wh-huh? I- no, you got it wrong-haha! That’s funny, though! Look- I’m just gonna go-”

“You’re gonna stay where you are.”

“Yup, staying right here.” Peter purses his lips, and he really hopes the outline of his bulge isn't that visible. (it was)

Miguel rolls his eyes, turning around and caressing your cheek as he whispers something against your ear. Peter tries to crane his neck to catch a clearer picture of you despite himself, but with that hunk of a man in front of you, it was a lost call. 

You were nervous. Understandably so. Miguel’s words, when you were too busy cumming around his cock merely minutes ago, echoed in your head.

“Yeah, baby?S good, right? So perfect for me baby, fuck. Seems like you got what you wanted after all.” you had furrowed your eyebrows, confused, barely able to keep your eyes open, but when Miguel pointed his thumb at a nearby monitor with the camera surveillance of the place shining bright, with a figure right in the middle, you'd understood what he meant. And you'd liked it.

You cock your head to the side now, as you come to stand next to Miguel, grinning bashfully at Peter, who was looking at you with a gaping mouth. You’d laugh at the way he failed to cover his bulge with his hand, but you were too nervous to do so, so you decided to ignore the act altogether, even if it made your insides flip, “Hi, Peter.”

Jesus Christ, your voice. “Yellow-he-Hi!” Peter’s mouth was so dry, he doesn’t know how he managed to reply. Was after-sex-glow a thing? Because, fuck, you were glowing. There was this flush covering your cheeks and Peter thinks he wants to kiss you all over. Without even realizing it, his feet begin taking him over to you two. But not even a step in, and he’s very rudely interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Miguel’s tone is calm, and yet gives Peter an eerie sensation at the back of his neck that makes him swallow nervously, stopping in his tracks. “Uh- well, I just thought-”

“You thought wrong.” Miguel says blankly.

Peter flushes, seemingly understanding what Miguel planned to do, and takes multiple steps back till his back hits the wall behind him. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. “I- I don’t-”

“What? You didn’t actually think I was going to let you come anywhere near her?” Miguel’s laugh is cruel, and tears well in Peter’s eyes at the underlying humiliation.

“Don’t be mean,” you mutter against Miguel’s ear, your hands circling around his waist as you hug him, your eyes never leaving Peter’s. Yeah, Peter thought, don’t be mean, bitch.

Miguel softens under your touch, draping his arm over your shoulder to bring you impossibly closer, suddenly very aware of his own still very hard cock. He starts pressing kisses along your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, and you smile as you nuzzle against him. “Oh baby, you’re still hard, aren’t you? How selfish of me,” you didn’t sound sorry at all. But neither Miguel nor Peter cared. 

Oh yeah, Peter was still very much here. Cock throbbing and all. 

“Stop teasing, bebita,” Miguel hisses, his eyes fluttering as he ruts his hips against you, the smallest of whimpers escaping his lips. Peter would have laughed if Miguel’s voice didn’t make the sound hot. Another fact about Miguel that pissed him off, because when Peter whimpers, it sounds pathetic. 

Peter drops his hand over his bulge, groaning under his breath when he squeezes himself over his pants, finally getting some much needed friction.

To Peter’s utter horror, that was the moment that Miguel remembered that he was still in the room, and Peter froze when Miguel’s eyes met his, goosebumps rising all over his body when Miguel’s gaze dropped to his covered cock. Fuck. “Touch yourself for all I care, but know that this is the first and last time I’m letting you in on this. The next time I catch you creeping on her, I’ll kill you.” Well, that was not at all what Peter expected. How horrible, and assertive. Not at all arousing.

Peter cleared his throat, “Kill me. Yeah. Yup. No, yeah, I got it.”

You laugh softly, your own hand dropping to palm Miguel over his suit, “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,”

Miguel tries hard to hide the slight tremble in his voice at the slight contact you gave him, “Is that so?”. He dropped his head, breath fanning across your neck, “Wanna test that theory?”. Both men smile when your breath hitches, Peter staring hard, and finally pulling his cock out. He inhales sharply when he wraps his hand around himself, so desperately wanting to close his eyes and fuck his fist till he comes, but keeps them open so as not to miss the show you so generously were putting in front of him. His eyes follow Miguel’s movements, as he bends to lick across your neck, biting down on your skin a second later, both men letting out sounds of appreciation as you moan.

Peter jerks his cock at a slow pace, eyes hooded, matching the tempo at which the tension builds up. He feels sick doing this, but he can’t help but let the pleasure take his mind off of the guilt that’s ready to eat him up, choosing to focus on how your throat bobs as you swallow, your lips forming a pretty 'o' as you lace your fingers through Miguel’s hair, mewling when he grazes his teeth over your collarbones.

Miguel presses the softest of kisses on the spot he’d previously bitten, and says, “On your knees, baby.” Peter is lightheaded by the pure sex dripping from Miguel’s voice, his cock twitching under his palm, and he squeezes his hand around the base of it, slowly bringing it up to circle around his tip, openly panting like a bitch in heat.

Seeing you drop to your knees was a sight Peter never thought he’d ever see, but one that he was very thankful for. From this angle, you gave Peter the perfect view of your profile. You were grinning, your expression a bit hazy, a bit cockdrunk. The tank top you were wearing looked crinkled, and Peter wondered if Miguel had the material bunched up over your tits while he was fucking you.

Peter stares as you grab at Miguel’s thighs over his suit, squeezing the flesh appreciatively as you look up at him expectedly. God, you were begging to get fucked again. Wait- over his suit? Miguel was still wearing his suit, how the fuck- 

As if Peter was voicing his thoughts out loud, the material of Miguel’s suit disappeared slowly, his cock springing up, balls dropping the slightest bit from the secure hold they were being kept up by the tightness of the suit. The start of his thighs and his belly were also exposed, pretty bronze skin a perfect contrast to the deep blue color of his suit.

“What the fuck was that?!” Peter can't help but let out, and Miguel throws him a proud smirk, “Nanotech,” You smile at the small nerdy exchange, too preoccupied to properly join in the conversation. Miguel’s pleasure was above everything else. You wrap your hand around his thick cock, moaning softly as you trace the veins on the side, bending down to kiss and suck on his fat balls. “Makes things easier-ah fuuuck,” Miguel bites on his lower lip roughly, brows furrowing as he bucks into your hand, hand caressing the side of your jaw gently. You looked so fucking beautiful.

Peter drops his other hand to fondle his balls, suddenly jealous, and throws his head back against the wall, groaning as he still keeps his eyes open to watch you.

Five minutes later, Peter was still copying your movements. When you licked at Miguel’s tip, dragging your tongue over the head, and lapping up the precum greedily, Peter made sure he only touched his tip as well, circling and rolling his hand over the head. When you licked the sides of Miguel’s cock, your hand following the same pattern just under your tongue, Peter was jerking his cock in perfect synchronization, mimicking your technique entirely.  He could practically taste the pleasure Miguel was getting.

During all this, Peter couldn’t hold back his voice. He moaned and groaned shamelessly, raising his hips to meet his hand sloppily. Fuck, he was so close to coming.

Miguel was truly no better, he was just better at masking it. He constantly gritted his teeth, hissing at your antics, but the occasional moan would slip, and it always made your pussy throb, as if you could feel it vibrating against you.

You take Miguel’s cock in your mouth with no warning, the tip touching your throat as you swallow around him, nose touching the base of his cock, your eyes tearing up quickly. Both men sputter at the sudden action. Miguel moans loudly, his belly flexing as he bends over you, fingers threading between your hair.

Peter almost comes right then and there, the movement of his hand on his cock so fast and rough, that it was creating a lewd wet sound “S-shit, you look so good, sweet thingmff fuuck. Yeah-like that, Oh my God,”

Both yours and Miguel’s heads snap up, surprised by Peter’s outburst. Miguel raises an eyebrow, his jaw locking. Was this asshole really imagining he was in his place? Well, he couldn’t exactly blame him, but it still pissed him off. When he turned his head to look at you, though, you were looking at Peter curiously and- were you biting your lip?

“Something you wanna say to him, baby?” Miguel’s voice comes out dry, and you can instantly tell he’s mad. You send him a knowing smile, shaking your head softly, “Not really. I just think he sounds sweet.”

“Yeah?” Peter whimpers in reply immediately. I sound sweet, I sound sweet, I sound sweet.

You glance at Peter again, rubbing your thighs together, and Miguel scowls at the movement and tugs at your hair hard, “Keep talking, Peter. Somehow, she seems to be liking your whining.”

“S so good, you’re so good, fuck I wanna feel your mouth on me so bad,” Peter babbles mindlessly and you can't help but watch as he thrusts into his hand needily.

Miguel notices you staring and grinds his teeth together, “What are you looking at him for, huh? Looking at his cock when mine is right in front of you. Am I not enough for you, bebita?” Your head whips around to look at the man in front of you, your eyes widening a fraction as you shake your head softly.

You make sure to put on a show as you run your lips all over Miguel’s cock, spreading his pre-cum all over your mouth and chin as you talk, “You’re everything. Your cock ‘s so pretty, the prettiest ever. Love it s’much..”. Miguel feels satisfaction spread in his veins, making him warm all over. He slaps his cock over your cheek for good measure as he stands taller and huffs out a condescending laugh, glancing at Peter with a dumb smirk on his face. That’ll teach him. 

But what Miguel sees is not at all what he expected. 

Peter’s eyes roll back, the hand on his cock tightening as he moans. Fuck, he wants nothing more than to be at Miguel’s place right now that it’s driving him insane. “Such a good fucking girl, baby, shit.”

Miguel snarls at his reaction before snapping his head back to you, “Open your mouth,” 

You do as you’re told, tongue out as you stare up at him with doe eyes, but he just clicks his tongue, “Wider.” Miguel shoves his hand in your mouth, his thumb on your tongue as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw. He pumps his cock with his other hand, biting his lip, and mutters “Yeah, just like that.. You gonna be good for me?” You nod, and Miguel's thumb gets coated in your saliva from the movement.

Miguel grins and takes his thumb out, slowly turning his head to lock eyes with Peter. Then, he brings his hand up to his face and closes his mouth around his thumb, hollowing his cheeks prettily as he sucks your spit off his finger, his gaze dropping to Peter's cock.

Peter's jaw slacks, and his hips stutter at the sight in front of him. Miguel's low chuckle falls on deaf ears, Peter being too busy watching your hands squeeze Miguel's ass impatiently, trying to coax him back in your mouth, mewling when he relents and slips his cock inside. Miguel can't help but raise his hips as you bob your head up and down his length.

Peter spits on his cock suddenly, the filthy sound making you glance at him again, and Miguel's jaw ticks “It’s okay, bebita, you can look at him. Look, but know that he could never fuck you like I did. Or did you forget how you creamed around my cock, hm? I bet that pussy’s still wet for me,”

Peter moans approvingly, “Mm I bet it is..” 

Miguel inhales sharply, his eyes falling shut, “Peter.”

“Yeahuh? Fuck. Yeah?”

“Get your ass over here.” Peter nearly falls on his face as he stumbles forward, raising his sweatpants carelessly as he walks over. His hands tremble when he clasps them together in front of him lamely, standing awkwardly near you both.

“Closer, pendejo.” Peter gawks at Miguel's request, shakes his head, and reluctantly takes two steps closer. He made sure to throw a glance towards Miguel to ensure that he wasn’t getting punched anytime soon.

“Hold her hair back.” 

Peter must have died and went to heaven. There was no fucking way this was happening-

“Did you hear what I fucking said-"

Peter jumps when Miguel raises his voice and quickly springs into action. His breath hitches, but he can't help himself- not when he's carefully pulling your hair back, his fingers brushing your cheeks, avoiding touching Miguel's hands as he's still holding your head, practically using your mouth as a fleshlight.

Peter tries not to react when you gargle around Miguel's cock, the popping sound your mouth makes when you pull back to get some air pulling a hiss out of him. You cough messily, and as you do, you turn to look at Peter, in all your tears-running-down-your-cheeks glory. And then you grin at him, and Peter's legs buckle. And despite everything, despite the drool running down your chin, and Miguel's hard cock still in his field of view- Peter says, “Rough day, huh,"

You snort out a laugh, and Miguel's eyes almost roll to the back of his head because- how the fuck is that funny?- and so, he growls, tapping your lips twice with his cock before shoving it back inside your mouth, his head dropping as he moans lowly.

“Oh, fuck.”  Miguel’s head was fuzzy, hypnotized by the way you bobbed your head up and down his cock, your hands fondling his balls with juust the right amount of pressure that made his thighs shake. He touches your jaw with his pointer finger, thumb drawing circles over your cheek in awe. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Peter whimpers, “fuck…” and Miguel laughs breathlessly, tongue running over his fangs, “Are you gonna fuck your fist again when you think back to this? Back when she had her pretty lips wrapped around my cock and you watched her take it.. Jesus Christ, you look pathetic. I bet if she told you to hump the fucking floor, you would.”

Peter moans and nods absentmindedly, pulling his cock out hurriedly and starting to jerk his cock sloppily, gaze glued on your fluttering eyes, mascara running down your cheeks prettily. His eyes flicker from your face to your cleavage and he whines. Your tits just look so soft, he can't help himself.

Miguel, ever the perceptive man, notices this, “Be a good girl and pull your shirt up for Peter, baby.” You moan around his cock at the way his voice trembles, and raise your shirt over your boobs, suddenly very aware of your own underwear sticking to your pussy mesilly. Fuck, you were drenched.

“Oh my God,” Peter pants, eyes losing focus, hand on your hair loosening as he moves his hips back and forth, fucking into his hand relentlessly. “I'm gonna cum, gonna cum-”

“Cum on her tits.”

Peter sobs, stepping closer to jerk his cock just over your tits and he jumps when he feels you squeeze his thigh, nails digging into the skin. He feels his balls tighten, and he grasps your shoulder as his knees buckle suddenly. “I'm cumming- Oh fuck I'm-” his cock twitches as he cums, painting your pretty tits white, the jerks of his hand never stopping as he rides out his orgasm.

For a moment, it feels as though only Peter's moans and whimpers can be heard, and fuck, he hopes there's no one outside because he's so fucking loud, and it's so humiliating that he can feel tears running down his cheeks. He feels lightheaded and utterly spent as he pumps his cock, squeezing his hand tight around himself as he watches the last of his cum drip down his length and onto your shirt, turning it a darker shade.

“Oh- fuck. Oh my fucking God.” Peter bites back a whimper and shudders, when you bring your hands to your tits, squeezing them roughly and getting his cum aaall over them.

The ringing in Peter's ears fades away, and he snaps his eyes to Miguel when he hears the state he's in.

Miguel grunts each time he snaps his cock back in your mouth, reveling in your gurgles, feeling the vibration of your moans go straight to his balls, and he. can't. stop. Not when he'd just seen Peter cum all over your tits like that. Not when he'd liked watching him do it.

“Take it. Fuck- take my fuckin' cum baby-shit,” Miguel whimpers and snarls as he snaps his hips one final time, holding your head in place, his thighs shaking as he cums down your throat. He throws his head back when he feels you swallow around his length, muttering incoherently to himself in Spanish as he whimpers and groans.

Miguel stumbles back slightly, cock slipping from your mouth at last, and both men can't help but stare hungrily, their cocks hardening once more as you gather the excess cum that's dripping down your chin in your hands, licking it out of your palms a second later. All three of you are panting hard, letting your actions linger in the air for a moment.

But then you look up at them, a sinful glint in your eyes, and Miguel turns to Peter and says,

“What are you waiting for? Lick her tits clean.”

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[makeyoumine69]

Hi Lexi! I have to say that I wasn't even into Patrick Bateman before I started reading your works, but now I'm completely hooked! If you would allow me to ask you one small thing, I would be so happy! Could you please write some spicy somnophilia with Patrick? Excuse me my English! It's not my native language! Anyway, I hope you're in high spirits and wish you all the best! Keep cooking, Queen!😘

In The Air Tonight

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

CW: Smut, somnophilia, orgasm denial (kinda), mutual hand job, unprotected vaginal sex, spanking, finger sucking, dirty talk, pet names, touch starved Patrick.

SONG REC: Phil Collins — In The Air Tonight

A/N: Hello my dear anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words, I really appreciate them! I hope you'll enjoy this little writing.

That night, after an unpleasant conversation with Bateman that bordered on an argument, you couldn't really sleep. And the fact that he was gone, leaving you alone in his lavish apartment, didn't help, but you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't stay up late waiting for him to return. Even if he didn't get back until morning, you wouldn't care—or at least you forced yourself to believe that you wouldn't. Eventually you fell asleep with a smile on your face, dreaming about how Patrick would try to justify where he had been all night.

The fresh night breeze sipping through the bedroom blinds tickled your exposed skin as you slept uncovered, and while Bateman always had to put a blanket on you every night, tonight you slept alone and his big bed seemed so strangely cold. A soft, barely audible click echoed through the hallway as someone unlocked the front door, and the next moment the owner of the apartment crossed the threshold, moving as subtly as a cat—you didn't have a chance to notice his presence.

With slow, precise steps, Patrick walked past the living room, only to stop in the doorway to his bedroom to see your motionless, sleeping form; his hazel eyes took in the sight of the beautiful curve of your hips, and then, as you suddenly rolled onto your stomach, your ass was on full display for him to admire, and the man couldn't help but gasp, his hands instinctively fixing his red tie, which he then had to loosen.

Just when he thought he had the situation under control, you made a small, sexy sound that was something between a moan and a sigh, and even though it was quiet, Bateman still managed to hear it, and he was not very happy about it.

Cursing to himself, he pulled himself away from the doorjamb, brushing his hair back, not even noticing that his free hand was already busy undoing his clothes. First Patrick unbuttoned his navy blue shirt, the cotton material smooth under his fingertips, then he moved closer to the bed, kneeling down on it with precise caution, because he didn't want to wake you. Not yet.

Hugging the pillow, you were completely unaware of what was happening, even as the man lay next to you and his large palm slid down your cheek, you only sighed in response, almost nudging into his touch.

"God, you look so sweet like that," Bateman crooned, continuing to caress your face, his thumb sliding gently down to your lips, tracing their outline. "So peaceful."

Sniffing sleepily, you suddenly felt a lingering touch slide down your spine as you rolled onto your side. Then the touch became more deliberate and demanding, descending to your lower back, then to the hem of your nightgown, only to lift it up and spread your legs, teasing your delicate pussy lips. Half awake, you stifled a moan from the knotting sensation that was pooling down your lower body, Patrick's thumb flicking around your sensitive little bud feeling almost electric. The man couldn't hide his excitement at the way your body was responding even though you were unconscious, that notion made his cock twitch and spurred him to unzip his Armani pants in one impatient motion.

"Patrick," you murmured suddenly, still half asleep. "Is that you? You…came back?"

Bateman chuckled with amusement. "Of course it's me," he chanted in response, and before you could even react, the man grabbed your hand and placed it on his engorged dick, forcing you to stroke it. "Who else could it be? Were you thinking of someone else, darling?" His question caught you off guard, adding to the overwhelming sensations of his soft finger pads playing with your swollen clit.

Without really caring if you answered, Patrick repositioned his thumb, plunging it into your mouth to slide it along your wet tongue, making you taste yourself. Whimpering around his finger, you let him use your hand the way he wanted, the friction of his thick cock along the soft skin of your palm driving him crazy, but he tried his best to prolong this moment before he could finally fuck you senseless.

"Just you…" you bubbled breathlessly after licking his thumb. "All I could think about… was you… how I was going to slap your face when you got back!"

Bateman felt the warmth grow between his legs as he pressed his hard cock firmly against your soaking cunt, grinding it between your thighs, he could feel your legs tense under the silky fabric of your nightgown. "You can try," his grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer, his veiny shaft sliding back and forth between your soaped pussy lips, its tip teasing your clit with each slow stroke. "But first… I'm going to fuck you."

Never waiting for any kind of confirmation or consent, Bateman slammed his cock into you with a powerful, brutal thrust, burying himself deep inside your blushing cleft. The man let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your tightness envelop him, his fingers digging harder into your waist.

"Fuck… so tight…" his voice was strained with lust as he immediately began to move, thrusting into you hard and fast, his cock stretching your inner walls painfully. "I missed this."

The only sounds in the room were the creaking of the bed and the wet, slick sound of Patrick's cock driving in and out of you; his breaths came in ragged gasps as he continued to fuck you mercilessly, his fingers squeezing your hips tighter and tighter, enough to leave bruises.

At one point you had to grab the pillow for support, but Bateman had other plans, his large palms finding yours so quickly. Without any resistance from your side, the man pinned your wrists to the bed with one hand, the smooth metal of his Rolex sliding along your hot skin.

"I…" you hiccupped as he suddenly rolled his hips against yours, the curve of his dick hitting all the right spots inside of you, coaxing your pussy to clench around him. "I'm gonna cum."

To your surprise, instead of saying something mocking or taunting, Bateman just briefly nibbled your craned neck, picking up the pace, holding you as close as he could. When you closed your eyes, you were literally melting in his arms, at his mercy, your body was like the musical instrument, and he was the perfect musician, knowing exactly where to push and pull.

"Patrick…mhm…s-so close!" You instinctively tried to free your hands as you couldn't really control your body, but he held you too tightly. "So…fucking close!"

Hearing your desperate moans, the man stopped moving. "Hang on," he whispered suddenly, pulling out of you, leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, but never really falling over. "I have a better idea."

With that, Patrick shifted his position to kneel on the bed, the moonlight outlining his chiseled frame, leaving shadows on the wall that made him look even more mysterious. But you didn't really have time to admire this scene as he positioned you on all fours, his strong hands already wrapped around your waist.

"'C'mon, honey," the man husked, brushing his messy bangs from his sweaty forehead. "I wanna see you fucking yourself on my dick," he kneaded your ass gently, almost lovingly, before delivering a hard slap. "Use my cock darling, don't be shy."

The way he talked, the way he groped every little curve of your body, it was intoxicating, it was overwhelming, you were literally afraid to pass out at any second if he continued to torture you like this.

"God, you're such an asshole, Bateman," you scoffed before letting out a loud whimper as your bodies connected again, but this angel struck differently, forcing your inner channel to encase his dick like a tight glove. "Fuck…" you cursed again, rocking back and forth, his dick thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt so deliciously you swore you could see stars before your eyes. "You…I h-hate you!"

Grinning, Patrick pulled up the hem of your nightgown and left it folded at your waist, wanting to have the full picture of the way you were taking him. Every jiggle of your ass, your pussy so wet and stretched out to accommodate his huge size. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect, but he couldn't allow himself to admit it.

"Faster," Bateman moaned through clenched teeth, clasping his hands behind the back of his head and bucking his hips against yours. "Damn...you moan like a bitch in the heat...and your voice sounds so fucking cute when you curse like that."

No way you would respond to his cheesy provocations. Not now, when you were so close to your exquisite orgasm. This bastard could say whatever he wanted, you wouldn't even mind him being arrogant about his "magical" ability to make you cum so quickly. You didn't care because in the end you would be satisfied.

The obscene, almost grotesque sound of flesh slapping against flesh was hypnotic, your labored panting and his low groaning, your "sweet" curses mixing with his little praises. When you finally let yourself go and put your hand between your legs to rub your feverish clit, you almost bite the pillow under your sweaty body. This delirious sensation, rippling through every little part of your body, setting every nerve ending on fire—well, for that you could even forgive Patrick for being a dork.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[cafterdark]

"What do you mean I'm being transferred!" You shout to your manager

"My supervisor has requested that you be transferred to the branch closer to her for more... direct communication." He says. His eyes are wide, a small tremor takes over his right hand. For a former Army NCO to be that scared, she must be something.

"Have I done anything wrong?" You say.

"No, in fact you've been the best worker here. That's why she wants you."

You pinch your nose. "Is there anyway out of this?"

"I'm afraid she's made it exceptionally clear that there isn't."

"Fine. What's the address."

"I'll write it down."

--------------------------

You arrive at the office the next morning. The first leaves on the trees are turning red. It's luckily a shorter commute than your old office, but you're still pissed. You had climbed up from the pit of internships into a cozy position and office. You were the first trans, no scratch that, woman to get into management. This was bullshit.

You step in. The front desk is empty. You sit down and wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, a blonde worker passes by. The first thing you notice is that her outfit is less than professional. She wears a skirt that barely goes below her legs. Her stockings hug her tights very tight. Her blouse is basically open, showing off her admittedly very beautiful tits in a pair of lingerie. If you weren't so pissed you'd be turned on. You're glad you wore slacks today.

"Hey," You call to her. "Do you know where..." You check the slip of paper in your hand. "Miss Maverne's office is?"

The woman looks at you. Her make up is ruined, lipstick smudged, mascara spilling down her face. Her hair is messy. You could swear that you can see the outlines of hands on the sides of her face. Her pupils eclipse her blue eyes. She looks as if she barely knew where she was. After a long pause of blank stares at you, she says, "Do you mean Mistress?"

"Uh..." You're paralyzed by the absurdity of the situation. Have you stumbled onto a porn set by accident?

After a long minute of the girl thinking where you could almost hear the AOL noises playing in her head, she perks up and says, "Oh, you must be new here! I'll take you to Mistress!"

Her hand shooks out and drags you through a set of doors and into the office. You look around. You see many workers with the same blown out eyes, dazed looks, and slutty office wear around you. All women. One of them is drooling at their desk while colors flash on their computer. You wonder what the hell is going on here. You arrive at a large set of doors. "Here she is!"

A secretary sits at a desk next to the doors. She's wearing what couldn't even be charitably called an outfit. Just a few strips of cloth prevent her from being fully nude. On the exposed parts are very visible hickies.

"I brought a new recruit for Mistress!" The blonde hair girl says

The secretary pouts "But Mistress isn't accepting anyone till..."

"That's quite alright secretary, thank you." A woman's voice says. You look to your right, then up. The woman is at least 6'2", and she's wearing heels. Her towering over you is an understatement. She is wearing the only proper work outfit of slacks, a blouse, and jacket. Still, there is an aura of lust around her, like she could wear anything and still look sexy in it. Two grey eyes pierce into your soul. She grins.

"You're both very good girls, you can leave now" She says. The two girls shutter and wander off. "Now, Miss Claire Hall, would you please step into my office."

You're led in and sit down in a very comfortable chair. Miss Maverne continues to look into your very soul and says

"You're probably wondering why you're here right now."

"Yeah I am, what the fuck is this?"

"This is your new office for the foreseeable future. I picked you because you're special. It's not often a woman rises the ranks of this business."

"Thanks?"

"Good Girl."

A blush strikes your cheeks. You're really glad you wore slacks today. That compliment shouldn't have hit that hard.

"Now did your old boss give you any information about your new position?"

"N...no" you stutter out, still in minor shock from the compliment. "Just the address and your name."

"Wonderful, well, you noticed that the front desk was empty right?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll be working as the receptionist there."

"What!" The rage breaks through your flustered mind like a hammer. "May I remind you that I have years of experience in programming, administration, planning, and managing under my belt?"

"So does every other worker here. You might've been a big fish in a little pond there, but here you're puny, and you'll start where you deserve." She stands up, and you can't help but internalize her words a small bit. Still your indignation burns it.

"I'm leaving. I don't deserve this humiliation." You get up and walk to the door.

"Stop." You freeze stiff.

"Walk back." You walk back.

"Sit and stare into my eyes." You sit back down into the extremely comfortable chair and stare up into her eyes. They looked grey before but now hints of green and blue scatter in. You can't help but dive into them, trying to discover their true color. It feels like you're sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean of warm homey

"Aren't my eyes pretty?" She says.

"Yuh." The words don't move right and come out wrong.

"Don't you want to keep having the privilege to stare into my eyes?" Her voice is so beautiful.

This time the words don't even come out, you just nod.

She pulls out a contract and pen. "Then sign this."

You grab the pen but it falls out of your hand. "Oops! Let me help." She says in that musical voice. She takes the pen and places it in your hand, then pulls it to the paper. She guides it into a passable signature, then smiles.

"Good Girl." You shutter.

"Right, so first things first, your breast enhancement surgery is next week."

Sanity floats up above the honey ocean. "What?"

"And that outfit is not approved. At least the four top buttons of your blouse must be unbuttoned. Pants are not allowed, only skirts that are above the mid thigh."

"Excuse me?"

"It's all in your contract."

"I didn't sign this!"

"Is that not in fact your signature on the paper?"

You look down and see a perfect replica of your signature. Fury boils in you.

"Fuck that! I'm leaving!" You get up.

"Where are you going Miss Hall?"

"Escaping this sex cult."

"Miss Hall, this is your 90 day review."

"What do you mean, I've only been here for..." You look out the window, it's snowing. You look down at your new pair of tits. Your blouse barely holds them. A cold breeze tickle your thighs. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing." She says. "Now sit and listen." You crumble back into your chair.

"Now, both staff and guests have highly rated your performance with them in the last 90 days. You've really proven to be a capable fit for your position."

You feel heat building up in you and you don't know why.

"Good Girl." She says. Those two words hit like a truck. You almost moan. She smiles. She's smiling... about you! Excitement flutters in your chest. Wait.

"Something's wrong."

"What's wrong, Ms Cumdump?" Mistress says "Is it something you'd like to bring up for your 6 month review?"

"That name for a start, that's not my name."

Mistress sighs. "This again... Then what name would it be?"

"You know what it is it's..." You pause. Why can't you remember your name? You dig in deep but find nothing. Why can't you remember your name?

"Don't overwork that pathetic little brain of yours sweety." Mistress says. "Just check your name tag."

Oh right! It's that easy. Mistress is so smart. You look down and see your uniform. Lingerie with the required derogatory text sharpied across your body. You pull up your lanyard and read "Hypnoslut Cumdump, Receptionist and Fucktoy."

Ah, it was that easy. Wait, weren't you just in a blouse? You look up to Mistress. God she's so tall when you're on your knees. The hot late summer air sticks to your nude body. It's not amazing but receptionists aren't allowed to wear clothes and the rules are the rules. You stare into Mistress's pretty eyes and she stands and looks down at you. Mistress says

"Is there anything you want to tell me before we begin your first year performance test, Ms Cumdump?"

You try to think of what you were going to say. But your brain is soooooooooo empty that you can't remember. Probably about how beautiful she is. Yeah, that's it.

"You're sooooooooo pretty Mistress." You say.

She smiles. "Thank you, now..." She unzips her slacks and pulls out her massive cock. You're already drooling. She stands there, taunting you with it, before saying "Begin."

You take the cock into your mouth and begin worshiping it like a good fucktoy does. You hit the spot you know she's sensitive to. Mistress shutters and grabs your hair. "Good Girl." She says. You could've cum in the spot to those words if only she gave you permission. Before you could even question it, she pulls you in, and you're lost to your work.

--------------------------

Inspired by @anarqueeen :)

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[minnie-cai]

I had a dream of sleeping over nerd!Arts dorm room, it was storming outside and he refused to let me go walk out on my own I was on hid bed and he was working on something hes reading a book with his glasses low on his nose and was only in a white shirt and sweats where his junk was almost out. I was so horny I just straddled his lap and started going crazy, he ended up shoving my face against his pillow pounding me from behind fucking me while he kept his glasses on <3

𝑰 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵 “𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬” !

that’s so crazy i actually had the exact same dream last night so here’s something i wrote about OUR dream

not proofread, bless your eyes, it’s 2 am and my eyes are basically shut.

rating ; mature. smut. it’s smut. leave if you’re a minor. or don’t. i can’t stop you. actually i can. i will find you. and take away your phone.

oh nerdy!art my beloved, where he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met and he’s stumbling over his tongue awkwardly as he tries to flirt with you but it turns out his tongue was made for bigger things.

and it’s so weird the first time you fuck because you fall next to him on the mattress, out of breath, sweaty and high on orgasms and suddenly, all you had heard about nerdy guys being good in bed was confirmed.

you start dating, he holds your hand around campus sweetly and all of your friends love him. you’d heard the lore of all of tolkien’s writing at least a hundred times as you played with his hair but you’d hear it thousands if he asked. you give him head under his desk as he does your assignment for you and he cums all over his thighs and panics, rushing trying to find a towel or a dirty t-shirt as he babbles apologies and squirms because he hasn’t even properly finished yet.

after a few months of dating, it’s totally casual and normal for you to stay over at his single dorm after you’ve complained about how annoying your roommate was, under the condition, of course, that you’d let him study when he needs to. you promised.

you were lying in his bed, wearing a hoodie he’d lend you after you’d softly fucked with the rain pattering on the window. you pouted and twisted the fabric of the sweater in boredom. art was sweet, sure. he’d made you finish first like a gentleman, cleaned you up and dressed you but you just found it so annoying that he managed to move on to studying right after sex. you stared at him and stared and stared as he sat in his chair, his foot resting on the desk as he read a book he was assigned with his lips lightly agape and his round glasses low on his nose.

the grey sweats he’d thrown on quickly after he got out of bed being a size down from his normal one, giving you the great view that was the outline of his semi-hard cock.

as you’re thinking and just admiring him, you hear him sniff and he swallows, his adam’s apple bopping with the movement. and suddenly, yet again, your panties are wet. what is this boy doing to you?

“artie….” you mewl gently from the bed, your legs twisting under the sheets as you try not to press your thighs together. “is it gonna take long?”

“i wanted to finish at least two chapters by class tomorrow, why?” he mumbles as he moves on to the next page, licking his fingers so that the paper doesn’t stick together but the only thing you can think of is him licking his fingers and playing with your clit as he mumbles compliments against your collarbone.

“nothing… just a bit bored…” you respond as you start to stand up but he just hums, not looking up from his book. when you reach his chair and lean against the back of it with your elbows, moving your fingers to run through his hair, scratching his scalp gently, his head falls back against your chest and he lets out a breathy grunt.

when you moved to straddle his lap, that was his last straw. “you’re kidding…” he mumbles in a soft but raspy voice with a sweet smile when you roll your hips against him. his glasses threatening to fall off his nose and his curls falling messily on his forehead, times like these is when you really take a look at him and realize how gorgeous he is, like he’s trapped a ray of sun inside his eyes.

“huh?” you giggle, almost breaking this innocent character you’d built up. “i don’t know what you mean.” you shake your head with a gentle smirk and furrowed eyebrows, your eyes narrowing as you try your hardest to look confused and hold back your laugh.

“oh you don’t? oh really?” he says with an amused laugh and raised eyebrows. “i- yeah?- rea- really?” he starts with narrowed eyes but he ends with a scoff and a small smile as he realises he wasn’t sure what he really wanted to say and was just stuttering nonsense. “you don’t know what i mean? you want me to show you what i mean?” he chuckles with a sarcastic attitude, looking up at you through furrowed eyebrows.

“i might need you to show me what you mean.” you laugh but it’s cut short by a shriek when art throws you over his shoulder, laughing. “what are you doing?” you cry out as he stands still in front of his twin bed for a second, contemplating before he decides he doesn’t want to throw you on it and gently sets you to sit on the bed. he pauses and folds his arms, looking down at you, the smile not fading from his face. “what are you looking at me for? c’mon, pretty! down and on your belly.” he says, snorting at his own tone.

“down and on your belly? where did you come from? orderin’ me around!” you say surprised by his newfound confidence before following his instructions. “i’m not sure, i like it though.” he replies laughing before settling on the bed, his knees on each of your sides as he pulls down your panties, pulling your hips up, carefully raising them.

his hands hold their position on your hips when he inserts into you, making you sigh shakily. he grunts as he feels the warmth of your walls enveloping him. his head falling forward, his eyes shut.

moments after, he pulls himself back together, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and moving his hands to push down your back, your body being smashed against the mattress by his warm palms and when he moves to rut into you, you leave out a moan, muffling it with the pillow.

by the time he is close to cumming, full on whines and whimpers fall out through his lips, his thrusts getting quicker as he chases his release. “so pretty… fuck.. ugh- so good…” he babbles and his upper body connects to your back, folding forwards to try and handle the pleasure as you suddenly feel the cold material of his glasses against the skin of your neck which you felt was burning, the sensation making you shudder.

“please, baby… i’m- i’m close…” he blabbers on your neck, leaving small wet kisses against it as his rhythmic pace gets rougher.

when you both cum, whining and moaning like hormonal teenagers and fall back against the bed, he wraps his arms around your head, pulling you into his chest. “that was really, really hot-“ he pauses, taking a long deep breath “don’t do it again.” he finishes and laughs, pulling away to wipe the fog off his glasses with his your shirt.

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Bad Boys Get More

I had been working my office job for years now, at least 3. I talked my way up and had been happily ready to be promoted. But last time someone got it over me, no big deal. I wasn't concerned. I mean he was here longer than even I was! So of course he did! And then this month I had applied and interviewed again for a manager spot. Even higher than I got before. Unfortunately... I had been passed up again.

This time was different though. This time was much much worse. It was some guy with tats all over his body. That wasn't the only problem either. Devin, the new "manager" and guy in question, just didn't show up to work some days. So I decided enough was enough and I tried to confront my boss about it. It was his decision ultimately.

"Hey." I said a bit annoyed, but trying to conceal it. "Mind if I have a piece of your time, Henry."

My boss looked at me, he was also a bit younger... not as young as me but not old old? Probably just about 40. "Yeah sure, what's it about." He said a bit plainly as he walked back into his office, me following.

"It's about Devin." He nodded, knowing what I was going to say. "Why was he chosen over me? I mean... he has such shit attendance! He barely even did his job!"

By now Henry was a bit upset, I had been talking about this for the past week to other co-workers and he had overheard it. This was his decision and now he'd let me know why. "You wanna know why Devin got the job instead of you? One simple reason. He's chill."

"What?"

He continued as if I hadn't said a word. "Devin's a cool guy, he's been here a little less than you, sure, but he won't complain when someone else gets the job instead of him." He looked at me and nodded, as if knowing something.

"But he hardly looks professional!" I blurted out.

"Neither do you, Colt." Colt? Who's Colt? "But don't worry, we don't discriminate here against what's on someone's body. Which by the way, what are all of yours about?" He pointed to my arm... what was happening to it?! Black writing was going down it and ink filled it up. Making images, Henry came over and looked at my arm.

"Oh that? That's a meaning between someone and... wait... no..." I tried to resist.

"No need... dang, what gym do you go to? I would ask the next question on our interview but you've worked here for a while and I do know you can lift more than 50 pounds now." I looked at my bulking up physique. I tried to stop it but it just looked like I was flexing more. I held back a chuckle.

"Well... I think the interview might be done. You have the job, unless you have questions for me."

"I-I... What did you do to me?!" I stood up and looked at my body. My clothes clung to every bit of me, an outline in my pants and pecs obvious.

"Why Colt, I just made you able to get the job you wanted. Trust me. We were going to give it to you anyways but with how you were acting? Devin put in a good word at least. Said all you needed to do was be more like him. So... there ya go." He stood up and shook my hand.

"You'll get used to your new life during your shift with Dev tonight, shouldn't take long. Tons of changes... hopefully you find them all for the better." Henry smirked as he walked out. Devin came into the room.

"Glad to see you finally got 'your' Position dude. We're gonna have fun tonight..."

[06sunnybunny06]

Is this fate?

Chapter 1

(Neuvillette)

Anyone who hears the word marriage will imagine a couple of lovers entering into an alliance with the help of a long-familiar sacred ritual. Only by the will of fate, only some are able to find true love among the dullness of everyday life. The most unpleasant thing can be a marriage of convenience, where benefit is more important than true feelings. This is a common thing among aristocrats.

You have always dreamed of finding true love, and not allowing yourself to become a profitable commodity in the hands of a stranger. Not everyone managed to win the lottery and find at least an adequate soul mate. Fontaine is considered a progressive country. Exquisitely dressed citizens with a rich pedigree can still be found on the streets. Many turn up their noses as if the purest gold flows in their veins, not a burgundy liquid. Your family is no exception.

Unfortunately for you, fate was decided a long time ago. A rich aristocrat had the honor to meet you this week, but your meeting never took place. Soon, a large investigation began against him, which revealed a fraudster. The court sentenced the poor man to a long term in a deep-sea prison.

It was like a miracle. You could have stayed free until one day a letter arrived at your estate. The neatly sealed blue envelope was already in your hands. The seal testified to the rather high origin of the owner of the letter. What was your surprise when you found out that the Chief Justice himself decided to write personally. Because your future husband is in prison. The engagement was soon broken off. It was a blow to your reputation. Even though your father was on edge, you didn't care.

On expensive paper, ink curled out the text. Mr. Neuvillette apologized for the inconvenience caused by the imprisonment of your future husband, but in return he was ready to take his place so that a young lady like you could create a future without a huge stain on her good name.

It was unexpected. That's putting it mildly. You were in complete shock. Knowing the reputation of the most fair judge, whose personality was shown only in a formal setting. He could even be considered insensitive. Watching the trial, you have been convinced many times that this stone face will not be able to tremble under the weight of the situation. And why would someone so busy enter into a marriage of convenience with an unknown girl? Your father will never refuse a large prize that fell right into his hands. You decided not to jump to conclusions and observe your future husband.

At your first meeting, a soft, friendly smile was waiting for you. Officially introducing himself, he outlined all the conditions of your future marriage. Over a cup of fragrant tea, you even chatted a little. In a gentlemanly way, Neuvillette has created all the conditions for your comfort, knowing how intimidating he can sometimes be in the eyes of people.

Good...If you had a choice, and you don't have one, you still wouldn't be able to refuse, knowing the pressure your family would put on you.

Life as Yudex's wife was no different from the past in his parents' house. In addition, there are much more outfits, jewelry, cosmetics and free time. You were surrounded by a lot of servants, as well as cute little creatures named melusines. They often looked at you with interest, asking you about many things that they did not understand. When you talked to them, it seemed to you that you had a lot of small children.

You and Neuvillette treated each other with respect, like spouses who have lived a long and interesting life. Your husband was often away from home, and that was fine with you. You lived without emotions towards this person. He did not demand love from you, but you tried to maintain the image of your spouse. I just had to appear in public sometimes so that people wouldn't find your absence strange.

Deep in my soul there was a feeling that wanted to break out. You've never felt his fiefdom, not even to your own parents, and you wanted to find him somewhere behind brick walls. Celestia may have heard your wish.

For a long time, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the gaze of a rather handsome young man. This guy is one of the soldiers guarding the courtroom. He often greeted you with such a gentle smile, as if he saw a good friend. Sometimes he even had the opportunity to accompany you. That's when you met. You had a lot in common. To be honest, you've never had such a close relationship with anyone. Perhaps this is what they write about in romance novels. From that moment on, your meetings were filled with all kinds of dangers. It's scary to imagine what will happen when it turns out that Judex's wife has taken a lover. The scariest thing is to find out your husband's reaction, even though you are not that close. Perhaps he has more interesting things to worry about besides your infidelity.

Fleeting kisses turned into passionate, light touches into strong hugs. Each meeting was filled with words about eternal love. On one of those days, you were sitting under a tree. Your hand gently stroked his head, which fell into your lap. After listening to another story about your husband's indifference, although you repeatedly hinted to him about his love for another man, he offered to run away. You could start a new life away from the past, where no one would find you. The idea was wonderful. Despite your fear, you decided to take a chance. When it was time to go to bed, you took only the essentials. With the help of the maid's uniform, easily slipped past the guards. At the indicated place, you met, kissed quickly and rushed off on your way. This is how your new life could begin. How the hell were you wrong.

In the midst of the escape, during the pass, the first drops fell, drumming harder and harder on the destroyed buildings. A light rain turned into a heavy downpour. Fortunately, there was an abandoned house nearby. All the clothes were soaked through. You have lit a fireplace that may have been waiting in the wings since time immemorial. The weather just went crazy. As if the gods themselves were punishing you for sinful bonds. Despite this, you hugged each other while waiting for the storm to end. My eyes closed of their own accord in the warm embrace of a loved one.

After a while, the eyes opened in complete darkness. A strange unpleasant feeling woke you up. Water was able to penetrate through the leaky roof and extinguish the light source. The rain still hadn't stopped, but it wasn't raining that hard. Soft breathing could be heard nearby. He was still asleep. Heavy mechanical movements were heard outside, making you flinch. Lantern light filtered through the cracks of the old wooden walls. Human voices grew louder from the quiet ones as they approached. Your boyfriend woke up to loud noises himself. If only you had woken him up earlier. You would have been able to escape in a matter of minutes, but at that moment the door was flung open by a strong blow. The searchlights hit right in the eyes. While you were recovering, something like a robot appeared next to you for a moment, easily lifting your lover and pinning him against the wall. It was followed by a painful sigh. You could only watch in despair until you were grabbed by the arms and lifted to your feet. A woman in a soldier's uniform was anxiously examining you. You recognized Clorinde in her. One of Neuvillette entourage - "Thank the Archons, you are safe, lady. Let's go there. Mr. Neuvillette is going crazy about your disappearance."

When her eyes turned towards your boyfriend, they dimmed noticeably. - "Take him to the interrogation room right now. He will be tried soon."

You didn't even have time to come to your senses when he was chained up and dragged away, and you were taken away without hesitation, accompanied by several soldiers. After a while, you were already sitting in the guest house and waiting for your husband under the supervision of a guard outside the door. Everything you dreamed of before that day collapsed in an instant. It was a great plan. You could leave Fontaine today and go far, far away. Tears were ready to gush from his eyes. The color drained from face when a familiar voice was heard outside the door. The door opened, inviting a tall figure to enter. You weren't looking at him. I just couldn't do it, afraid of the same cold look that criminals receive in a courtroom.

"Everything I've done for you has been solely for the good. From getting rid of a worthless aristocrat to acquiring status for a better and more comfortable life. Still, I'm worried about your behavior lately. It turned out that you decided to run away, finding solace on the side. A soldier with no money, no status and no good plans for the future. The man who decided to encroach on the sacred, to take away mine. "

The last words seemed to come out of his mouth with great menace. There was silence in the room, but soon he continued. - "I heard him and I will hear him in the courtroom when I sentence him to life imprisonment at the bottom, where even the most dangerous criminals are afraid to go, and if they do, they die long and painfully. I'm waiting for your excuses."

You were afraid. Even your father wasn't as scary as Neuvillette calm tone when he told you what would happen to your lover. Nevertheless, the trembling voice was able to squeeze something out of you.

"I... I wrote it all in a farewell letter....If you found it.

- Oh, yes. A parting gift in the form of an apology on a piece of paper. But you don't seem to know that you and I are officially married, and if you run away from Fontaine, that will remain unchanged.

- You do realize that we are married only on paper, right? We... We don't know each other at all, and I don't think I feel anything like love for you. It was just an agreement between the two sides. I think you deserve more. You could just accuse me of cheating and move on....

After the barely audible words that you squeezed out of yourself out of fear, there was a long silence. You didn't even have time to notice how his figure loomed over you. A big hand in a leather glove grabbed your chin. Your faces were only a few centimeters apart. Had his pupils always been so pointed? Were there small scales on his delicate features?

"How dare you consider our marriage to be just a minor arrangement?" I chose you for a reason. This is a serious decision that I have been making for several hours. You have no right to betray me, let alone fall in love with someone. Breaking a marriage contract is the same as breaking the law, and breaking it is always punishable. It doesn't matter who or what performs it.

While he was looming over you. A clawed hand forcefully pulled the collar of the still wet dress aside, opening access to your neck. The body seemed to turn to stone. Tears welled up in my eyes. You have never seen the anger of your spouse, who courted you so sweetly. Previously, apart from his gentle smile, no other emotions touched you.

There was a flicker of interest in his eyes as the pupils lowered to the open neckline of the dress. The head slowly sank even lower. When you saw who actually appeared in front of you. You didn't even want to know what this creature could do. Her body instinctively twitched at the touch of her nose on her delicate skin. One sharp movement of a clawed paw is enough and the head will fly off his shoulders, but now Neville is not in the mood to kill. The smell of your body beckoned to him. Lips parted, releasing warm breath. His mouth slowly moved closer to your neck. A sharp sigh escaped from your throat when you felt the Neuvillette begin to suck and bite the areas on your skin. His hands held you firmly in one place. The long serpentine tongue slid, leaving wet trails. A red blush has graced your face. To your shame, it turned you on. You bit your tongue, trying not to make unnecessary sounds.

Fortunately, the shameful action has stopped. You thought it was over until a low growl snapped you out of your thoughts. Fear enveloped the body again.

- You smell weird. These clothes smelled of him.

He pulled away abruptly. Annoyance showed on his face.

- We need to get rid of these rags. Please forgive me....

- what? Neuvillette, stop!

He yanked off the top of the black dress, exposing your white bra. It was followed by a long skirt. You kicked with all your might, like a cat. Pieces of cloth flew across the floor. A wave of shame swept over you again, leaving you in your underwear and in the fetal position. Your hands were trying to cover all the exposed parts of your body that they could.

After scanning your body, he sighed with satisfaction.

"It's all right now. Unfortunately, we don't have much time left. You need new clothes. It was not proper for the wife of the Chief Justice to walk naked down the street. But for now....

A heavy jacket has fallen on your shoulders. While you were recovering, Neuvillette looked out the door, giving orders to two soldiers. After that, he returned to the room.

- Everything is fine now. A maid will arrive shortly with new clothes. You'll have to wait a bit. Unfortunately, I will have to leave. The trial will begin soon. You have nothing else to worry about. No one will dare to lay a finger on you.

A quick light kiss touched your forehead. Neuvillette started to leave and then you shouted sharply in his direction.

- Who are you?

A tall figure stopped near the door. A long-recognized face turned to you with the same friendly smile.

"I am Neuvillette, your husband, and also the chief justice of Fontaine. Unfortunately, I won't be lucky enough to escort you home, but we'll meet tonight. I'm asking you not to do anything stupid. From now on, you won't be alone anymore. I promise you that."

The blue eyes looked into yours again. Then he left, slamming the door behind him. You fell on the sofa in despair, wrapping your robe more tightly around you. You definitely can't escape now. A soft cry filled the small room.

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 6,7k

synopsis: When you wake up on Saturday morning you feel surprisingly well-rested and calm considering what happened at the restaurant last night. That is until you realise that you are in a stranger's bed wearing clothes that are not your own and you are pulled into someone's chest. What the fuck actually happened last night?

note: Here we go. Part two is finally here and it's longer than the first one. I hope people are still enjoying my Rooster debut. It's self-indulgent AF and I had a great time writing it. So far I've planned the outline for part three to finish off their story nicely. But until then, much fun with Part 2.

And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

A huge thanks again to @mynameismckenziemae for the nudge into Rooster's direction for this plot and thank you to @vermillionwinter for listening to my rambling and giving me feedback. Without her, this would still be rotting away in my drafts.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), self-deprecation, cursing, verbal abuse (not from Rooster); mental health talk ( trauma; dissociative episode; suicidal ideation), written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

Part 1 || Part 3

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @theartofimagining13

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When you wake up the next morning you feel... well-rested and oddly comfortable. You haven't slept this well in forever, a warmth filling your body and a comforting weight that pressed you into the mattress. Closing your eyes once more you try to drift back to sleep. Waking up meant that he would surely knock on your door again and you just didn't have it in you to deal with him. After last night you are not even sure if you could deal with him ever again. His booming voice is still ringing in your ear. One would think there is a day when you get used to it, but sadly for you, that day never came. "Lay still, beautiful. It's too early to wake up", you hear a raspy voice whisper in your ear before a face presses into your neck and you feel something scratching over your skin and a leg being thrown over yours.

What the fuck happened last night? You remembered getting up and storming out of the restaurant. You still hear his voice echoing in your head but after that, it was blank, no matter how hard you tried to remember. You had assumed you went home, got into bed and... Your breath quickened as you looked down your body. You wore a jersey you had never seen before and had your fingers entangled with a large, strong hand that rested on your stomach. Brother in Christ what had you done?

Breathing through your nose you try to make each breath a little longer in the hopes to calm your hammering heart that threatened to break free from your ribcage. You feel the way his hand is squeezing yours as his lips press a kiss to your shoulder. "I hear you thinking, Nike", he whispered and now that the person behind you seemed a little more awake, voice less husky and more normal, you finally realised who was lying behind you. Bradley fucking Rooster Bradshaw. You were in bed with one of the Lieutenants that you worked with on the regular. Wonderful. Congratulations for fucking up even more spectacularly than you ever did before. This warrants a fucking award.

Even with the man practically wrapped around you, you turn around, his hand still holding yours when you are searching his face for any indicator of what happened last night. His eyes are closed, his hair messy and his skin shimmering golden in the morning sun. You had never quite realised what a beautiful man Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is. Closing your eyes to clear your head you take another deep breath before you finally find the bravery to talk. "How did I end up in your bed, Bradshaw?"

His eyes are suddenly open wide when he hears your question. You didn't remember? He was pretty sure that you weren't drunk, so whatever you experienced had to be bad enough for your brain to shut down. "I found you in front of the Hard Deck. You were in really bad shape and asked me for a place to stay", his soft brown eyes are searching yours, lifting the hand you are still holding up to his chest. You are nodding slowly. In your state, your brain had apparently classified the Hard Deck as a safer space than your own home. Considering that he had keys to your place, probably not the worst idea you ever had. "You were terrified to be alone...", if someone would ask him, he'd mark up the fact that he presses a soft kiss to your palm to still being caught in a sleepy haze. "Makes sense", you murmur, brain wrecking to fill in the blanks that you had, but there was just an endless void.

He wants to ask you what happened but he worries the question would open the Pandora's box anew and pull you back into the abyss. So he decided to wait, knowing that if you deemed him trustworthy enough, you would tell him. Pulling your hand from him you sit up in the bed, your eyes are taking in the room for the first time and you cannot help the chuckle falling from your lips when your eyes land on the boxer-clad bedside lamp.

For Rooster losing that close contact with you felt wrong, almost painful. Your warmth in his arms had been so good, feeling the way you pressed your back against his chest was so right and the way your head tilted a little to the side to make room for his face in the crook of your neck so he could indulge in the sweet kisses he pressed to your skin made his heart soar. Fuck even the fact that the arm that you had rested on was still numb was perfect. When he hears you chuckle his heart skips a beat, eyes following your gaze, a pink hue spreading over his cheek and neck when he saw what he had used to dim down the light last night. "Oh fuck" And then he hears your laughter, making him turn back to you with a smile on his lips as bright as the sun. Seeing you last night had left him feeling powerless and defeated, unable to really help you or make you feel better. To know that at least for now you were doing better meant the world to him. "The bathroom is..." "Right through that door. Your dress is in there too, but I'm sure I'll find some shorts around for you to wear" There is a short flicker in your eyes before you look down at your hands. "Don't sweat it, Rooster", you get up from the bed and walk straight through the door without looking back at him.

The moment you got out of his bed he had to force himself not to stare at your ass that was barely covered by his jersey. It had to be some primal part of his brain but to see you wear his clothing turned the warmth in his chest into a fucking wildfire. Shaking his head he searched for a pair of sweatpants he placed on the dresser for you before he left for the kitchen. He had to do something, anything really to distract his mind from the images that it was conjuring up. You in his jersey, getting under the shower. Fuck he had to get his mind out of the gutter and fast. And if there was one thing he was good at to compensate for these carnal kinds of cravings, it was cooking.

Rooster made good on his promise and actually found a pair of sweatpants that were probably more than oversized on him but clung to your thighs and ass like a second skin. You had stared at your body in his bathroom mirror for a solid 5 minutes trying to decide whether the jersey was sufficiently covering the mess or if you had to ditch the comfy stuff for your dress. The mere idea to get back into the corset made your stomach churn so you just hoped he wouldn't mind your less-than-flattering outfit. At least he didn't say anything when you entered the kitchen, the table already filled with all kinds of delicious things. Pancakes, biscuits, scrambled eggs and toast.

"Wow", is all you can say and when he turns back at you with a smile on his face and pan in hand, the bacon still sizzling in the cast iron he makes you stop in his tracks. Wow indeed. Rooster looked drop-dead gorgeous with that muscle shirt and the grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips. How the fucking hell could you have missed that in the almost 7 years you worked with the man? "Perfect timing. Bacon is ready" He walks around the counter and puts the pan in the middle of the table next to the eggs before he pulls out the chair for you. "Thanks, Rooster" "My pleasure, Nike"

Sitting around the kitchen table with Rooster felt weirdly domestic and you couldn't even really remember when it had been the last time you did something as mundane as this. Just sit there and eat with someone and talk. No critisising, no yelling. Just an enjoyable conversation with the occasional laughter or a chuckle here and there but as pleasant as it was, last night was not really letting you go and as much as Bradley wanted to distract you and give you a chance to focus on something lighter and more enjoyable, he knew that your brain worked 24/7 and it wouldn't let something as big as an incident that caused a dissociative episode slide.

"You want me to tell you what happened last night?", he hates to disturb the comfortable silence between you but he can see in your eyes that even though you act relaxed, there is a part of you that cannot let go and maybe getting more puzzle pieces could help you with that. You didn't ask because you feared you'd destroy the magic of the moment, but with Bradshaw offering, you realised how occupied your brain was with that question so you just nodded. "I was about to leave the Hard Deck with someone when I heard you cry" "What happened to your date?" "Wasn't a date. Just a tag chaser." "What happened to her?" "Probably got herself another set of tags when I decided to get you home" You instantly feel bad. Hook up or not, Rooster had ditched someone else to get you to safety, staying the entire fucking night by your side and doing whatever you asked of him. "I'm sorry about that" "Don't, be Nike. It was for the better. She had a pretty weird idea about consent", he's shaking his head and you tilt yours a little to the side and arch your brow in confusion. "She took your distress for a fucking couple. I don't want someone like that in my bed", the scowl on his pretty features hits you to the core. You had always taken Rooster for one of the truly good guys and there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel glad that you had been right about him. "Once she was back inside I picked you up and carried you to the Bronco", the moment the words were out of his mouth your skin heated up. It was a shame fucking shame you couldn't remember... and then you realised what he just actually said. "You picked me up? God Rooster, you could have hurt yourself", you start chastising him and he looks up from the bacon and eggs on his plate with a raised brow. Did you really just question his strength and capability while he was sitting in front of you in a muscle shirt showing off his biceps and shoulders? "Nike I get my paycheck for being in top shape. I handled weights that are more than you... ", he starts and when his eyes find yours, it hits him. This is not about you not trusting him. It was about you thinking you were...

"You get your paycheck for flying a multimillion-dollar navy asset, Bradshaw", you correct him and his mind struggles to catch up to the conversation for a moment. "Semantics. If I fly that jet I have to be in perfect shape, so no. Carrying you to my car is no big deal and neither was carrying you from my car to the bedroom... ", he adds seeing your eyes widen in shock before you avert your gaze and bite down on your lower lip as if that could stop the wobbling before you let out a heavy sigh and whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to" There is so much shame on your face and that made the fury he had felt last night come back. Apparently, he had to add the person who made you believe that you weren't absolutely fucking perfect to his shit list, right after the person who sent you straight into an anxiety attack.

"Listen Nike. I don't know who made you believe otherwise, but let me tell you one thing. You are a goddess", he sees how you are shaking your head while blinking away the tears that are shimmering in your eyes. "You don't have to be nice, Rooster", you whisper and the pain he hears makes him wanna snap. Not at you, oh no, but those little dipshits who gave you as much as an impression that something was wrong with you. He's usually not one for a bar brawl but for you, he'd be fine with breaking a nose or two. Right now though all he can do is make you see how perfect you are. So he's leaning over the kitchen table and places his hand gently over yours. "So you think we named you after a Greek goddess for shits and giggles?", you see him in the corner of your eye and feel the warmth that is radiating from the hand that is holding yours. God you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but decades of mocking and harassment had left scars that weren't so easy to ignore. But there was a sincerity to the way he spoke. It wasn't like he was getting anything out of lying to you. Rooster had opened his home for you, gave you a place to stay when you needed it most and he had been nothing but supportive and kind the entire time.

You turn a little to the side and you see the way the corner of his mouth is raising and his chocolate-coloured eyes twinkle with mirth. You cannot help but smile back at him and the moment he sees it, he feels like he just won one of his greatest victories. "There she is", you kick him playfully under the table for his teasing, making both of you laugh.

"I can drop you off at your place, whenever you want" The words hit you out of the blue while you were standing right next to Rooster as you finished drying the dishes he had washed. Of course, he wanted you out of his place. It had been very generous that he offered you breakfast after he shared his bed with you, but now his hospitality was running out. "Yeah right. I am pretty sure that you have better things to do with your Saturday", there is a somberness to your words that makes him feel like he got punched in the gut. He never wanted to give you the feeling that you were unwelcome or that he had other stuff to do or places to be. All he wanted was for you to know that he was there for you, that he wouldn't just call you an Uber and call it a day. "That's not what I meant...", he starts, reaching out to take one of your hands into his. Yours were so tiny and wrapping his fingers around yours felt so right. "I just wanted you to know that I'll come with you to your apartment" "You really don't have to, Rooster. I'm a big girl, tying my own boots and all. I'll manage" "A very wise woman once told me that you never ride into Mordor alone. You can take a companion or a whole army, but under no circumstance do you go on your own" Your eyes were shooting up wide in shock as your gaze met his. "Did she now?", you asked, taking a step closer, head tilted to the side as your eyes focused on his as if you were trying to solve one of your strategic puzzles. "Yep. And you know what's the annoying part about that lady?”, now it's Rooster taking a step towards you, his finger slowly interlacing with yours and a smitten smile spreading on his lips. All he wants to do is lean down and kiss you and he had no fucking clue when it happened or why but Bradley Bradshaw cannot help but feel the pull towards you. "She has a tendency to be right about that kind of shit" Rooster wants to protect you. He wants to protect your heart if only you'd let him.

The closer he gets to your apartment complex the more fidgety you are. It gets so bad that he just takes your hand to give you something to hold onto but your eyes are darting around, searching for something or rather someone. He didn't want to push you to tell him things you didn't want to share, but he couldn't help but let his eyes roam too, wondering if he'd know who it was once he'd seen them. Pulling up right in front of the house he puts the Bronco in park, watching you as your eyes are darting around. "Hey, Nike", he tries to pull you back, gently squeezing your hand.

"Thank you for bringing me. I'll take it from here", you didn't want him to leave, the way you were still holding his hand said as much, but you were worried. You didn't see his car, but you were pretty sure he'd show his face sooner rather than later and you wanted Rooster as far away as humanly possible from that disaster zone... "I will not leave you alone while you are about to spiral into another anxiety attack", he's sliding a bit closer to you on the seats, hoping that his presence could bring you comfort the way it did last night. "I don't want you to get dragged into this Rooster. It's enough of a shit show as is..." "You do realise I am a naval aviator, right? I get paid to do risky as fuck shit at Mach 1.6 while a beautiful woman yells into my ears to stick to her plan", he's smiling at you, hoping to pull you back closer to him with the joke. "I doubt that there is anything that could happen I've never seen a worse version of" "You never met my father" "Who?" "My father...", you repeat, closing your eyes as you bite down on your lower lip to stave off the tears.

You knew it was stupid and childish. You worked in disaster management for a living and still, nothing ever terrified you as much as the thought of being in the same room as him. "When I moved here he got me my flat and whenever he's in the city he insists on having dinner..." "Your father?", Rooster repeated surprised, shocked even. He had fully expected that it was something like a psychotic ex but your dad? "Yeah, he... he's got an anger management problem and..." "Did he hurt you?" "No... I mean he's not the kind of guy to hit you, but he always yelled a lot, still does to this very day...", you heave a sigh, unsure how to put this into words without sounding like a pathetic, whiny brat while piling even more bullshit on Rooster than you already had. "He snaps his finger and it doesn't matter how you feel, you have to function. Whatever he demands, you have to do it that very second or he starts yelling at you. Privacy is a concept he does not know, at least when it comes to others. There is no good or ok in his vocabulary. It's either perfect or wrong and god forbid that you have a different opinion from him on any topic, no matter how big or small because he will remind you of his superiority, even if it means that he ignores every argument you have, no matter how valid and yells until you yield, if out of fear or exhaustion doesn't matter", you are turning to the side and staring out of the window of the Bronco in a weak attempt to hide your tears. "And because he knows everything better he revels in watching you fail. It doesn't matter if it's something tiny or monumental. He remembers every mistake you ever made, every character flaw, every weakness or what he perceives as such. One of his personal favourites is my time at university. Before I went into disaster management I had a different major and I changed after I handed in my bachelor's thesis and with only two semesters left to finish. He's always having a fucking field day telling me what a waste of time, money and energy I am..." You press your hand to your stomach, using the resistance to have something to focus on while you breathe to calm down your heart that threatens to break free from your ribcage. "For him, all it would have taken is to stop being such a pussy and man up. What he loves to ignore is when every time you stand on a balcony or you look out of a window or you walk over a bridge and you cannot help but look down and estimate if it's high enough... it's long past the time when you should have called it quits", your voice is quiet and you close your eyes once more attempting to hold your tears back.

"With all due disrespect. Your father is an asshole who knows jack shit about you or life for that matter" His eyes are glued to your reflection in the window and seeing the tears that stream down your face makes his heartache and the fury return to his veins. No one deserved such a treatment, least of all you. "Nike look at me", he leans forward and turns your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "You are one of the strongest people I know. Your entire career is rooted in your wish to fix things. You bring people home safe and sound and I doubt it gets much more hardcore than being with the US Navy" "I don't serve", your voice is small and choked up from the tears and it makes him livid. A part of him hopes your father will show his sorry ass because heaven knows he'd love to drill some things into that thick skull of his. "You have your own office, you got a callsign. Fuck if the Admiral knew you'd use it you'd have your own parking lot" "I am a contractor", he sees how the tears he just wiped away are replaced by new ones and there is a desperation bubbling up in his chest. He needed you to see that you were more than what your father made you believe you are and it feels like he's failing you right now.

"Nike. You are the woman who 6 years 8 months and 14 days ago on her first fucking day on base marched into a briefing and told Cyclone to his face in front of the entire base leadership that his idea was bullshit", your eyes widen in shock and your gaze finally meets his. You had been told whatever was spoken in that room would never leave it. "How do you know?" "Are you kidding me? You became a legend that day. I have that day marked on my calendar. Fuck everyone on base marked that on their calendar. It was your first day on the job and you grilled him in front of everyone and lived to tell the tale", your eyes are wandering over his face, not sure what he was aiming at. You had done your job, nothing more and nothing less and he acted like you had brokered world peace or something. "That's what he hired me for. To make sure that the missions are successful while minimising the risks for all personnel involved" "I doubt that he expected you to do it that blunt in front of everyone", there is a chuckle falling from his lips and mischief twinkles in his eyes.

You had worked for years on base by this point and never once did you think you overstepped. Simpson sure as hell never told you so but now that you heard Roosters perspective it dawned on you. You weren't military so the chain of command wasn't drilled into you from day one. You had always viewed the Admiral as an equal, someone you work with on eye level to fulfil the mission and keep the people safe. It had never once occurred to you that the difference in position was so stark... "Don't worry about it. If he wouldn't respect you for that move he would have stopped working with you that day. I mean if any of us were scared of driving he would tell us to fucking walk home and for you, he's taking a detour to play shuttle" "He does what?" He should have kept his mouth shut. Considering your reaction Simpson didn't want you to know that, but now that it was out there, he couldn't take it back. "He promised my apartment was on the way..." "More like a 50-minute detour" "Fuck... and all I do is bring him muffins..." "I'd drive cross country for those muffins, no questions asked. They are worth their weight in gold" "How would you know that?" "He called me into his office for a meeting and they were on a plate on the desk" "You didn't..." "Yep. I totally did. Also for the record. Totally worth the 300 push-ups" "300?!?!" "I ate two"

When you finally manage to unlock the door to your apartment Rooster is startled at how clinical and empty it looks. There are no pictures on the wall. It’s all stark white contrasting with the darker floors. Your kitchen looks pretty unused and if he were a betting man he'd say that all he'll find in that fridge are some frozen meals at best. There was a tiny bookshelf in a corner that held only specialized literature about crisis and disaster management and the small couch and TV combo was barely enough for one person let alone to welcome friends over. Then his eyes fall over to the stacked moving boxes in the bay and that’s when it hits him. This is not a home, it’s a place to sleep. A place where you do not feel safe. You are ready to run at any given time. You’ve lived here for almost 7 years and you still expected the other shoe to drop.

“Sorry about this. I just never saw the necessity to…”, you begin and when your eyes meet his the pain you see knocks the air from your lungs. “Nike...”, he begins, making his way over to you to put his hands on your cheeks, wanting to pull you flush against his chest and kiss you. To show you that you didn’t need to live in a state that was more vegetative than anything else. But then he sees the shift in your body, eyes wide with panic and shortly thereafter the door flies open. No knocking, nothing. And in the doorway stands a man, about 5ft8, early to mid-sixties, with grey hair and beard.

“You finally done with hiding like a bratty child?”, he yells, stopping in his tracks when his eyes land on a man he'd never seen before standing right next to you in the living room. “And who would you be?” Your father knew you. You didn’t have friends let alone a boyfriend and no protective hand on your waist or furious glare would convince him otherwise. In three decades you hadn't managed to get a grip on your life and he had long given up hope that you'd finally get your shit together. It's not like your university escapades had been embarrassing enough or the fact you wasted 6 months in a clinic because you lost control. Even now when you have a job, he's still the one who has to tell his co-workers that his daughter hasn't managed to convince a man to stay, let alone start a family. No, you were still single and lived in a flat your father had been forced to help you find because you couldn’t manage on your own. Again.

From the moment he lays eyes on him Rooster hates this man with everything that he is. In about a minute he had shown him more than enough and the mere thought you had lived your entire life like this. Always waiting for him to barge in and yell at you, never feeling safe anywhere, never really being home. How were you supposed to have a normal childhood if all you've ever known was fear? Fear of failing his expectations and fear of his anger. He couldn't even begin to imagine how fucking exhausting that had to be. “Lieutenant Bradshaw. United States Navy”, he moves his body in between you and your father, a movement of instinct more than anything else.

Your father is taken by surprise. He knows you work in crisis management and that you’ve been hired by the Navy but he expected you to do paperwork, write base evacuation plans or coordinate shipments. A glorified secretary with a master's degree.

The silence in the place grew and the weight on you was unbearable. You knew you had to manage this, to keep the fallout minimal but with Rooster here, you couldn’t fall back into the default protocol. He was a variable you never had to calculate with in a situation like this and that made the unease even worse.

“And who are you to just barge into someone’s place without even the most basic courtesy of knocking on the door?” Rooster knew who he was and your father knew that he knew. “I am the father of the woman who’s hiding behind you like she's fucking five”, the disapproval and almost disdain for you in his voice is cutting. Of course, he would use this as yet another chance to tell you how weak and pathetic you were. It would have been a day to mark in the calendar if it weren’t so.

“And that justifies just slamming the door open and marching in like a fucking SWAT team?” The fury burned hotter in his veins with every second spent in your father's presence, every word, every breath pulling up the memories from last night. The way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, how terrified you were. You cried so bad your make-up was a mess and your mind had shut off to a degree you couldn't remember what happened the next morning. And still, that bastard stands there like it's the most normal thing in the world. Like he has every right on planet earth to make you feel like that, to force you to relive your trauma again and again and again. Your hand grabbed Rooster’s wrist in an attempt to pull him back and out of the confrontation. This would end badly if he kept going and you didn’t want that for him. He had done so much for you already, he didn’t need to get roped into that bullshit too, but Rooster did not budge. Quite contrary he even made another step closer to your father.

“This is my place. I co-signed the lease. It's the only reason why she's even having a roof over her head” “How generous of you to hold what every halfway decent father would do for his child over her head as if she fucking owes you for that” Rooster never had a chance to spend much time with his dad and growing up he envied whoever got that privilege but right now he realised for some people growing up without your father was a kinder fate. Your father raised his brow. Almost like he didn’t understand how someone could have the audacity to talk to him like that. “My relationship with my daughter is none of your business” “It became my business the second you treated one of my friends like a piece of trash” “Friend?”, the laughter was harsh, “She doesn't have friends” “Maybe it should give you a fucking pause if your own daughter decides to keep things like that a secret”, he barks back, his patience running very thin right now.

Rooster's fists are itching. He wants the beat that sarcastic smirk off your father’s face right here right now, but your hand is still wrapped around his wrist and he knows you didn’t want that, no matter how satisfying it might feel in the moment. You were too fucking kind for your own good. “Here I thought you were a soldier, but you sound like a shrink" “You don’t need to have a degree in psychology to get that your idea of family is fucked up. Why else would you push your suicidal daughter to keep on doing the thing that made her suicidal in the first place?" “Bradley”, you can see it in your father’s eyes. So far, he's been civil for his standards, but he was close to snapping and you feared what he’d do if Rooster kept on provoking him. Your father had never been physically violent towards you but you always backed down. “You have no fucking idea what you are talking about” “I know more than fucking enough”

You hear a knocking and when your eyes wander from your father to the open door you cannot believe who you see. Your father turns around too, eyes wandering over the group of people standing there. “Sorry for being late to the party. We miss somethin'?”, Hangman asks, his usual cocky features darkened and brows furrowed. Right next to him was Phoenix and then on either side of them Javy and Bob "And who do you think you are?" "For you, we'll be the four horsemen of the apocalypse", the threat in Phoenix's voice is obvious if her face wasn't enough of a tell already.

You stared up at Rooster who had a smug smirk on his face and when he looked down at you his features softened. “I thought just in case a companion is not enough and we do need the army”, he winks at you and it makes you choke up. It’s not just him who came through for you. It’s all of them, the entire squad even though you never talked much outside of mission briefings and when you yelled at them to stick to the plan. Even if you’d been brave enough to ask for help you would have never expected them to show. Especially so early on a Saturday morning.

Your father is perplexed too. This is a first for him. People who stand up to him and don't just back down and relent the second he gets loud and nasty. It means he’s shoved on unknown terrain and like a lot of people with anger issues, he’s getting the most vile when he’s insecure. "So that's how far you've fallen. You don't even bother with trying these days. No, instead of fighting your own wars you are hiding like a coward behind the people you send in to fix the fuckups of your own creation." The words hit you, bringing back the images from the restaurant. Everybody had been staring at you, no wonder considering the noise he made.

'A coward is what you are. Always looking for the easy way out. Always running away instead of manning up and fighting head-on'

"She'd be stupid to ride into Mordor alone", your eyes shoot over to Phoenix, eyes wide and surprise written all over your features. You had no idea she heard you back then when she tried to catch up with Rooster. "You take a companion. You bring an army, but you never go alone", Bob adds and gives you a gentle smile that makes a fresh set of tears run down your cheeks. "And who says shit like that?" "Nike", Javy deadpans. "Nike?" "Yeah, Nike. Your daughter's callsign", Javy cannot hide the irritation in his voice. This was absurd. That man was supposed to be your father and he didn't even know that much about you? "Like the fucking shoe brand?!?!" "More like the greek goddess of victory", Bob chimed in, turning to you with a small smile while you were digging your finger into Rooster's arm to have something to hold on to. "Goddess of victory? Her? As fucking if" You see the way your father looks between them, unable to hide his confusion before he follows their eyes to you, standing right next to Rooster who wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer into his side.

"She's the best IC North Island ever had", Hangman gave you that signature smirk and a wink. To hear those words from him of all people made your heart swell. "You might not be aware of it, but you have a treasure for a daughter and considering that you treat her like the dirt under your heel I would suggest you reevaluate your coping strategy, Sir", even while he is angry, Bob stays as perfectly polite as ever, pushing his glasses a little up his nose. "But you don't have to take the word of the people whose lives she's responsible for", Phoenix makes a theatrical gesture out of checking her watch before she looks back to your father, "He might get a bit grumpy if we annoy him on a Saturday morning, but I am sure that nevertheless, Admiral Simpson would have no qualms about confirming Nike's spotless mission record"

Rooster feels how you are holding on tighter to him and he can see the confusion shimmering in your eyes as you watch the scene in front of you unfold. He knows that you have no idea what you meant to the people on base, the people you worked with. What you meant to him, even before he found you last night and it's beautiful to witness how the realisation slowly settles in that you are cherished, that there are people who respect you, your achievements and your hard work. People who care.

"I'm gonna make this very simple for you now", Rooster's voice is low and has an animalistic ring to it as he stares down your father, knowing that at a moment's notice, the rest of the dagger squad would be right there by his side. "You will turn around and carry your sorry ass out of this apartment. If I or any of my friends see you near Nike again, you will regret it. If you contact her in any shape or form, you will wish you'd never been born", his voice was cutting and calm, a storm raging right beneath his skin, almost hoping for him to talk back so he could finally give him the beating he deserved. "Are you threatening..." "No, we are not. We never would...", Phoenix has a sardonic smile playing on her lips as she walks around your father and positions herself to Rooster's left. "We are making a promise. Not that a man like you would know the difference", she's cocking her head a little and for the first time in your entire life, you see something like fear flittering over your father's features.

Coyote and Hangman step to the side to clear the way for him and you can see that he's livid, biting down on his lower lip so hard you wonder if he'd draw blood, but he stays quiet as he turns around and walks towards the door only to be stopped by Hangman's hand on his shoulder. "And remember. Even if we should be deployed there are thousands more where we came from who will step up gladly to put you in your place", he gives your father one of those blinding smiles that makes the women swoon but something is hiding in his eyes. A promise that if your father would do as much as breathe funny, he would gladly show him what skills you acquired in the Navy. And with that, your father leaves, not even muttering an insult under his breath the way he usually does as he steps out of the apartment.

The moment he rounds the corner you feel Rooster's arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. "We are all here for you. I am here for you. You are safe, beautiful"

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[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[korebringerofded]

"Awe...You Cryin, Princess?" Satoru Gojo X F!Reader

Description- Most of the time, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Other times, he would pull your hair while he fucked into you from behind, your face shoved into his plush sheets as his hard dick fucked into your already cum-filled pussy. Words- 1k Warnings- Unedited as fuck yall, might edit later, I hate my writing so much rn, breaks suck, so much smut, MAPPA really got me going lol, SMUT SMUT, Use of princess, mean!Gojo, Oral(F), very little plot

A/N- Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here.

Most of the time, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Most of the time, he spoiled you rotten, would take you shopping and just gorge you on presents and kisses and attention. He would watch you try on everything in the store if you wanted, his eyes wide and a big grin on his face as he analyzed each and every outfit. 

He would be so sweet when you made love, making you cum on his fingers and mouth until you’re begging him to fuck you. He would caress your face and plant soft kisses down your throat as his thumb moved slowly over your already swollen clit. He knew each and every spot to touch or kiss or lick to send you over the edge.

Other times, he would pull your hair while he fucked into you from behind, your face shoved into his plush sheets as his hard dick fucked into your already cum-filled pussy. Satoru’s previous hot white cum still spilling out over the sheets as he fucked you for the fifth time that day.

“You think I’m even close to being done with you, princess?”

He hissed in your ear, tugging a handful of your hair back to pull your back flush against his chest, his dick still drilling into your soaked cunt as his hand wrapped around your throat so he could properly fuck into you until you were a sobbing mess, a mixture of his cum and your slick spilling down your thighs. 

Tonight, however, Satoru had convinced you to come out to the bar with him and a few of the other teachers from Jujutsu High. Satoru, of course, looked very handsome in his casual clothes, a tight black button up shirt that hugged his bulging muscles and tight dress-pants that you were positive you could see the outline of his dick through.

You and Satoru had a bad habit of leaving functions particularly early or disappearing at them because you couldn’t keep your hands out of the other's pants. So, you wanted to try and get through one social gathering without Satoru fucking you in the front seat of his car or eating you out in the bathroom at the bar. His bright eyes glossy and half-open, never leaving your wonderful tear-stained face as he holds you against the wall, your own hand clasped over your mouth. Your hot slick running down his chin as he whispered filthy things against your adorable pink pussy.

For a while, you managed to contain yourself. You were determined to keep this night PG since Satoru’s coworkers would be there. There would always be time for other things when you got home. At least that is what you tried to tell yourself.

 He just looked so handsome like this, his hair down and perfectly messy, his glimmering crystal-like eyes, that boyish grin. The way he had his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his muscular pale arms were on display just sent heat right to your already soaked thighs. 

You loved every single part of your boyfriend, how could you not?

You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at him, your eyes trailing down from his handsome face and then back to his arms until you felt Satoru cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he brought your eyes back to his striking ones.

“Something on your mind, princess?” Satoru asked, a tilt of his head that made his messy white hair ruffle as he looked down at you with a widening smirk.

Shit…he caught me staring at him. You thought to yourself. 

“No.” You said too quickly, clearing your throat. 

You were hoping Satoru wouldn’t notice the embarrassingly furious blush spreading over your face or the way you rubbed your thighs together when he spoke.

He did, of course he did.

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the increasing wetness soaking through your panties. 

You ordered another drink, hoping it would help, it wouldn’t.

You knew that Satoru was just messing with you when you felt his fingertips run delicately over the surface of your bare thighs and up your dress, pushing the hem up. The action sent goosebumps all over your body and you turned to shoot Satoru a glare, your face heating up all over again. Satoru was already staring right at you, a smirk on his annoyingly handsome face and one elbow on the table as his cheek rested in his palm. 

You could almost taste the mint from his breath from how close he was and it almost made your knees buckle then and there. Satoru just had that effect on you and the worst part of all…was that he was completely aware of it.

“Satoru…” You warned, a huff leaving your lips. 

‘What?” Satoru asked with a huge innocent grin on his face.

“Don’t play dumb.” You groaned, a pout tugging on your lips.

“Am I not allowed to touch my girl now?” Satoru asked mockingly, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I want you to do more than touch me, you jerk.

Satoru made it a point to torment you the rest of the night, soft brushes against your thighs, a soft kiss on that soft part of your neck that just makes you squirm. As he stands at the bar, his arm draped around your hip and as he carries on a conversation with Shoko, his hand trailed down your back. His fingertips dragging up and down your spine through the fabric of the thin dress you wore and sending jolts of electricity down your spine. 

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to you, that all you wanted was to feel his expert hands over your body,

When you got back to the apartment you two shared, Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed the way you were looking up at him, big glossy eyes, you were expecting something. But tonight, Satoru was in the mood to be a bit mean to his little princess, for just a little longer at least.

Satoru kicked off his shoes and tossed his car keys on the counter before he moved closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand piece of your hair away from your adorable blushing face.

“Hm? You want something, princess?” Satoru asked with a grin as he knelt down so your eyes met with his crystals-like ones.

You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or slap him. Both

“No.” You huffed stubbornly, puffing your cheeks out and crossing your arms over your chest.

“No? I figured the way you were eye-fucking me that you might want something.” Satoru said with a smirk as he took a step forward, his arms trapping you against the wall as your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest. 

“I was-.” You started to say before he pressed his finger to your soft lips with a dark laugh.

“You lyin’ to me now, princess? I thought you were supposed to be my good girl?” Satoru said with an almost mocking fake hurt voice. 

“N-no, toru’.” You whispered, your voice wavering as your boyfriend towered over you, his hands slipping under the edge of your dress and his finger hooking under the edge of your panties so he could tug them down your thighs so they pooled on the ground. 

“Fucking knew it..” He snorted. 

He was pushing your dress up your hips as he lowered himself to his knees now, his face pressed against your already dripping cunt. His eyes staring hungrily as another dark laugh left him, his fingers brushed up your thighs and against your slick pussy. His index finger pushed and rubbed against your folds and against your already puffy clit as he pinned your hips to the wall, one of your legs over his shoulder. 

“Haven’t even touched you and look at how wet you are…” Satoru cooed, pressing a kiss to your thigh while he started to tease the entrance of your pussy with his fingers, curling them just slightly into your hot plush walls that clenched desperately around him before he took them away again. 

“Tell me what you want.” Satoru hummed, pressing another soft kiss to your thigh but this time he sank his teeth into the plush flesh with a snicker.

You could only whine and pout in response, tears forming in your eyes.

‘Please…” You whined, tugging on his messy white hair with twitching fingers, 

“Please what?” Satoru asked, his tongue poking out of his mouth and delicately running up your thigh, around your folds and dancing right around where you actually wanted him. 

Damn him damn him damn him. 

“P-please, toru’. Need to cum, need to cum on your tongue.” You blurted out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Awe…well when you ask all sweet like that…” He said with a grin, quite pleased with himself as he immediately leaned forward.

Satoru carried you to the bedroom after that, your dress and the rest of your clothes gone and forgotten. Satoru had buried his face into your pussy, his tongue flicking your throbbing clit back and forth for a moment before he would suck audibly on the bundle of nerves and then repeat, you could feel your own slick running down your thighs but you couldn’t care less. 

Satoru’s mouth was heaven, he was eager and skilled, it was a bit of a deadly combination. He would happily die between your thighs.

“Ah- F-fuck, toru’, so close.” You stammered, tears running down your face, your eyebrows knitting together as you leaned your head back against the wall, Satoru let out an audible groan at your sweet taste, he wanted to swallow every drop of your sweet desire, all for him.

“Yeah?” Satoru asked. 

He pulled away just long enough so he could shove two of his fingers deep into your pussy before curling them to press against that soft gummy part of your walls that only made you writhe and whimper under him before his lips were wrapped around your clit again and he sucked, his tongue tracing over you until he heard your lewd sobs and felt your nails digging into his scalp. 

Your vision went white, all the air left your lungs and drool dripped from the corner of your mouth as Satoru swallowed every drop of your desire for him with complete joy, his face pink and your slick coating his chin as he pulled away, looking up at you with a smirk, his head leaning against your thigh.

“Awe…you crying, princess?”

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

[laura1633]

Hey Guys,

I said I would set a small fic challenge up for Lestappen's birthdays so here it is. I'm not going to set up a separate blog for it as it is just going to be a casual low key thing and it will be easier for me to manage from my main blog so I will just pin this note. It's going to be absolute complete chaos to start with as I have no idea how to do things or how it works so please be patient as things inevitably go wrong!

Dates and Guidelines are all below, this will outline how to submit a prompt as well as details about how to fill a prompt.

Key Dates: Submitting prompts: 2nd July - 16th July Claiming prompts: 2nd July - 16th October Posting finished works : 30th Sept - 16th October.

Guidelines for submitting a prompt 1. Prompts can be submitted by following this link and clicking on the 'Prompt Form' on the left hand side (you will need an ao3 account to do this) 2. All prompts must be centred around Lestappen (although it doesn't necessarily mean it has to be a romantic relationship). 3. Prompts can include as many other characters as you like (including other drivers, team principles, other sports stars etc) as long as the focus is on Max and Charles. As an example, you can prompt a poly relationship for Max, Charles and Oscar and Oscar can feature prominently as long as both Max and Charles also play a central role to the story, this is a Lestappen fest after all! 4. You can prompt fluff or smut or anything else you can think of. If your prompt contains sensitive topics then please try and use the tags accordingly when prompting. 5. Prompts are preset to be anonymous. There is a box at the bottom of the prompt form that states 'Semi-anonymous Prompt?' leave this box ticked to keep your prompt anonymous. 6. You will need an ao3 account to submit using the steps above. If you don't have an ao3 account but would still like to submit a prompt then please send an ask to me but clearly label it "Lestappen Birthday Fest prompt". If its not labelled I won't know that it is a prompt. Please try and limit the number of prompts sent through asks as I think I will be limited in the amount I am able to add to ao3. Once I hit the limit I will update here.

Guidelines for claiming a prompt 1. The prompts can be found here and you are free to claim them as soon as you want. You do not need to wait for the prompt window to close before claiming your prompts. 2. Feel free to claim as many prompts as you feel you will be able to complete. There are no consequences to not fulfilling a prompt but it’s better not to over claim if you know you won’t have the time to fulfil them.  3. The claims and fills are not set to anonymous so it will show that you have claimed the prompt. However, there are no consequences whatsoever in claiming a prompt and then having to drop it. 4. It is fine to claim a prompt someone else has already claimed. You can also claim your own prompts.

Guidelines for filling a prompt 1. You can fulfil your claim at any time but the collection will be set as unrevealed until the 30th September so your fic will not go live until the 30th September. This also means you can go into your work and edit it right up until 30th September. 2. When completing your work on ao3 there is an option that states 'Set a different publication date' so I would suggest setting the date as 30th September. 3. Whilst the collection will go live on 30th September (Max's birthday) you can keep fulfilling your claims right up until the 16th October (Charles' Birthday) 4. Please make sure you tag your works in regards to sensitive topics. 5. Whilst the aim is to get at least some works posted in the period 30th Sept - 16th Oct I do recognise that if you are writing a longer fic you might need some more time and so I will leave the collection open for people to add to it after the 16th if this is necessary.

What if I want to submit my own piece of work rather than fill a prompt? The very first prompt on the page is a free prompt, you can claim this if you want to post your own piece of work to the collection. Does it have to be a fic? Absolutely not, you can post artwork too if you would like.

Still have questions? If you still have any questions then please feel free to send me an ask either anon or not. Please just be patient as I might not respond straight away, unfortunately I have a very boring job that also takes up my time!

There will be some issues at the start whilst I sort things out so we will just see how it all goes!

Remember it's all for fun with no pressure ❤️